Chapter 9: Great Love Guild
Darius fell silent. His mind was simple, and he had truly believed he had finally met someone exceptionally kind. Never did he expect that person to be a mass murderer.
As Darius lowered his head into stillness, Dusk sensed that it was finally time to place his bet.
"Don't be hasty," Dusk said calmly. "Just listen to what I have to say first. Look at the people I've killed—were any of them truly normal? They were all seriously wounded. Even if they were saved, they would've spent the rest of their lives crippled. Wouldn't that kind of life be torture? Could they really endure such suffering?"
He stopped speaking in order to give Darius time to consider what he had said. And maybe he was right this time—Darius had spoken up. His face was filled with inner struggle and confusion as he gazed up.
"You... you're not wrong," Darius muttered. "If I lost my arms or legs, I wouldn't want to live either. What good would I be? I'd be nothing but a useless cripple."
But was he really speaking from the perspective of someone disabled? Of course not. His thoughts were those of a laborer, someone who carried heavy loads for a living. Imagine being crippled and trying to do that kind of work—how productive could you possibly be?
The answer was obvious: not much. Sure, there are people with incredible willpower who can keep working despite their disabilities, but what then? Wouldn't their lives be full of inconvenience? Wouldn't their abilities be severely limited?
It didn't matter how others thought; Darius simply didn't want to live that kind of life. For someone strong like him, becoming a cripple would be worse than death.
Darius's reaction was exactly what Dusk had hoped for. Dusk slowly stepped closer, placing a friendly arm around his shoulder, his face not resembling that of a murderer in the slightest.