Prologue
A blizzard raged. The sharp wind, laced with white crystals, tore through the forest, and Seiyad barely managed to lift his head amidst the storm. The wind pressed down on his back with such force that it felt like it would crush him at any moment. Though he had spent his entire life enduring the winter’s cutting gales, today it felt foreign and biting. Wherever it touched, it froze him to the bone, the pain so intense it felt as if his flesh would peel away.
Blood filled his mouth as a cough rose from deep within. Each time his chest heaved, the metallic taste surged up his throat. The air reeked of blood—sour, sharp, and iron-rich. Even though snow was falling, the world around him was drenched in red. With great effort, he lifted his seemingly frozen eyelids and slowly took in the sight before him.
Blood was splattered across lifeless, pallid faces strewn across the ground. Corpses piled upon one another on the cold earth, forming small hills in places. Too many to count, all had fallen into eternal silence. Not a single body was intact. Gaping wounds—so immense they looked carved by monstrous strength—marred their flesh. And every face wore the same expression: hollow shock, as if they had no idea what had happened to them.
Seiyad knew what had caused those wounds. He also recognized the faces of the dead.
“There! I see him! We found him!”
“Everyone, over here!”
Shouts rang out from a distance, and then the sound of movement began to rise. Auras swiftly closed the distance and surrounded Seiyad within moments. Shadows cast by the approaching figures enveloped him. The pressure of their presence pricked at his skin—just as powerful as the energy he himself carried. They were the royal guardians and knights who had chased him all this way.
“Erase as many shadows as you can so that the devil can’t use his powers. Everyone, stay sharp.”
As the voice rang out, a blinding white light, brighter than the sun, spread through the sky. Yet even that radiant glow couldn’t wash away the blood-soaked scene.
“Zion, don’t get too close to him. Be careful.”
“Got it, Nova. Be ready to strike his neck at any moment. Stella, bind him.”
Footsteps approached quietly through the snow. Still kneeling, Seiyad didn’t move an inch. Eyes warily studied him, a man sitting motionless amid the carnage.
Suddenly, the frozen ground trembled with a low rumble. Brittle, dried roots burst forth from beneath the solid earth. Thick, sinewy vines wrapped tightly around his ankles, thighs, and waist. Soon, they bound his entire body so thoroughly he couldn’t even twitch a finger. Only then did the others begin to cautiously draw near. A shadow fell across Seiyad’s face.
“They called you the Devil of Solias—and in the end, you lived up to the name.”
A voice, seething with hatred, echoed above him. Seiyad neither raised his head nor reacted. His gaze remained fixed on the corpses he had been staring at all along. The man followed his line of sight—and upon seeing the scene, clenched his teeth in anguish. Then he drew his sheathed sword.
“Yes, these are all the innocent knights you murdered! Too many to even count!”
With a scream bordering on a sob, he swung the sword as if to sever Seiyad’s neck on the spot. But before the blade could connect, a woman by his side stopped him.
“Zion, stop! Tither’s executions aren’t within our jurisdiction!”
“This monster deserves to die—right now, if not sooner!”
The word “devil” rang in Seiyad’s ears. Whether his eardrums had been damaged or not, all sound came to him muffled and distant. Blood that had been trickling down his forehead now ran along his eyebrows and pooled on his eyelashes. The weight of it pulled his lashes downward, tinting his vision in crimson.
Within the bloodstained haze, Seiyad realized the truth: every one of these corpses had died by his hand.
Not just any hand—but the hand of a Tither, one sworn to protect this kingdom.
Blackened memories began to crawl back into his mind. It was strange—like watching someone else’s life behind glass. His own actions flickered back to him, one after another, as though they belonged to a stranger.
It was the final month of the harsh season. He had been fighting nonstop to slay the monstrous Nir’a. With each use of his powers, his consciousness had flickered in and out. And when he finally came to, he had not been killing the enemy—he had been killing those he was meant to protect.
