Rise of The Virel Absolute Revenge Cultivation

An Open Letter to the Traitor

An unfamiliar warmth swept over Arka’s face. It wasn't the searing heat of the destructive black flames, but the gentle touch of morning sunlight streaming through a large, gold-framed window. Arka blinked; the soothing scent of jasmine filled his nostrils, replacing the metallic stench of blood and the rot of death that had been his companions for months.

"Arka? Wake up, darling. You promised to take Mia to see the birds at the pavilion today."

That voice. Arka jolted, his heart pounding wildly. He turned to his side and found Elara sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a simple white silk dress. Her face wasn't pale; her eyes weren't filled with tears of despair. She smiled—a smile so pure it could melt the ice within Arka’s soul.

"Elara?" Arka whispered, his voice hoarse. He raised a trembling hand, touching her cheek. Her skin felt warm, real, and soft. There were no pillars of energy binding her. No wounds.

"What’s wrong with you? You’re looking at me as if you’ve just seen a ghost," Elara laughed softly, her fingers brushing Arka’s forehead. "Did you have another nightmare?"

Arka sat up abruptly, scanning his surroundings. This was his room at the Virel estate. Everything was neatly arranged. There were no traces of Volkov’s attack. No dust from the ruins. He looked at his own body; there were no red System tattoos, no cracked skin, no tattered black robes. He was Arka Virel once again the beloved young noble.

This... this is impossible, he thought. I was just in the temple. I was pinned by shadow spears.

"Daddy! Daddy’s awake!"

A little girl ran into the room, jumping onto the bed and throwing her arms around Arka’s neck with a joyful laugh. Mia. Her hair was neatly braided, and her large eyes sparkled with life. She wasn't floating in the air. She wasn't serving as a vessel for a primordial entity.

"Mia..." Arka hugged his daughter so tightly, inhaling the scent of her hair, which smelled like sunflowers. Tears began to stream down his cheeks. "You’re here. You’re really here."

"Of course Mia is here," she giggled, pulling back to look at her father’s face. "Daddy is being so weird today. Come on, hurry up! Uncle Kael is waiting downstairs. He said he brought a gift for me!"

At the mention of that name, Arka’s body froze. "Kael? Kael is here?"

"Of course he’s here, Arka. He’s your brother, isn’t he?" Elara stood up, walking toward the wardrobe. "He just returned from the border. He missed you all very much."

Arka climbed out of bed with shaky steps. He walked to the balcony and looked out at the garden. There, beneath a massive oak tree, Kael stood laughing, sharpening a wooden sword. There was no flash of betrayal in his eyes. No greed. He waved sincerely at Arka.

Was everything I experienced just a dream? Arka wondered. The Tomb of Traitors, the Retribution System, the massacre at the Tower of Dawn... was it all just a manifestation of my fears?

"Arka, are you sick?" Elara approached, placing her hand on Arka’s chest. "Your heart is beating so fast."

Arka gazed into Elara’s loving eyes. He wanted to give in. He wanted to immerse himself in this peace forever. He wanted to forget the pain that had torn his soul apart. Wasn't this the ultimate goal? Wasn't this what he had been searching for all along?

Isn't this what you want, Arka Virel? A voice echoed in the distance, faint yet incredibly sharp. The Sect Leader’s voice. Stay here. Here, you are a hero. Here, you are loved. Here, there is no pain.

"Daddy, come on!" Mia tugged at Arka’s hand.

Arka gave a small smile and began walking toward the door. However, as he passed a large mirror in the corner of the room, he stopped. In the reflection, he didn't see a handsome nobleman. He saw a monster with glowing red eyes and hands stained with black blood. The figure stared at him with hatred, its mouth moving as if screaming silently.

"Arka? Why have you stopped again?" Elara called from the doorway.

Arka looked at Elara, then at Mia. He noticed something wrong. On Elara’s ring finger, the blue sapphire ring of the Virel Family was missing. That ring... he remembered Kael wearing it in the gardens of Volkov’s palace.

"Elara," Arka’s voice turned cold. "Where is your ring?"

Elara paused for a moment; her smile didn't fade, but her eyes seemed slightly hollow. "The ring? Oh, I kept it in the jewelry box. Why are you asking about such a small thing?"

"That ring is the symbol of our family heritage. You never take it off," Arka said, stepping back. "And Mia... Mia always called me 'Father,' not 'Daddy,' before all this chaos happened."

