Every fiber of Lordi's being screamed that this rage was unnatural, yet he could no longer distinguish where the curse ended and he began. The desire for vengeance roared through him like wildfire, demanding blood, demanding justice for a clan he had no true ties to, for a senior brother whose pain now felt like his own. And worst of all—somewhere deep inside, a part of him believed it.
Krogh observed Lordi's seething expression with the knowing gaze of a seasoned warrior, his weathered face softening into a faint but encouraging smile that carried both warmth and unshakable conviction.
His voice, rich with the authority of a veteran leader yet brimming with brotherly affection, resonated deeply as he spoke. "Your spirit burns brightly, junior brother—your resolve is unyielding, your will as firm as tempered steel. This fire in your heart is precisely what we need to purge this evil from our lands."
He paused, his tone shifting subtly, not to diminish Lordi's fury but to temper it with wisdom. "Yet remember, even the sharpest blade must be wielded with precision. Your cultivation, though growing stronger by the day, still needs time to reach its full potential. Donovan Valdez is no ordinary foe—he stands as the strongest warrior in your battle squad, a man whose skills have been honed in blood and shadow."
Krogh's expression remained steadfast, his unwavering confidence in Lordi evident in the firm set of his jaw and the steady grip he placed on his junior brother's shoulder. "But fear not," he continued, his voice a soothing yet commanding presence, "for you will not face this trial alone. I will dispatch reinforcements—trusted allies who will ensure that justice is served and that you emerge victorious. The Ju-On is a creature of deceit, a predator that thrives on despair and recklessness. It will exploit any hesitation, any misstep. That is why the instant you step beyond the sacred barriers of this shrine, you must act—swiftly, decisively, without a single moment of doubt."
Krogh's words were not merely advice; they were a battle cry, a heartfelt call to arms meant to fortify Lordi's spirit as much as his strategy. "This is more than a mission, junior brother. It is our sacred duty—to your fallen brethren, to our sect, and to the very souls crying out for vengeance. Do not let them down."
With a slow, deliberate clap of Krogh's hands, the gray mist shuddered—then split apart like rotting flesh peeling back. From the gloom emerged figures, their steps unnervingly synchronized, their faces slack, their eyes voids of nothingness.
Lordi's breath seized in his throat.
What in the abyss—?
At the front of the procession marched a man whose face sent a blade of ice down Lordi's spine.
Garrick Blackthorn.
Captain of Thorn Squad.
But the man who had once moved with the lethal grace of a predator now lurched forward like a broken marionette, his limbs stiff, his expression disturbingly blank. Behind him shuffled the rest of Donovan's Dominator Squad—warriors who had once been fierce, now reduced to empty shells.
And then—
A flash of crimson.
Lordi's pulse stuttered.
No. No, that's not possible.
Janiyah Sullivan strode forward, her fiery hair dulled in the mist, her once-sharp eyes now glassy and dead. Behind her, more figures lurched into view—cultivators in the tattered robes of the Abyss Pit Sect, faces Lordi recognized from whispered rumors.
The missing.
The lost.
The ones who vanished on their first day.
A cold, creeping dread slithered through Lordi's veins. Their movements were all wrong—jerky, puppet-like, as if invisible strings dragged them forward. Their expressions were hollow, their gazes fixed ahead with terrifying vacancy.
Even Garrick—especially Captain Blackthorn—the strongest among them, moved with the eerie, stilted precision of a corpse reanimated.
A whisper of horror coiled in Lordi's mind:
These weren't warriors anymore.
They were things.
"Rest assured, Senior Brother Hanz!" Lordi's voice was a blade of ironclad devotion, edged with barely restrained fury. His fingers twitched at his sides, nails biting into his palms as the image of Donovan Valdez burned in his mind—that arrogant bastard, that fucking thorn in their sect's glory.
"I'll carve the life from Donovan's chest and bring back your soulbound sword myself!" The words tore from his throat like a vow etched in blood, his entire body thrumming with the need to act, to kill. It wasn't just duty anymore—it was something deeper, darker. A wildfire of wrath that devoured reason, leaving only the primal urge to destroy.
Lordi's chest heaved, his pulse a drumbeat of violence. If he didn't spill Donovan's guts soon, if he didn't feel that fucking traitor's bones snap under his hands, he'd lose his goddamn mind.
But beneath the rage, a sliver of cold dread slithered through him. Donovan's strong. Too strong. And Krogh Hanz's mission couldn't afford failure.
Lordi clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. He wanted to activate the AllFullOS System right fucking now, to flood his veins with the brutal power of the Bone Tempering Art and crush Donovan like the insect he was—but no. Not here. Not in front of him.
Krogh's presence was a weight, a silent command that kept Lordi's reckless instincts in check. So he swallowed the impulse, his mind hissing the same furious mantra:
Fuck it.
Fuck patience.
The second I'm clear of this place, I'm using the system.
One-click cultivation.
Maximum boost.
No hesitation. I won't just kill Donovan—I'll erase him from existence!