To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 160
Irel wasn’t sure what Varkan held in his hand at first, but she could guess—probably the Varel family seal. After a moment, the memory clicked. She had seen something similar in Joshua’s room before, and a wave of relief washed over her.
“I’m glad it worked out,” she said with a soft smile.
The fact that Tarik had given Varkan the family’s seal must mean that he had made his decision—to turn his back on the king and join Varkan’s side. Irel’s hunch seemed correct, as Varkan’s mood was notably pleasant.
“You did well,” he said, his tone approving.
“Me? What did I do?” Irel asked, genuinely surprised.
“Your parting words to Lord Varel were quite persuasive,” Varkan said, his voice teasing. “They played a big role in swaying his heart.”
Varkan continued, lightly joking that she could’ve made a fine public speaker. Though the compliment felt nice, Irel wasn’t naive enough to think her words had been the only deciding factor.
He saw something in Varkan, she thought. No one bets on a losing game, no matter how convincing the argument.
Varkan had shown immense power during their time in the West—brutal and overwhelming. It wasn’t just that he enjoyed flaunting his strength; there had been a purpose behind every display. That power had made an impression on Tarik Varel, showing him that siding with Varkan was a smart bet.
With this, Varkan was one step closer to victory. And unlike before, Irel wasn’t just one of the stepping stones he used to climb higher—she was walking beside him, hand in hand.
“My victory goddess,” Varkan murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, right where the mark from her earlier injury still lingered. The scar was faint now, but his gesture was deliberate.
Irel couldn’t help but think of the terrifying moment when Varkan had collapsed, spitting blood after Drakal’s attack. She had tried to ask casually, but her voice trembled slightly as she brought it up. “Did you interrogate that Masaka? He threw something strange at you that day…”
The memory of that day still haunted her. Seeing someone as powerful as Varkan brought to his knees had shaken her deeply. Even though he had recovered, Irel had developed a habit of checking his face, searching for signs of exhaustion or weakness—something she hadn’t done before.
“You’re looking at me with that expression again,” Varkan said quietly, his eyes narrowing playfully.
“What expression?” she asked, feigning ignorance.
“The one where you pity me,” Varkan replied with a bitter smile. “I suppose someone like me only has you to look at me that way.”
Varkan’s smile was tinged with irony as he gently brushed her cheek, as if to comfort her. “Don’t worry. The interrogation went well.”
“Did you find out anything?” Irel asked, trying to mask her concern but feeling relieved nonetheless.
“The liquid he threw was some kind of drug. Just like humans instinctively know how to breathe, Masaka naturally learn how to control their energy to avoid overloading. But this drug… it disrupts that ability, almost as if your lungs seize up. It paralyzes the senses that control energy flow.”
Irel’s eyes widened in shock. A substance that could strip a Masaka of their power was unheard of.
“Is something like that even possible?”
“If I hadn’t experienced it myself, I would have doubted it,” Varkan said, shrugging lightly. “Thankfully, the effect only lasts for a few minutes, but in battle, a few minutes is all you need.”
“So, it has to touch the skin to work?” she asked, trying to understand how the drug functioned.
“Most likely. They said it could also be mixed into drinks for a similar effect.”
Varkan stared at his hand for a moment before summoning a small flame, letting it dance on his palm. The way he controlled the fire with such precision, as if testing his abilities, showed how much the encounter had affected him.
That day had rattled Varkan, too. Losing control over his power had brought back memories of his helpless childhood, when he hadn’t been strong enough to save his mother. He had sworn never to feel that powerless again, but for those few moments, he had.
Irel, Varkan thought. My spring, my flame, my beautiful little destruction. If I lose you, I won’t be able to live as I did before.
“So how did he get his hands on that drug?” Irel asked, her voice tight with concern. She wanted to make sure nothing like this ever happened to Varkan again. She never wanted to see him suffer like that in front of her.
“Unfortunately, he didn’t know much. He was just a discarded pawn—left to fend for himself after failing his mission,” Varkan replied.
One thing was certain: Drakal had been ruthless, and the methods used against them were just as brutal. Varkan knew how to extract information from the most unwilling sources, and if the Masaka had known anything more, he would have talked.
Varkan’s revelation hit Irel like a slap. “Philip Alwaiz,” he said casually, as if dropping the name of the smug prince wasn’t a bombshell. The mention of Philip instantly soured her mood, bringing back memories of his constant winking and overly flirtatious behavior.
Who does he think he is, acting like a real prince? Irel thought with disdain. Philip was certainly an eye-catching man, but his self-absorbed attitude was insufferable. He carried himself like he expected admiration from everyone, as if it were his birthright.
