The night wind crept through the trees of the forest like an endless murmur. The branches swayed gently, letting glimpses of moonlight fall on the ground covered with leaves and melted snow. There, lying on his side, Lucian opened his eyes with a start. His chest heaved as if he had been running for hours, and his forehead was drenched in cold sweat.
"Again...?" he whispered, barely aware of where he was.
The throbbing in his temples was unbearable, as if something had struck him directly inside his head. He sat up slowly, leaning with difficulty on the nearest tree trunk. His fingernails scraped the damp bark, and a sharp pain shot through him as he clenched his teeth.
The memories were still there. Not his, not entirely. He had clearly seen the face of a child... a child with the same body as him. A child with white, dirty, tangled hair, whom other children threw into the mud while laughing. The images were so vivid that his breath caught in his throat.
"That wasn't me," he thought, his stomach churning. "That... that's not mine."
The ground seemed to move beneath his feet. He closed his eyes, but the scenes came back even stronger: hunger, freezing nights, the growling of an empty stomach. Then, suddenly, a child's laughter. A warm voice calling him by a name he could no longer make out. And then, the sharp sound of a blow, the sting of a fist against his cheek.
Lucian clutched his head with both hands. The forest around him became a distant echo.
"Enough!" he growled, but the memories did not subside.
The line between what he had experienced as a mercenary and what he now remembered of the body he inhabited became blurred. He could clearly see the years spent on the dirty streets, surviving amid knife fights and betrayals. He could also see, just as clearly, how the child who had once owned this body tried to smile despite the beatings.
It was as if two pasts were trying to merge within him.
Dizziness forced him to his knees. His hands rested on the wet snow, and the cold brought him back for a moment. He gasped, looking up at the moon. The mark on his right hand burned. First a tingling, then a beat synchronized with his heart.
Lucian looked at the back of his hand. The dark, crimson figure of the staff surrounded by snakes and wings vibrated, as if it had just awakened. A flash crossed the eyes of the snakes engraved on the skin, and for a moment he swore they were looking at him.
"What are you...?" he whispered hoarsely.
The headache intensified, and suddenly he understood: these memories were not illusions, they were not hallucinations. They were memories. The memories of the boy who once inhabited this body, before he took it over.
Lucian slumped against the tree trunk, breathing heavily. The cold air burned his lungs, but his mind was much more agitated than his body.
"So... I'm not just living again. I'm stealing someone else's life."
The idea shook him. He didn't consider himself a pious man; he had killed too many times to be that. But to feel that he had displaced someone, an innocent boy who had done nothing but suffer... that was different.
The silence of the forest enveloped him. Only the crunch of snow falling from the branches interrupted the void. In that silence, the mark throbbed again.
Lucian looked down. The tattoo glowed faintly, alternating between a deep red and a black so deep it seemed to absorb the moonlight. Each color change corresponded to a beat of his heart.
A chill ran down his spine.
"Do you want me to carry both pasts...?" he asked quietly, as if speaking to the mark itself.
No one answered, but the burning intensified.
Lucian clenched his fist. The memory of the boy, his pain and his muffled laughter, now mingled with the scars of his own life. And in the midst of that storm, a decision began to take shape.
Lucian closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. The icy air entered and left his lungs like needles. For a moment, he allowed himself to listen to the forest. The hooting of a distant owl, the crackling of dry branches under the paws of some small animal. Everything sounded too real to be a dream.
And yet, in his mind, the voices of his memories intertwined.
"You're weak," he could hear the taunts of the children beating the boy.
"Get up!" the harsh voice of a man, perhaps an adult from the neighborhood, forcing him to remain standing.
"Come on, we can search together," whispered another, softer voice, perhaps a friend of that child...
Lucian opened his eyes abruptly. He couldn't tell which memories were his own and which belonged to others. The boundary was dissolving.
"I can't afford to lose my mind. Not here, not now."
He struck the ground with his hand. Snow and dirt rose in small particles. The mark burned like red-hot iron, spreading unbearable heat to his elbow.
A flash crossed his eyes. For a second, a gigantic shadow appeared in his vision: a throne formed of darkness and liquid blood, floating in infinite space. Lucian blinked and the image disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"That place..." he murmured. "I've seen it before."
