Chapter 475: There Are More
"You mean to tell me," Serah began, her voice caught between disbelief and restrained outrage, "that you are the psychotic vigilante who went around terrorizing every major criminal site across Amthar three years ago?" Her tone was sharp, her crimson eyes wide as Marcus calmly admitted his alter ego — Scourge.
Marcus tilted his head slightly, scratching his cheek with feigned bashfulness. "Well, when you say it like that, it sounds like I’m the villain in the story."
"You killed hundreds of people," Serah said flatly, her voice cold and level.
"For a good cause," Marcus replied without missing a beat, tone casual as if they were discussing the weather. "Besides, I helped all three kingdoms cut down their crime rates by almost forty percent. You’d think someone would’ve given me an award for public service by now."
Serah’s eye twitched. "You want an award for mass murder? That’s not justice, Marcus, that’s slaughter."
Marcus crossed his arms, looking oddly proud. "If you ask me, they deserved it. Every last one of them."
Her expression hardened. "And what makes you the judge of that?"
"Karma’s messenger," Marcus said with a smirk so confident it bordered on arrogance. "Delivering overdue consequences—personally."
Serah let out a disbelieving scoff. "You talk like you’re some divine reaper."
"Well," Marcus said, leaning forward slightly, "why are you acting like you wouldn’t have done the same? You’re a knight, princess. Maybe you’d kill cleaner, more mercifully—but that’s the difference between us. I don’t think mercy suits monsters. Cutting off their legs, arms, or giving them a quick death? That’s still too kind."
Her eyes narrowed. "So you’d rather have them suffer to death, like the two men I found in that apartment in Ilis?"
Marcus chuckled softly, clearly recalling the event. "Ah... seems you stumbled upon Slimy and Macho," he said, almost fondly, as though remembering old acquaintances. "Nasty pair. They used to traffic children across borders for nobles’ sport. So yes, I made sure they had plenty of time to reflect on their life choices before they bled out. It’s poetic in a way—making them feel exactly what their victims felt."
Serah’s tone turned steel-hard. "You disfigured them."
Marcus shrugged, utterly unfazed. "And I’d do it again. Sorry, princess, but empathy for those kinds of people? It’s not in me. Even if it means saving my life, I’ll still feel nothing. Monsters don’t deserve gentle deaths. They deserve to see the weight of their sins before the end."
Silence lingered between them, as the sunlight shimmered on Serah’s thoughtful face. As much as she wanted to argue, she couldn’t completely dismiss his words. The men and women he spoke of—mercenaries, slavers, traffickers—had destroyed countless lives. Yet the sheer brutality of Marcus’s method made something uneasy twist inside her chest.
Marcus noticed her silence and smiled faintly, that sly glint returning to his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locking onto hers like a hunter who’d just cornered his prey.
"Tell me, princess," he said softly, his tone dipping into something both teasing and disarmingly intimate, "does this view of mine... make your feelings toward me change in any way?"
Serah froze for a heartbeat, blinking rapidly. "W–what do you mean by that?" she stammered, her composed tone slipping for once.
Marcus’s grin widened slightly. "I mean, it’d only be natural if you started losing interest, considering how my ideals don’t exactly align with yours. But me?" He shrugged, leaning closer until his voice was low and smooth, like velvet laced with danger. "I like it this way."
Serah frowned, caught off guard. "What way?"
"This," Marcus said, his tone soft but charged, his eyes glimmering with mischief and something deeper. "You and I—seeing the world differently. It keeps me engaged. Keeps me wanting to understand you more. I wouldn’t want someone who agrees with everything I say—that’d be boring." His lips curled into a charming half-smile. "That’s why you’re perfect, princess. You’ve got a mind of your own. You challenge me. You don’t bend, even when you’re uncertain. You’re strong, older, wiser... and all that just makes me want you even more."
Serah blinked, caught between irritation and something she didn’t want to name as she took in Marcus’s words. For some reason, his tone carried a deep, raw sincerity that cut through his usual teasing demeanor. Every word sounded heavy with intent—passionate, intimate, and unsettlingly direct. For a fleeting moment, she found herself forgetting the fact that they stood on opposite sides of ideals, lost instead in the warmth of his voice and the confidence with which he spoke.
