Chapter 42 — What Remains After
The battlefield became silent.
This wasn't the quiet that follows victory, when tension fades, and everyone can finally rest. This silence became heavier, pressing into the lungs and settling deep in the bones, refusing to lift.
Soo-ah lay where she had fallen. Still, very still.
The pale frost that used to cling to her fingertips had already merged into the blood-soaked ground. The sharp cold that always came with her was gone, as if it had never been there. Whatever force once moved through her with certainty had vanished without a trace.
Jae-Min didn't move.
He stood a couple of steps away, his sword hanging loosely in his one hand, breathing unevenly and shallowly. He kept his eyes on her, desperate, hoping that if he stared long enough, she might get up, complain, or say something harsh and bossy like always.
But she didn't, and that silence told him everything.
"No…" he muttered, the word hollow, already breaking apart. "No, no… this can't—"
His voice failed before the thought could finish. Across the ruined hall, Aken stood with his back turned. Or rather, something wearing Aken's body did.
The white hair, the two-colored eyes, the unnatural motionlessness—none of it belonged to the boy who had struggled just moments ago to stay on his feet.
Future Aken didn't look at Soo-ah; he didn't need to.
He already knew.
Instead, he kept his focus on the Vampire Prince, who slowly straightened and tested the limits of its injuries as if they were simply a small inconvenience.
"You lost another one," the Vampire Prince said lightly, rolling his eyes. "The other won't last much longer."
Future Aken didn't answer right away. For a moment, it almost seemed as though he hadn't heard.
Then he exhaled. "Man, you talk trash,"he uttered quietly. "You removed one, not killed."
The distinction dwelt in the air. Jae-Min flinched at the tone. There was no anger in it, no grief, only something colder.
The Vampire Prince grinned slightly. "Call it whatever you like—if you survive."
Future Aken tilted his head and examined him with a distant focus, like a craftsman looking over a flawed tool.
"You keep misunderstanding the situation."
A brief pause.
"You're no longer part of this fight."
The air drifted. At first, the change was slight. Then it was complete.
Cursed energy drew around him, not flaring or erupting, but condensing and refining. Every fragment of power aligned with purpose, nothing wasted, nothing uncontrolled.
Jae-Min felt it immediately. His grip held tightly on his sword.
"Aken," he called, voice strained. "If you can hear me."
Future Aken answered without turning.
"Of course he can."
Jae-Min froze.
"Then tell him to stop this," he said, desperation spreading in. "This isn't him."
Silence followed, then, more quietly:
"No," Future Aken said. "This is exactly him, what he was supposed to become."
The words struck harder than anything else, because there was no denial in them. no separation, just truth.
The Vampire Prince chuckled, amused. "You humans are fascinating. One dies, and suddenly everything becomes dramatic."
Future Aken's gaze returned to him.
"I hate your damn guts."
And then he vanished.
He did not move abruptly or explosively. The motion felt inevitable, as if the action had already occurred and the world was only now catching up.
The first strike came low, not to kill, but to break the opponent's stance.
The Vampire Prince reacted, stepping back as blood energy formed along its limbs to reinforce them. It blocked the attack; nevertheless, the impact still forced it back, its feet tearing through the stone.
Before it could recover, the second strike came from the opposite angle, faster and cleaner. A shallow cut traced across its side, not deep but critical.
Future Aken did not advance recklessly. He moved at a measured pace, each step controlled and every movement intentional.
"You rely too much on regeneration," he said calmly. "On intimidation. On overwhelming weaker opponents."
The Vampire Prince's smile thinned. "So what?"
Future Aken raised one blade slightly, inspecting its edge.
"None of that applies here."
Then he disappeared. The Vampire Prince reacted instantly this time, turning and countering, launching a spike of condensed blood energy toward where Aken should have appeared.
But it struck nothing, because Future Aken wasn't there. He was already behind him.
The twin blades moved in sequence: left, then right. The strikes weren't wide or flashy, however precise. Each one was meant to disrupt balance, limit movement, and force adjustment.
The Vampire Prince began to slow, not enough for the eye to catch, but enough, just enough for Future Aken.
"There it is," he uttered.
A fracture in sync, a break in flow.
He came closer. The Vampire Prince swung. Future Aken slipped past it and drove a blade straight through its shoulder, pinning it in place for a few seconds.
