Pain !
Pain.
Not just ordinary pain—but the kind that felt alive. It crawled through his bones like a vengeful spirit.
It was the kind of pain that reminded Kyle of his aunt, the woman who raised him after his father's death.
No, not raised—tormented.
He had lived with agony for so long that it had almost become a part of him.
Ever since his father's death, Kyle Hunt's life had been a miserable hell.
To everyone around him, he wasn't family—he was a ticket.
An opportunity to snatch the wealth his father, Kalimantan, had left behind.
But what was happening to him now was beyond anything he had ever felt.
The darkness that slithered through his veins wasn't natural.
It was cold and furious, clawing its way into his lungs, bruising his insides, slicing his throat as though he were swallowing shards of glass.
Kyle's screams filled the empty hall, echoing like a dying beast.
He screamed for mercy. For death.
And the only one who could help him was the last person he'd ever ask—his bully, his older brother, Benny Hunt.
Benny stood frozen, watching as the darkness twisted Kyle's body in impossible ways.
The process was horrifying. Flesh tore apart, only to knit itself back together again. His veins pulsed with a red-black glow.
Every regeneration brought new agony.
Tears welled in Kyle's eyes, but even they were consumed—swallowed by the crawling shadow.
"Brother… please…" His voice broke. "Have mercy. Please, kill me!
I beg you… I can't anymore.
Forget what I said—pain does kill.
I'm dying here! Please—end this!"
Benny's hands trembled. For a moment, pity flickered in his eyes.
But greed devoured it just as fast.
This… this was his chance.
Whatever curse or darkness was devouring Kyle, it was doing Benny's work for him.
He had come here to make Kyle sign away his inheritance, and fate had just handed him the perfect opportunity.
He stepped closer—but not too close. Even from a distance, the darkness radiated heat and death.
He tossed a pen and the inheritance contract toward the ground, his voice cold.
"Sign it, Kyle. Sign it, and it'll all be over."
Kyle stared at the papers through the haze of pain. His hands trembled violently.
"Why don't they care?" he thought. "I'm dying here, and all they care about are things… my father's damn wealth."
Why me? Why always me?
He drifted into memory—back to the days when his family still smiled.
Back when laughter filled the halls.
Before his father's lifeless body was carried away.
They said his mother killed him.
That she poisoned him for money.
The rumor spread like wildfire. The eyes of everyone he loved turned venomous.
The poison had drained his father's mana until there was nothing left.
They said his mother was rotting in prison now—condemned by lies and forged evidence.
And Kyle… was branded her accomplice.
Every relative looked at him with disgust, whispering that he had helped kill his father to inherit the Hunts' fortune.
When word reached his uncle, Demos Hunt—Benny's father—the accusation became law.
He declared Kyle a murderer.
A snake.
A curse on the family name.
From that day on, Kyle became their punching bag. Every bruise was a reminder of their hate.
Now, as the darkness consumed him, he stopped fighting.
He let it in.
He let it become him.
And suddenly… he felt something awaken.
"So this is how I die," he thought.
"I thought it'd be more dramatic."
He gave a broken laugh through gritted teeth.
"Damn… dying as a virgin. Figures."
Then everything went black.
He didn't die—but he wasn't Kyle anymore.
Control slipped away, his soul collapsing into something ancient and unfamiliar.
When his eyes opened again, the world felt smaller.
"What… what is this?" he whispered.
Benny hesitated. Kyle wasn't screaming anymore. That terrified him more than the screams ever did.
He summoned his elemental power—ice forming at his fingertips—and hurled a thousand frozen blades toward his brother.
The swords struck. The ground cracked.
But instead of blood… a burst of energy erupted from Kyle's body.
A beam of pure mana shot from his mouth, shattering the ice and scattering it into vapor.
A few blades pierced him, pinning his limbs to the floor—
but the new Kyle only laughed.
"Hahaha… I feel weak. Where am I?"
Then his gaze darkened.
"But I don't need an answer from you, bastard.
If you knew who I truly am, you'd be on your knees right now—begging me not to kill you."
His voice shifted—older, deeper, filled with command.
"Hahaha! I am King Arthur—the greatest Dragon Tamer in existence!
The frost dragon you tamed? It was my meal when I took a nap in the Land of Beasts!
Kingdoms bow before me. I am the Great Dragon Tamer!"
He lifted his hand to summon more energy—
but nothing came. Only a flicker of fading mana condensed in his palm.
Benny didn't wait. Instinct screamed at him to run.
He melted his ice into water, then heated it into vapor. The steam swirled around him, hiding his form.
His body dissolved into transparent water, and he fled—leaving trails of mist behind.
The man left standing blinked in confusion.
His breath steadied. His muscles… felt smaller.
"What the hell…? My body—it's lighter."
He stumbled toward the puddle left by Benny's escape and stared at his reflection.
"You've got to be kidding me."
The face staring back was young. Seventeen—maybe eighteen.
"Am I… dreaming?" he whispered.
"If this were a dream, I wouldn't remember anything. But I do. I remember everything."
He laughed nervously, shaking his head.
"I haven't slept in ages. Maybe that's it—I'm dreaming.
But what kind of dream is this? I fall asleep and wake up a teenager?"
He touched his cheek, still half in disbelief.
"I'd rather dream about hunting ghosts than being trapped in this weak little body."
Then he grinned at his reflection.
"Well, at least I'm handsome. Maybe in this dream, I'll finally get a decent fiancée—
better than those ambitious vultures back at the palace, fighting to be Queen."
He laughed hard—so hard that his voice echoed across the empty hall.
"Hahaha! I'm dreaming… I'm a teenager again!"