He remembered the space where he had awakened before reaching the forest. That strange domain, made of shadows and rivers of blood. Now he understood that it had not been just any dream: it was his. Or perhaps it was the legacy of the symbol that marked him.
His heart was pounding.
"So... this mark is the bridge? The key that connects me to him?"
The silence of the forest responded coldly.
Lucian stood up unsteadily. His body still ached from the beating he had received alongside Darius, and the wound from his battle with the previous monster still burned beneath his skin. However, something had changed. It was not physical strength, but a decision within him.
He was no longer just Lucian Vorath, the betrayed mercenary. Now he carried the memory of the boy from this world, the one who had suffered as much or worse than he had. Two lives, two pasts, one body.
"It's okay," he said quietly, staring at the mark. "It doesn't matter if you force me or not. I'm going to use it all. Every blow I took, every tear he shed, every death I caused. All of that will be my weapon."
He clenched his fist so tightly that his nails dug into his skin.
A spark of dark energy ignited in his palm. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there: a combination of shadow and blood that seemed to respond to his oath.
Lucian smiled bitterly.
"If this world is as rotten as the last... then let it prepare itself. I will never crawl again."
The forest returned to its calm, as if listening to him in silence.
---
A nearby rustle put him on alert. Lucian looked up immediately. Something was moving awkwardly among the bushes. His instincts urged him to take a step back, even though he was still weak. The marked hand glowed faintly, as if responding to the danger.
A huge boar appeared from the undergrowth, with long, curved tusks. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural reddish hue. It was no ordinary animal; it was a beast corrupted by the energy of this world.
Lucian swallowed hard. The memory of his first encounter with a monster pierced him like a dagger. The blood, the fear, the feeling that every move was a mistake.
The boar snorted, scraping the ground with its hooves before charging.
Lucian clenched his jaw.
"I'm not running away," he muttered.
When the beast lunged at him, Lucian rolled to one side, feeling the wind from its tusks pass inches from his face. The ground cracked under the boar's impact, sending chunks of earth and snow flying.
Lucian jumped to his feet, unsteady but steady. His heart was beating so hard it felt like it wanted to escape his chest.
"Focus. It's not just your body. You have more now... much more."
The mark glowed again. Lucian raised his right hand and, without thinking too much, extended his fingers toward the monster. A strand of shadow stretched from his palm, thin as a thread. As soon as it touched the boar's skin, the beast screamed in rage, shaking itself.
Lucian recoiled in surprise.
"Did that come from me...?"
The thread disappeared almost instantly, as if he couldn't hold it for more than a couple of seconds. The enraged boar charged again. This time Lucian was unable to dodge it completely. The tusk grazed his side, opening a superficial wound, but enough to knock the wind out of his lungs.
He fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Warm blood mixed with the snow. The pain was real, unbearable.
And yet, in the back of his mind, a quiet voice echoed: "Absorb it."
Lucian clenched his teeth. He looked at the blood on his side, then at the boar preparing to attack again. The symbol in his hand burned, demanding.
"Absorb... the blood?"
The idea froze him. But if that was the price of survival, he would not hesitate.
The boar charged again, kicking up snow and dirt in its path. Its tusks glinted in the moonlight, and its bloodshot eyes seemed to burn with animal fury.
Lucian barely had time to react. His body aching, he rolled backward, feeling the edge of a tusk graze his chest and tear part of his clothing. The ground shook as the beast crashed into a tree, which creaked and fell with a crash.
Lucian's heart raced. Fear gripped his throat, the same fear he had felt in his first battle against a monster. His body screamed at him to run, to run and hide, but he knew he would not survive that way.
The symbol in his hand throbbed again, stronger than ever. The burning sensation made him grit his teeth.
"Move, damn it!" he growled, forcing his legs to hold him up.
The boar turned, snorting, and charged again. This time, Lucian forced himself to look straight ahead. He extended his marked hand, trying to repeat what he had done before. A shadow formed, shaky, barely a fragile thread that shot toward the beast.
The contact was brief, almost insignificant, but enough for Lucian to feel something new: the pulse of the boar's blood.
