The old man's eyes burned with madness, his voice rising with cruel delight.
"You're already at death's door, old fool!" he shouted, pointing a crooked finger at the Patriarch. "I'll drain your mana dry and use it to make myself young again! Ha! Imagine that—your power giving me new life!"
His laughter echoed through the trees, wild and full of greed.
Then, he snapped his fingers, his voice turning cold.
"Kill him now! Don't let him lift that sword more than five times—he's too old for more than that!"
For a heartbeat, the forest was filled with the silent movement of hundreds of red-robed figures. They rushed in, weapons ready, their eyes hungry for the kill.
But then—
Silence.
No sound of swords clashing. No cries.
The red robes froze in place—then, as if touched by an invisible blade, they faded. Their bodies were cut into countless tiny pieces so quickly, so cleanly, that not even blood had time to fly. The pieces simply fell like dust, quiet and soft.
And through that silence came the voice of the Patriarch.
It was not the voice of an old man.
It was strong, clear—sharp like a blade newly forged. A voice that sounded no older than twenty.
"Me? Old?" the Patriarch said, his tone calm, but carrying a quiet power that made the air feel heavy.
"No… I'm not the old one here."
He took a single step forward, his eyes now glowing faintly, filled with a strength that should have belonged to a man in his prime.
"It's you."
His words fell like a hammer, and the forest seemed to hold its breath.
---
Back in the alley, the air was thick with tension.
Belicus let out a low chuckle, his breath hot, his eyes glinting with wicked delight.
"Heh... Let's see what you've got, old man," he muttered, his voice filled with arrogance.
With a sharp breath, he swung his huge red axe upward. The weapon glowed faintly, leaving a red trail in the air as it rose.
At the same time, Darius met him head-on.
"Hngh—!" Darius grunted, his muscles tightening as he swung his blade downward, the steel humming through the air.
The weapons met with a loud clang! A shockwave burst out from the impact, making nearby trash rattle and dust swirl around them.
The two men glared at each other, their faces only inches apart, both of them pushing against the other's weapon, neither giving way.
Darius' eyes were sharp, cold as steel. Belicus' grin widened, his teeth showing, his gaze wild and mocking.
With a sharp move, Darius twisted his wrist, his sword spinning.
"Tch—!" Belicus hissed as Darius lifted the axe upward, throwing it off balance for a split second.
In that instant, Darius' foot shot forward.
Thud!
His boot slammed into Belicus' exposed stomach. The impact echoed in the alley, a loud crack! ringing out as ribs broke under the force.
Belicus staggered back, but his grin never left his face. He placed a hand on his stomach, where the crack had sounded.
"That's a good kick. I felt that," he said, his tone dripping with mockery.
Then, as the alley fell quiet for a breath, a loud crack-crack came from inside his body.
"Don't worry," Belicus added, his smirk widening. "It's just fixing the bones you broke."
His tone was arrogant, like he was playing with his prey.
Darius didn't even blink. His voice came out low and sharp, like a blade drawn in the dark.
"Did I ask, fool?"
With slow, precise movements, Darius brought his right hand to his sheath, the sword now balanced in his left hand, pointed forward. His stance was steady, his eyes locked onto Belicus, ready to strike again at any opening.
Belicus grinned wide, his sharp teeth showing as he spun his axe in his hands. The red glow of the weapon cut through the air like a streak of fire.
With a loud thud, he slammed the bottom of the axe down onto the ground, the force cracking the stones beneath it.
Then, with a sharp crack of his neck—crick-crack—he rolled his shoulders and took off.
Without his axe.
His boots hit the ground hard as he sprinted straight toward Darius, a wild grin on his face.
Darius' eyes narrowed, his breath caught for a split second.
"Mgh?" he let out, surprised for a moment that Belicus had abandoned his weapon.
Belicus came in fast, his right forearm swinging up toward Darius' face like a club.
But Darius, calm as ever, dipped low, his movements smooth and practiced.
"Hmph."
In one clean motion, he swept his leg out.
Crack!
His boot caught Belicus' ankle, knocking him off balance.
