Darkness.
A vast, endless void.
That was all Dominic could see.
It was cold and silent.
Then as if reading Dominic's mind.
The scene changed, he heard voices, more like screams. They came suddenly, all at once. Voices overlapping, distorted, filled with agony. Men, women, children. Screaming.
Flashes of light. A sword raised high. A crown tumbling from a severed head. A woman cradling a bloodstained infant.
A burning city.
A battlefield littered with bodies.
A figure impaled upon a thousand spears.
Dominic saw it all.
But he didn't understand.
---
He stood on nothing, seamlessly floating in one place.
Yet beneath him, a river flowed endlessly.
It wasn't water.
It was blood.
Thick, dark, stretching beyond sight. The surface rippled as faces rose from it, their eyes hollow, mouths gasping in silent screams.
Dominic took a step back.
But there was nowhere to go.
The darkness stretched forever.
The voices whispered—distorted, layered over each other.
"Betrayed."
"Slaughtered."
"Erased."
The river churned.
Dominic's breath quickened.
All this was happening so fast, one moment he was lying on the floor begging for someone to save him and now he was here in this place that seems like hell but yet strangely familiar to him.
Just as Dominic was starting to loose his mind, he saw figures standing on the river's surface. Dozens, hundreds—dressed in torn robes, shattered armor, silk cloaks soaked in blood.
Men and women of every age, every form.
And they were all staring at him.
Their faces blurred, shifting like reflections in disturbed water.
But their eyes—their eyes were clear.
And they were filled with judgment.
A voice, deep and ancient, rumbled through the void.
"He does not know us."
Another, hollow and bitter.
"He is the last… and yet, he does not remember."
A third, colder than death.
"Then make him remember."
Dominic tried to speak. To ask who they were.
But his mouth wouldn't move.
He could only watch as the first figure stepped forward.
A man in royal robes, a crown of silver upon his head. His chest was ripped open, a dagger buried in his heart.
His lips moved, forming soundless words.
Dominic heard them in his mind.
"The throne was ours. They took it. They buried our names. They stole our blood."
The second stepped forward.
A warrior, wrapped in chains, his arm missing, his body covered in stab wounds.
His voice was filled with rage.
"We were the strongest. But strength was not enough. They feared us. They hunted us. They ended us."
The third.
A woman in black robes, her hands holding a dying infant, her hair tangled and soaked in blood.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Our line was severed. Our children slaughtered. Our history erased."
Dominic's head pounded.
The images flashed faster now.
A nobleman laughing as his blade sank into a young girl's throat.
A knight in golden armor standing over a burning palace.
A blood-soaked battlefield, bodies piled high, their eyes reflecting his own face.
A single symbol, carved into a throne—a sigil long forgotten.
Dominic gasped, his chest burning.
His veins felt like fire.
His body shook, twisted—
And then—
---
Back in the alley.
The leader staggered back, his hand trembling for a moment.
His dagger was still in Dominic's throat.
But something was wrong.
The boy wasn't dying.
His body was moving on its own.
A deep, guttural breath—not human, as if something entirely different possessed him.
His eyes, something about his eyes was different. It felt as if he was a different person entirely.
There was this aura radiating from him, it felt as if he was a bug looking high at a mountain, and his gaze, that sharp gaze of his, that made him feel this primal fear as if he was standing before the emperor of an empire.
Dominic's head tilted slightly, his lips curling into something not quite a smile.
Then he moved.
Faster than thought.
The wiry man barely had time to react before Dominic's fingers buried themselves in his chest.
Bone cracked.
A scream—cut short.
Dominic ripped his hand out of the man's body holding a heart.
Splat, Dominic squashed the heart.
Blood splattered across the alley walls.
The body collapsed.
The others stood frozen.
This wasn't normal.
This wasn't human.
And then Dominic turned toward the scarred man.
His voice cold and ancient, feeling as if this was a trivial matter.
"Who's next?"
---
The scarred man took a step back.
His entire body screamed run.
But the leader raised a hand, stopping him.
His eyes, sharp and calculating, flickered between the corpse and Dominic.
Then, his lips curled slightly.
"Interesting."
Dominic tilted his head. His posture was loose, almost lazy.
But the air around him crackled with something wrong.
The leader exhaled.
He had seen monsters before.
But this?
This was something else.
He had never felt this pressure before.
The only time that he had felt this kind of pressure was when he was fleeing from the holy knights in the solar empire.
But even them didn't possess half of this young man pressure.
It felt wide and unrestrained like a wild beast staring at his prey '
He smiled.
And then he vanished.
Dominic's body moved instantly. His hand shot out, claws forming at his fingertips.
Steel clashed against flesh.
A shockwave blasted through the alley.
And the fight truly began.