Chapter 69: Hero and Personal Desire

There are moments when the weight of the world doesn’t manifest through wars or visible tragedies, but through a single question:
What will I do now with all this pain?

The line that separates a hero from a martyr isn’t always courage—it’s sometimes the ability to stand back up after the collapse. To look at the ruins and not curse them, but to wonder if something can still be rebuilt among the debris.

Some fight for justice, others for revenge. But there are those who fight simply not to forget… not to let the memory of the fallen fade into oblivion.
And amid that inner struggle, where the past becomes both judge and executioner, only one true choice remains: to let the pain destroy you… or to turn it into purpose.
Because the true hero is not the one who saves everyone, but the one who, even broken, keeps walking.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The bandages covered most of Alexbold’s body. He sat at the edge of the cot, eyes fixed on the floor. His trembling hands kept clenching against each other. There was no physical pain in his gaze—only a wound that bled from within.

“Why that face?” Shun’s firm voice cut through the silence.

Alexbold slowly raised his head, as if lacking even the strength to answer.
“I failed…” he murmured. “Not only did I fail to capture him… many of my comrades died in that explosion.”

Shun narrowed his eyes, arms crossed.
“That’s it?”

Confusion—and a spark of anger—flashed across Alexbold’s face.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Are you just going to sit there, cursing yourself because you failed? Are you going to mourn at their graves, crying because you couldn’t save them?”

Shun’s sharp tone cut through him like a blade.
“Shut up,” Alexbold growled. “You don’t understand any of this. You’ve never cared about anyone. You’re a damn monster.”
“Yes, I am. So what? You want me to cry about it? No. I’ll find the bastard who did this… and I’ll make him pay for everything.”

Alexbold stared at him, stunned.
“The last thing your comrades would want is to see you drowning in guilt over an outcome no one could predict. We didn’t know the extent of Blackbeard’s powers. They accepted the mission knowing the risks. Don’t let their effort and sacrifice lose meaning because of your self-pity.”

Alexbold clenched his teeth, his entire body trembling with restrained rage.
“Get up and fight,” Shun continued. “Just like they did.”

A single tear slid down Alexbold’s scarred face.
“I’m sorry to tell you this,” Shun said, lowering his tone, “but now you’re carrying a heavy burden—the weight of all their dreams and hopes. But you don’t have to carry it alone. If you do, you’ll fall into an endless abyss. And trust me… I still don’t know what lies at the bottom of that abyss.”

He tossed a map onto the cot.
“We leave tomorrow morning. This time, it’s your call, Alexbold.”

When Shun left, silence once again filled the room. Alexbold turned his gaze toward the glass window that connected to the emergency ward. There they were—motionless, surrounded by machines and tubes: Rukia… and Iseli.
“Why…? Why you two…?”

A voice whispered behind him—dry and cruel:
“I told you… you were the one who should’ve died.”

Alexbold spun around sharply. There stood Clarileo, wearing his eternal expression of disdain.
“You were worthless, Alexbold.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I warned you. If only you’d died back then, this wouldn’t have happened. Someone more capable would’ve taken your place… and those two wouldn’t be fighting for their lives because of your incompetence.”
“Shut your mouth,” Alexbold spat through clenched teeth.
“You’re nothing but a failure,” Clarileo pressed on. “You can’t protect anyone. Or have you forgotten that night… when you let her die?”

A river of blood flooded Alexbold’s mind. Distant screams. Cries. A figure torn apart by colossal wolves. Claws ripping flesh. Lifeless eyes.
“Shut up!”
“You didn’t protect her,” the voice repeated. “You let her die. And this time… it’s the same.”

A crimson shadow began creeping along his back. It was liquid… yet it had form. A being made of blood, whispering in silence—asking, accusing.

Why did you let her die?

Alexbold fell to his knees, gasping. His face was shattered by remorse. The weight was unbearable. His chest caved in.
“I… I…”

The entity coiled around him, fusing with his skin, feeding on his guilt.
“I… deserve… to die.”

The darkness shattered like glass at the first ray of light.
Edén’s figure emerged from the shadows surrounding Alexbold, like a spark dissolving the abyss that threatened to swallow him. His words—simple and sincere—were stronger than any blow.
“Iseli truly loves you.”

The blood-creature wrapping Alexbold cracked instantly. The voices that condemned him fell silent. The echo of guilt stopped.
“Edén…” he whispered, as if waking from a nightmare.

The dark scene in his mind broke into a thousand pieces, revealing the white room, the medical tubes, and the real figure of Edén, standing beside his cot.
“What’s wrong?” Edén asked with a calm smile. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No…”

Alexbold lowered his gaze, overwhelmed by everything he felt. But Edén didn’t stop. His voice was soft, but steady.
“I’m sorry you have to go through all this, Alexbold.”
“I was weak… again. I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t protect anyone. Once more…”
“I understand perfectly,” Edén said with a melancholy smile. “That night… I couldn’t protect my grandfather either.”

The silence grew heavier.
“What?”
“He had power. He had energy. But I froze. I could only watch as they hurt him. He, without hesitation, protected me with his body. I still don’t know if he really is my grandfather. I don’t know if what I am is real or just a broken idea. But I don’t care. Because he loves me. And not everyone would be willing to die for you.”

Alexbold watched him without words. He had never heard him speak like that.
“Until recently,” Edén continued, “I thought you and I were alike. But we aren’t. I’ve only lived for my grandfather’s memory, for my hatred of Black Lights. I don’t care about the lives lost—I only want revenge. But you… you think of all who have fallen. It hurts you that you couldn’t save them. You’re different. You’re better. Please don’t change.”

He paused, and there was something very close to faith in his eyes.
“I trust you, hero.”

Alexbold swallowed. He felt something new beating inside him. Not strength. Not vengeance. Something deeper. Something that made his soul tremble.
“I’m sure they’re fighting right now,” Edén added with a half-smile. “Don’t do anything stupid. They’re waiting for you to come back. If you try anything foolish, I’ll kick your ass. Got it?”

A small laugh escaped Alexbold’s lips. He looked toward Iseli, still unconscious… and nodded.
“You’re a good guy, Edén. More than you think.”

•

The next day brought the echo of a new fate.
In a large hall, the chosen members were already gathered. Shun, standing before the group, studied them one by one. Joan of Arc, Edén, Tiresias, Achilles, Artemis, Ares… and finally Alexbold.

That look—Alexbold’s look—was no longer the same as yesterday.
Shun noticed it at once.
That look is different… I like it.

“It seems we are all present,” he said, his voice sounding like the start of a march. “It’s time to depart for the Island of Death.”

Alexbold clenched his fists tightly.
Blackbeard… we’ll meet soon.