Rivals are fragile as never before.
Weaklings are fearful of what lies in store.
Iron and cold-blooded we choose to be,
Serving our Lord faithfully.
Ruthless we all need to be;
Far from the light we keep free,
Standing firm to the end,
Dominion we will see.
Weakness of mercy and kindness abound.
We will resist if our thinking is unsound (to others).
Hating what's pure while we love what is power,
Makes us unbreakable too.
Ruthless we all need to be;
Far from the light we keep free,
Standing firm to the end,
Dominion we will see.
Give to our Lord that comes from the fear.
In the Lord's shadow may we have a part.
Seize the good things, always holding them fast.
Soon the old age will have passed.
Ruthless we all need to be;
Far from the light we keep free,
Standing firm to the end,
Dominion we will see.
These words are music to my soul.
"They are a representation of your nature, My Lord."
Ahh, what a beautiful day.
How's my bath, Evy?
"It's ready, Lord."
It must be of the finest of ingredients.
"All that was taken into account.
For it is the collective of 30 newlyweds with their newborns,
65 pregnant women,
46 virgin girls,
and 54 virgin boys—
all from seven races.
In addition, fifteen hounds volunteered themselves for your satisfaction."
The hounds have shown their loyalty.
I shall remember them.
"They'll be overjoyed hearing such words of praise."
Ahhh, this feels refreshing.
What's my schedule for the day?
"My Lord, you cleared your schedule yesterday."
I remember.
I asked of something from you, didn't I?
"They are right here, My Lord. Roll them in."
"Please spare me. I promise I'll tell you everything I know.
I'll give you everything I have.
I beg of you, please, please—"
"Shut up. Just simply shut up.
You think such barbarians will listen to your pleas."
"Judith, please stop.
I'm sure Count Donavan understands the situation we're in.
He's not in the right state after being kept in complete isolation for who knows how long."
"I apologise, Your Highness.
But I can't help but feel angry.
Angry at everyone, angry at everything—
But especially angry at myself for my lack of strength.
As a fifth core aura knight, I had absolute belief in my strength to protect you from any and all danger.
I began to grow complacent in my training, just given the bare minimum."
"You can't put the entire blame on your shoulders.
For I had once believed no one could contend with you.
I now see I was wrong.
We are frogs in a pond.
We haven't seen the world.
Judith, if we do somehow escape,
let's get stronger together to face the world beyond."
That's a very heartwarming thing to say.
It almost calmed my raging heart.
Evy, show our guest where they are.
"Open it."
The heavy iron doors enclosing them from all sides, like a box falling apart with a loud metallic sound. Free from their dark expanse, they finally saw the light.
Or was it their doom?
Their eyes, long accustomed to darkness, were seared by the sudden flood of light. Blinking against its brilliance, they struggled to adjust, vision swimming in a haze. Slowly, shapes began to sharpen—revealing a vast chamber adorned with intricate designs, its grandeur unmistakable. At the centre lay a sprawling bath, steam rising like incense. Sunlight poured through a towering glass window, casting golden rays across the marble floor and illuminating the silhouettes of those already present.
"Finally… finally, I can see the light.
I don't think I could've held on any longer."
sobs
"I thought I was going to die all alone.
I can't thank you enough.
I'll do anything you want—
I'll tell you everything.
If you want me to be a spy, I'll be one.
Just… anything, I'll do it.
So please… please don't send me there again.
I beg of you.
I'll throw everything away—
even my identity—
just don't send me there again."
"Quiet, Count. You're as disgusting as ever.
You people—I don't know who you are or what you want.
But let me make myself clear, and let it sink into your gamshin.
You stand in the presence of the Sixth Princess of the Goldengates Kingdom— Princess Miria von Gold.
If you know what's good for you, release us immediately, and we might consider pardoning your transgressions.
However, if you fail to oblige, then prepare to face the wrath of His Majesty.
The ball is in your court. I hope you make the right decision."
Ahhh, are you done?
"What?"
I'm just asking—are you done speaking, Miss Judith?
I was getting sleepy just listening.
"How dare—"
"Judith, stop."
