Cautiously, they advanced, the tension thick in the air. As they drew closer, an unshakable dread clawed at Kang's chest. His voice was grave. "Check his status window, Garrick. I have a bad feeling about this. He's right in front of me, yet it's as if he doesn't exist."
A cold sweat formed on Garrick's brow as he activated "Third Eye." His breath hitched, his body frozen in disbelief.
"M-My lord… he's normal. Unawakened. His energy level is zero. He's just… an ordinary human."
Kang's expression darkened. "Are you certain?"
Garrick swallowed hard. "Yes… I checked twice. He's just… normal."
Yet the oppressive atmosphere weighed heavy on them. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
A gentle wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves in rhythmic whispers. Wisps of cloud parted, revealing the full moon's silver glow. To an innocent couple, it might have been a breathtaking sight—one to be etched in memory forever.
But for the two warriors, what lay before them was a nightmare they wished they had never seen.
A hulking figure sat by the fire. His body was massive, sculpted like a barbarian warlord, adorned with chaotic tattoos that sprawled across his arms, chest, and even his bald head. A jagged marking cut across his face, distorting his already monstrous features. His tattered, blackened rags barely clung to his muscular frame.
In his grotesque hands, he clutched a severed human leg. Another limb crackled over the fire, flesh slowly roasting. Behind him, a lifeless body hung from a tree, swaying slightly in the wind.
Garrick's stomach churned. "A… cannibal?" His instincts screamed that the man before them was a demon worshipper—one of those who devoured human flesh. Yet something was off. His presence didn't match those wretched cultists they had encountered before.
Kang, however, wasn't listening. His gaze was fixed on something else. Something that made his blood run cold.
A golden anklet. His breath hitched.
His heart pounded violently as his eyes travelled upward, taking in the mutilated corpse hanging from the tree. When he saw the face—what little remained of it—his entire body locked in place. His voice, shattered and broken, spilled from his lips.
"Marcy…"
A strangled cry tore from his throat. "No… No… MARCY!"
Her once-beautiful face was unrecognizable, beaten beyond recognition. Deep lacerations marred her body, her limbs twisted and broken. The missing legs—now being feasted upon—sent waves of pure rage and grief crashing through Kang.
His breathing turned ragged. His vision blurred with fury. "Why… why… WHY?!"
A radiant glow erupted around him as his armor materialized in an instant, pulsating with divine energy. His fists trembled, his entire being consumed by unrelenting wrath.
"GO TO HELL, YOU MOTHERF****R!"
With a battle cry that shook the air, he lunged. The small campfire exploded into embers as he shot forward like a vengeful comet. The shockwave sent burning wood scattering around them.
His long sword, wrapped in his white aura, hurtled toward the monstrous man.
Just as his fist neared that's man face, the tattered hood of his enemy was swept away by the wind. And in that fleeting moment, Kang saw something that shattered his perception of reality.
The tattoos on the man's head weren't just markings—they were moving. They peeled away with the wind, vanishing into the darkness.
Kang's eyes widened.
Before he could react, the man's reflexes—far beyond what his massive frame suggested—kicked in. With inhuman speed, he seized Kang by the throat and slammed him into the ground with bone-crushing force.
The impact cracked the earth beneath them.
Kang, the proud warrior of the Elven Kingdom, lay sprawled in the dirt, his body unresponsive. But he still burned with rage. He needed to kill this man. He had to.
Gasping, he tried to speak. "Why—"
A piercing pain stole his voice. The man's massive hand had plunged straight through Kang's chest, his fingers burrowing into the ground beneath as if his body was mere parchment.
Kang's vision blurred. "Why did—"
He Effortlessly, the man caught Kang's incoming sword in his free hand. With one smooth motion, he swung.
The blade sliced cleanly through flesh and bone.
Kang's head rolled to the ground.
Garrick stood frozen, shock and terror gripping him like a vice. His master was dead—his severed head lying in the dirt—and the monster who had killed him now stood before him, unfazed, unbothered.
He hadn't even noticed the searing pain in his hand until now—his artifact, Third Eye, was shattered, shards embedded in his flesh, blood dripping onto the ground.
