The jungle was thick, ancient, and full of secrets. Its canopy swallowed the morning sun, leaving the world below in an eternal twilight. Branches curved like claws, vines dangled like nooses, and every sound—every rustle, every chirp—felt like a warning.
Laine pushed forward, Airi clinging tightly to the back of his robe. His breathing was steady, but his steps carried weight. He wasn't just running from the soldier in the temple—he was running from the truth of what he was becoming.
The mask clung to his face, pulsing faintly, as if mocking his escape.
Airi stumbled over a root but refused to let go. Her voice was a whisper against the suffocating silence.
"...Are we safe here?"
Laine didn't answer immediately. He scanned the shadows between the trees, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword. Finally, he muttered:
"Safe? No. Just… safer than back there."
The girl's steps slowed, but she followed. She had learned by now—when Laine spoke, every word carried truth, even when it was harsh.
They walked until the sound of water reached them—a small stream cutting through the dense undergrowth. Laine stopped, crouching to scoop a handful of the cold water. He splashed it against his face, the droplets sliding over the black veins that still lingered on his skin from earlier.
Airi crouched beside him. She dipped her fingers in the water but didn't drink. Instead, she studied his reflection in the stream.
"…You always look like you're carrying something heavy," she whispered.
Laine's eyes flicked toward her. "Because I am."
Her small hands gripped the hem of her dress. "Then why don't you put it down? Why do you always keep running?"
He looked back into the water. His reflection was fractured by ripples—half-human, half-monster.
"I don't run from men," he said quietly. "…I run from myself."
Airi's lips trembled. Slowly, she reached out and tugged at his sleeve. "But… I don't think you're scary. Not to me."
For a moment, Laine almost let himself soften. Almost. But the jungle didn't allow peace for long.
The ground rumbled. Birds scattered from the trees, shrieking. A low, guttural growl echoed from deep within the fog.
Laine rose instantly, hand snapping to his sword. His eyes narrowed. "…It followed the scent."
From between the trees, a shape emerged—massive, black as the void. A wolf, larger than any horse, its fur shimmering with a sickly, spectral glow. Its eyes glowed blue, its fangs dripping with energy that sizzled as it hit the ground.
A Cursed Beast.
The creature roared, shaking the air. The stream rippled violently as if even the water feared it.
Airi stumbled back, clutching Laine's robe in terror. "W-What is that?!"
Laine didn't answer. His sword slid free with a metallic whisper. Shadows gathered around him as the mask pulsed harder, feeding on his intent to kill.
The beast lunged, its claws tearing through the earth. Laine dodged to the side, his blade flashing. Sparks flew as steel clashed against cursed bone. The impact rattled his arm, forcing him back.
"Tch… tough hide," Laine muttered.
The wolf growled, turning its head. Its breath came out in waves of cold mist, each exhale chilling the air.
Laine's movements were sharp, precise, but the beast's strength was overwhelming. Every strike he landed barely left a mark. Every dodge left him inches from death.
And then—the mask whispered.
"Feed."
Laine gritted his teeth. Not now.
"Kill. Devour. Grow."
He tried to resist. But when the beast's claw nearly tore through Airi, something inside him snapped. His eyes burned red. His grip tightened. And the mask's voice roared in his skull.
"BECOME."
Darkness exploded from him. His veins turned black, his aura surged like a storm. The Berserker Sword vibrated in hunger.
Laine's next strike cleaved into the beast's side, ripping flesh. The wolf howled in agony, stumbling back. Shadows wrapped around Laine's blade, extending its reach, making each swing heavier, sharper, more brutal.
He moved faster. His senses sharpened. He could hear the beast's heart pounding, smell its blood, feel its fear.
The wolf lunged again, desperate, but Laine met it head-on. His blade pierced through its chest. With a roar, he twisted the sword, and the mask drank.
The beast's spectral body convulsed as its essence was ripped out, sucked into Laine like a drowning man gulping air.
Airi fell to her knees, shielding her eyes from the violent light.
When it was over, silence returned. The beast lay lifeless, its form dissolving into black smoke. Laine stood above it, chest heaving, his body trembling with the flood of energy coursing through him.
His aura burned. The ground around him cracked. Trees wilted under the weight of his presence.
Airi looked up slowly. Her eyes widened. "…You… you look different."
Laine turned toward her. His hair shifted in the faint light, his veins glowing faintly red beneath the skin. His shadow stretched unnaturally long.
The mask pulsed, satisfied. He could feel it. Strength. Power.
He whispered to himself: "…Savage Tier."
The realization cut deep. He had crossed a boundary. Once, he was prey. Now, he was predator.
Airi stood shakily, taking a step closer. "Are… are you still you?"
Laine looked at his hands, at the darkness clinging to them. He clenched his fists. "…If I'm not, then I'll become something worse. Something the world can't forget."
He sheathed his sword with a sharp click. "If a monster is what I am… then I'll be a monster that carves its own path."
Airi's lips trembled, but she nodded. "…Then I'll follow that monster. Because to me… you're not scary."
For the first time in years, Laine almost laughed. Almost.
But then, the air shifted.
A presence entered the jungle—strong, suffocating, deliberate. The trees seemed to bow under its weight. Airi froze, clutching Laine's arm.
From the shadows, a man stepped forward. His armor bore the insignia of the Empire, polished and proud. His eyes gleamed with cold amusement.
The same voice from the temple.
"Finally," the soldier said softly, "I've found you."
Laine's body tensed instantly. His hand moved to his sword again.
The soldier smirked. "Relax. I'm not here for her." His gaze slid briefly to Airi, then back to Laine. "I'm here for you."
Laine's eyes narrowed. "…You should've stayed in the temple."
"Oh?" the soldier chuckled, his aura pressing down like a storm. "And miss this? I saw what you did in the marketplace. A petty shopkeeper, wasn't it? You killed him like swatting a fly. The Empire doesn't forget crimes like that."
Laine's jaw clenched. He remembered. The hunger. The weakness. The man's eyes as the life left them. He didn't regret it—but he didn't need reminding.
The soldier tilted his head, studying him like prey. "But what really interests me is… your rank. Savage Tier, is it? Impressive. For a gutter rat."
Laine's eyes narrowed further. "And you?"
The man's smirk widened. His aura flared. The jungle bent under it. "Imperial Rank. One step from Ascendant."
Airi gasped, stumbling back from the sheer weight pressing on her chest.
Laine's grip on his sword tightened. His instincts screamed. This was no fight he could win.
The soldier raised his hand, fingers crackling with power. "Don't look so tense. I'll make it quick."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Then Laine moved. Not forward—back. His arm wrapped around Airi, pulling her close. His eyes locked on the thick trees beyond.
"Hold tight," he muttered.
Airi blinked. "W-What are you—"
Laine's aura surged. With one swift motion, he turned and leapt into the jungle's depths, vanishing into the fog.
The soldier's smirk faded. His eyes narrowed. "Running? …How boring."
He stepped forward, aura pulsing, the jungle trembling with each step.
But Laine didn't care. Not now. His only thought was survival—for him, and for the fragile girl clutching his chest.
The jungle swallowed them whole.