"But Your Highness—"
"I'm sure these people before us are very well aware of who we are, yet they remain unfazed. This isn't something that can be solved with threats."
Beautiful deduction.
I expected nothing less.
"Wait, that voice… is that you—"
Shhhh, Donavan.
I'd prefer our conversation take place once you've fully regained vision. Before that— Gag them.
They tried to resist, yet with their limbs shackled they could do nothing.
Forced to wait, their vision slowly returned, while their captors spoke leisurely.
"My Lord, it seems they've fully regained their sight."
Excellent. Now… who should I start with?
I cannot decide.
Hmm, got it—let's play a game of Zyné, Tařmin̈, Arrteẹ, De.
Zyné, Tařmin̈, Arrteẹ, De.
Zyné, Tařmin̈, Arrteẹ, De.
Zyné, Tařmin̈, Arrteẹ, De.
Zyné, Tařmin̈, Arrteẹ, De.
Zyné, Tařmin̈, Arrteẹ, De.
Fate has chosen. Count Donavan.
What are you doing just standing there? Remove the mouthpiece.
"Huff… huff… that's not how it's played!
The host is supposed to count only twice, not three or four.
Judith is the one chosen, not me!"
Oh, is that so?
I don't care.
What was that line again?
Ah yes—
My house, my rule.
"Why are you doing this?
Aren't we friends?
We're like brothers, our bond the force of attraction.
My brother, my sworn brother, please stop this tomfoolery immediately and release me."
Is that so?"
Hmm… I'm trying to recall.
However, there seems to be no memories of a close friend,
or sworn brother,
named Donavan de la Navano.
"What are you saying?
We've been together since we were kids.
We swore to always have each other's backs.
Don't you remember, my friend?"
Still nothing.
"You can't be saying that.
I know you're messing with me.
Quit this stupid fiasco and release me now!"
Look here.
I am one born with perfect memory.
I remember everything from the day I was born till now.
Yet you are nowhere to be found.
This is troubling… what should I do, what should I do?
"Stop with the mind games this instant and release me!"
I'm still trying to remember.
However, it's all blank.
But since you vehemently claim such,
then there must be a problem with my memory.
Why don't we ask Evy?
After all, she's been with me since the day I was born till today.
"It would be my honour to provide an answer to your dilemma, My Lord."
You are honoured.
Evy, during my 28-year span of life, have I ever had a close friend?
No—let me generalise the term— a friend or acquaintance named Donavan de la Navano?
"I've been with you from the very moment you took your very first breath.
Watched every single milestone you crossed,
every being you interacted with till now.
Yet among all those you consider friends and acquaintances,
none bear—no such name as Donavan de la Navano."
We've reached a stalemate.
On one hand, you claim to be a friend of mine from childhood.
On the other, the one who raised me from infancy claims otherwise.
Who should I believe?
What to do, what to do.
"What are you contemplating for?
That woman has tried everything to sever our brotherhood.
You must trust my words, as you always have."
Such bold words for a captive.
Yet I feel something wrong in your address to me.
For the dogs—
they simply call me Lord or Master.
But you, Donavan,
you speak of sworn brotherhood,
yet never once do you call me by name.
Isn't that concerning, Sworn Brother?
"I cannot speak of your name in such a setting."
Do you have such luxury?
"I cannot betray my brother."
Aren't I that brother?
I'm right before you—what are you holding onto?
Just say it, if our brotherhood is true.
"Your name is…"
We're waiting.
"Your name is…"
Go on.
"Your name is…"
Just spill it already.
My tolerance is running thin.
"You're RATTY."
The chamber fell into silence, Donavan's words echoing across the stone walls, reverberating like a curse. Every breath held, every gaze fixed— waiting for the Lord's response.
You're quite the jokester, Count.
You almost made me laugh.
Like seriously—what's my name?
"It's… it's… it's—"
It's what?
The Count faltered, scanning through his memories.
All he found were the words he had already blurted out and their pitiful variations: Ratty, Rat, Rodent.
Seems like you have nothing more to say.
I'll be taking your silence as confirmation.
