To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 158

At that moment, Varkan’s subordinates completed their task with ruthless efficiency. They had wiped out the remaining “barbarians,” but had managed to capture a few who looked more likely to talk. After a bit of intimidation, they began to confess, as expected.

“We’re not actually barbarians… we’re trainee knights,” one of the captives admitted.

Not just any trainees—they were from the Royal Capital’s defense forces.

King Phenosos had indeed been clever. He had selected only those trainees without strong backing, those who were earnest but expendable, and sent them to the West under the guise of a “secret mission.”

“We were ordered to keep causing disruptions and scattering the Western forces’ strength. And in the midst of that chaos, we were supposed to kill Lord Ruth Varel and make it look like an accident,” the trainee continued.

“Recently, we received supplies that included explosives. The plan was to lure the Masakas who came from the capital into our stronghold and wipe them out. No one would suspect that the ‘savages’ would use such advanced methods.”

Hearing this, Lord Tarik Varel clenched his teeth in fury. Was this the reward for his lifetime of loyal service, enduring the harsh desert winds while faithfully defending the kingdom?

Where had things gone wrong? Had he been too lenient with Ruth, excusing his son’s reckless words as signs of courage rather than chastising him more firmly? Or perhaps…

‘Maybe I was wrong to choose whom to be loyal to,’ he thought bitterly.

It wasn’t just the confessions of the captives that weighed on him. After a moment of silence, Erich, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke up with a confession of his own.

“The truth is, I was sent here with a purpose too.”

The others turned toward him, curious, as Erich revealed his backstory—one that, until now, had remained hidden. Two years ago, he had been offered a place among the king’s Masaka Honor Guard.

It wasn’t entirely surprising. King Phenosos, always paranoid about his safety, preferred Masakas who specialized in defense. As a result, he had coveted Erich’s ability to create powerful barriers. But to everyone’s surprise, Erich had refused.

“Why? Why would you turn down such an opportunity?” Joshua asked, clearly astonished. He had always sensed that Erich had great potential, but to learn that he had walked away from a coveted position in the king’s personal guard was almost unbelievable.

“What was your reason?”

With a sheepish smile, Erich explained, “Well… don’t laugh, but back then, I was filled with a sense of justice. As a Masaka, I thought I could use my powers to help people—save citizens, maybe even save humanity. It was the kind of dream most men have at least once, the dream of being a hero.”

Varkan let out a mocking laugh, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he remarked, “Oh, how noble! Then should I start calling you ‘Sir Hero Erich’? Or perhaps ‘Madame Varkan’ would suit me better.”

“Don’t tease him, Varkan,” Irel chided, giving him a gentle nudge. She glanced at Erich to gauge his reaction, but luckily, after spending a few days around Varkan’s twisted sense of humor, Erich seemed unbothered.

“Haha, no, it’s fine. I look back on it now and think it was pretty foolish,” Erich admitted with a chuckle. “Had I accepted, I would have lived a comfortable life, rising through the ranks. But instead, I rejected the offer and ended up in the Western Borderlands.”

He went on to explain that before Varkan’s arrival, he had received a secret letter from the king. The message offered him “one more chance”—if he changed his mind, he could still join the royal forces. The letter had promised him a “special opportunity” if he agreed, though it didn’t specify what it was. Erich had hesitated, but ultimately never replied.

‘Thank goodness,’ Irel thought with a sigh of relief. If Erich had joined the king’s side, he could have become another enemy, and the situation would have been much more difficult.

“Too bad,” Varkan remarked with a wry smile. “With your skills, you could’ve easily made captain of the royal guard by now.”

Though the comment seemed lighthearted, it was clear that Varkan respected Erich’s abilities. He recognized the strength Erich possessed, even if he masked it with his usual sarcasm.

“Well, every choice comes with its pros and cons,” Erich said, casting a disdainful glance toward the restrained Drakal, who was cowering in fear. “If I had joined the royal guard, I’d probably be doing the same things they are now.”

The Western Borderlands had always been a place where the unwanted and the forsaken were sent. Masaka Drakal was no exception. He had been sent here as punishment for abandoning Archbishop Ramon, the king’s illegitimate son, during their previous mission.

King Phenosos, known for his deep yet twisted love for his bloodline, had likely wanted to tear Drakal apart for his failure. But because Drakal was a Masaka, execution had been spared in favor of banishment to the Western Borderlands—a mission that would either lead to success or serve as a death sentence.

“The reality of this situation is hard to accept. Why would His Majesty… for what reason…?”

Lord Tarik Varel’s voice trailed off, filled with exhaustion. The events of the past few days, with betrayal after betrayal, had left him numb.

“I must send a letter to the capital. I need to ask His Majesty directly…”

“And what exactly do you plan to ask?” Varkan interrupted sharply.

Varkan’s rich, commanding voice filled the room, capturing everyone’s attention as he spoke.

