Veyle's eyes snapped open.
No blood.
No pain.
No axe buried in his ribs.
He was back.
Standing. Breathing.
Alive.
His head spun, but the room was clear—too clear.
No bodies.
"Japan."
That word again.
His breath caught in his throat.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
This was it.
The moment.
The exact second before it all went wrong.
He had died.
Twice.
Once gutted.
Once decapitated.
The pain still echoed in his bones.
And now—he was back.
He didn't scream this time.
He didn't speak.
He just stood there.
Frozen.
Halrun stood across from him.
Still. Watching.
Waiting.
Veyle's mind raced, a blur of confusion and dread. He was gasping for breath, trying to make sense of the disorienting whirlwind in his head. Every inch of his body screamed with the knowledge that death had been here before—and it would be again.
"I—I don't understand..." Veyle gasped, his voice trembling.
"Japan? What does that mean? Please, tell me what's happening!" He said lying through his teeth.
Halrun's eyes flickered with a hint of something, but he didn't speak. His expression remained unreadable.
The silence lasted only a second.
Then, without warning, Halrun moved.
Faster than Veyle could comprehend.
SWUNG.
The axe came down, its blade gleaming with malice, aimed straight for his throat.
Veyle's body screamed in survival instinct. His sword shot up in a desperate attempt to catch the blow, his arms shaking with the effort.
CLANG—!
The force of the impact sent shockwaves through his body.
The sound of steel on steel echoed like thunder.
Veyle's arms buckled from the power, but he held firm, the edge of the axe just inches from his neck, the cold metal humming with power. His heart thundered in his chest, panic clawing at his throat.
Halrun's eyes were cold. His face emotionless.
Halrun muttered, his voice low and chilling.
Veyle's breath was shallow, gasping for air, struggling to keep his sword steady.
"I don't—please Stop!" Veyle pleaded, voice hoarse, panicked.
But Halrun didn't answer.
Instead, with a swift motion, Halrun yanked the axe back.
Veyle's legs burned with exhaustion. He barely had time to register the shift in Halrun's posture before—
SWUNG.
The axe came again.
This time, Veyle was too slow.
He barely managed to raise his sword, the blade scraping along the axe's edge as the force of the blow sent him stumbling back. His arms felt like they were on fire, and he could feel the cold bite of the axe blade inches from his ribs.
Blood dripped from his fingertips where the sword had grazed him, the pressure of the strike too much to bear.
He couldn't keep up.
"Please!" Veyle gasped, his voice rising in desperation, raw with fear.
"Stop! I don't know this japan thing! You have to belive me, i swear!"
Halrun didn't flinch.
His eyes never wavered.
The axe didn't stop.
SWUNG.
The force of the blow pushed Veyle's sword downward, the edge of the axe coming dangerously close to his throat. The air was thick with tension, the sound of steel ringing in his ears.
Veyle's parry was weak, his grip faltering as his arms shook with the effort. The axe's blade cut through his guard like butter.
A sharp, searing pain shot through his shoulder as the axe grazed him, cutting deep into the muscle. He staggered back, feeling the warm trickle of blood spill down his arm. His vision blurred with the pain, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't—he wasn't going to die again.
But it wasn't enough.
Veyle gasped, clutching his shoulder, trying to push through the pain.
"Please! I don't know japan! Please!" Veyle begged, voice cracking with desperation.
"You have to stop! I swear, I'm not lying! I don't know—"
Halrun didn't respond.
SWUNG.
The axe cleaved through the air like a death sentence, coming down with brutal force. Veyle's parry was weak. Too weak. He barely managed to twist his sword to deflect the blow, but the force sent him crashing to the ground.
His head hit the stone with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind his eyes. Blood pooled in his mouth as he coughed, trying to push himself back up.
Halrun loomed over him, silent. Unmoving.
Veyle pushed himself to his hands and knees, struggling for breath.