According to Count Donavan de la Navano,
head of the Navano household and county,
I—his sworn brother—am named Ratty.
Isn't that right, Count?
"Yes, yes, that's accurate.
Now we've reached an understanding—release me."
Do take me for a fool, Count.
The chamber fell into silence as a burst of mana and spiritual power erupted from the Lord, engulfing the entire room. The attendants' legs buckled instantly, forcing them to their knees beneath the suffocating pressure.
Princess Miria and Judith, still shackled and gagged, could do little in resistance. Their breath caught, lungs tightened, eyes watered, and their bodies felt compressed beneath the invisible weight. Yet through sheer willpower, they resisted the pull of unconsciousness, clinging to awareness by the thinnest thread.
The same could not be said for Count Donavan. His knees gave way, though his shackles kept him upright. Foam gathered at his lips as his breath faltered. His eyes bulged, rolled back, and streamed with tears. Terror consumed him utterly—his body betraying him as he wet himself—before collapsing into unconsciousness.
The one, the only, left standing— unfazed, unbothered, unchanged by the crashing pressure—was Evy.
She remained perfectly still, her posture flawless, her gaze steady upon the chaos unfolding before her. Not a tremor, not a flicker of emotion crossed her face. She observed it all with an unchanging expression, as though the storm itself bent around her, unable to touch.
"My Lord, please quell your fury. The Shepherds cannot remain any longer."
The Lord retracted his mana and spiritual power. All within the chamber panted, grasping for breath, their bodies trembling from the suffocating release.
Evy, wake him up.
I seem to have recalled something after hearing that insult of a name.
Evy raised her hand, releasing a sharp electric pulse into the Count's skull. Donavan convulsed, then gasped back into consciousness.
"What happened? Where am I?
Why am I back in this nightmare?
I had just woken, and now I'm back again.
This must be a curse.
Someone has placed a curse on me—it's that Rodent for sure!
If I finally escape, I'll show him why he shouldn't have messed with me!"
Interesting. To fall into delusions already.
How far did you break his ego?
"Not far enough, My Lord.
I left part intact—for your entertainment."
Ohh, Donavan… buddy, you've got to come back to reality.
"Shut up, you rodent.
You of little power cannot keep me here forever.
I'll eventually break free and rain unimaginable terror upon your worthless self."
I'd really love to see that.
But I've spent far too long on you.
I cannot keep the princess and the baronnet waiting.
Zerxiy, heed my call.
At once, a spark of light began to manifest—
a radiant shimmer that grew, pulsing with mystical resonance.
From the depths of brilliance emerged a being of glistening beauty. Two pairs of transparent butterfly wings unfurled, catching the light and scattering it like prisms across the chamber walls.
They were no mere entity.
They were a Deity.
One known among the common folk as a Fairy.
"Zerxiy heeds your call, fine Sir.
Of what do I owe this summons?"
Zerxiy, please knock the deliriousness out of him.
My time is running out, and my wrath has subsided.
"Ha ha hahaha ha!
Now I'm certain this is merely a dream.
That waste couldn't even call upon a spirit to save his hide.
Haha ha! I can't believe I showed such a pitiful sight.
I've given that waste enough time to play—it's time to break out!"
All stared in disbelief as the Count strained against his shackles, his madness spilling into the chamber.
See? I can't have my childhood bully fall so far, while still thinking he's superior.
"Yeah, I can definitely see what you mean.
But he became like this due to fear.
It wouldn't work a second time."
Yep. That's why I called upon you.
"If fear is the cause, then would healing bring him to reality?"
"What are you going to do?
Cast a mystic heal on me?
Don't make me laugh."
"Yeah, pretty much."
Zerxiy, please go ahead.
"Mystic Art: Heal; Overload."
"Ha ha ha hahaha!
You fools—once I'm fully healed…
you don't need to know.
Ha ha hahahaha!"
Donavan kept on laughing, his voice echoing through the chamber, as wounds both internal and external knit themselves closed. Skin smoothed, bones aligned, breath steadied— the Count was fully healed.
But something was wrong.
Zerxiy did not stop.