"Don’t make it sound like I’m some old lady," she muttered, averting her gaze in a futile attempt to hide the faint blush rising on her cheeks.
Marcus leaned back, that signature grin pulling at the corner of his lips as if he’d just scored a victory. "Well, you are three years older, princess," he said with mock seriousness, "but honestly, that just makes you even more perfect."
She glared at him, trying to suppress the twitch of amusement tugging at her mouth. "I feel like you’re just trying to distract me from the fact that you’re Scourge—the lunatic who made the underworld fear bedtime stories."
"Hm? Me? Distract you?" Marcus widened his eyes in feigned innocence. "Never. Well... maybe a little. But I meant every word, and you know it."
Serah studied him for a long moment, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. Something in his tone told her if she lingered on the topic, she’d soon find herself falling into his pace—and she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
Rolling her eyes, she let a small smile slip. "Anyway, let’s drop this before your ego grows any larger. Earlier you mentioned something about Blood Demons not being the strongest of their kind. I’d like to hear more about that."
Marcus’s grin softened into something more thoughtful. "Yeah, that."
"What makes you say that?" Serah asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.
"That’s because a Pureblood told me," Marcus replied casually, as though that weren’t the most absurd thing he could have said.
Serah’s brow arched. "A Pureblood told you that? Willingly?" she asked skeptically, her tone implying she knew exactly how Marcus usually extracted information.
Marcus smirked faintly. "Well... maybe ’willingly’ is stretching it. But still, they said it. After the Third Demon War, six Sync-class demon species were officially recorded—Gaia Demons, Storm Demons, Berserkers, Dread Demons, Infernos, and Blood Demons. For centuries, Blood Demons were considered the strongest of them all. But apparently, that’s only half the truth."
Serah’s expression sharpened. "Half the truth?"
"Yeah," Marcus continued. "There are four other Sync-class species that haven’t set foot on Amthar yet. Four demons that exist beyond the borders of our realm—and two of them, according to that Pureblood, are far stronger than Blood Demons could ever hope to be."
Serah’s eyes widened slightly. "Two distinct species stronger than the Blood Demons? That’s... absurd."
"Absurd, yes," Marcus said, smirking again. "But true. The other two that remain are weaker than Infernos and Dreads, but still outrank Storms, Gaias, and Berserkers. Think of it as the unseen hierarchy of hell—its secrets not yet unleashed upon our world."
Serah crossed her arms, her voice steady. "And you have no more information about them? No names, no appearances, nothing?"
Marcus gave a shrug, the picture of false disappointment. "Sadly, no. The Pureblood died before it could tell me more." He gave her a crooked grin. "I like to believe it died of exhaustion rather than from me losing my patience."
Serah sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "You mean you killed it before it could say anything useful."
"Well," Marcus said, spreading his hands innocently, "you can’t rush art, but sometimes the brush slips."
Serah shot him a flat look, deciding not to question him any further—at least not now. Knowing Marcus, she’d get nothing but teasing and half-truths if she pressed.
After a moment of silence, Marcus stood, stretching his arms lazily above his head. "Well, princess, I think this is where our lovely little chat ends."
Serah looked up at him, slightly taken aback. "But I still have more questions for you."
He chuckled, moving toward the corner of the cabin where a wooden bow and a quiver of arrows hung. "Then save them for later. You can interrogate me tonight—or better yet, tomorrow, when we visit my father. Right now," he said, glancing at her over his shoulder with a playful smirk, "I’ve got fishing to do. Gotta prepare something edible for you, after all."
Serah stared at him for a heartbeat, recognizing the flirt in his words but choosing not to call it out. "I suppose that means we’ll talk later, then," she said softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "But... can I come with you? Fishing, I mean."
Marcus paused, bow in hand, his dark eyes flicking toward her with faint amusement. "You? Fishing?" He raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever held a rod before, princess?"
"N–No," she admitted, her voice flustered but determined. "But I’d like to learn."
Marcus chuckled lowly, shaking his head as he slung the quiver over his back. "I should probably tell you no... but something tells me you wouldn’t listen anyway." He gestured toward the door with a grin. "Come on then, princess. Let’s go on our first fishing date."