Charlotte’s clear voice rang faintly through the mist. Though she hadn’t raised her voice, the curse spoken through her lips—Aster’s words—shook Seiyad to his core. The iron resolve to kill wavered violently in the face of the scene he had just witnessed.
“You sure can spit bullshit. You’re the one killing them. Have you finally lost your damn mind, Aster? No, actually—come to think of it, you’ve always been a coward.”
To regain control over himself, Seiyad gritted his teeth and reined in his rage. Drawing strength from his hatred of Aster, he swung his sword and simultaneously summoned the shadows buried beneath the fog. Gathering the scattered darkness was far more draining than usual, but he couldn’t afford to let the situation spiral any further.
To stop Aster from pulling another stunt through Charlotte’s body, Seiyad unleashed his power toward the monster blocking his path. Thorned spikes burst forth from the ground beneath the beast, piercing through the earth and skewering its body with blades sharp as spears.
“Hiiiik—! Hhhkk—! Gah!”
Unlike other Nir’a, which were born of shadow, this creature screamed like a person. Blood spurted from its wounds the moment the spikes drove through its torso.
The reason Seiyad had been able to withstand killing the Nir’a was in part due to their monstrous, demonic appearances—they neither screamed nor bled. But this one bled. It cried out. Its grotesquely twisted body still bore an uncanny resemblance to a human form. Seiyad, who had hesitated not in striking it down, flinched for a moment at this human-like response—and then Charlotte’s gleeful laughter echoed in the air.
“Think you can kill it, Eid? I made it, sure—but that is still a person.”
Seiyad, convinced the best option was to avoid dealing with Aster directly, ignored his words and resumed the attack. The monster, despite its withered limbs and distended belly, leapt and dodged Seiyad’s strikes with unnatural agility.
But Seiyad gave it no quarter, launching wave after wave of shadowed spears, his entire form gradually soaked in blood. Even as he fought, Aster’s manipulations continued. Just as Seiyad drove his longsword into the creature’s chest, it happened.
One of the figures who had been standing dumbly beside the first corpse bent down, removed a dagger from the dead man’s hand, and—without hesitation—raised the blade and drew it across his own throat, as if performing a choreographed task in a twisted sequence.
“Stop—what the hell are you doing?!”
As the monster’s massive body collapsed, revealing the grisly scene behind it, Seiyad shouted in horror. He forgot to retrieve his sword, bolting toward the dying man with every ounce of strength. His lungs burned. His heart pounded like it would burst. He reached him in a heartbeat, grabbed the dagger with his bare hands just as it began to cut deep into the man’s neck, and halted it mid-slice.
“Please—damn it all!”
Blood from Seiyad’s own palm mixed with the man’s as he wrenched the weapon away and desperately tried to stanch the wound with the man’s own hands. But the torn flesh wouldn’t close. Blood flowed endlessly, staining his vision red. Unlike the first lifeless body, this one clung to life—eyes briefly focused as death loomed near.
The man suddenly snapped back to awareness, eyes wide in panic. His hand rose, weakly scratching at Seiyad’s soaked fingers as they pressed against the wound. That trembling hand, slick with blood, slid away as their eyes met.
The man—whose name Seiyad didn’t even know—looked barely of age, no older than a fresh adult. His face, boyish and delicate, brought Ressas to mind. It twisted in horror and confusion, eyes begging, pleading for help.
“He…lp… m—gkk… Se—…”
The gurgling voice faded as blood bubbled in his throat. His teary eyes lost focus, fading slowly into the void. Death came like a candle snuffed by a sudden gust of wind.
Life faded right in front of him. The sensation of a soul slipping through his hands chilled Seiyad to the bone. The boy—so terribly young—had died without even understanding why. For no reason. No justification. But really, was there ever a reason good enough for death?
Guilt and rage rose together. Seiyad grabbed the dagger and strode toward Charlotte. He had spent too much time on the monster. He needed to stop this madness now. If he couldn’t subdue her, then he’d stop her by any means necessary. For the first time in his life, a murderous urge surged through him so powerful it swallowed everything else. He had forgotten that such hatred could even exist within him.
But just as Seiyad moved, a line of people blocked his path. They positioned themselves like shields around Charlotte. He ground his teeth and shoved them aside, only for Charlotte to retreat step by step with a mocking grin. Realizing that these people felt no pain and would just keep getting back up, Seiyad made a decision—he would knock them unconscious one by one. His hand went to his sword hilt. No hesitation. He raised it to strike the first person on the back of the neck.
That’s when he heard the voices.
“Lady Charlotte, where are you?!”
“It’s time to return! Nir’a might appear—come back now!”