It was like a distant drum vibrating beneath his skin. A strange rhythm that was not his own.
The monster squealed, shaking its head to rid itself of the sensation, and in that instant, Lucian understood what the inner voice had meant to tell him.
"Absorb..." he whispered, his eyes wide.
He pressed the mark with his other hand, and the symbol responded with a crimson flash. Suddenly, the thread of shadow turned dark red, and a warm sensation ran through Lucian's arm, entering his body like a torrent.
The boar roared in pain. Blood flowed from an invisible wound toward Lucian, who felt it mix with his own, filling his chest with raw, wild energy.
The impact was brutal. His head spun as if he had suddenly become drunk. His legs threatened to give way, but he forced himself to stand firm.
The boar staggered, weakened but not yet defeated.
Lucian gasped, feeling the blood rush through him. The pain in his side eased, just a little, as if the stolen strength helped him resist.
"No... I can't stop now."
The monster roared and charged again, though more slowly. Lucian waited until the last second, gritting his teeth. This time he didn't back down. He leaped to the side and, as he passed the beast's body, plunged his marked hand into its back.
The symbol burned violently. Shadow and blood swirled together, and Lucian felt as if an entire river was passing through his arm. The boar's roar turned into a piercing squeal.
The ground shook. The monster collapsed on its side, convulsing. The blood continued to flow toward Lucian, who trembled with every drop absorbed.
His knees hit the snow. His body begged him to stop, but the mark demanded more. Darkness closed in around his eyes, and for a moment he thought he was going to lose consciousness.
The boar let out one last squeal, then lay still.
Lucian jumped back, panting, his hand covered in a red and black glow. His body was drenched in sweat, and the wound in his side burned less, though it had not disappeared.
He fell backward into the snow, breathing heavily. The starry sky watched him silently, indifferent to his struggle.
"I... I did it," he whispered, though his voice was barely a whisper.
The mark throbbed softly, as if in approval.
Lucian closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted. The memory of the boy reappeared in his mind: the same child who had been beaten to the ground, getting up again and again despite everything.
For the first time, Lucian felt that he was not alone.
"It's okay..." he murmured, with a bitter half-smile. "I'll fight for both of us."
The icy wind blew, drowning out the metallic smell of blood that permeated the air.
---
At dawn, Lucian forced himself to his feet. The boar's corpse was still there, the snow stained red around it. The sight made him grit his teeth. He couldn't let guilt crush him. He had survived, and in this world, that was everything.
He leaned over the beast, staring at the motionless body. Something inside him told him he shouldn't waste what lay before him. He remembered the feeling of the blood entering his body, strengthening him, even if only a little.
He traced the mark with his fingers, lost in thought.
"If every creature gives me power..." he murmured, "then there's no turning back."
His stomach churned, but his determination was stronger. He couldn't afford weakness. Not in a world where only the strongest ruled.
Lucian looked up at the horizon. The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky with shades of orange and violet. It was a beautiful dawn, but to him it was nothing more than a reminder that the day would bring more battles, more pain, and more decisions.
He clenched his fist.
"I will grow. Little by little, step by step... until there is nothing and no one above me."
The wind responded with an icy whisper.
In another corner of the forest, not far from where Lucian was fighting for his life, a young man with dark hair and a stern gaze was panting in front of a gigantic rock.
His arms trembled under the weight of a fallen log he was carrying on his shoulders. With every step, his knees threatened to give way, but he didn't stop.
"One more..." he growled through clenched teeth. "One more step!"
Sweat dripped from his forehead, freezing as soon as it touched his skin. He had no powers, no mysterious marks. All he had was his body, his discipline, and a will that burned like fire.
Finally, he dropped the log with a crash. He collapsed to his knees, panting, but a bitter smile curved his lips.
"If I can't catch up to the others with magic..." he whispered, "I'll surpass them with strength."
The echo of a distant roar made him raise his head. A strange sensation ran through his chest, as if fate were pushing him toward something inevitable.
He rose slowly, his muscles aching, but his conviction stronger than ever.
"No matter how many times I fall... I will get up."
On the horizon, dawn began to light up the forest. And although Darius did not know it yet, his path was about to intertwine with that of the white-haired man fighting for survival.