Faithless jolted awake in a world of darkness, lit only by streams of blood dripping above his head—but the blood never touched him. It was as if an invisible wall shielded him.
He sat on a shadowy floor, yet somehow, he could see through it. Tall, ancient pillars extended from the surface downward, vanishing into the unseen depths.
'Where am I? Am I dead…?' His voice was calm but echoed strangely through the darkness.
All around him was black, with only the crimson light above. Faithless tilted his head upward and spoke in an indifferent tone:
'What a strange light… Haha, this must be hell. Seems like I'm dead. Not a bad feeling, but it's no paradise… I don't see my mother here.'
He paused for a few seconds, then his tone dropped into sadness:
"I guess I don't deserve—"
"You talk too much," a voice cut through the air, distorted, mocking, and intrusive—as if entering directly into his brain.
"Where did that voice come from?" Faithless asked, confused.
"Are you an idiot? I'm right in front of you, grandson of the Emperor."
Faithless turned his head to the left, eyes wide in horror, and saw a golden shadow moving like waves—faceless, as if a curse forbade anyone from seeing its features.
Terror gripped him. He didn't understand what was happening. Struggling to gather his thoughts, he asked with hesitation:
"Who… who are you?"
The mysterious figure laughed, a chilling laugh filled with ancient pride—as though it came from a being not bound to this era. His voice echoed with dark majesty:
"I am the King when the Earth knew no ruler.
I am the butcher who slaughtered both the just and unjust.
I help neither the poor nor the wicked—I follow only my gain.
Killer of kings. Executioner of emperors.
The cursed, the sinner—I am gold when gold meant nothing.
I am the beginning… and what comes after the end."
A chill ran down Faithless' spine. The way this being introduced himself—with such narcissism and grandeur—left no doubt: this was a creature beyond defeat.
"No one speaks of themselves with such depth… except the one my father once told me about…" Faithless muttered carefully, weighing every word.
"That's right, Faithless son of Sayron, Fifth Emperor.
I am the Forgotten Beast your father warned you of," the being answered with a deep, mysterious tone.
"And what would such a mighty entity want… from someone who doesn't even understand his place in the universe?" Faithless said calmly, touching his neck.
"It's good that you know your place before me… How delightful—a great being that even madness fears," the Forgotten Beast chuckled, the sound distorted but terrifying.
Then the beast continued:
"I want nothing from you… but I do have a question.
Why did you hide your power against that girl?"
'How does he know? Was he watching the fight?' Faithless thought to himself.
He smiled and responded with a calm, mocking tone:
"Would it really be fair to fight a girl with my full strength, O—"
"NONSENSE!" the Forgotten Beast roared, his voice deep and fearsome, shaking the very walls of the shadowy realm. Even Faithless' smile vanished under the weight of it.
"That's nonsense. What are you talking about, huh?
You live in a world ruled by bloodshed.
You have a goal—you must reach it, no matter how 'honorable' or 'filthy' the path."
His voice grew more violent:
"Do you want to repeat the same mistakes and lose everything again?
You've already lost more than enough, broken beyond repair… you fool."
"What do you mean 'again'? Are there worse losses than these?" Faithless asked, his tone cold, his face shadowed, and his eyes glowing black.
"There are horrors far beyond these losses… Prince," the Beast growled, shaking the entire space.
He lifted a long arm, holding a strange sword connected to it, and pointed at his own face:
"Faithless… you are mad.
Mad enough that you'll one day speak of slaughter like it's just another word.
Here's a piece of advice for your future:
There is nothing more beautiful than madness…
when you're crushing your enemies' skulls."
A giant black hole appeared above Faithless. It spoke a single word in a cosmic voice:
"Not everything you see… is true."
The hole went silent. The Forgotten Beast continued, arrogant as ever:
"Faithless… the Faithless one is not always truly faithless."
And with those terrifying, cryptic words, Faithless woke up.
He stared at the ceiling of his room, eyes trembling with the memory of what he'd seen, drenched in sweat.
He sat halfway up in bed, pressing all ten fingers against his face and speaking in a cold tone:
"There's no difference between reality and hell… they're two sides of the same coin."
Then he looked at a man standing near the door, smiling with wicked amusement.
"Saint Isaac… how long have you been there, watching me with that insane smile?"
"I was just passing by… thought I'd check on you," Isaac replied with his deep, mocking tone.
"Check on me… while wearing that smile?" Faithless placed his hand on his cheek, his voice questioning.
Isaac pulled up a chair and sat down, his tone shifting to something darker:
"This is just how my face looks, Prince Faithless."
"You being here must mean you have a mission for me.
But before that… how long was I unconscious?" Faithless asked calmly.
"You didn't even mention your fight with Lady Marian. You're so detached, Prince Faithless…
And to answer your question—you were unconscious for three days."
Faithless' eyes widened in shock, and he murmured to himself:
'Three days? Why so long… was it because I was in that other dimension?'
Isaac continued in that same eerie tone:
"And yes, I do have a mission for you.
A secret one. It's meant to sharpen your power even more. Do you accept?"
Faithless placed his thumb and index finger on his chin, whispering to himself:
'A secret mission? One that enhances my power? Sounds tempting…
but if it's coming from this cryptic saint, it's bound to be deadly.'
"What kind of mission are we talking about?"
"A simple one…
You enter a certain dimension, kill everyone inside, and get out. That's it."
Isaac leaned back in the chair, his tone deep and twisted by a strange smile.
'That disturbing smile… he's hiding something major behind it.
But fine, I'll take the risk.'
"I accept. When do we begin?"
"Now.
Now is the best time to forge your power," Isaac said, his smile creeping wider, tone more unsettling.
