Chapter 63: A Glass of Blood and a War to Come
"You piece of—" Leywin coughed out a mouthful of blood as his monstrous bear form dissolved, shrinking back into his humanoid shape.
His body collapsed, still split nearly in half. Yet somehow, he clung to life just long enough to speak.
"I don’t really know what you’re planning, but to me it just looks like you’re trying to get some power for yourself," Corven replied casually, lips curling into a sly smile. He pressed his foot down on Leywin’s blood-slick chest, finding a cruel sort of amusement in the man’s current state.
After all, if you get brutalized by his gargoyles, then nearly killed by his vampire lackeys—and now the puppet master himself ends up crushed and bleeding just like you—who wouldn’t feel a little satisfied?
Leywin gave a ragged chuckle at that, rolling his eyes. Even now, even half-dead, he held onto a sliver of smugness. Or maybe it was just stubborn pride.
"And what? You expect me to believe that you’re the opposite?" he rasped.
"Of course not," Corven answered with a shrug. "We just have different methods to our madness. Who’s to say I won’t do the same thing you did someday?"
Then he leaned in close, close enough for his breath to tickle Leywin’s ear.
"But before you die... care to explain what you meant by me dooming us all?"
Leywin exhaled slowly, face twisting with a blend of exhaustion and faint amusement. With the last of his strength, he raised a shaking hand to grip Corven’s ankle—the only defiance he could muster.
"Why not? If I’m lucky, you’ll carry my legacy... even if you don’t mean to."
Corven smirked. He lowered his head slightly, just enough to hear the dying man’s final confession.