Chapitre 108: AZI Volume 3 Intermission – Grudge
"Your old man… I was the one who killed him, so feel free to get back at me for it."
I wonder what my expression was at the time.
Anger alone wasn't all there was to it.
There was probably relief as well.
…Relief, in the fact—that I had someone to vent this anger out on.
And so, I quit the Disciplinary Bureau that I was assigned to, and went off to the frontlines.
Handprint shaped craters, and explosions aplenty in this environment—that is filled with Immortals.
This was the work environment of my father—that I should have been foreign to, but is forced to adjust to, if I wished to survive long enough to kill that bastard.
Asking around, I was slowly getting acquainted with this environment, and the people in it.
Some of the individuals here, mainly the Sinners—are what I would consider to be people of character.
A few only knew the combat life—these were the individuals that the on-site military officers favored, as they were easy to give orders to.
Different from the first group, the second group was composed of those—who would put a minimum amount of effort into the act of Immortal slaying, and if a situation looked dangerous, they would be the first to flee.
It goes without saying that these individuals weren't as favored by the military officers. However, they were all individuals of good talent—making it difficult to put them to the gun.
Actually, killing any of these individuals was far from simple, as I came to find out later on.
The first two groups had something in common—all of them were what I had considered to be monsters.
Even if their heads were blown off, and their limbs chopped, they would still be able to revive themselves, and regrow their lost limbs.
The person I wanted to kill belonged in these two groups, while I was in the third group—the group that was composed of the weak.
Cannon fodders would be an appropriate term to describe the individuals of the third group—for we were incapable of the feat that the first two groups were able to do.
Since our enemies were Immortals—the ability to revive ourselves was priceless, and those that didn't possess this ability, their lives were infinitely more fragile.
And since the person I wanted to kill belonged in the first two groups, killing them wasn't as easy as I had expected.
Poison.
Bombs.
Luring them into an Immortal's attack.
Slitting their throat while they were asleep.
Ramming my Relic through their heart.
I've tried just about everything, but he would revive each time, and tell me to try harder—as if mocking me for my futile efforts.
What made it even worse, and more mentally draining on me was the fact—that he would laugh and smile about it all, as if it was all a game to him.
Eventually, I took a break from attempting to kill him, and started to ask around.
I wanted to know the full story of how my father had died. However, the people who knew my father well, they didn't have much to say.
Seemingly, the sole person to know the full story was that bastard alone, but his lips were sealed, and regardless of how much I asked him about it, his answer was always the same, being—
"I was the one who killed him."
By the time I knew it, my service terms were up. With it, I could leave the frontlines whenever I wanted.
Due to that bastard being on the frontlines, however, I elected to stay at first.
But rather quickly, I found out that he had decided to leave, and take charge of a Disciplinary Bureau's office.
With that, I decided to leave the frontlines as well.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone