Chapter 612: What Drives Your Ambitions And Desires?

Even though Joy didn’t believe Cassius was lying, she still needed proof.

So she picked up the thick folder and began moving from one hanging body to another, trying to cross-reference the faces with the wanted posters and files inside.

It wasn’t easy—most of the corpses were mutilated beyond recognition.

But with some effort, she managed to identify a few of them.

The more she checked, the clearer it became that Cassius hadn’t fabricated the documents.

While Joy was occupied, Cassius turned toward Carmela, who was eyeing a nearby table stacked with grim-looking tools—rusty rods, pincers, hooks.

"So." Cassius began casually. "how exactly did you two even find this place?"

He crossed his arms, frowning slightly.

"I always make sure I’m not being followed. I don’t leave mana trails, and the entire area’s sealed against detection magic."

"So, unless someone sleepwalked right into the well by accident, there’s no way you could have just...stumbled in here."

"We didn’t stumble into it." Carmela gave a small, dry smile. "We were led here."

"Led? By what?" Cassius raised an eyebrow. "Divine coincidence? Forest fairies?"

"Close enough." She replied, glancing toward Joy. "Joy over there prayed to her Goddess for guidance...and apparently, the Goddess decided to respond."

That made Cassius pause mid-thought, his face going blank for a moment before he muttered.

"...Wait. You’re telling me the Goddess herself helped you find me?"

"That’s right." Joy nodded without lifting her gaze from the files. "I asked her for clarity, and she sent a sign, which led us straight here."

Cassius froze, then groaned loudly, dragging a blood-stained hand down his face.

"Oh, come on! Are you serious right now!?"

He threw his hands up.

"I spend days making wards, hiding this place, covering every trace even—and somehow the Goddess herself decides to tattle on me?"

"What kind of divine harassment is this!?"

He paced irritably, ranting to himself.

"I mean, aren’t gods supposed to stay in their heavens and mind their own business? Why is she wasting her holy time picking on me? What, does she have nothing better to do?"

"No prayers about famine or war or anything?"

"Just—’Oh, Cassius looks suspicious today, let’s drop a light on him!’"

"...What’s next, she sends angels to file a report?"

He then stopped pacing and pointed accusingly at Joy and Carmela.

"And what’s her endgame here anyway? She wanted you to find me and what—kill me after seeing this? Is that it? Some divine plot to smite the mortal who’s too handsome to live?"

Caramela sighed.

"I don’t know her exact intentions nor does Joy..." She admitted. "...But one thing is clear."

"The Goddess has a particular interest in you. Whether she sees you as a threat, or something else entirely...it’s difficult to say."

Cassius frowned deeply, falling silent for a moment.

’It has to be what I thought earlier.’ He mused bitterly. ’The Goddess of Light—clearly can’t stand the Goddess of Debauchery’s growing influence.’

’I’m her vessel in this world, so of course she’d want to interfere. Typical divine rivalry, and I’m the poor mortal stuck in the middle.

"Fantastic. I get caught in a Heavenly Feud I never signed up for."

He clenched his jaw before looking up at the ceiling with balled fists.

"Don’t you deity types have anything better to do than meddle with mortals?"

By the time he was done venting, Joy had finished examining the bodies. She closed the folder and stepped forward, her expression calm but resolute.

"It’s just as you said." She admitted. "Every one of them was guilty. Murderers, slavers, traffickers—they don’t deserve mercy, nor do they deserve a funeral or prayer."

"Let them rot with the sins they’ve committed, rather then burning their remains."

"You think so?" Cassius gave a faint grin. "Personally, I’d rather not. The smell’s already killing me in here."

Joy blinked, staring at him in disbelief.

"You’re joking at a time like this?"

Cassius simply smiled, completely unbothered by the corpses surrounding him.

His composure, his faint amusement in such a horrific setting, unsettled her.

There was something about it—not malice, but a strange peace—that she couldn’t quite understand.

She studied him quietly for a moment, then finally stepped forward and decided to ask the question on her mind.

"Cassius." She said quietly, her voice measured. "Why are you doing this?"

