Aden lay in the shattered remains of the burning hut, blood pooling beneath him, ribs cracked and breath ragged. Pain coursed through his body like a white-hot brand, his thigh soaked in blood from the High Orc's earlier blow.
He tried to move. But nothing. His mind, once sharp, now felt like it was drifting like a boat, floating deeper into the fog. Around him, the village still burned, the air thick with smoke and the cries of battle. The hounds were still fighting, holding back the swarm of orcs and the towering High Orc.
Then, something shifted.
A pulse. A crackle. A whisper from deep within.
His vision blurred, not from blood or smoke—but from something else entirely.
Suddenly, he wasn't in the hut anymore.
He stood in a vast, endless field of blood. The sky above him bled black and red, the earth below slick and warm. In the center of the field stood a figure, wielding a blade that moved like a storm—each swing more twisted, more corrupted, more monstrous than the last.
Aden's breath caught. It was his technique—the same style, but mutated, devoured by wrath.
The figure turned, and in its eyes, Aden saw not hatred or rage.
But hunger.
A curse, buried deep within, stirred in response. His chest erupted with burning mana, rage bubbling from his core. He stepped forward—only for another figure to appear.
His old self. Park Hyun.
He stood behind the monstrous swordsman, blood leaking from his eyes like tears, expression solemn and distant.
"Wait!" Aden called out, staggering forward.
But before he could reach him, Park Hyun vanished—dissolving into a mist of blood, swept away by the wind.
A scream tore through his soul.
And then, blackness.
His body moved on its own.
Aden rose from the rubble, his blade dragging behind him like a reaper's scythe. The hounds turned, shocked and relieved.
"He's up!" one of them cried. "He's still alive!"
But their joy was short-lived.
Because the man who stood before them was no longer the same.
With a growl, Aden lunged—not at the High Orc.
But at the closest orc—and then the next. Blade flashing, flesh tearing. It wasn't finesse. It wasn't calculated.
It was destruction.
"He's… lost it," one hound gasped. "He's attacking everything!"
"No," the captain murmured, eyes narrowing. "This… this is Vasco's technique."
The blade moved not with beauty, but with brutality. Wide, heavy arcs. Savage thrusts. His body took hits but never faltered. There were no guards. No feints. No pauses.
Just forward.
Like a storm that couldn't be stopped.
"He's gone berserk," one knight muttered, frozen in place. "He's going to kill us all."
But then Aden turned—not on them, but on the High Orc.
His blade surged.
The High Orc swung, and Aden ducked beneath it—not out of strategy, but pure instinct. His strikes were relentless. A slash at the knee, a stab at the gut, a cut across the throat—deflected. Blocked. But then—
Crack.
Aden's sword pierced the beast's guard. One arm flew. Then the other. The High Orc bellowed in fury and pain, but Aden didn't stop.
He leapt, bringing the blade down in a brutal arc, cleaving through its neck.
The High Orc hit the ground.
But Aden didn't stop.
When his sword cracked under the force, he tossed it aside. And with his bare fists
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
Again.
And again.
The sound was sickening. The hounds stood in silence, horror-struck. Their companion, was now something else.
Aden didn't notice the blood covering his fists. Didn't hear the shouts. Didn't feel the tears trailing down his cheeks.
He only stopped when the orc's head was unrecognizable.
And in that moment, the visions ceased.
Park Hyun—the man he used to be—faded into the past.
He was something else now. He remembered why he was alive and what he had to become.
Then, from the shadows, one of the hounds moved oddly. While others stared in disbelief or horror, this one swifted through the supplies, quietly rummaging through the crates.
Later, he crept into the trees and carved a signal into the bark with a hidden blade.
He was a spy. A pawn of the Remes Household.
His mission had never been to win.
It had been to ensure Aden Vasco didn't return.
The cruelest blade was not wielded in war, but hidden behind a friend's smile.