NOVEL NEXT WORLD Chapter 270: Home
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Ren's silence was taken as a provocation. The young man grabbed Ren by the collar, his eyes burning with anger, staring intensely.
He wanted to see weakness, but Ren, having confirmed that this wasn't Joyce, remained calm, his gaze as still as if looking at a dead man.
A shiver ran down Istvan's spine. He quickly released his grip and took a step back, realizing his display of anger had been ineffective. He averted his gaze from Ren, turning to leave.
"I hope you can remain so calm when you see your companion die before your eyes."
With that ominous threat, the young man walked towards Ren's cabin.
He didn't notice Ren's hands clenching unconsciously.
The armed assailants tackled Ren again, dragging him across the snow, plowing a long furrow in the ground.
Just as they were about to break his legs, there was a snap. Ren twisted his body, sending the last dagger in his sleeve flying into the attacker's throat.
Seizing the moment of their surprise, he broke free from their grasp. A club slammed against his back with a dull thud, but Ren didn't utter a sound, retrieving his dagger from the dead man's throat.
As he stood up, dizziness blurred his vision, but as the other attackers lunged at him, he moved like a phantom, effortlessly evading their blows.
If not for the initial ambush and his attempt to identify the mastermind behind the attack, Ren, despite his weakened state, wouldn't have been so easily subdued by these thugs armed with melee weapons.
Spurt.
Blood sprayed from an enemy's throat, the hot liquid melting the snow on the ground, staining Ren's cheek crimson.
He moved like a ruthless machine, silently reaping lives, like a butterfly flitting through a storm of blood.
A thud echoed from behind him. Istvan turned, expecting to see Ren's corpse, but instead met a pair of cold, emotionless eyes.
"You… monster." Terror gripped his heart, turning his blood to ice. He scrambled towards the cabin.
Seeing this, Ren's killing intent intensified. The image of the cozy home he and Kiana had spent days creating flashed through his mind, the dagger in his hand gleaming in the firelight.
"This is my territory."
A silver thread flashed through the air, followed by a spray of blood. But Ren's eyes suddenly narrowed.
A gunshot rang out.
Bang!
He tilted his head, the bullet grazing his cheek, the wind pressure leaving a bloody streak on his skin. The crazed man, clutching his bleeding neck, fired wildly at Ren.
Bullets ricocheted around the room, forcing Ren to take cover.
Crack.
The window Ren had meticulously cleaned shattered. A hanging rope snapped, sending splinters of wood and flammable cloth raining down into the hearth. Within seconds, flames erupted, engulfing the wooden floor and support beams.
"No!"
The gunfire ceased. Istvan, his life extinguished, his eyes glazed over, slumped to the ground, the gun falling from his lifeless hand.
But Ren didn't even glance at him. His eyes were fixed on the raging flames.
He tried to extinguish the spreading fire, but the winter wood was dry and highly flammable. Moreover, the cabin was mostly made of wood. Ren's efforts were futile.
This world was an illusion to him. He could watch others die without a flicker of emotion, and even if he erased this entire world, his heart wouldn't waver.
But even if the world was fake, the memories were real.
From the initial coldness to the warmth of the cabin, the gradual creation of a cozy home—it was all the result of his and Kiana's efforts.
Ren had always been like a drifting leaf, detached and emotionless, treating everything as a game because he possessed the power and freedom to act alone. But within this illusion, his abilities were restricted, forcing him to rely on the girl beside him.
This cabin held not only the fruits of his labor but also the memories of his cooperation with Kiana.
It was for this reason that the cabin had become the anchor for all his emotions in this illusory world. And as the flames consumed it, a ripple of emotion finally stirred within Ren's heart.
It was the feeling of loss.
Fanned by the wind outside, the fire raged, engulfing the entire cabin. Ren was surrounded by flames, falling debris crashing around him, sending waves of fire closer and closer.
The aftereffects of the earlier fight and his injuries seized this opportunity, tearing at his body and mind. His vision blurred in the firelight, and he finally succumbed to the overwhelming weakness, collapsing to the ground.
Thud.
The sound of firewood falling to the ground echoed through the snowy landscape. Kiana, just returning, stared in horror at the corpses surrounding the burning cabin and rushed into the inferno.
Ren, his consciousness fading, felt himself being embraced by cold arms. He forced his eyes open, murmuring apologetically,
"I'm sorry. I couldn't protect our home."
So, this is what it means to have a home?
The thought flickered through his mind before he lost consciousness.
"Ren!" In the inferno that painted the night sky red, Kiana lifted the unconscious Ren onto her back and rushed out of the burning cabin.
Burning beams crashed down around them, the stone walls collapsing, burying all traces of their memories within.
The moment they stepped out, the cabin was completely consumed by flames. Kiana carried Ren into the dark, snowy night, the darkness swallowing all hope.
"Ren, Ren…" Tears streamed down her face, and Kiana bit her lip, suppressing a sob. To maintain the illusion, she had kept her emotions in check.
She couldn't let Ren discover her true identity, afraid he would leave. But now, she could no longer hold back, calling out his name over and over.
"It's okay. I'm still here. I'll always be here." She shifted Ren higher on her back, so his head rested more comfortably on her shoulder, their faces close together, whispering softly.
The cold wind swept across the 1951 Berlin landscape. Amidst the fire and snow, the figures of the boy and girl gradually disappeared into the distance.
Behind them lay the corpses and the smoldering ruins of their home.