The Anomaly's Path-Chapter 75: I Love You

Author’s Note:

Hey everyone. This Chapter is the end of Roran’s backstory arc. It is dark, heavy, and emotional. I want to be honest with you — this is not an easy Chapter to read. There is violence, loss, and tragedy.

If you have been enjoying Roran’s journey, I hope this ending does justice to his character. If you are sensitive to dark content, please take care of yourself while reading.

Thank you for sticking with me through this long backstory. The next Chapter will return to Leo and the present timeline.

Thank you for reading.

_

"I am a friend," the voice whispered, soft as silk sliding over a blade. "...And I am the only one who can help you."

In the dark fringes of the Stormcrest woods, Kael stared at the figure before him. She was tall, her beauty predatory and ethereal, her dark hair falling past her shoulders like a waterfall of ink.

Her skin was pale, almost glowing in the moonlight, and her eyes were deep purple, like bruises on a ripe fruit. Beneath her grace was a terrifying, ancient pressure that made the air feel heavy and wrong.

She was Morana, the Fourth General of the Seven Sins, a direct progeny of the Demon King.

When the Demon King was defeated and sealed eons ago, he had left a final message for all his generals before the light consumed him.

He told them to retreat, to hide in the darkest corners of the universe, and to wait for the day when he would return. He told them to heal their wounds, to gather their strength, and to prepare for his resurrection. His return would be magnificent, he said, and no one would be able to stop him.

Severely wounded and leaking essence, Morana had fled to a backwater planet with thin mana—a world called Aetheris. There were demons here already, of course, but compared to other worlds, there were very few. It was a quiet place, a forgotten place, the perfect place to hide.

For centuries, she had slumbered in a tomb of ice and shadow, trying to heal her mangled soul.

She had awakened years ago, drawn not by mana, but by a scent.

She was the mistress of the Seeds of Obsession. Her power thrived on the wrong kinds of desire—the kind that turned a heart into a cage. She could sense the strongest desires, the darkest obsessions, and feed on them like a wolf smelling blood from miles away.

When she first saw the boy, Kael, she had been disappointed.

He was a child with a flickering darkness, easily extinguished. Instead, she had grown fascinated by the man he followed: Roran.

Roran was an absurdity. A man born for slaughter who desired only the most dangerous dream—Peace. She had tried to plant a seed in Roran’s mind, but in her weakened state, his iron will had repelled her like a physical blow.

Frustrated, she had turned her gaze back to the boy.

Kael was fertile soil. She had planted a seed of devotion in him, and for two years, she had watched it rot into a harvest of madness.

Now, standing before her in the dark forest, Kael’s hands trembled. "Do not give me that crap," he spat. "You are a demon. An enemy of mankind. Why would a demon call herself a friend?"

Morana stepped closer, her bare feet silent on the forest floor. "Because, little bird, I am the only one who sees the truth. I am the only one who understands what is happening to your master. I am the only one who can help you save him."

Kael’s jaw tightened. "What do you know about him?"

"I know everything." Her voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and warm. "I know that he is dying, Kael. Not his body. His spirit. That woman, Clara... she has wrapped her vines around his heart. She has made him soft. She has made him afraid. She has made him want to leave the path of steel and blood."

Kael’s breath caught in his throat. "She is not—"

"She is a witch," Morana interrupted, her eyes flashing. "She has put a curse on him. A curse of peace and weakness. The Roran you knew, who never lost a battle, who never flinched from death... he is fading. Soon, there will be nothing left but a shell. A husband. A father. A coward."

Kael’s hands clenched into fists. "No... that cannot be..."

"I have seen it." Morana reached out and touched his cheek. Her fingers were cold, but her touch was gentle, almost tender. "...I have been watching you for a long time, Kael. I have seen your strength. I have seen your loyalty. I have seen how much you love your master. You are the only one who can save him."

Kael looked at her, his eyes wet. "...How?"

