Renji stormed down the hallway, past stunned guards and petrified servants, the dark velvet curtains whipping in his wake. His boots echoed against the marbled corridors until he burst into the open air of the palace gardens.
A cold wind kissed his face.
Above him, the moon was a pale god, watching silently as stars blinked like tearful eyes in the night sky. The garden was lavish—unnaturally so. Twisted trees bore golden fruit, and petals glowed softly in hues of sapphire and violet. It was beautiful. Too beautiful. It sickened him.
Renji dropped to a stone bench beneath a silver-barked tree. His breath slowed, but his thoughts raged like wildfire.
"I couldn't save her… again…"
His voice was barely a whisper.
He looked down at his hands. Power coursed through them, raw and unshaped. But not enough. Not yet. He wasn't just weak—he was incomplete. And the exile... it was still waking up inside him.
Then—something stirred.
A faint flicker appeared just ahead, like a dying ember. It floated closer, shaping into a translucent figure of a man, face hollow, eyes glowing dim.
"Prince Renji…" the voice was brittle, haunted. "Please… help us…"
The soul extended a trembling hand. Renji stood up instinctively. His heart pounded. The soul's presence felt real, not a vision—an echo with a cry that pierced deeper than steel.
But just as he reached forward—
A cruel wind blew.
Velahza's voice, silken and lethal, echoed behind him like the hiss of a blade:
"Tsk. Still trying to play the hero, little prince?"
The soul screamed as a black chain of light burst from behind and yanked it backwards. It spiraled violently, sucked into a pot in Velahza's hand—its wails fading into the void.
Renji slowly turned, jaw clenched, eyes gleaming with rage.
Velahza grinned.
And the night grew darker.
Velahza stepped forward, the moonlight dancing across her golden robes. Jewels sparkled on her fingers like the eyes of fallen gods, and her every step carried the weight of cruel nobility. The soul pot in her hand throbbed faintly, as if the spirit inside still resisted.
Renji didn't move. Not yet. His breath came slow and deep, the rage simmering behind his glowing eyes. The ground beneath him pulsed once—just once—with the silent fury of the Exile.
"That soul cried for help," he growled.
Velahza twirled the pot with a smirk. "It's funny how souls love to beg. It makes the flavor richer." She inhaled the air, as if drinking in Renji's fury. "You've come a long way, Renji. All the way from brothel-babe to rebel prince. I'm impressed."
He took a single step forward. "And you're going to regret underestimating me."
She chuckled. "I'm not underestimating you. I'm testing you."
Suddenly, the sky cracked.
Thunder boomed above, but no clouds stirred—only the oppressive, raw pressure of divine tension. Velahza raised one arm, and the ornamental garden twisted. Flowers withered instantly. The trees behind her bent unnaturally toward her, feeding her with shadow and grace.
"Let's see what the Exile's golden boy can do," she purred. "I challenge you, Renji of No Throne, No Crown, and No Worth… to single combat."
The wind howled. The moon darkened.
Renji felt it.
Not fear. Not hesitation. Clarity.
He let go.
A pulse of black light rippled from his chest, crawling across the ground like the breath of a sleeping titan.
[ Exile System: Activated ]
[ Exile System: Initiating Combat Protocol… ]
The voice rang out in his mind—cold, ancient, and powerful.
A glowing sigil appeared beneath his feet—jagged, shifting, alive.
[ Combat Mode: Unshackled ]
"You just activated your own funeral," Renji whispered.
Velahza grinned like a child unwrapping a gift.
And then everything exploded into motion.
Velahza moved first—an elegant blur of lethal intent. Her golden claw struck out like a whip, aiming for Renji's throat.
He dodged.
Barely.
But something was different.
His body felt… lighter. Stronger. As if the garden itself had bent to whisper secrets in his ear. The shadows clung to his limbs like obedient pets. The wind didn't resist him—it guided him.
Velahza twirled midair, slicing through statues, the ground erupting beneath her strikes. "You're quicker than they said," she hissed. "But that won't save you."
Renji gritted his teeth, dodging again, rolling between broken columns.
Then—
The garden went still.
His vision twisted.
Like a switch flipped in the darkest recesses of his soul.
[ Nightmare Mode – Overridden Access Granted ]
His heart lurched. His breath froze.
And suddenly, the entire world turned crimson. "Renji…"
Seraphina's voice echoed through the storm of his mind, soft and motherly—yet sharper than obsidian.
"Only for a moment. I've taken control of the Nightmare Mode from the Southern Mages… I'm buying you five seconds. Use it."
Renji blinked—and the world exploded.
His hands became talons of flaming black steel. His body morphed into a living silhouette of war. The earth beneath him shattered like glass as he lunged forward, faster than lightning.
Velahza's smile vanished.
She blocked—barely—but the impact sent her flying backward, crashing into a fountain that burst with corrupted light.
He didn't stop.
Renji blurred again, appearing behind her, one claw inches from her spine.
"This is what you made me."
His voice was distorted. Echoing. Not just one voice—but hundreds. A chorus of vengeance and broken gods.
Velahza screamed—golden blood splashing from her mouth as she turned, desperate to counter.
Then—
Just as quickly as it had come…
[ Exile System: Nightmare Mode Override: Ended ]
He collapsed forward, panting, mortal again. His body steamed. His veins burned.
His hands trembled.
Velahza stared at him across the shattered garden, blood dripping from her chin, her luxurious robes torn.
"You... you're not supposed to have that," she hissed.
Renji wiped the blood from his lip and smiled through the pain.
"I'm not supposed to be alive either. Get used to disappointment."
The dust settled.
Moonlight spilled once more through the cracks of broken pillars and bloodied leaves. Renji stood there, half-bent, one knee sinking into the grass, breath ragged, his body begging him to collapse.
Velahza rose from the rubble like a resurrected empress—torn, bleeding, yet radiating a cruel and captivating majesty. She wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand, examined it... then smiled.
"That power… you're more than a prince.", her voice dripped with both venom and admiration, "You're a calamity wearing a pretty face."
She stepped closer. Not with rage. Not even caution. But fascination. A predator intrigued by an anomaly.
From her robe—ripped, shredded and scorched—she pulled a single golden thread, glimmering with divine energy. It floated between her fingers like it was alive, humming in tune with Renji's heartbeat.
"This is a thread from my divine silks. Woven by the Sisters of Gold on the first day of Salzahar's founding."
Her eyes narrowed, lips curling, "It heals. And binds."
She reached forward—slowly—and laid the thread across the wound on his chest. It dissolved into his skin like warm light poured through honey.
His breath hitched.
The pain was gone.
The ache in his ribs, the cuts on his arms, even the bruises on his face—they vanished.
But so did a sliver of something else. Control? Emotion? He couldn't tell.
Velahza leaned closer, brushing his hair from his face.
"A gift. For showing me a glimpse of your hell."
Then she turned and walked away, hips swaying, her voice trailing behind her like a slow-burning curse:
"Don't make me fall in love, broken prince."