He didn’t hesitate.

"Didn’t I already tell you? It’s my hobby."

But Joy’s tone sharpened.

"No. I refuse to believe this is just some twisted pastime of yours..."

"...I believe that it’s something much more deep."

Cassius tilted his head, curious but silent.

"As a noble..." Joy continued. "...you have endless ways to occupy ourselves. You could pursue art, magic, commerce—anything. After all, you’re one of the richest men on the continent. The world bends for you."

"And yet, this is what you choose?"

She gestured at the corpses.

"A vigilante executioner, carving murderers in the dark? Don’t insult me by calling that a hobby."

"And even if it is some sort of hobby, every action stems from emotion—from purpose. So what’s yours? What drives you to do this?"

"She’s right."

Carmela stepped in to support to Joy, since she also had her doubts and went on to say,

"You clearly have the resources to cleanse corruption through proper channels. If you wanted justice, you could order it done legally—with soldiers, investigators, the entire Holyfield authority at your command."

"But instead, you sneak away in the dead of night, get your hands dirty, and risk exposure."

"It just...doesn’t make sense."

She folded her arms, staring him down.

"In another angle, I could say you’re a sadist and that’s why you’re doing all of this. But you don’t strike me as one. You don’t enjoy this. You don’t get pleasure from it."

"Even the way these people were...handled..."

She glanced grimly at one of the mutilated bodies.

"...it wasn’t drawn out. It was methodical. Efficient. You weren’t playing with them; you were interrogating them. It was duty, not indulgence."

Her gaze softened slightly.

"So tell us, Cassius, what duty compels you to do this yourself? What is it you’re trying to fix, or prove, or protect, since I find it really hard to believe that it was because of some hobby."

Cassius stood there for a moment, his expression thoughtful—distant even as if weighing their words.

The silence was tense, broken only by the faint crackle of the furnace behind him.

Then, slowly, he exhaled and offered a small, easy smile.

"Don’t you think..." He began lightly. "...that maybe you two are overthinking things a little too much?"

Joy frowned slightly, but said nothing. Carmela just tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Cassius continued, shrugging casually.

"You’re treating this like it’s some big mystery. But it’s really not. After all, I don’t have any secret grand philosophy behind it."

"You can just think of me as a noble who loves justice—that’s all. But unlike the ones who sit in their estates and order others to deliver justice for them, I prefer to do it myself. Personally."

He smiled faintly.

"That’s all there is to it. No grand ideals, no hidden meaning. Just...personal satisfaction."

"So that’s it?" Joy raised an eyebrow. "You go around butchering criminals because you ’love justice’?"

Cassius nodded easily. "Exactly. You don’t need to overcomplicate it."

But Joy didn’t look convinced. She crossed her arms and studied him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as if searching for cracks in his composure.

"Maybe you’re right." She admitted slowly. "Maybe we are overthinking this."

Then her tone shifted, sharper and more serious.

"But..." She tilted her head slightly. "My instincts are telling me otherwise."

"Your instincts?"

"Yes." Her gaze was steady now, piercing. "They’re telling me that this isn’t something simple. That it’s not just a noble’s whim or a self-satisfying hobby."

"There’s something deeper inside you—something driving this. Something that even you might not want to admit."

Carmela nodded beside her.

"My instincts are telling me the same thing." She said calmly. "And believe me, instincts are the reason I’ve survived this long. They’ve never failed me, not once. Even when logic tells me otherwise, they always lead me to the truth."

Her crimson eyes flicked toward him, steady and unwavering.

"And right now, those instincts are telling me that what you’re saying isn’t entirely false—but it isn’t the whole truth either. Something else is driving you. Something stronger. There’s something else behind this."

The three of them fell silent.

Cassius’s eyes lingered on them both—first on Joy, whose calm expression was mixed with stubborn determination, then on Carmela, who met his gaze coolly but with a faint glimmer of curiosity.

It felt like a standoff, neither side willing to back down.

And honestly, right now he could have brushed it off.

He could have laughed, called them paranoid, and walked away.

But something in their eyes—that strange sincerity—made him stop.

