At that moment, heavy footsteps echoed from outside. In the flickering light, a shadow grew larger. The door burst open, and a terrifying man entered the room—draped in a long black cloak, eyes burning with menace, lips curled into a twisted smirk.
His gaze swept over the corpses scattered across the floor, and he growled in irritation, "Pathetic! A bunch of useless fools! You couldn't even handle something this simple? Who did this? Who cut you down?"
Then, suddenly, his lips curled into a pleased grin.
"Whoever it was… good. At least this proves my ranks were filled with weaklings. But now I want to see him—the one who wiped them out."
This was Gravanthor. With a single glance, he read the scene: the blood-soaked floor, shattered furniture, the wreckage of battle. His eyes locked on Evan.
Kneeling there, drenched in blood, his body battered and trembling—it was clear Evan was the one who had slaughtered his men. But instead of anger, amusement lit up Gravanthor's eyes.
He stepped forward and asked, "Was it you? Did you kill them all?"
Evan gave no reply. He remained lost, holding tightly onto the woman he had loved, the world outside meaningless now.
Gravanthor's grin widened. His gaze shifted to Lirissa, who instinctively staggered backward. Her mother immediately pulled her close, shielding her with desperate arms.
"Who are you? What do you want?" her mother demanded, her voice unsteady.
Gravanthor's smirk deepened as he moved closer.
"What I want is simple… the girl."
Her mother stepped forward, trying to make her voice sound firm.
"No! I will never hand my daughter over to you. If you dare touch her, I'll protect her with my life."
The words were firm, but her hands shook, and fear was plain in her eyes. Deep down, she knew—standing against this man was no different from calling death upon herself.
Gravanthor chuckled darkly. "A threat? You're threatening me? With that frail body of yours?"
Without hesitation, he seized her by the throat and lifted her high into the air.
Her face turned red as she struggled, kicking and clawing at his face with desperate hands, but her efforts were meaningless.
"Leave my mother alone! Let her go!" Lirissa screamed, beating against his arm with her small fists.
But Gravanthor's eyes gleamed with demonic fire, his face twisted in rage. His grip tightened around the woman's throat. Her breath grew shallow, her body weakened, her frantic hands faltering.
With an impatient snarl, he hurled her across the room with a single arm. She crashed against the wall, blood spilling from her head, and as her breath choked off, her eyes faded into lifeless stillness.
"Mother!" Lirissa's scream shook the room.
Gravanthor turned back toward her, advancing step by step. The girl trembled violently, paralyzed by terror. His shadow loomed closer, his hand stretching toward her—
When suddenly, a powerful kick struck him from behind. The impact was so fierce that Gravanthor was sent flying across the room, slamming hard into the ground.
The room froze in silence. The lamp's light flickered wildly, the air thick with tension. Lirissa's tear-filled eyes widened as she looked toward the figure who had saved her.
The dim glow of the gaslight flickered in the ruined room, making it look like a battlefield.
Broken furniture lay scattered across the floor, cracks split the walls with dust trickling down, and the air was heavy with the stench of blood. In that dreadful silence, Lirisa stood frozen in shock.
Before her stood Evan. His face was bloodied, his body torn and battered, clothes ripped apart—yet in his eyes burned a fury so fierce it seemed he could set the world ablaze.
His chest heaved with sharp breaths, his teeth ground together, and the raw rage in his gaze promised annihilation to anyone who dared stand in his way.
And then, from the corner where he had collapsed, the monstrous figure of Gravanthor began to rise again.
What should have been unconsciousness turned instead into defiance. His eyes gleamed with the fire of challenge, and the cold curl of his lips was sharp as a blade.
Evan's voice thundered like a storm breaking—
"How dare you touch my sister with those filthy hands."
The silence shattered. The room shook as battle erupted.
Evan struck first. His fist cut through the air with a crack, slamming Gravanthor's head to the side. The wooden floor quaked, dust rained down from the walls.
Gravanthor staggered but did not fall. He retaliated instantly, his blow hurling Evan into the wall. Stone cracked, bricks scattered, yet Evan forced himself to stand again. Spitting blood, he planted his feet firmly and charged.
Their bodies collided like clashing thunder. Each strike rumbled through the floor, scattering debris and splinters. Every punch, every kick resounded like a war drum.
At first, Evan's fury overwhelmed his foe. His blows drove Gravanthor backward, slamming him into walls, shaking the ground apart. In Lirisa's eyes, a fragile hope flickered—perhaps Evan could win.
But soon Evan's breath grew ragged. His movements slowed, his body weighed down with exhaustion. Still he did not stop. Blood dripped from his wounds, each gasp tore through his chest, yet he kept fighting, refusing to yield.
Gravanthor seized his chance. Dodging aside, he drove a brutal fist into Evan's gut. Blood burst from Evan's lips as his knees buckled beneath him. Even so, he raised his hand again, struggling to strike.
The room was collapsing around them. Gaslights flickered, the wind howled through cracked walls, dust and rubble clouded the air. It felt as though the entire structure would crumble under the weight of their battle.
At the end, Gravanthor seized Evan, hurling him into the ground again and again. Each impact sent shockwaves through the floor, dust and debris exploding outward. With the final slam, Evan lay still, his body drenched in blood, his eyes slowly closing into silence.
Quiet descended at last. Dust drifted through the air, the gaslight trembled, and ruins lay scattered all around. Lirisa stood frozen, her chest heavy with grief and terror.
One remained standing. The other lay fallen. No names were exchanged, yet only one had earned the right to survive.
The battle was over. Evan's body lay motionless on the shattered floor, drenched in blood. His chest no longer rose and fell.
On the other side stood Gravanthor, the beast who had fought with unimaginable force, now gasping for air. His shoulders heaved with heavy breaths, sweat and blood running together down his face.
"Brother!" Lirisa screamed.
She rushed forward, falling to her knees beside Evan. She shook him desperately, again and again.
"Wake up… Brother, please, wake up! Don't leave me alone…"
But there was no response. Only silence answered her cries, broken now and then by the creak of broken wood and the hiss of dust swirling through the ruined room.
Lirisa's voice cracked, her cries dissolving into sobs. Before her eyes, her family had perished one by one—and now Evan too was gone.
The house was no longer a house. It was rubble, a grave of memories. Walls split apart, the floor fractured, beams from the ceiling hung broken and swaying.
In the darkness of night, the gas lamp flickered weakly, casting a dying glow through the thick haze of dust.
Then Lirisa felt it—someone standing behind her. Fear chilled her bones. Slowly, she turned her head, and there he was.
Gravanthor. Towering, blood-streaked, his gaze unyielding. He scanned the room once, then stepped toward her.
In a sudden movement, his hand seized a fistful of her hair. Lirisa screamed in pain as he yanked her head back, dragging her across the floor.
"No… no! Let me go! Please, let me go!" she cried out, her voice sharp with terror. But her screams found no answer—neither from Evan nor from the family that now lay silent forever.
All she could feel was the cruel grip pulling her away, tearing her from the bodies of her loved ones, into a fate unknown.
Through the rubble, through the night's suffocating silence, her voice echoed and faded.
Perhaps this was her end—no longer free, no longer her own. From this night onward, she belonged to darkness, bound as a slave to a merciless destiny.