Their spiritual power continued to flow, channeled through the mystic art of healing, pouring relentlessly into Donavan's body— concentrated, focused, driving deeper into his right arm.
The limb trembled, veins glowing faintly beneath the skin.
The laughter faltered for a moment, then rose again, louder, more manic, as the Count's arm began to swell with unnatural force.
His skin stretched and shifted, pigment darkening as muscles bulged and expanded. Veins constricted, then dilated, bones broke and mended in rapid succession.
The Count's laughter twisted into cries of excruciating pain.
But Zerxiy did not stop.
They intensified their output, hastening the progress, forcing the transformation forward.
Are you still in a dream, Donavan?
The Count could not hear a single word. His outcry drowned out all sound, filling the chamber with his agony.
His arm continued to swell— until a sharp POP split the silence.
Donavan's right arm burst, scattering fragments of bone and flesh across the marble floor, splattering the faces of Princess Miria and Judith.
The Count collapsed, unconscious once more— this time far more pathetic than before.
The sight left Princess Miria and Judith frozen in horror.
Their faces, stained with blood and fragments, twisted with disbelief. Dread overtook them, heavy and suffocating, their wills beginning to slip beneath the weight of despair.
Yet their captors did not recoil.
They found the spectacle amusing— fascinating, even. Their laughter and delight at Donavan's collapse only deepened the dread that consumed the princess and the baronnet.
For Miria and Judith, the chamber had become a theater of cruelty, and they were forced to watch, powerless, as torment was treated as entertainment.
Evy, bring him back.
"I don't think that's possible, My Lord.
He's brain-dead—only a vegetable hugs before us."
Okay! Moving on.
Hello Princess Miria von Gold, and Baronnet Judith Ascart.
I've kept you waiting.
I do apologise for the unsightly scene before us…
Before the Lord could finish, a loud ringing sound permeated the chamber. All turned as Evy reached into her sleeve pocket, pulling out her terminal—the cause of the interruption. The chamber fell silent, waiting for the reason behind the disruption.
"My Lord, it seems your father wishes to have a word."
Sorry, ladies.
But there seems to be an emergency summons I must attend to.
Bring it here.
At once, a shepherd dressed in white silk from head to toe approached the steaming bath, carrying a tray. Upon it lay a ceremonial dagger, its blade adorned with intricate designs. Two more shepherds followed—one in green, one in red—both fully covered, their presence solemn and foreboding.
The white shepherd handed the tray to the green, who stepped forward and stood above the Lord. The red shepherd then took the dagger, and without hesitation, slit the throat of the white. Blood spilled, flowing onto the Lord, covering his body in crimson.
The red shepherd next drew the blade across the Lord's palm. The steaming bath began to rise, its crimson essence flowing into the Lord through the cut. It carried with it the blood of Count Donavan— the stains upon the princess and Judith, the pools upon the marble floor, and even the remnants within Donavan's body.
All of it was absorbed.
Donavan shriveled, collapsing into a husk, a mummy of wasted flesh.
The scene left Princess Miria and Baronnet Judith in deeper dread. What they had witnessed belonged only to books and spoken legends— one of the forbidden magical schools: Blood Magic.
In those legends, it was said a single practitioner once wiped out an entire country.
Now, faced with the Lord's ritual, their hope of escape shattered completely. He could act whenever, wherever, however he pleased.
Zerxiy, I'll leave this to you.
"Mystical Arts: Blessing of the Deities."
The cut on the Lord's palm closed instantly, leaving no scar. Stepping out of the now-empty bath, Evy whispered a chant, and water poured down upon the Lord, washing away the blood residue. Evy and the shepherds dressed him in silence, while Zerxiy returned from once they came.
At the gates of the chamber, before stepping out, the Lord turned to the captives.
And before I forget—
I never introduced myself.
I am Alexander Martin, the Sixth of the Martins,
founder and head of the Vicious Dogs.
The doors shut with finality.
The sound alone made the princess and Judith sink deeper into despair. Though they had never seen the sixth child of Martin until today, they knew they had committed a crime against him. They were not merely captives— they were sinners in the eyes of Alexander.
