Chapter 486: Blood Of One’s Sins
Mika lowered the headless body so the open neck was pressed directly over the man’s face.
"You can’t breathe, can you? Your mouth is filled with your wife’s blood, slowly going into your lungs, and you’re coughing out blood every single second."
His voice took on a preachy, almost scriptural tone.
"This is simply what you deserve. It’s the weight of all your sins and all the hatred your wife has towards you for abandoning her that’s making you unable to breathe right now."
The bomber was drowning in his wife’s blood.
"Merghhh! Arghhh! Nnnnm!"
He could taste it—the horrible, metallic warmth filling his mouth and stomach.
Memories flooded him: their first meeting, their first date, their wedding night, the birth of their daughter, all the plans they had made together.
Now he was literally drinking her blood while her severed head stared at him with cold, dead eyes.
He tried desperately to close his mouth, but Mika grabbed his jaw and forced it wide open.
"Oh, you’re not getting off that easy. If you’re willing to let your wife go just like that, then you should be able to handle the weight of the guilt you feel against it."
Mika then pushed the headless body downward, forcing the open neck straight into the man’s mouth.
"Drink it. Drink it all! Drink all of your wife’s blood!"
"Taste it. Feel it against your mouth! This is because of you, you bastard! You couldn’t give up everything for her sake, right? Your own wife—she trusted you so much, and you ended up like this!"
The man choked and sobbed, tears mixing with the blood. His stomach bloated from the sheer volume he was forced to swallow.
The officials were in complete chaos—fainting, vomiting, some even crying out for their mothers. Even hardened military veterans looked lightheaded and sick.
Nadia was also terrified.
She wanted to stop Mika, to say something, but seeing him like this made her shiver uncontrollably.
Despite knowing he would never hurt her, she couldn’t approach. She could only tremble and look away from the gruesome sight.
This continued until Mika finally threw the body aside. The bomber lay there, completely broken, eyes empty of any remaining light.
He was covered head to toe in his wife’s blood, still sobbing and choking, his spirit utterly destroyed.
The once-proud fanatic had fallen into true, bottomless despair.
But he snapped out of his daze when he heard a familiar scream.
He turned around, and his heart stopped.
Mika was holding his daughter. The little girl had woken from her faint, her eyes wide and confused, her small body trembling in the boy’s grip.
She looked around the hall—at the blood-soaked floor, at the bodies, at the officials cowering in corners and her face crumpled with fear.
"NO!"
The man thrashed against his bonds, desperation giving him strength he didn’t know he had.
"Don’t—don’t touch her! Let her go! Please, I beg you—let her go! She’s innocent! She hasn’t done anything wrong!"
Mika didn’t release her. He held her from behind, his hands gentle on her shoulders, and turned her head toward the corpses of her grandmother and uncle. The old woman’s twisted neck. The brother’s split body, organs still glistening in the open air.
"Look." Mika said, his voice soft. Almost kind. "Look at them."
The girl looked. Her eyes went wide. Her lips parted. No sound came out.
"Your grandmother. Your uncle. Your dear mother."
He nodded toward the headless body and the head beside it, still staring with dead, accusing eyes.
"...This is all because of your father."
The girl’s breath hitched. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t sob. She couldn’t. The shock was too great.
"I’m sure you looked up to him. Thought of him as a Hero, maybe. Someone brave. Someone who would protect you no matter what."
Mika’s voice was gentle, almost sympathetic.
"But look at what he’s done. He could have stopped this. He could have told me what I needed to know, and none of this would have happened. But he didn’t. He chose his cause over his family."
"NO!" The man’s voice cracked. "Dalia, don’t listen to him! Papa loves you! Papa loves all of you! I never wanted this—I never—"
Mika turned the girl’s head away from the bodies, toward her father. Her face was blank. Hollow. The face of someone who had seen too much, too fast, and couldn’t process any of it.
"You love your family?" Mika’s voice was still soft. Still gentle. "Then why did you let them die?"
The man’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No words came.
"Your wife begged you. She screamed for you to tell the truth. And you watched her die. You drank her blood." Mika shook his head slowly. "You let her die, and you couldn’t even give her the truth in return."
The man’s lips trembled. Tears mixed with the blood still drying on his face.
"Tell me I’m wrong." Mika said. "Tell me this isn’t your fault."
The man looked at his wife’s head. At her dead eyes. At the betrayal frozen on her face.
He couldn’t say it.
He looked away. And he cried.
Mika released the girl.
She didn’t run. She didn’t scream. She walked, slowly, as if in a dream, to her mother’s head. She knelt beside it. She stared into those dead eyes.
"...Why, Papa?"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"...Why did you let Mama go?"
The man sobbed.
"You told us you loved us. You told us you loved Mama. She talked about you all the time. About how you met. About your first date. About the night you proposed."
The girl’s voice cracked. "I-I wanted to find someone like that someday. Someone who would love me as much as Mama loved you."
She looked at her father. Her eyes were not angry. They were not sad. They were empty.
"But you gave her up. You let her die. Why?"
The man tried to speak. "I didn’t—I never—"
He couldn’t finish. The words wouldn’t come.
Because she was right. He had given his wife up. He had let her die. And no amount of faith, no promise of eternal reward, could wash away the weight of that betrayal.
The girl looked away from him. She stared at her mother’s head again. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.
The tragic weight of everything was settling on her young shoulders, and she stood there motionless as she watched her entire family be torn apart and her father cry miserably.
Just then, Mika came from behind and put his hand over her shoulder. She didn’t even react—she wasn’t even fully in this world anymore.
"This is your last chance." He said, looking at the man. "Make the right decision. I don’t like hurting children. I’m completely against it. But in this situation with hundreds of thousands of lives at stake—I will do whatever it takes."
Nadia couldn’t hold back any longer.
"Mika, please." Her voice was raw. "We don’t need to—"
He glanced at her.
She stopped. Her mouth closed. Her body went cold. She had faced down the Eternal Queen. She had survived wars, assassinations, betrayals.
But that one look—that calm, empty gaze made her feel more afraid than she had ever been in her life.
She said nothing.
The officials also said nothing. They were terrified of Mika, of what he might do next, of the blood still drying on the floor.
But they also understood. Hundreds of thousands of lives were at stake. If terrorizing one family could save them, then perhaps...perhaps it was worth it.
Mika turned back to the man.
"So. What will it be?" He patted the girl’s head. "Will you keep rambling about the Eternal Queen? About your glorious mission? About the Hero’s death you’ve been promised?"
He tilted his head.
"Or will you save your daughter?"
"I’m giving you five seconds to make a decision."
He immediately started counting down.
"Five."
The man thought about his mission. About the years of preparation. The promises of glory. The dream of a world remade in the Eternal Queen’s image. He had been born for this. Raised for this. Every moment of his life had led to this moment.
"Four."
He thought about his mother. The way she used to kiss his forehead before bed. The last time he saw her alive, she had hugged him and said she was proud of him.
"Three."
His brother. The football games. The fights. The reconciliations. The shared dream of standing together when the new world came.
"Two."
His wife. Their first date. Their wedding night. The birth of their daughter. The way she looked at him, even at the end—not with fear, but with betrayal.
With the crushing weight of disappointed love.
"One."
His daughter. Her voice, asking why. Her empty eyes. Her shattered faith in the father who was supposed to protect her.
Until—
"STOP!"
The word tore from his throat like a physical thing.
"I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you everything!" Tears streamed down his face. "Just let her go—please—don’t hurt her—I’ll tell you anything you want to know!"