The Damned Demon

Chapter 739 Was It Ever Real?

739  Was It Ever Real?

Derek took a step closer to them, the space between them feeling smaller and more suffocating with each movement, "That's why, once this war is over, I will erase both of your memories, so that we can go back to being a happy family like old times."

Rachel's blood ran cold at his words. The thought of having her memories erased, of being forced to forget everything, was almost too much to bear. She thought of all the moments she had with her mother, Asher, of the pain and the healing, and the love that had started to mend her. But most of all, the true side of someone she once loved and respected as her father. She can never forget that!

For it all to be wiped away, to be reset to what Derek wanted them to be... it felt like a nightmare, a future she couldn't even imagine.

Cecilia's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her face was hard as stone, "You think you can just erase us like that?" she said quietly, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and fury, "You think you can play God with our lives?"

Derek sighed as if in regret, "I'm not playing God. I'm simply making sure the family stays together," he said, his voice laced with a sense of pity. He glanced at the Vanguard Corps, who remained motionless, their eyes watching the confrontation with an unwavering gaze, "And if that means I have to take some measures to ensure it stays intact... then so be it."

Derek's voice was cold, commanding as he glanced at the guards surrounding Rachel and Cecilia. "Escort them away," he ordered, his tone devoid of warmth or hesitation.

The guards' faces remained impassive as they gestured for Cecilia and Rachel to follow, their presence a constant reminder of how little control the two women had in this situation. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the vast corridor as they were ushered forward, a subtle tension hanging in the air.

Cecilia's grip on Rachel's hand tightened, a silent reassurance amid the heavy fear that threatened to crush her. They both walked stiffly, hearts pounding against their chests with the weight of what had just transpired. The dread of having their memories erased, of being reduced to mere puppets of Derek's design, gnawed at them relentlessly. They couldn't shake the fear that their lives were slipping further and further out of their control.

—

Not long after,

They arrived at the deepest part of the Infinity Tower, a floor they'd never seen before. The walls were sterile and cold, lit only by faint lights that flickered dimly. The air was thick with tension.

As they approached an elevator, Rachel's eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. She couldn't help but wonder what this place was. Her mind raced, but she found herself unable to speak the words aloud.

"What is this place...?" Cecilia muttered, an unsettled look on her face as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Rachel, equally bewildered, followed her mother's gaze, wondering where they were being taken.

"Of course, this is a place I never meant to let you two see or even step into," Derek's voice cut through the air, calm but laced with dark satisfaction. "It's a place where I hide those who just made the worst choices they could," His words were cold, as if he were stating a simple fact.

Rachel and Cecilia exchanged uneasy glances, both of them unable to fully process the chilling implications of his words. The deeper they walked into this unknown part of the Infinity Tower, the more suffocating the atmosphere seemed to become.

They arrived at a massive black door, standing ominously in the center of the hall. Derek halted before it, the darkness in his eyes more pronounced as he stared at the door, his hand resting on the sleek black surface. A holographic message flickered to life above it, followed by a robotic female voice.

[ Authorizing… ]

A blue ray of light began to scan Derek's body, and after a tense moment, the voice chimed in once more.

[ Authorization successful. Welcome back, President. ]

The enormous black doors began to shift and morph, their movement soundless yet precise, as if they were part of a living entity rather than a structure. They slid sideways effortlessly, revealing a shadowy interior.

As Rachel and Cecilia stepped inside, they felt the temperature drop. The room seemed to swallow them whole, its inky blackness pierced only by the stark contrast of a large glass chamber in the center. The glass glowed with an almost holy white light, making the rest of the shadows feel even more oppressive.

But the white light didn't feel pure—it felt like a sickly contrast to the darkness around it. The glowing chamber was ensnared by a network of red lasers, thin and sharp, crisscrossing like the eyes of beasts, scanning every movement, every breath.

Inside the illuminated prison sat a figure that could only be described as a ghost. A frail woman, curled up in a ball on the floor, her body barely visible under a cascade of white hair that pooled around her like a spectral waterfall. Her skin was wrinkled, her body frail, and she seemed almost ordinary, with an aura that was barely present.