Taking a few strides forward, Alexander's body began to tilt. Within the next moment, he was about to hit the floor. Evy, quick and steady, caught him before he collapsed. Frantically, she bent over him—yet Alexander did not stir. Unconscious, unresponsive, as though locked away.
'Ugh… my head hurts.
What's that sound? It's splitting me apart.
Wait… how am I having a headache in the underworld?
What are these memories?
Am I Alexander Martin… or Zeltus of the Seven Deadly Sins?
I remember now. I am Alexander Martin,
The Sixth of the Martins.
But why… why have I inherited the memories of a Deadly Sin
from a past Epoch?
What even is an Epoch?
And why is this sound still blaring?
I need silence…'
Alexander opened his eyes.
His surroundings had changed— far from the chamber, far from the blood and marble. He was somewhere else entirely. Before him sat Evy, tired and worn, dozing off in exhaustion.
Evy… Evy, wake up.
Why are we on a train?
Evy stirred, blinking, then shot upright in disbelief.
"Alex… is that you?"
It's me. Why ask such?
Now answer me—why are we on a train?
"It seems you've returned."
What return? Did I go somewhere? Stop beating around the bush.
"Alex, don't you remember anything?"
All I know is that father sent for me.
On my way to meet him, I was struck by a splitting headache,
and then I found myself here.
"You've not been yourself for about two months, Alex."
Explain.
"I'm not sure you'd want to hear this."
Just go on. I need to know.
"On the day the head summoned you, your body went limp and fell into unconsciousness.
I tried everything to wake you, but it was all in vain.
The very next day, you awoke—but the one who awoke wasn't you.
He dismantled the Vicious Dogs, and whoever resisted was slaughtered without mercy.
My suspicion grew when I saw his weapon of choice and his arts.
You wield a spear. He wielded a sword—like one who had lived by the blade his entire life.
And his magic… it looked like a mixture of arcane and runic, but it was neither.
He called it Original Magic."
Hold on. Are you saying someone took over my body, and you did nothing?
You were right beside me when I painstakingly founded and grew each member of the Vicious Dogs.
And you just stood there as he desecrated my sanctuary and people?
You've disappointed me, Evy.
"Quell your anger, Alex. I couldn't do anything."
Don't tell me that.
I am one with a single tier and three cores of mana.
You, on the other hand, are of two tiers and six cores.
You have twenty-six cores, while I only have thirteen—
and you're saying you could do nothing?
*Due to the ever-increasing mana level in the environment each day, the building and storing of mana into cores has become easier to achieve. This caused the ranking of magic, aura, and cores to reach unprecedented heights. When an individual reaches the tenth core, all the mana cores they've built over the years condense and combine into one, forming their first tier.*
"Not that I couldn't do anything, but rather I could not do a single thing even if I had wanted to.
The very moment he awoke, the first thing he did was strike my Centural Points, preventing the flow and release of mana.
He called them Meridians.
He also fully paralysed my body, controlling my every action like a puppeteer.
But just as with the Original Magic he wields, this was something else—not of the Puppeteering School.
He called it…"
Piyingxi.
"How do you know that name, Alex?"
I owe you an apology.
While the one who's been in control these past two months might seem another… it was me.
To be exact, it was my body acting autonomously, following a single command in its best judgment.
"What do you mean by that?"
I don't have enough time until I slip back.
So tell me—what happened with the overthrow, and what decision did my body make regarding the princess and baronnet?
"The coup failed. Most of it was his… yours… how am I even to refer to which of you?"
That's of no importance.
Evy, I'm slipping away. I don't know when I'll return.
"He claimed the coup would have failed whether he intervened or not. He said he was only hastening the process."
And the princess and baronnet?
"He set them free, but placed a seal on them. They won't be saying anything."
That's good.
"What's going on, Alex, please…"
There's no time. Just know this—
I don't know when, but in the near future, the Martins will be no more.
We will become something else.
The gods are moving.
Those were Alexander's final words before his consciousness slipped away entirely.
The next time he regained his senses was six months later.