Chapter 404 Revenge
The professor stopped in front of a relatively new tombstone. He extended his hand to Percy, who was standing farther away. Percy froze for a moment, and just as he was hesitating whether to shake the thin, slender hand tightly wrapped in a glove, he heard the other person's calm voice: "Please give me the light."
Percy: "..."
The professor picked up the kerosene lamp, and after being completely enveloped by the dim light, the name engraved on the tombstone finally became clear.
—Aidoni Brody.
A long silence enveloped this place where the dead rested, the only sound being the rustling of the treetops in the evening breeze, like a belated elegy. Percy stood a few steps away from his brother, head bowed, his fingers clenched into fists at his sides, his nails almost digging into his flesh.
The black-haired young man stood in front of his mother's tombstone for a long time, so long that Percy thought he had turned into another tombstone, so long that the rain began to fall again. Before Percy could react, the people next to him had already held an umbrella over his head - he finally moved.
He didn't offer any worship, but simply took off one of his gloves, squatted down, and gently brushed away a few fallen leaves stained with rain and mud from the base with his clean, pale fingers. Percy gritted his teeth, hardly daring to look him in the face, as guilt and pain threatened to turn into a deep tide that overwhelmed him.
"Where is he?" The black-haired young man stood up, looked down at the mud on his hands, and asked in an extremely calm tone.
Even in the dim night, Percy's face was still shockingly pale.
"...cellar," he whispered.
Outlet Brody isn't dead yet.
Initially, the purpose was to preserve key witnesses and use them to thoroughly nail the Batman family. However, even after extracting all useful or useless information from the population, the Ironthorn Leader still did not receive the order to execute them.
Percy had no idea what his brother was up to. He had the culprit imprisoned in the cellar by his own son. He watched helplessly as everything he had pursued gradually collapsed, watching as the very thing he had fought so hard to seize once again irretrievably fell into the hands of the bloodline he hated...
The young man didn't want to think about whether this was some kind of harsh revenge, or a cold observation of his position and loyalty.
Before the tragedy, Percy's mother was completely oblivious to the actions of her husband and son. Her heartless and volatile husband's constant stream of mistresses and the birth of numerous illegitimate children had left her disillusioned and disinterested. Fortunately, her only son proved exceptionally capable, providing her with a protective shield and allowing her to maintain firm control over the Brody family.
Later, her husband was imprisoned by his own son, but the lady showed an astonishing calmness. After learning the truth, she immediately dispersed her husband's illegitimate children, then claimed to be ill and went to a more remote distant relative's home for recuperation. From then on, she no longer asked about family affairs.
Percy led the two to the cellar deep within the Brody family mansion. The further down they went, the stronger the odor of mold and rotting grass became. Droplets of water seeped down the cold stone walls, and only the faint light of an oil lamp in the corner.
In the corner of the cellar, a figure was bound with a heavy iron chain to a ring embedded in the wall. The man was dressed in rags, and his hair and beard were tangled together, almost completely obscuring his face.
Hearing the footsteps, the curled up figure suddenly trembled violently, uttering unclear pleas and mumblings, as if he had already suffered a complete mental breakdown due to the long period of imprisonment and waiting for death.
The professor raised the kerosene lamp in his hand a little higher, and the light dispelled the dimness, clearly illuminating the outline of the prisoner. He looked at the man in front of him, who was no longer as handsome as before and was in a state of disgrace, with a calmness that could be described as indifferent. He looked at the culprit who killed Mrs. Adonie Brody, his blood uncle, Otts Brody.
The dim light of the kerosene lamp flickered on the pale, sharply defined face of the black-haired youth. It was only then that Outles seemed to regain some consciousness, realizing that the visitors were not Ghost's subordinates, those cold and cruel men in black, nor were they his son, who had stood there and let him curse until he was exhausted, while still keeping him imprisoned.
He first looked at the visitor blankly for a moment, then his eyes suddenly opened wide, revealing fear and disgust that could not be described in words.
"No, no...it's you!" Outles Brody screamed hoarsely, shrinking back desperately, the chains rattling as he struggled. "Don't come over here! You're not human...you beast! The devil who destroyed my family! Why didn't I strangle you to death when you were born!"
Azuka frowned, but before he could do anything, the other party began to beg in an extremely humble and incoherent manner: "Let me go... It's not me! They forced me to do it, and I don't want to... Please don't kill me, I'm your uncle! I'm your..."
