Rewrite The Star

CHAPTER 67 : SORRY

Chapter 67: Sorry

The dagger whistled through the air, a deadly glint of dark magic rippling along its edge. Atlas stood frozen, the world narrowing to that single, fateful blade. His legs refused to move, and a chilling thought gripped him: Is this it?

The sound of steel meeting flesh shattered the moment. Blood sprayed across Atlas’s face, warm and sticky, as the figure before him staggered.

Darren screamed. “No!” Nowell’s voice cracked with horror, and Creed’s eyes widened in disbelief, his body frozen like a statue.

Atlas blinked, his vision swimming with tears as he realized what had happened. His future self had stepped in front of the dagger, shielding him. Future Atlas collapsed to his knees, the dagger protruding from his chest, dark magic pulsing like a heartbeat around it. Blood poured freely from the wound.

“Why…” Atlas whispered, his voice barely audible.

Future Atlas gave him a weak smile, his eyes filled with both pain and resolve. “Because if you die… so do I,” he said, coughing up blood. “This… this was the only way.”Darren  rushed forward, pressing his hands over the wound, his healing magic glowing faintly. But it flickered and failed.

“Darren, it's okay,” Future Atlas said, his voice strained. “The dagger is enchanted… You can’t heal me. It’s too late.”

“No!” Darren yelled, tears streaming down his face as he continued to try. “You can’t just give up!”

Future Atlas chuckled weakly, his smile laced with sorrow. “It’s not giving up… It’s doing what needs to be done.” His gaze shifted to Atlas, who knelt silently beside him, trembling.

“Show me your right hand,” Future Atlas whispered.

Atlas hesitated before raising his trembling hand, revealing the glowing pattern etched into his skin. Future Atlas’s eyes softened as he stared at the mark. “You still have it…” His voice wavered, and his left hand brushed against the stump of his own right arm.

Atlas’s stomach churned as realization struck. “He… he cut it off, didn’t he?”

Future Atlas nodded faintly. “He tried to steal the mark, but it’s bound to our bloodline. Without it… without the magic… I couldn’t protect anyone anymore.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” Darren cried, his voice breaking. “Why didn’t you let us help you?”

“I couldn’t…” Future Atlas replied, his voice barely a whisper. “I couldn’t risk it. Protecting all of you was the only thing that mattered.”

Creed finally stepped forward, his expression dark with guilt and anger. “You didn’t have to do it alone,” he said quietly. Future Atlas looked up at him, his smile bittersweet. “Creed… protect him. Protect all of them. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Creed clenched his fists as the memory of his promise replayed in his mind: “I will protect you.”

Future Atlas’s breathing grew labored, and his gaze locked on Atlas. “You… you have to be stronger than me,” he said, tears glinting in his eyes. “Stronger than my failures.”

Atlas shook his head, his voice trembling. “You’re not a failure. You—”

“I am,” Future Atlas interrupted, coughing violently. “But you don’t have to be. Protect the future, Atlas. Protect… everyone.”

Atlas’s tears spilled over as he embraced his future self. Darren clung to him as well, sobbing openly.

Future Atlas’s lips curled into one final smile before his body went limp.

The world around them felt heavier, darker. The air grew thick with silence, broken only by Darren’s choked sobs. Atlas knelt there, holding the lifeless body of his future self. His mind swirled with anger, sorrow, and guilt. How could this have happened? How could he have let it?

“I promised to protect you,” Creed muttered, his voice barely audible. His fists trembled as he glared at the blood-stained ground. “I… failed.”

Atlas slowly laid his future self down, his trembling hands brushing against the stump where the man’s right arm had been. A mix of rage and determination burned in his yellow-glowing eyes.

“This isn’t over,” Atlas said, his voice cold and steady.

Creed looked at him, surprised by the sudden shift. Darren and Nowell exchanged hesitant glances as Atlas rose to his feet.

“I’ll carry this burden,” Atlas continued, his gaze hardened. “And I won’t let his sacrifice be in vain.”

From the shadows, a low chuckle echoed, sharp and taunting. Future Creed emerged, his crimson eyes gleaming with malice. “Touching,” he sneered, clapping slowly. “But none of it matters. The manuscript is still mine to claim.”

Atlas turned to face him, the glow of his right hand intensifying. His voice, steady and filled with defiance, cut through the tension.

“Over my dead body”