The voices of the servants searching for her rang out from the distance. Seiyad’s eyes instinctively snapped toward Charlotte at the ominous realization. She smiled like someone who’d just solved a riddle, cupped a hand over her mouth, and shouted into the mist.
“I’m over here! Come find me!”
“My lady!”
“We’ll be right there!”
It was obvious to anyone—she was luring them straight into danger. Seiyad shouted urgently to stop them.
“This place is dangerous! Do not approach! Anyone who disobeys this command will be punished for defying the Duke!”
The sheer fury in his voice caused murmurs of hesitation, but loyalty to their lady overruled their fear. Footsteps grew closer, and soon the light of torches cut through the fog behind Charlotte. The servants stumbled upon the horrific scene—and gasped in unison, recoiling in terror.
One young man stepped back in panic, triggering a chain reaction as the others also began retreating. Seeing this, Seiyad pressed the threat.
“There are Nir’a here—it’s too dangerous! Run, all of you! I will take responsibility for the Marquess’s daughter!”
Seiyad’s words, thankfully, had an effect. Whether it was the stench of blood or the sheer horror of the scene, the servants began backing away in fear. To drive them off more forcefully, Seiyad swung his sheathed sword through the air. The threatening motion spurred them into retreat.
‘Go. Just leave. Get out of here.’
The people moved as he had hoped. Someone who had been hesitating finally turned to flee. That was all it should have taken. They just needed to run. That was the outcome Seiyad so desperately wished for—but it never came.
Just as those turning to run twisted their bodies, they suddenly pivoted back as one. Like a grotesque reenactment of what had happened before, they all moved in unison behind Charlotte. There were easily more than twenty of them.
“So, Eid? Think you can save them all? While you’re busy subduing one, someone else will die.”
As if to affirm Aster’s words, each person raised their torches and pressed them to their own bodies. What had felt like an outlandish bluff moments ago now revealed itself to be real. Aster truly meant to kill every last one of them, if that’s what it took.
Seiyad couldn’t make a reckless move. Horribly enough, the only thing he was ever truly good at was killing. He didn’t have the power to save this many people at once—unless he possessed absolute power.
As that unbearable torment dragged on, the people who had attacked him earlier now reached out again, clutching at his arms and weighing him down. The force tugging at him grew stronger, like he was being dragged into a deep swamp.
His body felt heavy, as if his feet were sinking into the earth. Helplessness and disgust pressed down on him, and hatred boiled inside him so violently it threatened to consume him from within. Bloodshot eyes locked onto Aster with a glare filled with fury and questions that made no sense to him.
“Why the hell are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you?”
Charlotte tilted her head with an expression that suggested he was asking the most obvious thing in the world. A painfully forlorn look spread across her face.
“You’re a bird, Eid. The kind that’ll fly away the second you’re not tied down. You have too many things that matter to you. But me… I don’t share what’s mine.”
Her voice, childlike and innocent, carried an unshakable certainty. So unwavering, it could shake even the listener.
“So you’ll kill all these people just to keep me?”
“Of course. You humans are smaller than ants, more pathetic than bugs. If I can get what I want by killing a few insects, who wouldn’t?”
As if reading the cracks in his resolve, Aster’s threats became more direct—more grotesquely honest.
“So many more will die. If you won’t be with me, I’ll turn this world into hell. Just look behind you, Eid. How many have already died because of you?”
Charlotte pointed over Seiyad’s shoulder. Toward where the monster had fallen. He turned instinctively—and saw something entirely different from before.
There was no monster. Only two corpses riddled with holes.
And strangely… they looked familiar.
‘…What?’
They were wearing knight uniforms. The emblem of thorns and roses clearly marked them as soldiers from Vetria. As if waiting for this moment, the fog parted, and the sunlight illuminated their faces. In Seiyad’s gray eyes, the image of Zeke and Enif was etched clearly.
“A Tither who’s supposed to protect humanity used his powers to kill people! Look closely, Eid. In the end, you’re no different from me. Don’t bother pretending to be noble. I remember the hatred and rage that once consumed your heart all too well. You’d really leave me in this void and go off on your own?”
That couldn’t be. What he’d seen—what he’d killed—weren’t people. They were monsters. They bled, yes, but they were…
‘…Were they?’
‘Did I really… kill innocent people again?’
The moment from before—when he came to his senses and saw the aftermath of his Rampage—surged back. The sins he’d tried so hard to bury came roaring to the surface, grabbing him by the chin and whispering for him to look, to really see.
The suffocating guilt squeezed his throat. Seiyad stood frozen. To hide the turmoil, he spread his awareness across his body, trying to hold himself together—but beneath that hardened shell, his core had begun to fracture.
