The west harbour stank of rot. Salt water mixed with the sour reek of fish guts and stale blood that had seeped into the planks over the years. The abandoned warehouse loomed ahead — number 564 — its boarded windows groaning in the sea breeze.
Leornars' steps slowed.
The voices surged again.
> "You'll never stop, will you?"
"This is all you're good for… killing."
"If you'd died back then, maybe fewer people would've suffered."
He squeezed his head, nails digging into his scalp until blood trickled between his fingers.
> "Shut up. SHUT UP."
The door creaked open before he even touched it. Two Black Acers stepped out, blades already drawn. Their smirks faltered the moment they saw his eyes — glowing crimson, pupils razor-thin.
They didn't even have time to scream.
One throat slit. One skull caved in with a brutal elbow strike that split bone like wet wood. Their bodies crumpled silently to the ground.
Leornars stepped over them as if stepping over puddles.
---
Inside the Warehouse
The dim light revealed eight more Acers, scattered among crates. In the center stood their leader, cigar smoke curling around him like a serpent.
> "So… you're the one who made the princess run for her life," the leader drawled, flicking ash onto the floor. "I was hoping for a fight."
Leornars said nothing. His silence was heavier than any insult.
The leader grinned, showing a gold tooth.
"I've killed nobles who begged on their knees. Slit the throats of children while their mothers screamed. You think you're some nightmare? Boy… you're just another maggot wriggling in the dark."
Leornars moved.
One Acer dropped before he even realized his jaw had been snapped sideways. Another was gutted, his entrails spilling onto the planks with a wet slap.
The leader laughed, not even flinching.
"You've got skill. But tell me — when you're alone at night, do you hear them? The ones you've slaughtered?"
Leornars froze for a fraction of a second.
> "He's right. You do hear us."
"Every… single… one."
The leader's eyes glinted. "Yeah. I thought so."
---
The Break
The voices tore at him all at once.
> "Why didn't you save me?"
"We trusted you!"
"Murderer."
"Monster."
His breathing quickened. The air tasted like iron.
He stabbed himself in the thigh — hard — feeling the hot gush of blood just to drown them out.
The leader lunged.
Steel met steel, the clash ringing through the hollow warehouse. The man was fast — brutal, but precise. His years as a killer were etched into every strike.
Leornars blocked, sidestepped, then drove his dagger through the leader's palm. The scream was short-lived; Leornars wrenched the blade upward, splitting the flesh to the elbow.
---
No Mercy
The fight ended with the leader on his knees, gasping, a smear of blood on his teeth.
"You think killing me will stop the voices? You're already dead inside."
Leornars stared down at him, shadows curling from his body like smoke.
"No. Killing you is just… the next step."
The dagger slid across the leader's throat, slow enough for him to feel the air whistling through the cut before the blood followed.
When the body hit the floor, Leornars didn't move for several seconds. The voices were still there. Quieter, but still there.
> "We're not going anywhere."
He stepped over the corpse, heading for the exit. His gait was steady, but inside, something was cracking — a fissure that was getting wider with every heartbeat.
Before the Banquet – Cour 3, Part 3
The sea wind roared through the shattered warehouse windows, but to Leornars, it was a chorus of voices — hundreds, maybe thousands — whispering, screaming, sobbing.
> "We trusted you."
"You were supposed to protect us!"
"Murderer."
His hand shook as he pushed the door to the storage hall. It wasn't the creak of rusted hinges that greeted him — it was the high, thin wail of a child.
The first Acer rushed him, sword raised.
Leornars didn't see a mercenary.
He saw her.
Dark hair tied in ribbons, tears streaking her cheeks — the girl whose throat he had crushed in a raid five years ago. She was screaming his name.
> "Leornars! Why?!"
The blade came down, but it was too slow. He ripped his knife upward through her — no, its — sternum. Blood sprayed hot against his face. When he blinked, it was just a man staring at him in horror before collapsing in a pool of his own entrails.
---
Another Acer lunged from the left.
This time it was his brother — the one who had died before he could even remember his voice. His chest was caved in, lungs wheezing, yet he moved toward Leornars, eyes full of betrayal.
> "You survived… but you didn't save me."
Leornars roared and plunged his dagger through the hallucination's jaw, the steel erupting from the crown of its skull.
When the vision flickered, only another dead Acer remained.
---
The Collapse
Five more came at once.
But now they were all from his past — his mother, face pale and mouth hanging open in silent accusation; his childhood friend, smile warped into a sneer; the nameless captives who had died in his arms during those nine years of torture. Every strike he dealt landed on ghosts. Every scream that left their mouths was one he remembered.
His breathing was ragged. The world was dimming at the edges, vision tunneling in flashes of red.
> "Kill them."
"End it."
"We'll be quiet if you kill them all."
---
He tore a man's arm from his socket, clubbing another with the severed limb until his skull collapsed inward.
He drove his knee into another's ribs hard enough to pierce the heart.
He ripped out a throat with his teeth.
The floor was slick. His boots slid in the blood.
---
Face to Face with the Last Ghost
Only one Acer remained.
And in Leornars' eyes… it was himself.
Not the man he was now — but the boy from before. Small. Wide-eyed. Still human.
The boy stared at him.
> "If you kill me, there's nothing left of you."
Leornars' hands shook around the dagger. His vision swam between the boy and the Acer — back, forth, back, forth — until his skull felt like it was splitting in two.
> "Do it."
"DON'T do it."
"FINISH HIM."
"PLEASE STOP."
He screamed — a raw, animal sound — and plunged the blade forward.
The boy's eyes widened. Blood bubbled from his lips.
And then it was gone — just a corpse at his feet, eyes glassy and unseeing.
---
Aftermath
The voices were silent.
Not gone — just… waiting.
Leornars stepped out into the rain, every drop feeling like it was washing something away. But the stains on his hands — and in his mind — were deeper than any rain could reach.
Somewhere inside, the boy was still screaming.