The man tilted his head, regarding him with the same disinterest one might show an insect. "Now… only you remain."
Instinct roared through Garrick's veins, forcing his body into a defensive stance. But deep down, a chilling truth settled in—what was the point? Against absolute power, resistance was nothing more than an illusion.
And then, the silence broke.
A scream—raw, primal, the very essence of agony—tore through the forest, a sound so harrowing it made even the shadows recoil.
Back at the camp, seasoned warriors and battle-hardened officials jolted upright, their blood running cold.
Strategist Copper, a man who had spent his life listening to the tortured cries of the damned, felt something he had never known before—dread. He had witnessed countless executions, heard the agonized wails of men driven past the brink of sanity.
But this scream…
This was different.
This was the sound of someone being ripped apart, alive.
"Compared to this, every scream he had ever heard was nothing more than a whisper."
Garrick's scream tore through the forest, a harrowing cry that seemed to shake its very soul. It was so loud that even the soldiers and officials at the distant camp heard it with terrifying clarity. The sound alone was enough to send shivers down their spines.
Deep within the woods, the forest's inhabitants trembled. Birds, startled from their slumber, took flight in frantic desperation, their wings beating against the night sky.
At the camp, the morale of the kingdom's soldiers plummeted. Fear gnawed at their hearts, growing stronger with every passing second. That dreadful scream drained what little strength they had left. Some fell to their knees, their legs refusing to obey, while others collapsed entirely—overcome by the sheer weight of terror.
It was already past midnight, and tension among the officials grew heavier with each passing moment. Everything had turned upside down—nothing had been accomplished, the Church knights had abandoned them, and they were unable to contact Sir Hero.
Despite these setbacks, they gathered and made a difficult decision: they had to search the forest and uncover the truth behind the chilling scream.
A team of soldiers, their legs trembling with fear, ventured into the dense woods. They searched tirelessly, but the forest was vast, and the darkness made it nearly impossible. The hours dragged on, and just as the first light of dawn began to rise over the valley, a soldier stumbled upon something—or rather, someone.
The sight before him froze him in place, his breath caught in his throat. Soon, more soldiers arrived, and word spread quickly. Officials, strategists, and even the kings themselves rushed to the scene upon hearing the news.
Copper, the ever-cunning strategist who always thought two steps ahead, stood in stunned silence. His mind raced. I had prepared for many worst-case scenarios, but never this…
A single longsword was embedded in the earth, standing tall. At its hilt rested the severed head of the Elf Hero, perched like a grotesque trophy. Below, Garrick's mutilated body was impaled on the blade, skewered clean through from his neck to between his legs. The hero's body—minus its head—was missing. Garrick's head was nowhere to be found. Blood and torn flesh were scattered across the ground, a gruesome testament to the brutality that had unfolded.
Caius, scanning the area, suddenly locked eyes on something hanging from the trees. His breath hitched as he immediately recognized the bruised and battered face. His voice trembled as he spoke.
"T-That's Princess Marcy… Why? Why is she here? She should be in Blackwood Capital!"
Copper clenched his fists. This was worse than anything he had anticipated. Without hesitation, he approached King Elowen and spoke in a hushed, urgent tone.
"My Lord, the situation is far from normal. Please, step aside with me for a moment."
Once they moved a short distance away, Copper continued, his voice steady but grim.
"My Lord, I foresaw many possible disasters, but this… this is beyond anything I imagined. The death of the Elven Hero and his disciple will shake the entire continent. The Church holds enough power to control the narrative—they could easily shift all the blame onto us. This entire mission was a trap."
He took a deep breath before delivering his final warning.
"We may face severe backlash from the Elven Kingdom, especially since we involved the Church. Soon, powerhouses from all over will descend upon this valley, seeking its treasures. If we don't withdraw now, we'll be dragged into a conflict far greater than we can handle. It would be wiser to abandon this land before we invite further catastrophe."
As chaos stirred among the living, far beyond the forest, atop the highest peak of a distant mountain, a lone figure sat upon a jagged cliff's edge.
The wind howled around him, yet he remained unmoved.
The man who had orchestrated it all… watched in silence.