Those few seconds were everything.
Cursed energy flowed through both blades at once, not exploding but driving in, concentrated into the target.
The Vampire Prince's eyes widened slightly.
"What did you—"
Future Aken pulled the blade free and stepped back.
"You'll find out soon enough."
Behind him, Jae-Min took a step forward.
"Aken," he said again, quieter now.
Future Aken paused.
"He's still alive, right?" Jae-Min continued, voice shaking but steady enough. "I know he is."
Silence lay between them, then:
"Yes, you dimwit," Future Aken said.
And for a first, something human wove into his voice.
"He is."
Jae-Min swallowed, his gaze flickering briefly toward Soo-ah before he forced himself to look away.
"Then don't lose him," he said. "Not after all this."
Future Aken didn't answer immediately. His gaze lowered just for a moment before rising again.
"That depends,"he said.
Because the Vampire Prince moved again. This time, there was no room left for words—only the end. The ground between them spliting, not from impact or force, but from presence itself. Future Aken moved, and the world struggled to keep up.
Their first exchange was silent. There was no clash or explosion, just the clean, precise sound of metal slicing through air that barely realized it had been cut.
The Vampire Prince twisted in, barely avoiding a strike that could have taken his head. He countered right away, blood gathering at his hands and forming a thin, dense blade that snapped outward like a whip.
Future Aken stepped into it.
One blade lifted, redirecting the attack just enough for it to slip past his shoulder. The second blade moved right after, swinging horizontally at the Prince's torso. The Prince bent backward at an unnatural angle, the blade missing him by less than an inch, and then he kicked forward with enough force to crack stone.
Future Aken didn't fully dodge. He let it graze him, a deception.
The impact powered his movement. He spun with it, blades changing direction in the middle of the motion, making what should have been a follow-through into a second attack from an impossible angle.
The cut landed, leaving a thin, deliberate line across the Prince's side.
The Vampire Prince hissed quietly and stepped back. The wound closed almost instantly, flesh knitting together at once, sealing with a wet, unnatural smoothness. He glanced at it for a moment before looking up again.
"You're testing me, how dare you.."
Future Aken nodded once, one hand on his chin. "And you're confirming my assumptions."
"And what would those be?"
"That your regeneration has a limit."
The Prince's eyes sharpened. "And you think you've found it."
"Not yet, but very soon I will."
Then he moved again. This time, the tempo shifted.
Not suddenly or dramatically, but just enough to change the rhythm. One strike became two, then two became four. Angles overlapped and lines crossed, each move gliding seamlessly into the next. The twin blades worked together perfectly, one creating openings and the other taking advantage, switching roles without stopping.
The Vampire Prince adapted quickly because he had no choice. His body twisted and bent, dodging, blocking, and healing all at once. Blood shapes formed and vanished around him, blocking attacks, strengthening joints, and redirecting force. He acted like someone who had fought for much longer than any human, his instincts sharper than reason.
But even that had limits. Future Aken's tempo kept rising, not recklessly but with thoughtful accuracy. Each sequence pushed a bit further than the last, making the Prince react a little slower each time.
A cut landed on the shoulder. Another across the thigh. One along the back. Each wound healed, but each time, slightly slower. Future Aken noticed and made silent adjustments.
Cursed energy passed through his blades. It wasn't a spike or an explosion, but a change in how it moved. What previously flowed through his whole body now gathered along the edges, making them sharper than ordinary matter. The air around them bent, thin lines of pressure appearing and fading at every swing.
The Vampire Prince felt it; his smile faded.
"You're changing the nature of your attacks," he said, stepping back with greater caution.
Future Aken answered with motion.
He vanished and reappeared right in front of him, both blades already swinging. The Prince raised his guard, blood hardening into a shield, but the blades pushed through it—not cleanly, but enough.
Two lines appeared across his chest. Regeneration began immediately, but Future Aken did not allow it. He came closer, too close for wide movements, and changed the sequence.
This time, it wasn't about individual strikes.
It was about continuity.
The first cut landed. The second followed before the first could close. The third intersected both, and the fourth split the line again. A lattice formed, every blow interrupting the regeneration of the others and preventing the cycle from completing.
The Prince's body began to stutter; the speed increased. To anyone watching, it would have been a blur.