"No... please... I can't die again... not like this..." His words were muffled by the blood filling his mouth, but he still fought to speak, to hold onto whatever grip he had on this nightmare.
His sword felt like a dead weight in his hand as he struggled to raise it, vision swimming. Blood dripped from his shoulder, the wound slick and warm, staining his tunic.
His hands shook, his muscles screaming for him to stop, to give up.
But he couldn't. He wouldn't.
"Please..." Veyle whispered, his voice strained, thick with pain.
"I... don't know what you want from me..."
Halrun stepped forward without a word.
SWUNG.
The axe came down with horrifying speed, its blade a blur of death, aimed straight at Veyle's exposed chest. The sound of the swing was deafening.
Veyle's sword flew up in a frantic attempt to block, but his muscles were too weak, too exhausted. The blow slammed into the side of his sword, driving it down. The edge of the axe scraped his chest, cutting deep into his flesh.
The world went white with pain.
His ribs cracked as the blade drove deeper, the force of it lifting him off the ground, sending a spray of blood across the stone. Veyle's breath caught in his throat as the warmth of his own blood soaked through his shirt, his vision blurring as the pain intensified. He choked on it, his breath ragged.
Halrun's expression didn't change.
He was still cold. Silent.
Halrun's expression didn't change.
He was still cold. Silent.
Veyle's hands fell to the ground, his sword slipping from his fingers as he collapsed to his knees. His body screamed, his chest heaving with effort.
"Stop…" Veyle whispered, barely able to get the words out.
"Please… stop…"
But Halrun didn't stop.
Halrun didn't pause.
He didn't speak.
He just pressed forward, his axe grinding against Veyle's trembling sword with raw, merciless strength.
Veyle's knees buckled. His boots scraped against stone, backpedaling.
"Wait—please—!" he choked, voice cracking.
Too slow.
The axe came around again.
CRASH!
Veyle blocked high. Barely. Sparks flew as the impact split his guard wide open.
His arms screamed in protest. Something in his shoulder popped.
Halrun stepped in—silent as a shadow—drove his fist into Veyle's gut.
THUD.
Air shot from his lungs.
Veyle doubled over, coughing blood, vision spinning.
Then came the knee.
CRACK.
Straight to his face.
His nose exploded in a wet burst of red.
He stumbled, blood running into his mouth. Couldn't see. Couldn't breathe.
"I don't—I don't know what Japan is—!" he gasped, staggering backward, sword dragging limply at his side.
Halrun advanced.
One step. Two.
Veyle raised his blade, both hands shaking.
The axe cleaved down—
CLANG!
He caught it—but the force slammed him to one knee.
Steel bit into his collarbone. The sword split from his grip, skidding across the floor.
Veyle screamed, raw and sharp, the pain lancing through his whole body like lightning.
Blood soaked his shoulder.
Halrun stepped in again.
Veyle crawled. Desperate. Bleeding.
"No—! Please—I'm not lying—I don't know anything!"
The only reply was the axe being raised again.
Veyle rolled, weakly, slipping in his own blood.
THWACK!
Stone shattered where his head had just been.
Dust choked the air.
Veyle's hand found something—a shard of metal—maybe broken from his own sword.
He gripped it like salvation.
He turned, swinging blindly.
The shard slashed Halrun's leg.
A shallow cut.
It didn't stop him.
Didn't slow him.
Halrun's boot came crashing into Veyle's side.
CRACK.
A rib snapped.
Veyle screamed.
He hit the wall, head first.
Dizzy.
Broken.
Vision blurred, his body a ruined sack of nerves and agony.
He saw Halrun approach, dragging the axe behind him, leaving a streak of blood across the stone.
Veyle tried to crawl. Tried to beg.
But all that came out was blood.
Halrun raised the axe.
Veyle lifted a trembling hand.
"Please…"
The axe fell.
A flash of steel.
A scream cut short.
Veyle barely lifted his blade—arms weak, legs buckling—just enough to deflect the strike off-angle.