Morana smiled, and her cheeks flushed with a dark, twisted excitement. "I can give you the power to break the curse. I can give you the strength to free your god. All you have to do is listen. All you have to do is trust me."

"What... what should I do?" Kael’s eyes were beginning to lose focus, the pupils dilating until the iris was nearly gone.

Morana stepped closer, her body pressing against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pulled him close. Her lips brushed against his ear, and she whispered, "Kill her."

Kael’s eyes widened. "Kill... her?!"

"Kill the witch," Morana repeated, her voice dripping with honey. "When her blood spills on the earth, the curse will break. Roran will wake up. He will see what you did to save him. He will praise you. He will look at you with pride. He... will love you the way he used to."

Kael’s breathing became ragged. "But... but she is carrying his child..."

"A demon spawn," Morana hissed, her eyes burning. "Another curse to poison him. Another chain to bind him to his cage. You must destroy it all, Kael. You must free him completely."

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. Her gaze was intense, almost hypnotic. She brought her hand to his face and stroked his cheek.

"You are a hero, Kael. The only hero who can save your god. Do you want to be praised by him? Do you want him to look at you with pride?"

Kael’s eyes became unfocused. His pupils dilated until the iris was nearly gone. "I... I want..."

"Of course you do." Morana’s lips curled into a smile. She leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and lingering, a promise of darkness. When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were burning with obsession.

"Go, my little hero," she whispered. "Go save your master. I will be watching."

She hugged him, her expression one of dark, maternal cruelty. Her face twisted into a mask of ecstatic madness, her eyes wide and glassy with desire.

Kael turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy, his eyes empty.

Morana watched him go, a smile playing on her lips. She brought her hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth there, and laughed softly to herself.

"Kekeke... what a lovely toy."

_

The morning sun was pale and cold when Roran gathered his men at the gate of Hound’s Rest.

His armor was polished, his sword was sharp, and his horse was saddled and waiting. The mission was simple. A village to the east had been reporting monster sightings. Nothing too dangerous, nothing that would take more than a day or two.

Aldric stood beside him, his arms crossed, his face grim.

"You are sure you do not want me to come?" Aldric asked.

Roran shook his head. "It is just a simple extermination. I will take Harlan and Sera. You stay here and watch over the estate."

Aldric nodded, though his expression did not relax. "Be careful."

"I am always careful."

Aldric snorted. "You are never careful."

Roran smiled. He looked around the yard, his eyes scanning the faces of the men who had gathered to see him off. He saw Harlan tightening his saddle. He saw Sera checking her bow. He saw the other men, their faces familiar, their loyalty unquestioned.

But... he did not see Kael.

A pang of guilt hit him. I was too harsh on the boy yesterday, he thought. When I get back this evening, I will take him aside. I will make it right.

"...Let us go," Roran said, swinging himself onto his horse.

The men mounted up, and they rode out through the gates.

_

Clara sat in the garden, her hands buried in the soil, her wheat-colored hair falling over her shoulders like a curtain.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. The flowers around her were blooming, their colors bright and vibrant. She had spent the afternoon tending to them, her fingers gentle on the petals, her mind peaceful for the first time in weeks.

Elara, her maid, sat beside her on the stone bench, her hands busy with a piece of embroidery.

"You have been smiling all day, my lady," Elara said.

Clara looked up, her green eyes soft. "I am happy, Elara. Is that a crime?"

"No, my lady. It is just... you seem different lately. Lighter."

Clara touched her belly. "I have a good husband. I have a child on the way. I have a home. What more could I ask for?"

Elara smiled. "You deserve it, my lady. After everything you have been through, you deserve to be happy."

Clara was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Do you remember the moon petal? The one my mother planted?"

"The one that took years to bloom?"

Clara nodded. "It bloomed last week. Roran was with me when it happened. He held my hand and said nothing. He just watched."

Elara’s eyes softened. "He is a good man, my lady."

"He is." Clara looked at the flower bed, at the blooms that she and Roran had planted together. "I never thought I would find someone like him. I never thought I would be happy."

