CHAPTER 139: A MESSAGE TO LAWLESS

The room reeked of sweat, despair, and burned mana.

Noah leaned casually against the desk, his hood pulled low, watching the boy in the chair writhe.

The shadows held Galahad firmly in place, their tendrils snaking around his wrists, his ankles, and across his chest. Every time he bucked against them, they tightened, digging into his skin with cold pressure.

The red glow of the Soul Pyre pulsed across Galahad’s chest again, sinking deeper into him. His scream tore from his throat, jagged and raw, but it went no further than the walls.

The shadows devoured every sound, trapping the noise inside the suffocating black cocoon Noah had wrapped around the dorm room.

Minutes blurred into hours.

Noah didn’t relent. Each time the glow faded, he reignited it, feeding just enough mana to the spell to keep it regulated. He didn’t want Galahad to die too quickly. That would be merciful. He wanted him to burn, soul first, until the very essence of him collapsed.

"Please!" Galahad gasped between screams, his head thrashing against the chair. "Noah, stop... please, I’ll do anything..."

The Soul Pyre flared again. His plea shattered into another scream, one that rose in pitch until his voice cracked.

Noah tilted his head, eyes half-lidded, studying him like a scholar watching an experiment. "Anything?" he asked softly, though he didn’t pause the spell.

"Funny. That’s what I said. Chained to the ceiling. Burning again and again. I would’ve promised anything. Your father didn’t stop then."

Galahad’s back arched violently. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the sweat that drenched his hairline. His eyes rolled, bloodshot and wild.

Noah’s lips curved faintly. "So now, you understand."

The red light dimmed, and Galahad slumped, panting hard. His chest heaved like a drowning man’s. His lips moved, broken words slipping out. "Mercy... please... I didn’t... I didn’t..."

The Soul Pyre came again, hotter and deeper.

His screams turned guttural. His throat had long since shredded itself raw, but still the sound clawed its way out.

Noah folded his arms. The shadows writhed behind him, some chuckling, others screaming along with Galahad, still others whispering Noah’s name like a hymn.

Hours passed. The night continued on. The rain outside slowed, then fell harder again, tapping faintly against the blacked out windows.

But inside, time stretched unnaturally.

That was the cruel genius of the Soul Pyre. A second felt like eternity. A scream lasted lifetimes. Noah intimately knew the centuries Galahad’s soul had endured in the last few hours.

And finally, he broke.

Noah knew the moment it happened.

The screams died abruptly. The thrashing stopped. Galahad’s head sagged forward, his body limp. His eyes, still open, stared blankly at the floor. The spark inside them had gone out.

Noah straightened slowly, the last flicker of the Soul Pyre fading from his palm. He stepped closer, crouched down, and tilted Galahad’s chin up with one finger.

Nothing. No resistance. No awareness. Just the empty shell of a human who had been hollowed out from the inside.

"Disappointing," Noah murmured. His voice held no anger, just cold detachment. "I thought the son of Osiris Lawless would last longer. But you crumbled like paper."

He let the head fall back forward.

For a moment, he simply stood there in silence, shadows curling lazily across the walls. Then his mind began to turn.

Killing Galahad outright would be satisfying, yes, but it would be too... clean. Too quiet. Osiris deserved more. He deserved to suffer. He deserved to see what was left of his precious son.

Noah’s grin spread slowly as the idea bloomed.

He raised a hand, activated the spell formation, and black fire curled into existence, cold and unnatural.

Pillar of Judgement. Not at its full, devastating force, but reduced, restrained, and controlled. Just enough to achieve what he wanted.

The flame struck Galahad’s limp body, searing into his skin.

The boy twitched once, reflexive, though his soul was already gone. Then the flame caught, spreading across his body like liquid fire, but it didn’t consume.

It clung. It burned endlessly, ever feeding on the ambient mana of the air, impossible to extinguish until a higher ranked spell quenched it.

The husk of Galahad sat there, engulfed in black-blue fire that burned steadily. His eyes remained open, blank, as the ever-burning flame ate away at him.

Noah’s shadows hissed in delight.

He stepped back, admiring his work. The satisfaction coursed through him, filling the hollow places in his chest.

"When your father comes," Noah whispered, his voice dripping with venom, "he’ll see you like this. A corpse wrapped in flame. A reminder of what he did to me. A warning of what comes next."

He grinned, the motion cruel. "Osiris won’t be able to put it out. He’ll know he’s too late. He’ll know he lost."

For the first time in weeks, Noah laughed. Low, quiet, and full of dark joy.

Turning away from the chair, he strode to the window. The shadows shifted, pulling back from the walls, sliding off the floor, unraveling from the furniture.

They streamed back into Noah, incorporeal again, their whispers blending into one voice as they sank into him.

The room began to look like itself again, except for the burning body tied to the chair.

Satisfied, Noah pulled the window open. The rain was still falling, though softer now, misting across his hood and cloak.

He swung himself out onto the ledge, landing lightly on the slick stone. With a flick of his fingers, the last of the shadows sealed the room clean of evidence. No trace of his presence remained.

Only the fire. Only the husk of Galahad.

Noah dropped to the ground silently, his cloak flaring behind him. He cut off the mana feeding the shadows, leaving them in their incorporeal state, curled deep within him where they whispered faintly, pleased.

He walked through the wet grass, heading back towards his dorm.

For the first time in a long time, his steps were light. The rain washed over him, sliding off his cloak. His mind was calm and clear.

Behind him, in that quiet dorm room, the ever-burning flame continued to consume.

And tomorrow, Osiris Lawless would walk into that room. He would see the black fire clinging to his son’s corpse.

He would smell the endless burn, feel the endless heat, and understand that Noah Webb had left him a message.