Why? How could this have happened?
There had been other Tithers in history who had lost control of their power. But never had there been a massacre on this scale. Some had killed humans, mistaking them for monsters like Nir’a, but never had a Tither slaughtered so many of his own kind.
It made no sense. Seiyad had always been more vigilant than most—almost obsessively so—when it came to suppressing his power. On days he used his abilities, he never failed to seek out his Guide. His Guide had been a perfect match for him. Had their compatibility been lacking, it might be understandable, but he had always been watched over by someone attuned to him. There should have been no way for this to happen…
There was no understanding it. He had no idea what went wrong, or why he had lost consciousness precisely at the tail end of the harsh season. The cause was a complete mystery.
“Nova, Zion. Step aside. His Highness has arrived.”
The shouting, the angry murmurs—everything fell silent. A hush blanketed the air, and footsteps began to echo softly through the snow. Crunch, crunch. Then a tall man appeared and came to a stop before Seiyad. In a world filled with the scent of blood and icy wind, a faint fragrance of snow lotus quietly spread—so subtle that only Seiyad would have noticed.
“Your Highness, please…! I beg you, ease the suffering of these innocent souls.”
Seiyad slowly turned his head and looked up. His gaze rose sluggishly to a pale, serene face.
Prince Ressas—the rising sun of Solias.
Once a small boy whom Seiyad had to look down upon, Ressas now stood taller, gazing down at him.
“Duke Axid.”
The quietly spoken voice, unlike the others, did not waver with turmoil. It did not tremble with rage nor quake with hatred. It was simply, as always, calm and cold.
The eyes that once smiled at Seiyad like twin night skies had changed long ago.
That indifferent, detached gaze held no more emotion—as if even the act of feeling was too much of a waste.
“Is this the path you wanted? To stain your hands with this much blood, all because you couldn’t control your own power?”
The question, posed as though in genuine confusion, caused Seiyad’s lips to twitch. His throat, which hadn’t moved even under the deluge of accusations that followed the horrifying truth, flinched. He didn’t know what he should say—yet somehow, he felt he ought to say something.
But from his parted lips came not words, but a thick, dark clot of blood.
Cough!
A low, heavy cough echoed out, splattering blood. His chest rose sharply, then collapsed. With every breath, Seiyad vomited more blood.
Prince Ressas watched the scene in silence for a moment.
The body, once more resilient than any, had reached its limit under the combined assault of every Tither in the kingdom.
There was no need for his neck to be cut—he was dying anyway.
Death crept ever closer.
Seiyad’s insides were pulp, his exterior ragged like worn cloth.
“There is no one left to save you. The Crown Prince has relinquished your fate to me.”
At those words—confirmation that the prince he had loyally served would not come to his rescue—Seiyad closed his eyes.
He had known from the moment his consciousness returned and the reality of what he’d done hit him.
The number of people he had killed during his rampage was beyond counting.
In such a state, not even a king, let alone a prince, could save him. No one could.
The end of a life devoted to loyalty was painfully empty.
So much blood spilled under the prince’s orders—was it all for this?
The Crown Prince who had taken him in, promising to uncover the truth of his mother’s unjust death, had ultimately fulfilled nothing.
Maybe no one could’ve predicted he would lose control like this, but still—
The one who had always been by his side, the one who promised to soothe him no matter what…
That master, that Guide, was not here now.
More than rage or betrayal, it was sorrow that filled him.
A hollowness in his chest, a despair so deep it was terrifying.
For so long, he had felt nothing.
But now, all at once, emotion returned to his soul like a crushing wave, and Seiyad was overwhelmed by unbearable loneliness.
So this is what the end of a life looks like—a life spent never once looking back.
After losing his mother to injustice, Seiyad had lived for one goal alone.
To solidify the Crown Prince’s ascent to the throne, who had vowed to prove his mother’s innocence.