She reached out and touched a flower with soft pink petals, almost the color of a sunset. "Roran brought these seeds for me from his last mission. He said the merchant told him they were called Dawn’s Kiss. They bloom at dusk and close at dawn."

Elara leaned closer to look at them. "They are beautiful, my lady."

"They are," Clara said. "Roran is not a romantic man. He does not write poetry or sing songs. But he brought me these seeds because he knew I would love them. That is how he shows his love. In small things. In quiet moments."

Elara smiled. "He is a good man."

Clara laughed. "You already said that."

"I will say it again." Elara grinned. "He is a good man."

Clara shook her head, still smiling. She looked at the row of white lilies she and Roran had planted together last month. They had grown so much, their white petals glowing in the fading light.

"These are beautiful," Elara said, following her gaze.

Clara nodded. "...We planted them together. Roran said they reminded him of something pure. Something untouched by all the blood and war."

She touched the soft white petals gently.

Then, she sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sun sink lower in the sky. The garden was quiet, save for the sound of birds and the rustle of leaves.

Then Clara heard a sound behind her.

Footsteps.

She turned, expecting to see Elara or one of the other servants. Instead, she saw Kael.

He was standing at the edge of the garden, his face pale, his eyes dark. He looked different somehow and... wrong.

"Oh, Kael!" Clara called out with a warm smile. She reached out as he drew near, ruffling his hair as she always did. "I am so sorry on Roran’s behalf. He shouldn’t be so strict with you. You are still growing. Sit, I will have Elara bring you something to drink—"

She turned to walk toward the tea tray, but a voice, cold and jagged, stopped her.

"Why?"

Clara turned. Kael was standing there, his face twitching. "Why would Roran love a person like you?"

"Kael?" Clara’s smile faded into confusion.

"Why?" Kael’s voice rose. "Why would he leave? Why would he abandon us?"

Clara stood up there, her hand resting on her belly. "Kael, what are you talking about?"

"He is leaving the group," Kael spat. "He is leaving us. Because of you."

Clara’s heart sank. "Kael, that is not—"

"Do not lie to me!" Kael’s eyes were wild, his hands shaking. "I know what you are. I know what you have done. You put a curse on him. You made him weak. You made him want to leave."

Elara stood up, her face pale. "Kael, please calm down—"

"Shut up!" Kael screamed. "This does not concern you!"

Clara stepped forward, her hands raised. "Kael, listen to me. Roran is not under any curse. He made this decision himself. He wants to spend time with his family. There is nothing wrong with that."

Kael laughed. It was a horrible sound, hollow and broken.

"Haha! Family?" He spat the word like it was poison. "You are not his family. I am his family. I have been with him for years. I have fought beside him. I have bled for him. And you... you just appeared one day and took him away from me."

Clara’s eyes filled with tears. "Kael, that is not true."

"It is true!" Kael’s hand went to his belt, and he pulled out a dagger. The blade gleamed in the fading light.

Elara screamed. "No!"

Clara stumbled back, her hand still on her belly. "Kael, please. Do not do this."

"Why not?" Kael’s smile was mad, his eyes unfocused. "I am saving him. I am saving my god. When you are dead, the curse will be broken. He will be free. He will praise me."

"Kael, stop this instant!" Elara stepped forward, sensing the danger.

"I will free him," Kael whispered, a terrifying, manic smile spreading across his face. "I will kill you. That is the only way."

He lunged.

"My Lady!" Elara screamed. She threw herself in front of Clara. The blade buried itself in the maid’s chest.

"Elara!" Clara shrieked, catching the girl as she collapsed. Blood sprayed across Clara’s face, hot and metallic.

"Please... run... My Lady..." Elara gasped, her eyes glazing over as life fled.

"Tch! What a waste," Kael muttered, stepping over the body.

Clara tried to scramble away, her hands dragging through the dirt. "Kael, please! Think of the child! Please, don’t do this!"