But not enough.
The axe caught the side of his skull.
CRACK—
Steel tore through bone.
The edge cleaved through flesh, splitting his head from crown to jaw.
Brain matter burst out in a wet, stringy splatter, trailing down the curve of Halrun's axe like spilled entrails.
Veyle's eyes rolled back.
One half of his face sagged, the other twitched.
His body spasmed once—then dropped.
Collapsed like a broken puppet.
Blood pooled fast—thick, syrupy red soaking the floor as his skull hung half-open, twitching.
His tongue lolled out.
His fingers curled.
Then uncurled.
Still.
Lifeless.
Halrun stood over the corpse.
Silent.
Expressionless.
He didn't gloat.
He didn't speak.
He just wiped the axe clean—slowly—
and waited.
Halrun stood still, blood trailing down the length of his axe.
Across the room—
Seren stared.
Eyes wide.
Mouth parted.
Frozen in place as Veyle's broken, twitching body slumped to the floor—
his skull split clean in two.
She didn't scream.
She couldn't.
Just stared—
paralyzed in horror, watching the boy die.
And then—
Everything went black.
Again.
Veyle's mind snapped back into the moment. His eyes flickered open, breath ragged as he gasped for air. The same moment. The exact moment he'd died three times before.
Veyle's vision blurred as the memories of death crashed into him, overwhelming his mind with the echoes of what had just happened. The pain, the blood, the horror. It felt like his soul was being shredded every time it happened.
Then, a voice sliced through the chaos.
"Japan."
Halrun's voice was cold, a command, pulling Veyle back to the waking world.
Veyle's eyes snapped open, but the reality of where he was hit him too hard. His body lurched, spasming violently as he collapsed to his knees, his legs giving out beneath him. His head swam with dizziness, his body trembling uncontrollably from the aftershock of the last death.
His breath was shallow, chest heaving, but the terror was too much. He pissed himself. The warmth spread beneath him, soaking through the fabric, and Veyle could only sit there, unable to do anything but tremble, his hands still shaking in a desperate, pathetic attempt to keep himself upright.
Seren, in a panic, rushed to his side, her wide eyes filled with terror. She signed his name quickly, frantically, her fingers moving as fast as she could. Veyle could barely focus on her; his mind was reeling too much to understand.
"Veyle," she signed, her hands shaking, desperate to reach him.
Halrun's gaze flicked to Seren briefly, but he showed no emotion. He barely acknowledged her as he exhaled slowly and lifted his axe.
"Tch."
Halrun barely muttered anything else, his expression cold, unreadable. He turned the axe on Veyle, who was still struggling to even breathe properly, still trembling on the ground.
Without hesitation, Halrun raised his axe.
But Seren wasn't going to let that happen.
With a desperate surge of motion, Seren rushed forward, shoving against Halrun's side, trying to push him away from Veyle. She was scared. She was terrified. But she couldn't let Halrun finish what he started.
Halrun didn't even flinch.
"Tch," he muttered again, his lips barely moving.
With a single, fluid motion, he swung the axe down in one brutal arc. The steel bit into her body, splitting through her midsection like paper. Her body jerked once as the blade sank deep, and the sickening crunch of bone splitting open echoed through the air.
Blood sprayed in every direction, splattering across the stone, staining it in dark red. Her organs tumbled out in grotesque detail—tangled, wet, and raw. They spilled onto the ground, her body now hanging loosely, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Her face twisted in pain, her last breath escaping as her wide, horrified eyes locked onto Veyle for a brief moment. It was the last thing she would ever do.
Her body crumpled to the ground, half of it slumping against the stone. Blood pooled around her, her insides spilling freely, everything so vivid in its gore.
Halrun, still unfazed, turned his attention back to Veyle. There was no emotion, no regret, no satisfaction. Just that same cold, impassive expression.
Veyle could only stare in shock, the scene in front of him too much to process, the horror of Seren's death crashing over him in waves.