I still remember the way the morning light had fallen over the endless plains. The wind was warmer than the chill of the forest, carrying scents of wildflowers and tall grass swaying under the golden sun. Compared to the suffocating jungle, these fields looked like freedom. Open. Vast. Alive. Yet, there was something in the air I couldn't shake off—an uneasiness, like the calm before a storm.
Kael walked ahead of me, his back straight as always, his steps precise, his eyes sharp. He was only a few years older than me, yet the way he moved… the silence he carried… the scars in his gaze… it always made me feel like he had lived centuries longer.
The egg I had gotten in the fields was still in my bag, wrapped carefully in cloth. Every now and then, I'd feel its faint warmth, pulsing as though it had a heartbeat of its own. I couldn't explain why, but it gave me courage to move forward.
And then—
A scream broke the wind.
A girl came rushing toward us from the far side of the fields. Her hair was tangled, her face pale with terror, and her eyes were wide with desperation.
"Help me! Please—help!" she cried, her voice breaking like glass.
I froze. Kael didn't.
Without even stopping, without even looking at her twice, he walked past me, his boots crushing the grass. His jaw tightened. He didn't even acknowledge her existence.
"Kael…?" I muttered, torn between confusion and frustration.
"We don't stop," he said coldly, his tone sharp as the blades he carried. "We don't get involved in strangers. That's the first rule if you want to survive."
The girl stumbled closer to me, her hands trembling as she grabbed at my sleeve. "Please! They're coming—please, I'll die if you don't—"
Her tears weren't fake. The terror in her eyes wasn't fake.
I looked at Kael's back. For once, I felt my chest burn with anger.
"Kael!" I shouted. "You can't just ignore her. She's just a girl! For once—just once—help her."
He stopped. His shoulders stiffened, his hand twitching near the hilt of his dagger. His silence stretched long enough for my heart to hammer painfully. Finally, he turned his head just slightly, his eyes narrowing.
"…Fine," he muttered. "But remember—when blood is spilled, you don't blame me for what follows."
And as if the world had been waiting for that answer, three figures burst from the tall grass behind the girl—bandits.
They weren't much older than men I'd seen back in my past life—filthy, with ragged clothes, crude blades, and laughter dripping with malice.
"There she is," one sneered, his teeth rotten. "Thought you could run, eh, little rat?"
Kael didn't waste a word. In a flash, his daggers sang through the air. One bandit's throat opened like a split fruit, spraying red. Another staggered back with a dagger buried in his chest. By the time I blinked, only one was left alive—screaming, crawling, clutching his bleeding leg.
The girl's hands covered her mouth, trembling.
I stood there, useless, staring at the blood pooling into the earth.
Kael turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine. They were not the eyes of a boy—they were the eyes of a man who had killed a hundred times before. "Satisfied?" he asked flatly.
I didn't answer.
The girl, shaken but breathing, insisted we follow her to her village. Kael wanted to refuse, but I reminded him of the promise he had reluctantly made. So we went.
When the village finally came into view, I almost thought we were too late. Smoke still hung in the air. The charred smell of burned homes clung to the wind. Men and women with desperate faces ran around trying to salvage what little remained. Children wept.
And then we saw them.
Dozens—no, almost a hundred—bandits gathered at the far side of the village. Torches in their hands, blood still dripping from their blades. And in the center of that horde, two leaders stood tall. One was a massive brute with an axe larger than my body, his chest covered in scars. The other was thinner, with eyes so sharp they seemed to cut even from a distance.
Kael froze. I'd seen him emotionless through monsters, through bandits, through blood—but now, I saw something else. His hands shook. His breathing changed. His eyes clouded.
"Kael?" I asked, but he didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward. Slowly at first, then faster.
And then he ran.
He screamed—not in fear, but in rage.
"YOU!" His voice ripped through the air. "YOU DID THIS TO ME BEFORE! YOU TOOK THEM FROM ME!"
His daggers flashed. He dove straight into the horde.
I could only watch as Kael fought. His blades cut faster than my eyes could follow. Throats opened, blood sprayed, men fell. He was a beast unleashed. Each bandit he cut down wasn't just an enemy—it was a ghost from his past, the flames of his burned town reflected in his every strike.
I realized then… this was his nightmare.
This was his scar.
But even Kael wasn't invincible.
Amidst the chaos, I saw it—a figure creeping behind him, blade raised. My voice caught in my throat, too slow to warn him.
The blade struck his back.
Kael staggered. His blood spilled onto the soil. His eyes widened in shock, then slowly dimmed as he fell to his knees.
"No—Kael!" I screamed. My feet moved on their own.
But then—it happened.
A voice.
Cold. Echoing. Inhuman.
[Dormant Seed recognized.]
[Host crisis detected.]
[System unlocking…]
I froze. My heart pounded like a war drum.
The world shifted. My vision bled red.
[Mode: Bloodveil Berserk — Activated.]
I didn't understand. I couldn't breathe. My body moved, not by will, but by something deeper, darker. My vision blurred, and then—it all happened at once.
Three seconds.
That's all it took.
The next thing I knew, silence.
Not the silence of peace, but the silence of death.
Every bandit. Every single one. Torn apart, their bodies scattered like broken dolls. Blood painted the fields crimson, soaking into the earth. Both leaders—decapitated, their lifeless heads rolling near the fires they had started.
And me?
I stood in the middle, drenched in blood that wasn't mine, the egg in my bag glowing faintly like it had witnessed everything.
I didn't remember the fight. I didn't remember the kills.
All I remembered was the blood. The horror. The silence.
And Kael, unconscious beside me.
When I woke, I was lying beside him in the ruins of the village. The smell of blood hadn't left. The girl and the villagers had vanished—maybe fled, maybe hiding.
Kael stirred awake, groaning, clutching his wound. He looked at the sea of corpses, his eyes widening. "What… happened here?"
I didn't answer. I didn't know how.
Because I didn't have an answer.
That night, after we left the ruined village behind, I couldn't sleep. Kael was still weak, leaning on me as we walked through the moonlit fields. My hands shook every time I remembered the way those bandits fell.
And then—I felt it.
A presence.
Ignoring it we walked through the edge of village.
Far ahead, beyond the hills, sat a throne. A red royal chair, tall and proud, standing where no throne should stand. Upon it—a figure cloaked in shadow. His body was hidden, but his smile… that faint red smile glowing like blood in the dark.
That silhouette spoke.
A language couldn't be understand, words twisted and wrong.
"Flalamis muchario nou kil."