“Are you planning to ask the king why he sent soldiers disguised as barbarians to attack the West?” he began, his words deliberately pointed. “Or perhaps…”

“Enough,” Lord Tarik Varel warned, his voice hardening.

“…are you going to ask why he had your son killed?” Varkan finished, ignoring the warning entirely. His tone was mocking, and Tarik’s face darkened with rage, his expression turning red with fury.

“Do you find this situation amusing, young Ha Mash?” Tarik asked through gritted teeth.

“Not at all,” Varkan replied, unfazed. “What I find amusing is your complacency, my lord.”

Irel, watching the exchange, felt a chill run down her spine. Varkan’s words were sharp and brutal, deliberately poking at Tarik’s raw emotions. She winced, knowing this wouldn’t end well. But Varkan, as always, was unbothered by the discomfort of others.

“Do you think the king will give you the truth if you ask? He’ll say something like, ‘There’s been a misunderstanding. A group of traitors misused my name, and there have been thefts of military supplies lately.’ He’ll present some fabricated evidence and wash his hands of the whole affair,” Varkan continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tarik was silent, unable to refute Varkan’s words. As a loyal servant of the crown for many years, he knew too well the political games King Phenosos played. Varkan had expertly hit upon the painful truth Tarik had been grappling with.

“You’re not a fool, my lord. You’ve already figured it out. The king takes great pride in his crown and will do whatever it takes to protect it—even if it means eliminating the unfortunate children of loyal servants,” Varkan said with a knowing smile.

“So, what are you suggesting I do?” Tarik snapped, his voice filled with desperation. He was on the verge of breaking, having been betrayed by the very system he had faithfully served his entire life. Everything he believed in had turned against him, leaving him at a loss.

“The answer is simple,” Varkan said, smiling wider, sensing victory. “Join hands with me. Become the great protector of the West.”

His voice was like that of a devil whispering temptation. Irel, standing by his side, suddenly understood what Varkan had been planning all along.

‘So this is what he wanted from the start.’

Normally, Varkan would have handled everything with brute force, eliminating his enemies without a second thought. But this time, he had taken a more methodical approach, carefully laying out the pieces. He had been planning to recruit Tarik from the beginning. The more allies, the stronger his hand.

‘He’s a terrifying man,’ Irel thought with a shiver. She was grateful, now more than ever, that she was on his side.

As she leaned against him for warmth, Varkan absentmindedly stroked her shoulder, asking, “Are you cold?”

“Yes,” she whispered. The path you’re leading me down is full of biting winds, she thought. So I’ll stay close to you, as close as I can.

She turned her gaze to Lord Varel, wondering whether he would accept Varkan’s offer. Tarik’s face was a mask of turmoil as he struggled to come to terms with everything that had happened.

“I… I need time,” Tarik finally said, his voice heavy with indecision.

It was understandable. The decision before him was monumental, and it was not something he could make lightly. As Tarik wrestled with his thoughts, his son Joshua approached, gently taking his father’s hand.

“Father…” Joshua murmured, the familial bond between them providing a rare moment of warmth in the otherwise tense atmosphere.

Varkan, however, couldn’t resist adding one last remark.

“Of course. Just remember, time won’t wait for you,” he said slyly.

Varkan, having said all he needed, took Irel’s hand, signaling that it was time for them to leave and give Tarik space to make his decision.

But just as they were about to turn away, Irel unexpectedly spoke up.

“Excuse me, just a moment.”

She paused and then, with determination, addressed Lord Tarik.

“I know it’s not my place to speak on this matter… but I feel I must say something to you, my lord.”

Tarik, though weighed down by his grief, did not ignore her. His tired eyes focused on Irel, giving her a chance to speak.

“What is it?” he asked.

Irel, encouraged by his response, continued with conviction.

“The loss of your eldest son is truly tragic, and I sympathize deeply with your pain. But… you still have another son. Please, do not forget that as you make your decision.”

Her words struck a chord with Tarik. He turned to look at Joshua, as if seeing him anew. Despite Joshua having been by his side throughout the ordeal, it was as though Tarik was only now truly recognizing his presence.

For so long, his grief over Ruth’s death had blinded him to Joshua. He had felt disappointed by Joshua’s diplomatic aspirations and his perceived lack of ability in the harsh borderlands. Compared to Ruth, who had been groomed to inherit the title of Warden, Joshua had always seemed inadequate.

But Joshua had never left his father’s side. Whether noticed or not, he had continued to offer his support and do what he could. Now, it was clear—Joshua was the only son Tarik had left.

As the weight of this realization settled in, Tarik’s gaze softened, and a newfound resolve sparked in his eyes. He could no longer ignore the son who had remained loyal and steadfast.

With his grief tempered by this understanding, Lord Tarik Varel’s decision finally began to take shape.