Chapter 412: Her View
Marcus stared at her for a long moment, then scoffed lightly and turned his gaze away, his face unreadable. "Look, to me, Jyn wasn’t some noble dark mage who lost his way," he said, voice low and edged with steel. "He was a rabid dog with a spellbook and zero conscience. And personally? I can’t stand rabid dogs."
Serah’s blade was still pointed at him, but her grip had noticeably eased. "So that justifies killing him?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm. "Does taking out monsters like him make you less of a threat to Amthar? Or are you just cleaning up your own mess?"
"Justify?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, then let out a short breath that could’ve been a laugh. "Nah. Him being a walking freakshow was just an extra detail on the profile. I’ve got my own reasons for why I did what I did—and how I did it." He turned back to face her, that sharp glint still dancing faintly in his dark eyes. "But here’s what I don’t get. Why are you, of all people, looking like you feel sorry for a dark mage? And not just any—Jyn, the sadistic freak who carved people up for fun."
Serah didn’t answer. Her silence stretched long and heavy between them.
Marcus tilted his head slightly. "But that’s not even the only weird thing here." He took a slow step forward, his voice dropping into something a little softer, more curious. "You’re a princess—Serah Magna. Daughter of the great King Tharion. Ruler of the Solara Kingdom, who hates my kind with the same passion most people reserve for demons. And yet here you are, still talking to me. Breathing. Letting me breathe."
He let the words hang for a second, then added, "You almost split me in half when you first showed up, sure. Real warm welcome. But most Solara Knights I’ve met don’t miss the second swing. You? You hesitated."
He paused, watching her carefully. "You’re different. Way too different. Not like the other knights I’ve fought. Not like the ones who scream ’justice’ while setting fire to villages."
Then his voice dropped, gentler, as he studied her expression. "And your eyes? Yeah, they say more than enough. They’re not screaming for blood. They’re searching for answers."
His gaze didn’t waver as he spoke her name like a challenge and a question all at once. "So tell me, Princess Serah Magna... why are you acting so casual with a dark mage you’ve never met before?"
Again, Serah said nothing. But her silence wasn’t empty—it was full of conflict, of old voices echoing in her mind, clashing with the feeling stirring in her chest.
In all her twenty-six years, she had been raised under the rule of her father, King Tharion Magna. And from the moment she was old enough to understand the weight of a blade, she had been taught one thing without compromise: demons were the enemy—but dark mages were no different. In fact, in his eyes, they were worse. Abominations that bore the shape of man, but the heart of evil. And Serah? She had lived by that principle—in action, if not always in heart.
Because deep down, she wasn’t her father. She couldn’t grasp why people with a darker affinity were branded as monsters just for existing. A human was a human, wasn’t it? Whether they bent water, summoned fire, or commanded shadows—weren’t they still human?