“Do you think the drug has something to do with his ability?” Irel asked, her mind racing. As far as she knew, Philip’s power was ‘nullification’—useless against the Khitan, but highly dangerous when used against other Masaka. In an era where such abilities were extremely rare, it was just Philip’s luck to be born with it.
“It’s possible,” Varkan replied with a cold smile, turning his face slightly away. There was a hint of contempt in his voice. He clearly had little respect for Philip or the king, but that wasn’t surprising given their history.
If only I could get my hands on that drug myself, Irel thought wistfully, staring down at her hands. There might have been something she could discover, some insight into its composition or its effects.
Her mind wandered to the moment during the battle when she had manipulated Drakal’s energy. It had been a new experience, a way of using her powers that she hadn’t considered before. Her role was usually to soothe, calm, and cleanse, but in that moment, she had disrupted Drakal’s energy flow entirely—much like what the drug had done to Varkan.
Maybe this could be my secret weapon, Irel mused. No one else can control energy like I can. If the enemy underestimates me, I might be able to use this technique again to turn the tide.
Still, she knew the limits of her ability. Masaka were far stronger than ordinary humans, and if she misjudged her timing, she could easily end up on the receiving end of a counterattack, like when Drakal had shoved her away. She needed to be careful.
“Speaking of which,” Varkan’s eyes shifted to her neckline, “your clothes seem a little too thin.”
Irel blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. “It’s still early autumn. This is fine for now,” she replied.
“But we’re heading somewhere colder soon. What if you catch a cold?” Varkan reached out, his hand brushing over her exposed skin, his warmth seeping into her slightly chilled body. His power seemed to grow in strength with the falling temperatures, making his touch feel like a cozy flame against the cool air.
“I’ll be fine,” Irel said, her voice steady at first, but then faltering as his hand drifted lower, teasing the edge of her collarbone before slipping just inside the fabric of her clothes.
“I’m thinking we should quickly check Froste La Hill and then head to Elorance,” Varkan remarked, his voice as calm as ever, even as his fingers trailed lower.
Despite her playful glare and the soft slap she gave to his hand, Varkan continued undeterred, his mischief unfazed.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen your father,” Varkan continued smoothly, ignoring her attempts to push him away. “His eyes remind me so much of yours.”
“Well, that’s because I inherited them from him…” Irel’s voice wavered as Varkan’s fingers brushed over her now-sensitive skin, his touch playful yet deliberate. Her breath caught as he leaned down, his lips grazing hers lightly.
“You know,” he whispered, his lips curving into a wicked smile, “whenever he glares at me with the same eyes as yours, it sends a delightful shiver down my spine.” His voice dropped to a murmur, teasing her with each word.
Irel’s face flushed at his audacious words, her frustration mixing with a faint desire she didn’t want to acknowledge. Despite her efforts to maintain composure, Varkan always knew how to fluster her with his boldness, his actions always blurring the line between affection and provocation.
“Someday, would you also glare at me like that?” Varkan’s eyes, as he asked while smacking his lips, were already half-crazed.
“Are you going to keep doing this?”
Irel, unable to endure the increasingly intense tone of the conversation and his touch, protested. When she gently bit his lower lip, which had been teasing her, Varkan squinted his eyes.
“It excites me even more when you’re like this.”
Just when it seemed like he was about to withdraw his hands, he suddenly embraced Irel, gently pushing her with his muscular shoulder. As a result, Irel, pushed by his large frame, found herself reclining onto the seat of the carriage.
“Ah!”
A wave of red seemed to wash over her vision, and silky hair tickled her cheeks and forehead, along with the intoxicating scent of a distinctly masculine cologne.
“What should I do? I’m going to keep doing this.”
Now, and in the future. Maybe for the rest of our lives. Varkan, who had her pinned with both arms, whispered with eyes as sweet as honey.
His beauty was so overwhelming that just looking at him made her dizzy. Irel’s widened eyes found him irresistibly attractive. Her body reacted, heating up, her breath quickening, and her heartbeat pounding.
The energy carried by her racing pulse spread throughout her body, seeping into her flushed skin. And the predator did not miss it.
“I can smell it. The scent welcoming me.”
He lowered his head, bringing his nose to the collarbone exposed by her half-unbuttoned neckline. His breath, which lightly swept over her skin, was already burning hot.
T/N: After rereading this, I just noticed it has the same vibe with the ‘Guideverse’. The Masaka is the Esper, killing the monster while needing Risevra to calm their energy just like the Guide through Sevring (Guiding).
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Tiny Lizard
From the beginning I thought It was just fancy guideverse lol. Although the tie in to the Kitan’s is new. I haven’t read a guideverse like that before.