"Tsk...!" Belicus hissed, his grin fading as he stumbled.
Before he could recover, Darius shifted his weight, brought up his sword hilt, and slammed it hard against Belicus' cheek.
Thwack!
The force sent Belicus flying back, crashing into the alley wall with a loud crunch. Dust and bits of stone fell where he hit.
Darius straightened, stepping forward slowly, his eyes cold but gleaming with confidence.
"A predictable attempt indeed," Darius said, his voice calm, noble — the voice of a man who knew the battlefield better than the back of his hand.
He took another step toward Belicus, his tone turning sharper, yet still with that air of wisdom and arrogance.
"Too eager. Too wild. You thought giving up your weapon would confuse me? No. All you did was show me the gap between your strength and your thinking. A real fighter doesn't lose himself in a rush. Remember that—if you can still stand."
Belicus chuckled, his voice low and filled with amusement.
"Abandoned? Hah... You and I don't think the same, old man," he said, his grin wide, eyes sharp like a beast's. "I planted it there... to gather the blood that spilled."
Before Darius could react, thud! — in a blink, a heavy force slammed into his back.
"Ghh...!" Darius grunted, his body thrown forward by the powerful hit. His body crashed through a small house's wooden wall, then hit another stone wall beyond it, sending dust and splinters flying everywhere.
His mind raced as he tried to steady himself, pain ringing through his back.
How...? He was in front of me! Did I miss his attack? No... it wasn't him... it was—
From the distance, Belicus stood tall, pointing at the axe still planted on the ground where he left it. The red glow of the weapon was brighter now, and the blood on its blade seemed to move... as if alive, as if drinking greedily.
Belicus' laugh echoed in the broken street.
"Don't get it wrong, old man! The one that attacked you wasn't me... it was my weapon!" His voice grew louder, more excited. "See how strong it gets when it drinks blood? That's why its name fits so well—Ferrum Cruentum!"
His eyes began to shine deep red, like burning coals, as he laughed again, the sound wild and dark.
Darius pushed himself up, his sword trembling slightly in his hand. His breath was heavy, but his eyes stayed sharp, filled with shock and understanding.
"Ferrum Cruentum..." he muttered, his voice low. His mind raced back to old memories.
The Bloody Iron... the name from the ancient texts. The one the Patriarch let me read long ago in the Forbidden Chamber...
It was said this axe belonged to a demon — a being that destroyed whole cities, drowned them in blood.
And if this weapon drinks too much blood... the one holding it will lose himself, become nothing but a vessel... and when that happens...
Darius' thoughts darkened, his grip on his sword tightening.
...the demon will return to this world.
He glared at Belicus, his breath steadying, his body bracing for what came next.
"This is worse than I thought..." he whispered under his breath.
Darius stood still, dust and broken wood falling from his shoulders. His chest rose and fell slowly, and then—he let out a deep, steady exhale.
The sound was calm... but carried a heavy weight.
Belicus froze, his grin fading for a moment. His chuckle stopped.
That breath—it wasn't just the breath of a tired man. It was the breath of a man who had decided something.
Darius raised his eyes, sharp like a blade, and spoke. His voice was clear, noble, but firm.
"A weapon... will never make a man stronger. It is the man who makes the weapon strong."
He stepped forward, the tip of his sword dragging lightly on the cracked stone ground. His gaze was fixed on Belicus.
"Remember this well, Belicus. A weapon can drink all the blood it wants... but without a strong heart, it is nothing but dead iron."
Darius drew a deep breath, his eyes burning with resolve.
"Come. Let me show you. This time... I will get serious."
Belicus' grin returned, wider, crazier.
"Heh... fine! Let's see what you've got, old man!"
He grabbed Ferrum Cruentum tightly. The red energy around the axe flared brighter, darker, like liquid fire. The glow spread — flowing through his arm, his chest, his legs — red lines pulsing like veins of lava.
"Hahahaha! Look! The power... it's mine!" Belicus roared, the energy crackling around him.
But Darius only narrowed his eyes. His grip on his sword tightened.
"Such a weapon... so full of evil... it does not deserve to exist in this world."