"The child is part of the curse!" Kael roared and he lunged again.

Clara tried to run, but her foot caught on a root. She fell, her belly hitting the ground hard. Pain shot through her body, and she screamed.

Kael was on her in an instant. He grabbed her by her hair, slamming her back against the stone bench. He was indifferent to her pleas, his mind entirely consumed by the seed Morona had planted.

He brought his fist down on her belly with a sickening thud, and Clara let out a strangled cry of pure agony.

"Any last words, witch?"

Clara’s tears fell onto the dark petals of the strange flower beneath her. "Please... stop this... I beg you..."

Kael drove the dagger into her chest.

She screamed again, a sound that echoed through the garden, through the estate, through the night. Kael stabbed her again. And again. And again. Each blow was harder than the last, each one driven by years of obsession and rage.

"Die!" he screamed. "Die, witch! Die, die, die!"

Clara’s blood sprayed across the white flower Roran had given her. Its petals turned red. The dark flower beside her seemed to drink in the blood, its petals growing darker, richer.

Clara’s vision began to blur. She could feel her life slipping away, flowing out of her with every beat of her heart.

Her last thought was not of the pain, but of the man who give her a new life, who bring happiness in her life and the man who was supposed to come... home.

...I am sorry. I could not keep my... promise.

_

The sun had set by the time Roran and his men returned to Hound’s Rest. The mission had been successful. The monsters were dead, and no one had been seriously injured. Harlan was telling a joke, and Sera was laughing. The men were in good spirits.

But as they approached the gates, Roran felt a chill run down his spine.

The silence at the gate was the first thing he noticed. Usually, there were guards, servants, the bustle of the evening meal.

"What is wrong?" Harlan asked, his smile fading.

Roran did not answer.

A sickening dread coiled in his gut. He began to run. He burst into the courtyard and saw a crowd of his men standing near the garden entrance. They parted for him, none of them able to meet his gaze.

He stopped in front of the garden.

The crowd parted around him.

...And he saw her.

Clara lay in a pool of blood, her wheat-colored hair spread across the dirt, her green eyes staring at nothing. The white flower he had given her was crushed beneath her hand, its petals stained red. The dark flower beside her seemed to have grown, its petals now black as night.

Roran felt the earth slip from beneath his feet. He fell to his knees beside her, his breath hitching. "H-how? Clara?"

Roran did not remember dismounting or walking. He only knew that suddenly he was on his knees beside her, his hands reaching for her, his voice calling her name.

"Clara! Clara!"

He gathered her broken body into his arms. She was still warm. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and dim. She saw him and a small, tragic smile touched her lips.

"No, no, no. You are going to be fine. I am going to take you to a healer. I am going to—"

She raised a trembling, bloody finger and pressed it to his lips to stop his frantic questions.

"I am sorry, Roran," she whispered. "I couldn’t... complete our promise... to be a good mother."

"Don’t speak like that," Roran choked out, tears finally breaking. "I’ll take you to a doctor. I’ll take you to Martha, she can heal anything—"

Clara tried to shake her head "...I know I do not have much time..."

"Clara—"

"...Promise me." Her voice was weak, but her eyes were firm. "Remember... what you promised me? That you would always smile?"

Roran sobbed. "Clara, please—"

She reached up and wiped the tears from his face. "Don’t... don’t resent anyone and yourself. Just promise me... remember? Promise me you will always... be happy. Smile for me..."

"I promise," Roran choked out. "I promise."

She reached up, her hand staining his cheek as she pulled him down for one last, soft kiss. Her lips parted, exhaling a final, "I love you," before her hand fell limp.

Roran held her body and screamed.

The world had stopped.

Roran sat in the garden, Clara’s body in his arms, her blood soaking into his clothes. He did not move. He did not speak. He just sat there, staring at nothing.

The dark flower beside him seemed to watch, its petals drinking in the moonlight.

Aldric approached slowly, his face pale, his eyes red.

