For the fifth time, he found himself inside the pentagram. The pointer turned relentlessly until it finally came to rest on the symbol of wrath. Wrath.
The symbol resembled an aggressive being, brandishing two swords and seemingly staring straight into his soul. Suddenly, the being broke free from the rune, leaped out, and hurtled toward him with incredible speed. It came closer and closer until he realized who he was fighting: himself. Before him stood his own Noctusborn form, glowing and ablaze.
He had to enter the ring against his own reflection. Suddenly, he himself held one of the two burning swords. Without hesitation, he plunged the blade deep into the body of his monstrous form, right to the marrow. But instead of defeating his opponent, the impossible happened: their bodies merged. They became one, inextricably linked, and in that same instant, the pull dragged them both into the depths.
When he opened his eyes, he was back on Earth. But this time, he was in the middle of a raging war. Holy Knights had gathered to end his life. Their cries echoed across the battlefield: "Destroy the son of the devil!" "For God... Heaven... and eternity!" "For the holy war!"
At that moment, rage surged within him—as intense as he had only felt once before. Back then, when he had lost his entire family: his beloved Lysandra and his two sunshines, Elenya and Lyrielle. The old impulse resurfaced. The hatred, the fury, and the utter hopelessness merged into a pain so indescribably great that it literally tore him apart.
It was a rage against the entire world. He could no longer contain his hatred and aggression—and he didn't want to anymore. He wanted only one thing: to carry out the punishment for this heinous crime. "What kind of people do such things?!" he thought furiously. "They're not human anymore! They're wild beasts! They're the devil's brood! And the devil's brood must be wiped out!"
He screamed as loud as his lungs could carry him: "You shall burn! You shall suffer... forever!"
His scream struck the holy knights like a physical shockwave. Sweat streamed down their faces, their hearts pounded wildly in their chests. Pure terror of death was reflected in their wide eyes. Yet they ran and rode bravely toward their doom. Even though they were afraid, their belief in their cause drove them onward.
But they stood no chance against the champion of the devil. With a single, blazing blow of his sword, he swept the warriors away.
And suddenly, that oppressive silence and emptiness returned. Crouching on the ground, he had to endure that pain again and again. Everything felt so familiar, like an endless déjà vu. Were these the memories of all those he had once sacrificed for his revenge?