Yet, something about her presence sent a ripple of unease through both Rachel and Cecilia. The woman lay motionless, her features peaceful as if she was unaware of the intrusion, unaware of them, or maybe she didn't want to be aware.

Rachel's voice quivered as she took in the scene, her gaze moving between Derek and the woman, "W-Who is she...?" Her voice faltered with a mixture of horror and disbelief. "What have you done to that poor woman?"

Derek's cold eye flickered toward her, a twisted disbelief dancing behind his gaze, "Poor woman?" he repeated, as though the words were foreign to him.

He took a step forward, his voice growing colder as he looked back at the frail figure within the glass prison, "Maybe it's better you see her like that. And perhaps you three might get along...well, if you manage to make her talk."

Rachel's stomach churned as the realization began to settle in, and her eyes shot back to Derek, her fury and sorrow clashing within her, "Was it ever real?" Her voice cracked, a tear slipping down her cheek as she demanded, "Any of those moments where you acted like my father?"

Derek's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as his lips twisted into cold disappointment, "That is what I have to ask you," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm, "If you truly considered yourself my daughter, you wouldn't have forced my hand like this and betrayed my trust. I gave you so many chances and you threw them all away. Both of you only have yourselves to blame."

Cecilia's chest tightened as she heard Derek's words, the weight of his betrayal and manipulation sinking deeper. She could feel the tears brimming in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she pressed on with the final truth she had been holding in.

"But soon… everything will go back to how it should be," Derek added coldly, his smile returning as though he had already won.

Rachel and Cecilia held each other's hand firmly, as both of them inwardly thought of Asher, praying for him to end this evil before it was too late.

—

Nestled in the serene, lush landscapes of Scotland, the Von Haughton Mansion stood as a symbol of both elegance and tradition.

The mist of the early morning wrapped itself around the sprawling estate like a soft veil, the cool air carrying the earthy scent of pine and damp stone. The mansion, though modest by the standards of some aristocracy, held an unmistakable air of quiet dignity. Its towering spires and stately columns reflected a family that had long carried the weight of being High Class Hunters, a name known for their legacy of protecting not just the realm but the very fabric of their world.

But today, that serenity was shattered.

The once peaceful grounds were now crawling with armored guards, their heavy boots crunching over the gravel paths. Helicopters churned the air above as they descended, their blades slicing through the morning stillness with magical precision. As one helicopter touched down, the door slid open with a hiss, and from it stepped Gregory Hart, his blonde hair neatly slicked back, his posture rigid and purposeful.

He surveyed the mansion grounds with a sneer, his eyes narrowing as he took in the estate's imposing presence. He scoffed under his breath, his voice a mixture of disdain and satisfaction.

"Finally," Gregory muttered, his voice a low growl, "These uptight bastards are going to get what they deserve." His gaze hardened as he continued to look over the mansion, his expression betraying the simmering fury that had been building inside him, "Time to take down the Von Haughtons for good."

Inside the mansion, the atmosphere was tense, charged with a palpable sense of dread. The servants and maids, usually busy with their daily routines, stood in hushed clusters, their eyes flicking nervously toward the towering walls and grand chandeliers, their minds consumed by the chaos unfolding outside. Whispers passed between them, but no one dared to speak loudly, lest they attract the attention of the guards.

However, deep within the mansion's bowels, the situation was far more somber. The underground floor, often a place of quiet and reflection, had become a chamber of sorrow.

The air was heavy, thick with the weight of fear, uncertainty, and loss. In the dark corridor, Amelia stood before a small teleportation chamber, her body trembling slightly as her gaze lingered on the glowing circle that marked its entrance.

Her expression was wrought with conflict. Her usually zealous demeanor was now shattered, her heart in turmoil. Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked between Logan and Isla, her parents who stood before her, their own expressions pained but resolute.

"No..." Amelia's voice cracked as she spoke, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, "I can't leave and let them take away both of you."

Damn :#

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