He shifted his stance. His sword lowered, the blade almost touching the ground. The air around him seemed to change—calm, but heavy, as if the earth itself was holding its breath.
"With the legacy of the Cross Sword Style Family behind me..." Darius whispered, his voice steady like steel. "I will not miss."
His eyes widened, filled with purpose.
Then, in a flash, his sword came up—an upward slash so fast, so clean, it seemed to cut the very air.
"Clear Break!"
A powerful, gigantic force shot out from the blade — like a wave of silver light, tearing through the ground, ripping through the air as it raced toward Belicus.
Belicus' eyes widened.
"Tsk! This—!"
He swung the axe up to shield himself, the red glow of Ferrum Cruentum flaring wildly. But the force of Clear Break slammed into him like a mountain.
"Ggrrrh... Aaaaghhh!" Belicus growled, his feet digging into the ground, pushed back by the mighty slash. Stone shattered, walls broke apart, dust and debris exploded around him. His boots tore grooves into the earth as he struggled to hold his ground.
But the power was too great. Belicus' body was thrown back, smashing through stone, wood, and iron like they were paper.
The world seemed to fall silent after the strike... only the soft sound of falling dust and rubble remained.
Darius stood, sword at his side, his breathing slow and steady, his eyes watching, waiting.
Belicus lay among the broken stone and dust, his body trembling. His hand clutched Ferrum Cruentum tightly. The axe's glow grew stronger — a deep, bloody red that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Belicus tried to stand, his legs shaking. His face twisted in pain.
"It hurts... it hurtssss..." he gasped, his voice broken, almost like he was crying. His whole body shook, sweat mixed with blood running down his face.
Darius' sharp eyes narrowed. He took a step back, sword ready.
"This is bad..." he muttered, his voice low.
"The axe... it's forcing him. It's trying to bring its true master into his body... right now."
Belicus let out a scream, falling to one knee, the axe glowing brighter and brighter. The air grew heavy, hot, like it was burning.
From the side of his head, a black-red horn slowly pushed out, sharp and curved. His other eye turned into a deep, demonic red, filled with hatred and madness. His arm twisted, cracking as it changed — jagged spikes of bone and red light ran along it, glowing as if something inside was trying to break free.
Darius gritted his teeth. Without a word, he dashed forward, his blade flashing as he aimed at Belicus' chest.
Clang!
The blow was stopped.
Belicus, or what he had become, had raised Ferrum Cruentum with ease — parrying the strike like it was nothing. The red axe hummed, pleased by the blood it had drunk.
Belicus' new form grinned, his demonic eye glaring at Darius.
The force of the block pushed Darius back. His boots dragged along the ground, leaving deep marks as he fought to stay on his feet.
"Tsk..." Darius clicked his tongue, breathing heavier.
"I'm a little late. Hah... looks like age is catching up to me now..." he said, half-joking, but his eyes remained sharp, watching every move Belicus made.
The wind blew softly between them, carrying the heavy smell of blood.
Belicus let out a thunderous roar, loud enough to shake the broken walls around them. His jagged arm glowed red, and with a mighty swing, he brought Ferrum Cruentum through the air.
WHOOSH!
A powerful red wave shot forward, cutting through the ground like a blade of fire, tearing up dirt and stone as it raced toward Darius.
Darius' eyes sharpened. "Hah!" he grunted, pushing off the ground just in time. His body moved fast, sliding to the side as the wave roared past, missing him by inches.
Dust and debris filled the air. Darius' gaze locked on Belicus, watching, waiting for his next move.
But then —
Belicus raised his jagged, spiked fingers and wagged them at Darius, as if mocking him. His demonic grin stretched wide. His voice was low and twisted, filled with arrogance.
"I'm one step ahead of you... old fool."
CLANG!
Before Darius could react, the axe came spinning toward him like a deadly wheel. He caught it just in time, his sword blocking the strike with a loud crack of steel. The force of it pushed him back a step.
"Tsk..." Darius hissed under his breath.
But he didn't waste a moment.
"Hup—!"