Even Jae-Min couldn't track it anymore. He could only see the result: the Prince's form fluttering between whole and broken as regeneration struggled and failed in smaller margins.
"That's… incredible, he whispered.
Future Aken stayed the same: focused, precise, and cold.
"This isn't enough," he uttered.
Then he pushed further. Cursed energy condensed into the blades themselves, the edges growing denser, sharper, as if cutting through something deeper than flesh. The sequence accelerated again, and now the cuts didn't just interrupt regeneration—they fragmented it.
The Prince's form destabilized. Flesh failed to reconnect cleanly, bones misaligned, and the internal flow of energy and blood disrupted the pattern.
He snarled, composure cracking. "You think speed is enough!"
A flow of power gushed from him. Blood erupted, forming a storm of piercing constructs that filled the space around them.
Future Aken stepped through it.
He wasn't untouched; thin cuts opened along his arms and side, but they closed almost instantly. He didn't slow down or hesitate. He moved through the storm, through resistance and chaos, until he was close enough again.
Then the sequence resumed, no gaps, no pauses, no recovery.
Every part of the Prince's body came under attack simultaneously, each attempt at regeneration interrupted before it could begin.
Future Aken's gaze shifted slightly.
"Appraisal."
The world didn't change visually. It changed structurally. Understanding layered over perception. He saw it now: the microstructures, the strands of cursed energy binding the Prince's form, the pattern which defined his regeneration.
That was the key, not the body, but the pattern.
"There you are," he murmured.
His blades adjusted, no longer striking flesh, but the structure. Each cut severed the hidden threads that held the Prince together at a deeper level.
The effect was immediate, regeneration didn't just slow, it literally broke. For the first time in the princes sorry for an excuse life, a wound remained.
A small section of the Prince's arm stayed severed, incomplete. He stared at it, disbelief flickering. "What the hell did you do?"
Future Aken didn't answer. He moved forward one last time. No sequence, no reaction chain. Just a single motion.
Both blades crossed, cursed energy drawn from every reserve, cycle, and fragment of power. The pressure built until the air itself thinned around them.
Jae-Min felt it from across the room. Aken felt it too, deep inside his consciousness.
This was the limit, one more push, nothing further. Future Aken exhaled.
"This is the end."
The strike fell—not fast, not slow, but inevitable.
The blades passed through the Vampire Prince, encountering no resistance but instead overriding it. The cut wasn't solely physical; it severed the basic structure that shaped his form.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the Prince's body stopped, no movement, no regeneration. He looked down at himself, at the grotesque nature of his form.
"So this is it, huh," he uttered softly.
Future Aken lowered his blades. "Yes, it is."
A faint smile hovered on the Prince's lips. "You're not the only one watching."
Future Aken's eyes tightened a bit. "I'm aware."
"Then you at least know this...," the Prince continued, voice weakening, "...doesn't end here."
"No," Future Aken said. "But I don't care. I trust this kid more than you can imagine."
The Prince exhaled softly. "Good."
And then he came apart. It was not violent or explosive. His form simply lost cohesion, breaking down into inert matter that held no pattern, will, or presence.
The pressure vanished, the castle stopped breathing, and silence gradually returned, real silence.
Future Aken stood a moment longer as the last traces of cursed energy vanished. Behind him, Jae-Min took an unsteady step forward.
"…Is it over?"
Future Aken didn't turn immediately. "Yes, it finally is."
Jae-Min exhaled, the tension leaving him at once, but his gaze inevitably moved to Soo-ah.
He said nothing, there was nothing left to say.
After a moment, Future Aken moved. The twin blades wavered and merged back into one as Miokuo returned to its base form. The white in his hair faded, and the unnatural glow in his eyes grew dim.
The synchronization was ending; his body wobbled slightly. For so long, he looked human again.
"…We're done here," he said, his voice subdued now, less layered.
Jae-Min nodded faintly, eyes still fixed elsewhere. "…Yeah."
But as the silence settled and the burden of everything began to sink in, something buried inside Aken stirred like a pot of brow soup.
Not the system, nor the curse. Something more ancient, watching, waiting. Because the Vampire Prince had been right about one thing.
This wasn't the end, for something worse awaited them.
END OF CHAPTER 42