He’d slain more Nir’a than anyone to earn glory, to suppress Prince Ressas.
In the end, the Crown Prince was the only one who remained by his side. And yet, that one person wasn’t even here.
Not only would he not save Seiyad—he wouldn’t even bear witness to his death. It was all so hollow.
Seiyad forced his eyes open and looked around.
Zion—the man glaring at him with bloodshot eyes—was the kingdom’s beloved Tither.
Nova—the girl who used to admire and follow him.
Stella—the comrade who still cared for him long after he’d pushed everyone else away.
Among all these Tithers, only Seiyad had become vile. He stood utterly alone.
Beneath the contemptuous gazes of those he once knew, abandoned even by the lord he had served.
Turning his eyes from them, Seiyad looked to Prince Ressas.
The prince placed his sword’s tip gently against Seiyad’s chest.
Those eyes—deep as the violet of the night sky—stared down at him.
That cold, unshaken face… suddenly, Seiyad recalled a memory.
“Eid… Please don’t abandon me.”
There had been a time when only Seiyad had embraced the young prince.
Since the day he had approached the prince who lived ignored in the abandoned palace, Ressas had clung to him like a fledgling bird.
But that was long ago.
The day Seiyad told the boy, after his family’s fall, that he would never return, the young prince had sobbed, clutching at his feet.
Desperate. Wretched. As though nothing else—status, pride—mattered.
And now, as he looked into those same purple eyes—grown dry and hard—Seiyad was struck by a terrible realization.
Every one of these people… were those he had cast aside with his own hands.
“You… You’re the most monstrous being to ever walk this earth.”
The prince fell silent, unwilling to speak further.
Blue veins bulged on the white hand clutching the hilt of the sword.
After a brief stillness, long, elegant fingers tightened with decision.
The hand moved.
CRACK.
Seiyad felt the blade pierce him.
An icy pain, sharp enough to freeze, split through his ribs and sank deep into his body.
His breath caught.
His barely-beating heart shattered—and with it came the end.
The pain was brief.
Soon, consciousness began to fade. In those final moments—fleeting or eternal—Seiyad was struck by a fierce regret.
Had every choice he made, leading up to this end… truly been his own?
One thing was certain.
He had never wanted to kill all these people. He had lived a life with no one by his side, yes. But beneath that isolation had always been a single, unwavering intent—to fulfill his duty.
Even when he sacrificed the few to save the many, it had always been with that conviction.
If only he could turn back time—just one day—He would kill himself if it meant stopping this. But that was only the regret of a dying man.
He knew full well that such a miracle would never come.
His consciousness, stained with regret, unraveled. Darkness descended. He could feel nothing.
The sensation of his body vanishing came with the final end.
And yet—Just as he disappeared into the void…
A strange vision engulfed Seiyad.
The royal palace, bathed in white daylight, was burning.
Nir’a climbed over the crumbled walls.
People were crushed, devoured, torn apart by monsters—black, grotesque creatures both big and small.
The sun vanished in an instant, and a moonless night fell.
The Nir’a, now masters of their own night, slaughtered the fleeing survivors without mercy.
Blood flowed like rivers. Screams filled every corner.
‘What… what is this?’
Seiyad frantically looked around. There were no Tithers in sight—no one to fight the Nir’a.
Meanwhile, people were still being eaten alive, their cries rising and falling in horror.
‘Stop! Please stop! Where is everyone?!’
His cry didn’t form a sound—It only echoed, horrifically, inside his mind.
Then, as death after death blurred his vision—The scene shifted.
Within the collapsing palace, Seiyad saw Prince Ressas standing alone, sword in hand.
Around him lay the fallen bodies of knights.
A monstrous Nir’a, larger than any Seiyad had ever seen, cast its shadow over the prince.
Shaped like a twisted serpent born from nightmares, the creature opened its gaping maw, and lunged.
As the beast’s jaws closed around the prince, Seiyad opened his eyes.
