Ren stood amidst the carnage, his sword dripping with blood, the crimson liquid pooling at his feet.
The metallic scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the acrid smoke of burning huts.
Lifeless bodies of villagers lay scattered around him, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and despair.
One of lifeless body at his feet belong to a woman who had tried to run, her bare feet pounding against the dirt, her ragged breaths echoing in the silence.
But it was futile—there was no place to run, no place to hide.
The village was surrounded by soldiers, and the dense forest offered no escape.
Death surrounded him, its weight pressing down on his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.
The cries of the dying still rang in his ears, mingling with the crackling of flames.
He thought back to the Emperor's words, the cold, emotionless command that had brought them here.
"Leave no one alive," the Emperor had said, his hollow eyes staring through Ren as if he were nothing more than a tool.
Now, standing in the aftermath, Ren questioned why it had come to this.
Why did the blood of innocents have to stain his hands?
Just then, a soldier approached, his armor splattered with blood, his face pale but resolute.
"Sir, almost all the villagers have been killed,"
The soldier reported, his voice steady but strained.
"We've counted fifty-seven bodies so far," he continued,
"And the remaining soldiers are scouring the area for survivors."
Ren nodded, his expression unreadable, his voice cold and detached as he issued instructions.
"Burn the bodies, gather any supplies, and make sure no one escapes,"
"Leave nothing behind."
The soldier bowed and hurried off, leaving Ren alone with his thoughts.
The weight of his actions settled heavily in his chest, a burden he could never shed.
As he stood there, a voice cut through the air, sharp and mocking, drawing his attention.
"Look at that bastard! Is he taking a walk?"
One of the soldiers shouted, pointing toward the edge of the village.
Ren turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw a man walking into the village from the outside.
"..."
The man's presence was out of place amidst the chaos, his hood pulled low over his face.
His movements were calm and deliberate, as if he were strolling through a peaceful meadow rather than a blood-soaked battlefield.
Another soldier, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek, muttered under his breath.
"Sorry, man, no hard feeling but you came to the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, his voice tinged with regret.
"..."
The man didn't response
The veteran moved toward the hooded figure, his sword gleaming in the dim light.
The soldier didn't enjoy killing—in fact, he hated it.
The weight of cutting down children and innocents already burdened his soul.
Their lifeless eyes haunted his dreams, a constant reminder of his sins.
But in this chaos, a fool had wandered into the village, adding to the death toll.
The soldier knew he had no choice.
He sighed, lifting his sword toward the hooded man, his grip tightening as he prepared to strike.
Just as the soldier was about to bring his sword down, the man turned his head mechanically.
His movements were unnaturally precise, his black eyes meeting the soldier's.
Those eyes were hollow and lifeless, filled with nothing but darkness.
They were like two bottomless pits that seemed to swallow the light around them.
The soldier froze, his breath catching in his throat as he stared into those eyes.
He saw his own reflection in them—a reflection that showed not the man he was, but the man he would become.
Broken, lifeless, and consumed by death.
A strand of silver hair fell from the man's hood as he tilted his head, the motion almost birdlike.
His gaze pierced through the soldier's very soul, stripping away any semblance of courage.
The soldier's sword slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground.
He dropped to his knees, his voice trembling but loud as he greeted him.
"Your Majesty," he said, the words heavy with fear and reverence.
"..."
The Emperor didn't spare him a glance, his expression unchanging.
He turned his head and walked toward Ren, his footsteps silent against the blood-soaked earth.
His presence cast a shadow over the village, a palpable aura of dread that made the air itself feel heavier.
As the Emperor approached, the soldiers gathered, drawn by the commotion, their boots crunching against the blood-soaked earth.
The air grew heavier, the faint sound of crackling flames from burning huts mixing with the low murmurs of the soldiers.
Thud Thud
They knelt on the ground, their heads bowed in reverence and fear, their armor clinking softly as they moved.
The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid smoke that stung their eyes.
Verya and Keal arrived, their footsteps deliberate, their faces grim as they stood before Ren, their eyes fixed on the approaching Emperor.
