The Serpent's Chronicles - Cataclysm

Survival x of x the x Fittest

TW: mentions of past abuse

———

Hello, lovely readers! How have you been?

We're finally back to Illumi's pov's yay! This is a new content that had no been written on the first version, so I'm quite anxious to know what you guys think about it. I tried to make it as in-character as possible while also trying to show his inner struggle, which, I must warn you, will be something really important for the next chapter.

There's also a sneak peak on Medea's past. The abuse is only briefly mentioned, but, please, if you feel uncomfortable, skip the words in bold on her first pov.

A shout out to everyone for supporting this story! I'm glad you're enjoying Cataclysm!

The next two chapters are definitely worth reading btw 👀 So remember to stay tune for the next update, lovelies 🔥🌶️🤭

Please do not forget: updates take place every Monday and Friday from 12pm to 5 pm PST!

See you,

—Cherry🍒

———

There were few things in life that sparked Illumi Zoldyck's interest. Fewer were the things that made him content.

From a young age, he was taught that many things could, and most likely would, be used against him by an enemy at the first opportunity; he had to divert himself from anything that would not be useful in the long run. After all, what purpose would he have for his family if he allowed himself to indulge in mundane things?

He had to keep his mind focused. Centered. Nothing could distract him from following the orders he was given.

Due to this, Illumi had acquired a refined taste.

Movies? He had no time for that. Horse racing? Useless. Contemporary art? He loathed it with passion.

He was hard to please.

Illumi's preferences were solid, like a rock. They were immutable. Unmovable. Unbreakable.

He liked Classical Literature, quiet libraries, and the color green. He also liked fine pastries, but only the ones that weren't too sweet. Opera. The sound of his needles sinking into his target's skin. Control. The simple things in life.

But this moment was the apogee of his satisfaction in the most literal sense. He had Medea's life in his hands. As he retracted the needle from her vein, he felt powerful. He felt like a god.

She sighed.

Illumi stared into her unfocused violet eyes, the empty syringe still in his hands. And then, Medea fell to the ground.

He stepped back, watching the show from afar.

The corner of Illumi's mouth twitched minimally.

This.

This is what he wanted. What he needed. Ached for. Medea's life was slipping away, hanging by a thread that became more and more ruined as the seconds passed. He hadn't used her kanzashi to do it, which, honestly, was a pity, but he was still pleased.

Finally, that agony would disappear.

Finally, he could go back to being his usual self, to be at peace, and pretend none of this had ever happened. Pretend she had not tormented him for weeks on end. Eventually, he would forget about her — she was not that special, to begin with, so why should he even bother remembering her name, her face, or anything related to her?