Pleading was mixed with scolding, screaming was mixed with roaring, he looked like he had really gone crazy.
The professor stared at the crazy man in front of him for a moment, and suddenly said calmly: "The Batman family is destroyed."
“…”
"As of now, the Limin Army has effectively controlled two-thirds of the empire's territory. The destruction of the Silver Iris Empire is only a matter of time." As Outles' pupils trembled violently, he continued calmly, "If you hadn't killed my mother, I could at least ensure that you lived the rest of your life in peace and tranquility... But now, you have personally destroyed that possibility."
Outles Brody's chest began to heave violently.
Those crazy moments were half real and half acted, but now he was truly regretting them.
What was his nephew, whom he had once looked down upon, talking about? If he could truly overthrow this empire, if this were all true... wouldn't that make him the uncle of a founding monarch, a royal relative who would soon possess boundless wealth and territory? In comparison, what would the tiny Ironthorn Territory mean?
Outles Brody's lips trembled, and he began to cry and beg: "I was wrong! My dear nephew! I was bewitched, and it was the damned Batman who forced me and seduced me. Yes, they forced me... I never thought of killing your mother. I, I don't know how it turned out like this..."
He spoke incoherently, tears streaming down his face, and tried to crawl forward to kiss the toe of the ghost's boot. However, the chains restricted his movements, making him wriggle like a maggot. A greedy hope even appeared on his face: "Please spare me this time, for the sake of our blood relationship - after all, I am Percy's father!"
What answered him was the cold muzzle of a gun, aimed steadily at the disheveled and dirty head.
"Percy, get out."
The professor stared expressionlessly at the man before him, his face etched with terror and despair, his gaze fixed on him. The kerosene lamp cast his shadow, unusually tall, across the cellar's stone walls, like a vengeful ghost.
Percy's lips moved slightly, he understood what this meant, but he still turned around stiffly and obediently in the face of his father's sudden outburst of hoarse scolding and crying, and left the cold and damp cellar.
A crisp gunshot startled the crows from the treetops.
Percy stood in the rain, closed his eyes, and let the cold rain hit his face and flow down his face. His heart seemed to be constantly and wantonly gnawed by a hollow nothingness. He just felt a shaky fatigue, and couldn't even muster the strength to hate anyone, no matter who it was.
"What are you doing standing in the rain?"
The young man's body stiffened instantly. He could smell the scent of gunpowder and blood, which were quickly washed away by the smell of rain.
Percy turned slowly and stared at his brother, who was carefully wiping his right hand with a handkerchief. The pale fingertips were stained with mud from his mother's grave and the smell of gunpowder.
"I've already killed him." Seeing him remain silent, the other party frowned slightly and said in a calm tone: "If you want revenge, your chance is only now... Why are you crying?"
The black-haired young man even took a step back stiffly, hesitated for a moment, and threw the handkerchief into his arms again: "Why don't you calm down first, and we can talk later?"
Percy clutched his handkerchief blankly, and touched his face with his fingers blankly, only then did he discover something different from the rain. The young man's lips trembled, and an emotion that had been pent up for too long finally burst out uncontrollably from the depths of his smoky gray eyes.
"...No, I will never take revenge on you." He stared deeply at the person in front of him, his whole body trembling slightly as if he was about to collapse.
The professor hesitated for a moment and tentatively patted the young man's shoulder with a comforting look, but someone suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him into his arms without warning.
The savior's face suddenly darkened.
Percy could feel the body in his arms, stiff as a rock, yet lighter than he'd imagined. His brother's thin spine pressed against his palm, sending a wave of sharp, aching, and painful sadness surging from deep within his chest. He was supposedly unshakable, like an iron statue, yet now it felt as if he could be trapped with just a folded arm.
He couldn't help but hold her tighter, like a drowning man clutching at his only piece of driftwood. The cold rain mixed with the scalding tears, all rubbing against the older man's clothes. This made the professor, who had originally intended to grab the man by the back of the collar and pull him out, hesitate for a moment, and instead quickly patted his back.
"...That's enough, let go." He said coldly, and gestured to Azuka beside him.
Percy seemed not to hear and hugged the man tighter. His voice was muffled, with a heavy nasal tone and reckless stubbornness, sobbing incoherently: "Brother, I hate him, I hate him so much... But I also did something wrong, I don't even know if I should hate you..."
"What should I do?" He pleaded devoutly, feeling extremely helpless. "You're all I have now. Why don't you just kill me too..."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