He added:
"I'll be waiting for you in the training arena. Don't be late.
I don't like to wait."
Isaac calmly exited the room.
Faithless stood up from bed, gazed into the mirror…
Placed all ten fingers on his face, smiled faintly, and whispered:
'He may be planning to kill me… but the question is—can I really die?
That beast said I made many mistakes… but I don't remember them.
Could rejecting this mission have been one of them?'
'So many questions… and no clear answers.'
He put on his red coat, looked down at the bandage on his stomach—still wrapped tight.
He gave a slight smirk and spoke sarcastically:
"Seems she really hates me.
Hated me enough to punch a hole through my stomach…
What did the emperors do to make people hate them this much?"
He left the room and headed straight for the training arena.
There, Isaac stood in the center, hands clasped behind his back, gazing silently at the moon lighting the sky.
"You're not too late…" Isaac spoke in a calm tone, glancing only halfway toward Faithless.
"I wanted to take a short nap, but you don't like waiting." Faithless replied sarcastically, with a faint smile.
"You're good at throwing stupid jokes, prince." Isaac looked at him with a mocking smile.
"Enough talk—how about we get started with the mission?"
Isaac moved his hand straight forward and created a wall-like invisible barrier, through which nothing inside could be seen.
"What is this thing you just put up?" Faithless asked with a questioning tone.
"A barrier. It prevents anyone from seeing what's inside this spot." Isaac gave a light smile.
Then Isaac revealed a violet portal, from which came the stench of death and screams of those begging for mercy. Faithless felt a terrifying and heavy aura emanating from it.
'What an aura… anyone would start vomiting just by staying near it for too long.' Faithless muttered to himself in a faint tone.
Three phrases then appeared on the portal… heavy and horrifying ones:
First phrase: Praise the King
Second phrase: Kill the King
Third phrase: Do not anger the King
"What are these strange phrases? What do they mean?" Faithless asked with a puzzled tone.
Isaac grabbed Faithless' shoulder and smiled a suspicious smile:
"Don't worry about old symbols and meanings… All you need to do is sharpen your strength—and never go easy on anyone inside this gate."
Then he leaned close to Faithless' ear and whispered in a sharp tone:
"Please… don't die. Losing you would be a hassle."
Faithless didn't understand the true meaning behind those last words—but they carried a dreadful omen.
He stepped forward, placing his foot inside the portal… paused for a moment and looked back coldly and sharply at Isaac—then walked through the gate.
Isaac moved his hand and conjured a chair made from demon bones. He sat down, resting his cheek on his hand, and spoke in a cold tone:
"Those sharp eyes of his… so terrifying… hahaha."
Faithless appeared in a strange place—a long path with a massive gate at the end, bearing an upside-down cross dripping with blood. On both the right and left sides stood massive, dense trees with unnatural colors.
On the right, the tree leaves were white—evoking unease, fear, and discomfort.
On the left, the tree leaves were pitch black, bleeding cotton-like blood.
Above, the sky had pillars appearing to connect to the earth—but in reality, they didn't connect at all. The sky was red on one side, black on the other.
"This doesn't seem like another dimension… more like a hidden or forgotten land."
Faithless smiled lightly and spoke in a calm tone.
He walked the long path, observing his surroundings… until he noticed a hand emerging from the ground. At first, he thought it was a hallucination—but it was real.
Creatures began rising from underground in massive numbers. They were faceless, wielding long swords with fangs. They wore long black coats and wide black hats. There were about thirty of them.
Faithless grabbed his sword, rested it on his shoulder, and smiled wide. His expression carried traces of madness and excitement.
"Faceless creatures? I'll give you a lovely nickname: the Faceless."
The creatures looked at each other—then charged toward him. Faithless stepped back, then launched forward and beheaded three of them, grinning like a madman.
One of the faceless grabbed Faithless by the head and slammed him violently into the ground—so hard that his skull sank into it.
But Faithless twisted around and delivered a crushing blow to the creature's torso, shattering its body with the force. He pulled himself out of the ground and cut off its head.
Five more monsters attacked and stabbed their swords into Faithless' body. The faceless ones spoke in a strange language—but they seemed delighted.
One of them raised his head and looked into Faithless' face—only to see a wide grin splitting his face from madness and bloodlust. He spoke in a strangled voice:
"What happens if I rip off your head… with my bare hands?"
Faithless grabbed the creature by the neck and ripped off its head along with its spine—then slaughtered the other four while still grinning like a lunatic.
He pulled the swords out of his body—and continued what he had started. Out of thirty monsters, only ten remained. But the surviving monsters started backing off…
Faithless laughed coldly, speaking in an arrogant tone:
"Why are you retreating? The party has just begun."
And just as he finished his sentence… someone descended from the sky, landing near him.
A mysterious figure now stood face-to-face with Faithless.
Faithless looked at the man—long black hair, wearing a European-style hat. His eyes were completely black, his features cold and terrifying. He wore a long black coat with a white shirt underneath. In his right hand, he held a broken scythe.
"Are you the one behind this massacre… and all this noise?" the mysterious man asked in a rough, sharp tone.
"Yes, I was—"
Faithless couldn't finish his sentence—before the man placed his palm on his chest and struck him with full force, slamming him into the gate's wall.
From the impact, the upside-down cross bled even more. The mysterious figure advanced with steady steps… then froze as he stared into Faithless' strange eyes.
Faithless was severely injured from the blow—but he lifted his head with a wide, terrifying, and wicked smile. His eyes had turned completely black.
"…Is he actually enjoying this?" the mysterious man muttered in his rough, puzzled voice.
Faithless said nothing.
He simply appeared in front of the man—still grinning like a madman.
"Now, the party just got better… My God, how I love this atmosphere."