"…Yes."
The word barely left his lips before the world answered.
Darkness surged outward.
It expanded in an instant, forming a massive sphere that swallowed Aerin whole.
The ground beneath it cracked.
The air twisted.
The men stumbled back.
"What is that—?!"
"Stay back!"
The sphere pulsed, slow and heavy, like a living thing.
Then it began to collapse inward.
Not fading.
Not dispersing.
Drawing into him.
Inside—
Aerin fell.
Weightless.
Endless.
"What… is this…?"
His voice echoed into the void.
Darkness gathered around him, closing in without pressure, without resistance.
It circled him.
Watched him.
Then settled.
It wrapped around his body.
Sealing.
Binding.
Claiming.
Silence followed.
Outside—
The darkness vanished.
A figure stood in its place.
Aerin.
His hair had turned gray.
Every trace of gold stripped away.
His eyes had changed.
Black filled them completely, while deep red burned at their core.
At the center of each eye, a shifting symbol formed—sharp, intricate, and unnatural.
Anyone who met that gaze would feel it immediately.
A presence that did not belong to a child.
His wounds were gone.
The arrows.
The blood.
The damage.
Erased.
He stood still.
Then a quiet laugh escaped him.
"Ah… ah…"
He lifted his head slowly.
"After thousands of years… I walk again."
His gaze lowered to his hands, fingers flexing as if testing something long forgotten.
"The vessel is imperfect…"
A pause.
"…but it will suffice."
The men exchanged uncertain glances.
The scarred one stepped forward.
"…What's wrong with you, boy?" he said, forcing confidence into his voice.
"Acting all tough now?"
He gestured.
"Kill him."
Three men rushed in.
They never reached him.
A single movement—
Too fast to follow.
Their heads separated from their bodies.
Clean.
Effortless.
Blood sprayed across the ground as their bodies collapsed.
The others froze.
Fear took hold.
Silence.
A faint frown touched Aerin's face.
"…Is this all I can do?" he muttered, almost to himself.
"…How weak I've become."
Fear spread through the remaining men.
They turned and ran.
Aerin raised his hand slightly.
"You can't run now."
He raised his hand slightly.
"I made a deal with the child…"
"…and I intend to keep it."
"You will remain."
His fingers snapped.
Flames erupted.
The night filled with screams as fire consumed them where they stood.
All but one.
The scarred man collapsed, trembling.
Aerin approached him, steps slow and measured.
He crouched slightly.
"…who sent you?"
"Speak."
The man shook violently.
"I—I'll tell you! Just—don't—!"
Aerin tilted his head.
"As I am now in possession of this body…"
His voice was calm.
Curious.
"I would like to know what… troubles lie ahead."
He moved his hand.
The man screamed.
His legs were severed instantly.
"Please—! Please, I'll tell you!"
"It was… Lord Vaelric!"
"He leads the Black Thorn Legion!"
"He sent us—we were promised payment if we killed you!"
"Please—spare me—!"
He regarded him in silence.
"You plead for mercy."
His voice lowered.
"The child did the same."
A brief pause.
"You ignored him."
His gaze hardened.
"You will not be heard now."
He raised his hand.
Ready to finish it.
Then—
stopped.
"…What is this?"
His arm trembled.
Resistance spread through him.
Unfamiliar.
Unwelcome.
"…You oppose me?"
A pause.
"…A mere human?"
Inside—
Aerin's will burned.
Fierce.
Unyielding.
And it pushed back.
His body shifted.
Slowly.
Forcefully.
"…Impossible…" the voice muttered.
"…I cannot believe this…"
"…I am struggling… for control…"
"…with a human."
Aerin's eyes flickered.
The darkness wavered.
"…You…"
His voice broke through.
Low.
Filled with rage.
"You don't get to kill him."
His hand lowered—
Then rose again.
This time—
under his control.
"I will."