The night draped its veil across the Whispering Woods, but the silence did not last.
Torchlight flickered in the distance, weaving through the dense trees. Dozens of boots trampled the earth in unison, armored men marching with cold precision. At the front of the procession rode a tall man on a black steed, his crimson cape swaying behind him like a banner of war.
He was Lord Varick Halden, a minor noble of the Kingdom of Draemir, yet notorious for his ruthless ambition. At his side strode mercenaries, hunters, and hired killers, all armed to the teeth.
"Remember," Varick's voice cut through the night. "The Guardian is dead. That means the forest is unclaimed. Whatever killed it… belongs to me now. The mask, the treasure, the beast's corpse—everything."
The mercenaries roared in agreement, greedy eyes glinting.
But not all shared his arrogance.
Among the hired blades was a cloaked woman with sharp silver eyes—Selene, captain of the mercenary company Iron Fang. Unlike the others, she did not cheer. Her instincts screamed danger.
"Killing a Guardian is no small feat," she muttered under her breath. "Whoever did it… is not someone to underestimate."
Her words were swallowed by the forest wind.
The Hunter Becomes the Hunted
Deeper within the woods, Lian crouched upon a high branch, the cursed mask fused to his face. The runes glowed faintly, whispering vile promises into his ear.
From his vantage point, he watched the approaching flames of Varick's men.
"So they come… rats chasing after scraps," he murmured. His grin widened beneath the mask. "Perfect. The forest will drink again tonight."
[Warning: Multiple Hostiles Detected — Power Levels: Varied]
[Recommendation: Eliminate to strengthen Sin Resonance]
The system's cold voice thrilled him. His blood boiled with Wrath, shadows coiling at his fingertips.
First Clash
The mercenaries entered a clearing where moonlight spilled over the earth. Suddenly, the torches sputtered. A cold wind howled, extinguishing their flames one by one.
Darkness swallowed the clearing.
"Form ranks!" Selene barked, raising her blade.
From the treetops, a voice echoed, low and distorted:
"Welcome, intruders… to my forest."
Before they could react, something dropped from above. A blur of shadows and crimson fury.
CRASH!
The ground shook as Lian landed, crushing two mercenaries beneath his boots. Screams filled the clearing.
"Monster!" one shouted.
"Kill it!" roared another.
Dozens surged forward, blades flashing. But Wrath coursed through Lian like wildfire. His movements blurred; every strike tore through men as if their armor were paper.
Heads rolled, blood splattered across the dirt. The cursed mask pulsed with each kill, feeding on their terror.
[Sin Resonance Increased: +7%]
[Wrath Amplification: Active]
Lian laughed, a sound sharp enough to pierce bone.
Duel of Wills
Selene leapt forward, her blade clashing with his claws of shadow. Sparks lit the night as steel met corrupted energy. Unlike the others, she did not falter.
"You're no ordinary beast," she hissed, forcing him back. "What are you?"
"I am wrath incarnate," Lian replied, his voice layered with dozens of whispers. "And you are nothing but kindling for my fire."
Their battle shook the clearing. Each strike echoed like thunder, cutting down trees and splitting the ground. Selene fought with honed skill, but with every exchange, Lian grew faster, stronger—madder.
The Noble's Greed
Watching from behind his soldiers, Lord Varick grinned wickedly.
"A cursed warrior… perfect. If I can capture him, Draemir's throne will finally recognize my power."
"Milord, this thing is—" one knight began, but Varick silenced him with a glare.
"I did not hire you to fear shadows. Push forward! Wear it down! I will claim it alive."
The knights obeyed, charging in formation. Shields raised, spears thrusting as one.
But the forest itself betrayed them. Roots coiled around their legs, shadows lashed out from the ground, and their screams filled the night. Lian had become more than a man—he was the forest's executioner.
Breaking Point
Selene staggered, blood dripping from her arm. Her mercenaries lay dead around her, corpses staining the soil.
"You… you'll drown this land in blood," she gasped.
Lian tilted his head. "Yes. And it will be beautiful."
The mask pulsed violently, and his aura erupted, swallowing the clearing in crimson light.
BOOM!
Half the mercenaries were obliterated instantly, their bodies reduced to ash. The survivors dropped their weapons, trembling in terror.
Lord Varick's smirk faltered, replaced by cold sweat. For the first time, he realized—this was no mere beast. This was a calamity.
Beyond the Forest
Far away, in the marble halls of Draemir's capital, whispers reached the ears of the king's council.
"A Guardian slain…?" one elder murmured. "And now a massacre in the Whispering Woods?"
In another corner of the continent, the Obsidian Order, a cult devoted to forbidden relics, stirred from their silence.
"The Mask of Sins has resurfaced," their leader intoned, his eyes glowing with zeal. "At last, the vessel has been chosen."
The ripples had begun. What started in a forest would soon engulf kingdoms.
Back in the clearing, Lian stood atop a mound of corpses, his shadow stretching like a crown of thorns.
He looked up at the blood moon and whispered, "Come, world. Send your armies, your kings, your gods. I will devour them all."
And the mask laughed with him.