Elara drew closer, her face now feeling too perfect, almost like a porcelain mask. "You’re just overthinking, darling. Come here. Hold me. Forget everything."

"No," Arka shook his head, pain beginning to throb behind his eyes. "This peace... it’s fake. You aren't my Elara. My Elara is bound to an energy altar, crying because she’s afraid of losing me. My Mia is on the brink of a soul collapse!"

"Arka, what are you saying?" Kael suddenly appeared in the doorway, his face full of false concern. "You’re sick. Come, I’ll help you rest."

"Get away from me, Traitor!" Arka screamed. He tried to summon his power, but no energy flowed. His System was silent. He felt weak—just a helpless, ordinary human.

You cannot leave this place unless you let go of your desire for happiness, the Sect Leader’s voice rang out again, louder this time. You are trapped within your own love, Arka. This is a prison you built with your own hopes.

Arka fell to his knees, clutching his head as if it were about to split open. Elara, Kael, and Mia surrounded him, their hands reaching out as if to seize him. Their faces began to shift, warping like melting wax.

"Stay with us..." they whispered in unison. "Don't go back to that darkness..."

"That darkness is my reality!" Arka roared. He looked around the room, searching for anything that could cause him pain. He remembered what the system had said: this power demands a price. And now, the price for his freedom was to destroy this happiness with his own hands.

Arka spotted a crystal flower vase on the table. He grabbed it and smashed it against the floor, shattering it into pieces. With trembling hands, he picked up the sharpest shard of glass.

"Arka, don't!" Elara screamed, her face now filled with manufactured terror.

"Forgive me," Arka whispered, real tears dripping down his cheeks. "I would rather suffer in the real world than live happily in your lie."

Without hesitation, Arka plunged the glass shard into his left palm, then sliced deep. The sharp, visceral pain immediately stung his nerves, incinerating the illusion that had lulled him to sleep.

"Arghhh!"

Fresh red blood flowed, but in Arka’s eyes, the blood began to turn a reddish-black, glowing with the familiar energy of the System. The world around him began to crack. The ceiling of the room crumbled into shards of light, and the faces of his loved ones shattered like glass struck by a hammer.

Warning: Mental Illusion Breach Successful.

Pain accepted as an anchor of reality.

Reactivating Absolute Cultivation System: Mode Pembalasan!

Arka felt the shadow spears of the real world piercing his flesh once more. He felt the cold marble floor beneath his body. He was no longer in a warm room. He was back in the hell of the temple, under the cold gaze of the Sect Leader.

"You..." The Sect Leader was stunned, his footsteps faltering. "You destroyed the Sea of Illusions in such a short time? How can a human reject absolute happiness?"

Arka lifted his head. His messy black hair covered his eyes, but the pure white glow emanating from between the strands made the Sect Leader take a step back. The shadow spears pinning Arka began to vibrate, crack, and finally crumble into energy dust.

"Happiness without reality is an insult to my love," Arka’s voice was no longer human, but an echo capable of shaking the temple’s foundations.

He stood up slowly, every movement triggering a shockwave that toppled the remaining pillars in the hall. The wound on his hand did not close; instead, it emitted a thick black smoke. Arka clenched his fist, staring straight at the Sect Leader, whose face was now beginning to show signs of anxiety.

"You speak of eternity?" Arka stepped forward, each footfall leaving a glowing white crack in the marble floor. "I will show you that a single second of real suffering is far more powerful than a thousand years of your lies."

"Mia... Elara..." Arka took a deep breath, centering his entire consciousness. "I will not let you be part of this darkness any longer!"

Arka released a scream so powerful it was a frequency of energy that transcended the limits of the System. A wave of pure white exploded from his body, obliterating the remnants of the illusion still trying to pull him back. The space in the altar hall began to distort, as if reality itself were being forcibly pulled by Arka’s will.

The Sect Leader raised his hands, trying to construct a shield, but the blast of Arka’s energy sent him flying toward the altar.

"This isn't over!" the Sect Leader screamed, his eyes flashing with madness. "The ritual has reached its peak! Look at your daughter!"

Arka turned toward the altar, and his heart seemed to stop. Mia was no longer just floating; her body was being enveloped by a cocoon of black energy that pulsed like a giant heart. And from within that cocoon, a hand with long black claws began to tear its way out.

"Mia!" Arka lunged forward, ignoring the gravity trying to crush him. However, just before he could touch the altar, the space in front of him split open, revealing a void dimension ready to swallow him