Keal noticed the change in the Emperor's demeanor immediately—the usual casual air of the Demon Lord was gone, replaced by a quiet, unsettling presence that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Every time Keal saw the Emperor, he seemed different—his personality, his aura, everything shifted, as if he were a different person each time.
Because of this fact keal who was beside him for countless year still didn't know the real him...
Or what kind of man he really is...
Keal exchanged a glance with verya, their silent communication speaking volumes: they both knew the truth.
The Emperor was walking a path of madness that would only lead to destruction, a path paved with the bones of the innocent.
They weren't surprised that the village had resisted the Empire, even knowing the consequences.
After all, the Emperor was walking death—wherever he went, blood followed, and despair clung to people like a shadow.
They knew they were serving a mad tyrant, a man who had long since lost his humanity, but not a single soldier would dare betray him.
Keal's voice was low, barely audible, as he leaned closer to Verya, his words a harsh whisper:
"We're following a monster, Verya. A monster who'll drag us all to hell with him."
Verya didn't respond immediately, her sharp eyes flicking toward the Emperor, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword as if seeking comfort in its presence.
Her voice, when it came, was equally quiet, laced with bitterness:
"And yet, here we are, standing by his side, watching him destroy everything in his path."
Keal's jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the ground as he muttered,
"I'd betray God before I betray him."
"..."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, a testament to the twisted loyalty the Emperor inspired.
verya didn't say a word no matter how absurd the sentence sound... the truth was she also believe in that... why one ask?
'Because God might forgive us, But him? Never'
keal paused, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at Ren, who stood a few paces away, his expression unreadable.
"If the way you acted out in front of Ren is any indication," Keal whispered, his tone grim, "what do you think would happen if you did it in front of him?"
"..."
A vein pop on verya forehead
He sure love talking
Even in this fucking situation he just cant keep his mouth shut
But no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she couldn't help think about his question
'What would happen if i lashed out in front of the emperor'
GOOSEBUMPS
Verya didn't answer immediately, her mind racing as she pictured the scenario.
She knew the Emperor's wrath all too well—his cold, calculating nature, his utter lack of mercy.
Her voice was barely audible, a whisper laced with dread: "That cold-hearted bastard would cut my head off without a second thought."
She paused, her gaze flicking to the Emperor, who stood motionless, his hollow eyes scanning the
carnage around him.
"And he wouldn't stop there," she added, her voice trembling slightly.
"He'd throw my head to the pigs, let them feast on it like scraps."
The image made her stomach churn, but she forced herself to remain composed, her grip tightening on her dagger.
Keal nodded silently,
"Yeah, if its him i am sure he would do something like that"
"..."
"Damn i felt pity for ren"
"..."
"Poor ren"
"..."Verya tried to ignore it, clenching her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms, but this guy just kept getting on her nerves.
His smug grin, his careless words—it was like he was deliberately trying to provoke her.
Unable to take it anymore, she turned to him, her eyes blazing with barely contained fury.
Her voice was low, cold, and dripping with venom as she said,
"When we go back, I'll make sure everyone in the Empire—even the Emperor—feels pity for you."
The words hung in the air like a threat, sharp and unyielding, leaving no doubt that she meant every syllable.
"..."
Keal didn't say a word, his silence stretching on for what felt like an eternity.
Perhaps he already knew his fate was sealed, that there was no escaping the path he had chosen.
But curiosity gnawed at him, clawing its way to the surface despite his better judgment.
"Emperor pitying someone… isn't that too much of a—" he began, his voice hesitant, almost mocking.
But he stopped mid-sentence, the words dying in his throat as he found Verya glaring at him.
Her eyes were like daggers, sharp and unrelenting, cutting through his bravado in an instant.
"Sorry," he mumbled, lowering his head like a scolded child, his voice barely above a whisper.
He quickly averted his gaze, turning his attention back to the Emperor, as if hoping to escape the weight of Verya's stare.
On the other hand Soldiers knelt around them in silence, their heads bowed, the only sound the faint clinking of armor and the distant crackle of flames.
Not a single soldier dared to speak, their loyalty to the Emperor absolute, their fear of him outweighing any moral qualms.