"...Roran," he said softly. "...I am sorry. If only I had—"

"Why did you not bring her to a healer?" Roran’s voice was cold, flat.

Aldric flinched. "We tried. We wanted to. But... she refused. She said she knew she would not survive. She said her only regret was not seeing you one last time."

Roran’s jaw tightened. His hands clenched into fists.

The air in the garden suddenly turned frigid. A pressure so immense it cracked the stone benches erupted from Roran. His aura flared, turning from Master to the blinding, terrifying Grandmaster. The shockwave forced everyone to their knees.

"Who?" Roran asked. His voice was not a scream. It was a cold, dreadful sound that made even Aldric shiver.

"It... it was Kael," Aldric said, his head bowed in shame. "I arrived too late. By the time I heard the shouting, he had already... he had already done it."

Two men dragged Kael forward. The boy was covered in blood, his eyes wide and vacant. When he saw Roran, he started to laugh. "Hahaha! Roran! You’re back! Now... now praise me. Praise me like you used to!"

He pointed a manic finger at Clara’s body. "I killed the witch! The curse is gone! You’re free, my god! You don’t need her anymore! Tell me I did well!"

Slap!

The sound was like a whip-crack. Roran hit him so hard Kael was sent spinning into the dirt.

"Huh?" Kael looked up, blood leaking from his mouth. Before he could speak, Roran was on him.

Slap!

Slap!

Slap!

Roran rained blows upon him, his face a mask of absolute, frozen rage.

"Why?" Kael screamed, his voice cracking. "Why are you beating me? I saved you! I am your disciple! Praise me!"

Roran grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward the garden. He pointed at Clara’s body, lying in the pool of blood, the white flower crushed beneath her hand.

"Does she look like a witch to you?" Roran’s voice was thick with rage. "She was just a girl. A girl who wanted to live in this cursed world. A girl who loved flowers. A girl who loved me."

Kael stared at the body, his eyes wide.

"Her father never loved her," Roran continued, his voice breaking. "Her brother blamed her for their mother’s death. She spent her whole life alone in that garden, talking to flowers because no one else would listen. And when I gave her a home, when I gave her a family, she was happy. For the first time in her life... she was happy."

He threw Kael to the ground.

"And you took that from her."

Kael looked up at him, tears streaming down his face. "I... I was trying to help you."

"Help me?" Roran laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "You murdered my wife. You murdered my unborn child. And you think that is helping me?"

Kael sobbed. "I did it for you. I did it for us. I wanted to saved you. you are my god!"

Roran turned away, his face twisted with disgust. His hands were shaking, not from fear, but from the sheer effort of not killing Kael where he stood.

"Take him back," he said, his voice cold and hollow. "I do not want to see his face again."

Aldric hesitated. "Roran—"

"Leave me alone." Roran’s voice cracked. "All of you. Just... leave me alone."

Aldric nodded slowly. He gestured to the men, and they dragged Kael away. The other men shuffled back, giving Roran space, their faces pale, their eyes filled with pity and fear.

Roran stood alone in the garden.

He collapsed back onto his knees, pulling Clara’s body against his chest. He buried his face in her neck and let out a sound that wasn’t human—a raw, agonizing sob that tore through the silence of the night.

"Why...?" he whispered. "...Why did you leave me?"

There was no answer.

The moon rose over the garden, casting pale light on the flowers. The white flower lay crushed beneath Clara’s hand, its petals stained red. The dark flower beside it swayed in the breeze, indifferent to the tragedy that had unfolded beneath it.

Roran sat there all night, holding his wife, crying until he had no tears left.

And when the sun rose, he was still there.

Still holding her.

Still crying.

Still broken.

He once was a man who walked the path of blood and steel. He had never known fear. He had never known loss. He had never known what it meant to love something more than his own life.

...And then he met a girl who loved flowers.

She taught him to smile. She taught him to hope. She taught him that there was more to life than battle and death.

And when she was gone, he learned that some wounds never heal.

Some losses never fade.

Some loves never die.