THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

Chapter 149 DEAL.

Mark stared at the small, pale boy before him, his mind whirling with the weight of what he was witnessing. The child—David's younger self—had been standing over the crude grave, desperately asking a question that tugged at something deep inside him. "Isn't she?"

Mark felt his throat tighten. He had seen Angelica, alive and breathing, just moments ago, holding him in her arms, her voice calling out to him in panic. He couldn't deny it. He had to answer. The small boy's eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and hope, as if the answer would change everything.

"Yes," Mark finally said, his voice quiet but firm. "Angelica is alive. I saw her with my own eyes."

The small David's face softened, the tension in his shoulders releasing as if a great weight had been lifted from him. For a moment, the sorrow in his eyes transformed into something else—relief. His lips trembled as his small frame began to shake. He dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands as sobs racked his body.

"She's alive... she's alive..." the boy repeated through his tears, his voice breaking with every word. Mark stood there, feeling the weight of the child's emotions wash over him. Despite everything, he couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the boy, for the part of David that had been buried under all the pain and suffering.

But just as quickly as the tears had come, they stopped.

The small David's sobs faded into the wind as he lifted his head, wiping his tear-streaked face. His expression had changed again, now filled with a deadly seriousness that made Mark tense. "You have to protect her," the boy said, his voice no longer trembling but resolute. "She's everything, and without her, there's nothing left for me. Please... protect Angelica."

Mark felt his jaw tighten, a coldness creeping into his chest. He was silent for a long moment, staring down at the boy. Protect her? That wasn't his responsibility. He had been thrust into this world without warning, without consent. He wasn't here to fulfill the wishes of someone else—especially not a dead boy from a life that wasn't even his.

Slowly, Mark shook his head, his voice cold and firm. "No," he said, rejecting the plea without hesitation. "I don't owe you anything. You got assassinated, remember? You failed. And now I'm the one who's alive, living as David. Unless..." Mark paused, narrowing his eyes at the boy. "Unless you're telling me you're the one who brought me here in the first place."

The small David's form flickered, as if the wind itself was beginning to pull him apart. His body shimmered, breaking into fragments that scattered like dust. For a moment, Mark thought that was the end of it—that the boy was simply fading away, leaving him alone in this strange world.

But then, the fragments of the small David reformed, swirling together until they reshaped into the figure of a frail, weakened adult David. His form was gaunt, his skin pale, and his once youthful eyes were now sunken with the weight of years of suffering. He stood before Mark, looking like a shadow of the man he once was. The sight of him was almost haunting.

"You're nothing like me," the adult David whispered, his voice rasping and hollow as he looked Mark up and down. His gaze fell on Mark's lean, muscular frame, contrasting with his own weak and deteriorating body. "You're strong, built for this world in ways I never was. But you've taken my life... and now you think you owe me nothing?"

Mark took a step back, watching as David reached out with his hand, gripping his own wrist as if summoning something from deep within. Mark tensed, his instincts kicking in as he prepared for some sort of attack. But instead of summoning a weapon or casting a spell, David summoned something else entirely.

The system.

A glowing window of text flickered into existence before Mark, the familiar interface of the system that had guided him through this world. But something was wrong—the system window was glitching, its text distorted and broken, as if it had been corrupted. Mark narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, but David's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"I wasn't the one who brought you here," David said, his voice eerily calm. "You weren't summoned by me. We are not two... but three. We are three in one."

Mark's confusion deepened, his brow furrowing as he tried to grasp the meaning of David's cryptic words. "Three in one?" he echoed, his voice laced with suspicion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

David raised his hand, pointing toward the broken system window. The text flickered again, and for a brief moment, Mark could make out fragmented lines of information—something about the integration of multiple identities, a convergence of souls. But it was all too fragmented to fully comprehend.

"Let me make it simple for you," David said, his voice a low murmur. "I'm not the only David. You're not the only one who's taken on this life. There's a third, and it's waiting. But right now, we don't have time to explain everything."

The system window flickered again, and suddenly, the distortion cleared enough for a single message to appear.

[Let's make a deal.]

Mark's eyes widened, his mind racing. This was a trick. It had to be. David—whether it was the small boy or this broken adult version—was leading him into something. But Mark couldn't figure out what. He clenched his fists, his heart pounding in his chest as the words hovered before him, daring him to respond.

David's hollow eyes glinted with something—maybe desperation, maybe calculation. "You fell for it, didn't you?" David whispered, a thin smile forming on his pale lips. "The moment you questioned me, you opened the door. And now... we're in this together, whether you like it or not."

Mark felt a cold chill run down his spine. He had been so focused on trying to piece together what was happening that he hadn't realized he was already ensnared in David's trap. And now, with the system presenting him with a deal, there was no turning back.

"Sure," Mark said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though he knew he had little choice. "Why not? Let's make a deal."

The moment the words left his mouth, the system window pulsed with light, and Mark felt something shift deep within him. It was as if the very core of his being had been altered, intertwined with something—or someone—else.

David's smile widened, but it was not one of triumph. Instead, it was a smile of resignation, as if he, too, had been bound by forces beyond his control. "You've made your choice," David said softly, his form flickering once again as if on the verge of vanishing completely. "But remember... you're not the only one who will live with the consequences."

And with that, David's form dissolved into the wind, leaving Mark standing alone in the field of ashes, the weight of the deal settling heavily on his shoulders. The once vibrant flowers had withered, the sky above was a cold, empty void, and the system window continued to hover before him, a constant reminder of the pact he had just made.

Mark clenched his fists, staring at the broken message on the screen.

"Save Angelica," Mark murmured to himself, clenching his fists tightly. The thought of her in danger, suffering, or worse, dying, had clouded his judgment. He had agreed to something, but now, that agreement felt like a noose tightening around his neck. He had asked for information—clarity—but the price he paid seemed far greater than he could comprehend.

David's weak, fading form had spoken of

three in one

. Mark couldn't shake those words from his mind, the cryptic message gnawing at him. It didn't make sense. He was David now, wasn't he? Or was he something else entirely? The question hung like a shadow, darkening everything around him.

Suddenly, it hit him.

What if I'm not who I think I am?

Mark's pulse quickened, his breath catching in his throat. A sharp pang of doubt sliced through his thoughts. He had been living as David for what felt like ages now, growing into the role, adapting to the system, making enemies, forming alliances, and even unlocking memories that didn't belong to him. But with every step forward, something always felt off. The feeling had been subtle at first, like a whisper in the back of his mind, but now it was undeniable.

"What if..." he whispered, his voice barely audible in the dead silence of the field.

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"No, that can't be right," Mark muttered, shaking off the unsettling thought. How could he be the real David? They had different faces, different bodies. The possibility of them being the same person seemed absurd. Yet, before he could delve deeper into the idea, an invisible force yanked him back into the dark void, cutting off his thoughts abruptly.