The smell of woodsmoke was a foreign invader in Shin's nostrils. For nine long years, the only scents he knew were the metallic tang of frozen blood and the sterile, biting aroma of ancient ice.
Every step he took through the "Black Forest" felt like a transgression against the silence he had cultivated in his soul. The jagged hem of his cloak brushed against the frosted grass with a rhythmic shhh, a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the eerie quiet of the restricted zone.
Suddenly, a flicker of orange light danced through the trees. A campfire.
Shin came to a sudden halt. He didn't hide; he simply stood there, letting the heavy shadows of the towering pines wrap around him like a second skin. In the distance, voices drifted through the air—human voices.
「 "I'm telling you, the Van Croft territory is cursed," 」 a gravelly voice spat. Shin's eyes narrowed instantly. The name of his fallen house felt like a physical coldness in his chest.
「 "Curses are just stories for children to keep them in bed, Grog," 」 another voice replied with a mocking, high-pitched laugh. 「 "But the monsters? They're real. Nothing but vengeful ghosts and starving Dysmour feast in those ruins now. Not even a rat could survive that massacre ten years ago. Why are we even patrolling this graveyard?" 」
Shin gripped the hilt of his blade tighter. The leather wrap felt familiar, but the power surging beneath his skin was anything but calm. A spark of black electricity crackled under his torn sleeve—silent, hungry, and abyssal.
『 Kill them. 』 A dark, distorted whisper echoed in the back of his mind. It wasn't his own voice, but the resonance of the Void he had inherited during his solitude. 『 Silence the noise. Erase the witnesses. 』
Shin stepped out of the deep shadows. The flickering light of the fire hit his face, revealing a young man whose eyes didn't match his age. They were hollow, like two pits leading into an endless night. His cloak, ragged and blood-stained at the bottom, fluttered in a cold wind that shouldn't have existed in this sheltered grove.
「 "Who's there?!" 」 the leader, a scarred man with a massive iron axe, barked as he jumped to his feet. His two companions followed suit, their hands flying to their sword hilts in a panic.
Shin's voice was raspy, sounding like stones grinding together after centuries of stillness. 「 "A traveler." 」
The mercenaries exchanged confused and mocking looks. They scanned him, looking for a mana aura or the expensive gear of a high-tier noble or knight. All they saw was a teenager in rags with a sword that looked like it had seen better centuries.
「 "A traveler? You look like you just crawled out of a fresh grave, kid," 」 the leader laughed, his confidence returning as he saw no threat. 「 "This is a restricted zone, belonging to the Iron-Blood Mercenary Guild. This isn't a place for beggars or ghosts." 」
The second mercenary stepped forward, his eyes glinting with petty greed. 「 "Look at that sword hilt. It's old, but that's real silver-steel under the dirt. Hand it over, boy. Leave your belongings, and maybe we'll let you keep your tongue as a souvenir." 」
Shin remained motionless, his breath coming in slow, even cycles. He watched them with a terrifying lack of human emotion.
「 "I'll give you three seconds," 」 Shin said quietly. The air around the campfire began to drop in temperature rapidly. Frost started to form on the mercenaries' boots, creeping up their leather armor.
「 "Three seconds for what? To run and cry for your dead mother?" 」 Grog mocked, raising his axe over his shoulder.
「 "No," 」 Shin replied, his eyes glowing with a faint, abyssal purple light that seemed to swallow the firelight. 「 "To pray to whatever god still dares to listen to you." 」
[3...]
The fire flickered violently and suddenly turned a sickly shade of black.
[2...]
The ambient sound of the forest vanished completely. No insects, no wind, no heartbeat. Only the low, vibrating humming of black lightning.
[1.]
『 Void Art: First Movement... Entropy. 』
「 "What is this—?! My legs, I can't feel my—!" 」 The leader's shout was cut short by a sound like tearing silk.
The darkness didn't just strike; it erased.
In a split second, the black lightning coiled around the campfire like a nest of vipers. The leader's legs, once sturdy and armored, didn't bleed—they simply crumbled into fine, grey ash as the entropy took hold.
「 "ARGH—! MY LEGS! WHERE ARE MY LEGS?!" 」 his scream ripped through the dead silence, but the sound seemed to be swallowed by the void before it could even leave the clearing.
The other two mercenaries stood frozen, their faces pale as ghosts. They watched in horror as the very air around Shin began to distort, reality itself bending under the weight of his presence.
Shin didn't move an inch. He stood in the center of the chaos, the black sparks dancing across his pale skin like dark jewels.
「 "I told you to pray," 」 Shin whispered, his voice cold enough to stop a heart. 「 "But it seems your gods are as silent as the grave." 」
With a flick of his wrist, the silver-steel blade was out of its sheath. It didn't reflect the dying fire; it absorbed it. The clearing plunged into total, absolute darkness.
A single, clean slice echoed in the void.
Then, silence returned to the Black Forest.
Shin stepped over the piles of ash that used to be men, his expression unchanged. He looked at the flickering remains of the fire, then turned his gaze toward the horizon where the lights of the first human city glowed faintly.
「 "One step closer," 」 he muttered to himself.
The hunt was no longer for survival. It was for justice.