And perhaps, deep down, a part of him wanted to tell someone.

Finally, he let out a long sigh. "...Fine, fine. You got me."

Joy was surprised that he actually gave in while Carmela folded her arms expectantly.

Cassius turned slightly, glancing toward the hanging corpses before speaking, his tone quieter now.

"You’re right. It’s not exactly a hobby or some random whim. It’s something else entirely..."

"...something that’s been inside me since the very day I was born."

That made both women exchange a confused glance.

Carmela frowned slightly.

"What do you mean ’the day you were born’? You make it sound as though this was predetermined."

Cassius didn’t answer immediately. He began pacing slowly, hands folded behind his back.

"Before I explain." He said calmly. "I want to ask you something first."

He looked up, eyes glinting faintly in the dim light.

"What about you two? What drives you to do what you do? What made you into the people you are today?"

Joy blinked, thrown off by the sudden question.

"For instance..." Cassius continued, turning to her. "...you, Joy—why did you become an executioner of sinners? You could have become a healer, a protector, someone the people adore."

"But instead, you became the woman everyone fears. The ’Murderous Saint,’ they call you, don’t they?"

Joy blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

"Because I despise sinners." She said firmly. "I despise those who harm the innocent."

"No, no, no."

Cassius interrupted, raising a finger with a teasing smile.

"I already know that and what I want to know is when did that hatred begin?"

"When did your disgust for corruption take root?"

"Surely, you weren’t born hating people. So what changed you?"

Joy’s eyes lowered slightly. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then her voice became slightly emotional.

"It started with my mother." She admitted. "I watched her suffer her entire life. She was kind, selfless, and pure—and yet she was betrayed by people who pretended to be holy."

"Priests, nobles, merchants—they smiled in public, blessed in the name of the goddess, but behind closed doors they were monsters. They used her, tortured her, broke her. And I..."

Her voice faltered slightly.

"...I could do nothing."

She clenched her fists.

"That’s when I swore I’d never let people like that thrive again. I became the Goddess’s Blade to cut down hypocrisy. That’s who I am."

Cassius nodded slowly, a faint smile returning.

"I see. Your hatred was born from witnessing corruption—from pain, from helplessness. Understandable."

Then his gaze turned to Carmela. "And what about you, my feisty little vampire?"

Carmela shot him an immediate glare. "Don’t call me that." She muttered.

He grinned but didn’t push further.

"Then answer me. What drives you, Carmela?"

She crossed her arms tightly, her voice level but sharp.

"It should be obvious. My entire race was slaughtered. My people were wiped from history—burned, hunted, erased."

"Centuries ago, the nobles and priests you people adore led a holy crusade that turned my homeland into ash. And as if that wasn’t enough..."

Her expression softened slightly—almost painfully.

"My family was taken from me too. My parents were butchered by the same kind of people who now sit comfortably in their temples preaching virtue."

"You ask what drives me? That’s my answer. Revenge."

Cassius nodded again, expression calm but understanding.

"I see. So both of you..." He said slowly. "...were shaped by trauma—pain and loss that twisted something inside of you. And..."

"...that’s actually normal."

"Most people who live extreme lives are forged by some tragedy. It’s what drives them. That trauma becomes the root of their conviction."

He turned away from them slightly, looking down at the bloodied floor.

"But what if I told you..."

He raised a finger slowly, glancing over his shoulder at them.

"...that I never had anything like that?"

Joy frowned, confused about what he said.

"What do you mean?"

Cassius smiled faintly.

"I mean, I never lost my parents to a tragic event."

"I never watched my loved ones die."

"I was never betrayed, never heartbroken, never tortured or scarred by the world like you two were."

"I didn’t become like this because of trauma or hatred or loss."

He turned fully toward them now, his eyes brimming with emotion but unsettlingly clear.

"Instead, from the moment I was born or rather, from the moment I was created, there was already something inside me."

"A sense of duty."

"A drive I didn’t choose."

"A purpose that’s...difficult to explain."

"If I told you I was fated to hold the balance of the world from the very beginning of my existence, would you believe me?"