The Redo of a Novel's Villain: Moira

33 - Failure

Kayson sat on a makeshift bench, leg jumping up and down. He felt restless (only staying still for the person bandaging his arm). He hissed when a wrap put too much pressure on the injury.

The person dipped her head, apologizing meekly. "Sorry, endure for a couple more minutes. The medicine should kick in soon." She explained and quickly finished treating him. Kayson barely had time to mutter thanks before she went off to help others.

Nicholas appeared beside him, his usual radiant locks now dusted and dirty from debris. He, just like everyone else, looked haggard. Minor cuts littered his body; fortunately, nothing major (as the blonde did not engage in much combat). He looked at worried blue eyes, then at the scene in front.

The courtyard was filled with people––students, staff, and healers. The shine of healing magic appeared frequently. Many students huddled in small groups to comfort each other while others cried for their friends and family. Healers ran around, ingesting mana-refill potion after potion as they dragged the worse of the casualties out of danger. Behind it was the central building. Thanks to being fortified by magic, it miraculously did not collapse and crush everything in its vicinity. However, some bits that took the brunt of the explosions were beginning to crumble.

Kayson felt a low tremor flow through the ground, wondering which part broke off this time.

And despite this horrid scene, the air only carried the melancholy feelings of the humans present. No demonic bodies were amongst the wreckage. For some reason, all the beasts suddenly retreated, and those killed disintegrated into fine dust, then nothingness. It was all like an elaborate joke—a sick one.

There were so many casualties, not just death but the pain inflicted on those present. Be it physical or psychological; the event will go down in infamy. And yet, despite it all, the perpetrators leave no trace except for the destruction in their wake. It felt cruel, mocking.

He did have doubts about the plan. Try as they might, things were unpredictable––chaotic. What's to say what they did would do anything? What's to say if what they did kill more people than originally? What's to say they'd survive? His eyes throbbed looking at the quiet mourns, the bodies covered by white cloth, and the destruction.

This outcome should've been obvious.

They should've considered it.

Why didn't they?

Scared. That's why.

Despite having experienced death, the idea of a massacre––carnage-–was too much for his mind. How could he? He's never taken or seen someone's life be taken outside of fictional media! This was too real; it was real. He squeezed his eyes shut. God, how he wished to be back on Earth and not Evendale. God, how he wanted to be Kayden and not take over Kayson. He hoped this was all a cruel nightmare, and when he woke up, he'd be at home planning to go to the concert with Elijah.

He hates this. He hates this so much. He hates being stuck in this predicament, dying from a bus accident, unable to say goodbye to his real family, replacing someone who should be alive and happy right now, and pretending to be the son of a loving family.

Kayden didn't want to be here. He didn't belong here. He never did.

And this was just the beginning of this god-forsaken world.

Kayden clenched his fists until his palm squeezed ivory pale. How cruel fate was, a random novel in one and his future the next. He's so, so angry––at everything! At chance, life, this novel, the demons, himself, but most of all, he's scared. He's terrified. Only when he tastes iron on his tongue does he realize he gnawed at his lips hard enough to draw beads of blood.