He sprinted forward, boots pounding the broken ground. In one smooth motion, he spun his body and swung his sword downward, the blade cutting through the air with power.
CRASH!
The strike hit the ground, leaving a long, deep slash and cracking the earth beneath. But Belicus had already slipped away, moving faster than his monstrous form should have allowed.
Darius snarled and slashed sideways, his blade whistling as it aimed to cut Belicus in half.
"Hahh!!"
But again — only an after-image remained where Belicus once stood.
From behind, Belicus' voice echoed, deeper and darker, filled with demonic pride.
"Don't move too fast, old fool... or you'll break your bones."
His red eye glowed like fire in the dust-filled air, his form lurking just beyond reach, waiting for his next strike.
Darius gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing on Belicus. He took a breath, then launched forward.
His blade swung downward — but it was just a trick, a feint meant to force Belicus to move.
Belicus saw the strike and leapt back, just as Darius had planned.
"Now...!"
In a flash, Darius followed up, his blade moving fast and sharp. Slash! Slash! Slash! Each strike landed clean, pushing Belicus back step by step.
"Tch—!" Belicus let out a rough, pained grunt, his twisted face showing the sting of Darius' blade biting into him. The ground cracked under his feet as he struggled to stop sliding.
Then —
Whoosh!
Ferrum Cruentum, the cursed axe, spun through the air like a red wheel of death. Belicus caught it mid-spin, his fingers gripping its blood-soaked handle tight.
Without wasting a heartbeat, Belicus swung it down toward Darius, the air splitting with its force.
But Darius had already read the move.
"Hah... too easy."
He stepped back swiftly — but vanished instead! His form blurred, and in an instant he appeared behind Belicus, his blade ready to finish it.
SHING!
The sword sliced cleanly through the demon's arm at the shoulder. The jagged hand holding the axe fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
But before Darius could follow up with the finishing blow —
BOOM!
A powerful force burst out from Belicus. Darius' eyes widened —
"Guh—!"
The blast threw him back like a ragdoll, sending him crashing through dust and broken stone. His boots dragged long marks in the ground as he fought to stay upright.
Belicus turned, blood dripping from the stump where his arm had been. But his grin grew wider, more twisted.
"You're in my line of fire... old man."
His other arm — now fully transformed — was covered in jagged spikes, glowing with red energy. The flesh pulsed like it was alive, veins of red light flowing across it, making him look like a monster out of hell.
The air around him grew hotter, heavier, as the corrupted energy filled the space between them.
Belicus stood tall, his jagged, demonic arm pulsing with red light. His breath was heavy, but his grin never faded.
He tilted his head, his eyes burning with arrogance.
"Just stop, old man," Belicus said, his voice low but full of mockery. "Kneel now, and I might spare your life."
Darius wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes steady. He planted his sword into the ground to support himself for a second, then straightened up.
"If I leave you alive..." Darius said, his voice calm but firm, "more innocent people will die by your hands."
Belicus let out a dark chuckle. His eyes gleamed like a predator's.
"That's the law of the world, old man. The weak are born to die. The strong are meant to rule."
He spread his arms, as if presenting himself as proof.
"We don't need weaklings in this world."
Darius' grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. His voice became low, filled with a quiet, unshakable resolve.
"No... it's you who doesn't deserve to live in this world. All you bring is destruction, blood, and war."
He raised his sword, the tip pointing at Belicus. His stance became firm, unyielding.
"That's why — even if it costs me my life — I will end you here."
Darius took a deep breath, his eyes burning with purpose.
"But make no mistake... I will not die. I can't. Because there's someone I must train. Someone important — someone who will change the future of my family..."
He paused, his gaze growing sharper.
"No... not just my family. He will change the world."
Belicus stared at him, silent for a moment. Then his grin stretched wider, crueler.
"Oh? Then I'll have to kill him too... if he's so important to you."
At those words — something inside Darius snapped. His eyes darkened, his expression hardened.
The air seemed to grow heavier, the ground beneath him cracking slightly from the force of the energy building around him.
His voice, when it came, was ice-cold.
"You'll never lay a finger on him."