“…No. This isn’t my fault. You’re the one who deceived my eyes and controlled them.”
Seiyad knew Aster wanted nothing more than to see him break. So he forced himself to stay rational. Swallowing the urge to fall apart, he replied all the more calmly. But the devil—knowing everything—reached for him with sweet, venomous whispers.
“This happened because you didn’t listen to me. Because you refused me, those poor, clueless fools died in misery. If you hate seeing people die, then obey me. Leave Ressas and come to me. Even the darkness has promised—I can keep you alive by my side as long as I want. I promise you, Eid. We’ll live happily together. I’ll sever the tendons in your ankles, lock you in a luxurious room, and make sure you lack for nothing. Whatever you desire, I’ll give it to you.”
Hearing that, Seiyad was struck by a sudden thought: Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
He knew how absurd Aster’s words were. But the part about people dying if he didn’t surrender—that much rang true.
His life wasn’t one he had saved to cling to. He had no real will to live. Too many people had died already, and the only reason he had tried to change was to prevent himself from killing more in the future. But if everything—the chaos, the Rampage, even the deaths—had all been the devil’s doing, then the best he could do now…
…was simply to give himself up.
‘Just me. If I die, this hell ends.’
It was a cheap price to pay for saving the world. To trade a single soul—his own—for the safety of all. If that was all it took to make up for the battles he had fought so desperately until now… maybe he should have done it long ago.
From deep within his steadfast resolve, a fracture spread outward from wounds that had never fully healed. As cracks formed rapidly through his resolve, the devil sensed it at once and moved in.
A twisted smile spread across Charlotte’s face as she stretched out her hand, beckoning him to come. Looking at that small hand, Seiyad suddenly realized—she, too, had been dragged into this hell because of him. If he hadn’t existed, if he hadn’t been there, Charlotte might have lived on as Aster’s fiancée without ever descending into madness.
Once his thoughts turned, the shift was like a violent current—swift and unstoppable. Perhaps it was because he had already witnessed too many deaths, but Seiyad found himself gripped by a genuine desire to end everything. If he were to stay by Aster’s side until the day he died, seeing nothing but Aster…
He would never see Ressas again.
At that very moment of resignation, a selfish wish surged to the surface. The image of a radiant smile—so bright, so beautiful—came to mind, and it shook him. Like a deer that would gently place a flower at his feet, a salvation that had always offered him only soft and precious words… The memory pierced through him. The thought of never seeing that presence again—someone whose mere proximity soothed his pain—left behind an ache of longing.
“Eid, you don’t have to fight anymore. If making Ressas the Crown Prince means that much to you, then I’ll gladly do it. So long as you stay with me, I won’t use my powers anymore.”
Perhaps sensing that moment of wavering, her hand reached out further. And as if bewitched, Seiyad moved in tandem. His scar-riddled, pale hand drew close—close enough to almost touch Charlotte’s.
‘Yes. This is right.’
If countless others would die in the process of killing the devil, then maybe it was better to sacrifice himself and take that devil far away. Ressas would grieve, certainly, but he would forget in time. The dead are always eventually forgotten. If there were no more monsters to torment him, then perhaps Ressas too could…
“Eid, don’t.”
Thoughts he wasn’t even sure were his own tangled chaotically in his head, only to be severed cleanly by a firm, resolute voice. Seiyad, startled, turned his unfocused eyes toward the sound, past Charlotte.
Through the rows of motionless, doll-like people, someone was walking forward.
The moment black hair appeared among the crowd, Seiyad’s frozen heart began to beat again. As he exhaled the breath he’d been holding and stepped back, Charlotte’s face twisted. She lunged to grab his hand before he could pull away. Her hand sliced sharply through the air, reaching for him.
But then Ressas spoke—a single, decisive command directed at Charlotte.
“That’s far enough. I won’t dance to your tune any longer.”
The instant the words were spoken, Seiyad felt the surge of Ressas’s energy. It was reminiscent of the aura he’d unleashed during the wide-scale Purification in the southern forest—but now, it was on an entirely different level. Like breathing air that was too pure, the power was so scorching, so pristine, that it made it hard to breathe.
And that wasn’t all. The moment Ressas’s power swept through the space, something strange happened. The people who had been standing like lifeless puppets began to waver. Then, moving of their own will, they looked around in confusion.
As the crowd began to stir and scatter, Seiyad turned his attention back to Ressas, wondering what had happened in the brief time they’d been apart.
Ressas emerged from the crowd, drenched in blood as if he had just come through a brutal battle. But that wasn’t the only thing different about him.
His usual violet eyes—always warm and gentle—now shimmered with a flickering golden light. Just like Seiyad’s own did when he pushed his powers too far.
