The cold, empty feeling he'd been carrying suddenly left, replaced by something warm, along with the fading voices of those he had slain. Peaceful. Soundless.
Out of that stillness, he felt a sharp pinch on his neck. His eyes snapped open, and when he looked down, he saw Ari's fangs buried deep in his skin.
"I just fed you."
He pulled her off gently and realized she was distressed. He understood why.
They were floating in a vast, endless void. He didn't know where he was, but he liked it here. The darkness felt like it was clinging to him, protecting him, embracing him. The loneliness he'd carried was gone.
For a moment, he almost wished Ari hadn't woken him.
'Where are we? Are we dead? Great. I close my eyes for a few hours, and you somehow get us killed,' his inner voice muttered.
"We're not dead, but I'm also not sure where we are. Still, this place is nice. Feels like home… safe," he muttered softly.
He exhaled, the sound barely stirring the stillness. 'Yes… this is nice. A soundless world.'
He closed his eyes again and drifted into the emptiness. The darkness felt warm, almost alive, like it was holding him together the same way it had when he was inside the well.
Then his hand brushed against something soft—a blanket he didn't remember having. His gaze fell to it, confusion flickering in his dull eyes. It was draped over him, wrapping him like a memory.
He tried to recall what he'd been doing before coming here, but the thought slipped away like smoke.
Then, out of nowhere, a voice tore through the silence.
"What do you all want? We already paid you!"
His eyes darted through the endless dark. That voice—he knew it. Familiar, rough around the edges. A woman's voice.
But the sound echoed from every direction, twisting until he couldn't tell where it was coming from.
Then he remembered.
What the hell was he doing here? He was supposed to be keeping watch.
Panic surged through him. He ran, or swam, through the darkness, searching for a way out, but there was nothing.
Then something hard slammed into the top of his head.
His head snapped backward. Ari hovered above him. His eyes widened in quiet shock, unable to grasp how something so small could hold that much power.
"Are you trying to give me a concussion?" he muttered, rubbing his forehead.
In response, she curled her tail behind her, ready to strike again.
"I'm good. I'm back. No more," he said quickly.
'Good, snakey. Now calm down, idiot, and focus. Sense their mana.'
Closing his eyes, he tried to sense the couple's mana. It didn't take long. From here, he could feel almost everything within a few miles.
Just then, countless faint threads became visible, stretching through the void, glowing softly like veins of light in the dark.
With a touch of his fingertip, he could see what lay at the end of each thread.
It was strange, like he was watching the world not from above, but below. This place was his domain.
One thread drifted toward him, glowing brighter than the rest. The moment he touched it, he saw them—the couple—surrounded by hunters.
They were on their knees, faces pale and drenched in sweat. The air shimmered from the heat of repeated fire spells. The earthen dome he had created had already crumbled, and only a few shards remained, glowing faintly red-orange.
Looming above them stood a man, his shadow stretching long across the ground. He raised his blade high, ready to strike.
With a sharp tug at the thread, his body shot upward.
In the blink of an eye, he tore out of the man's shadow, the world snapping back into motion. His foot slammed into the man's jaw with brutal force.
His neck snapped with a loud crack. The body twisted through the air, skipping across the dirt like a broken doll.
The scarred-faced hunter stood among them, wearing different armor this time, thicker, darker, and radiating a heavy aura, like a veil of energy wrapping around him. In his hand, he held a massive blade, broad and rough-edged, heavy enough to look like it could weigh a ton—the kind that could split a beast in one swing.
"Finally, the protector decided to show up," the hunter sneered, his grin sharp and ugly. "Here I thought you ran off like a coward."
He met their eyes but quickly turned to the couple. Handing the man the blanket, he said calmly, "Stay back. I'll handle it from here."
The man struggled to his feet, barely standing. "Let me help."
He knelt down, meeting their eyes, and gave a faint smile. "Don't worry. It won't take too long."
Then he turned back to the hunters. His voice dropped, calm, cold, steady.
"I was going to look for you idiots after I got them to safety."
He sighed softly. "But thank you for making it this easy." His gaze swept over the group. "Though… you only brought ten people?"
"You talk confidently for someone who hasn't even mastered mana control yet—"
Before the scarred man could finish, Shiro's dagger cut through the air, whistling past his ear before plunging into the forehead of the man behind him.
The body fell backward with a dull thud.
Their eyes widened as they turned, just in time to see the body fall limp.
"Nine more to go," he said quietly.
The scarred man didn't flinch, but the smirk he wore vanished, replaced by anger and frustration. His gaze shifted to the man on his right.
"Don't go easy just because it's a kid."
The brute shot forward. He swung his blade from the side, but it passed through Shiro's body like smoke.
The man's eyes widened in disbelief, but before he could utter a word, Shiro's dagger swept across his throat, silencing him for good.
"Eight."
He kept walking forward slowly, unbothered, like he had all the time in the world. Meanwhile, his crimson eyes never left the scarred man.
A man with a silver spear lunged forward, the glowing tip cutting through the dark as it aimed for his heart. It passed straight through. In the same motion, Shiro turned, his blade whispering across the man's throat as he slipped past.
"Seven."
They attacked nonstop, their faces twisted with frustration and a growing fear of something they didn't know how to fight. Every blade passed through him like smoke—each strike landing, breaking his form apart, only for the pieces to snap back together again.
His blade moved through them, every strike clean and deliberate. No wasted motion. The world slowed until sound itself seemed to fade. Even when their bodies hit the ground.
There was no thud, no sound left their lips. Just silence. Or maybe he had just stopped hearing altogether.
"Six."
"Five."
"Four."
"Three."
"Two."
[You have acquired 2 Soul Fragments.]
The voice echoed again and again with each kill.
[Soul Fragments: 38 / 100]
He stopped and looked up at the scarred man. Their eyes met. The man faltered, taking a few steps back, betraying the calm he tried to hold.
"Only one left."
His dagger dripped with thick red. His crimson eyes gleamed under the silver moonlight.
"How?!" The word barely managed to leave the man's lips.
He looked at him. Even though the hunter was bigger, somehow it felt like he was looking down on him. The way the man trembled, the anger masking fear—he knew that feeling very well.
"This feeling you're having right now… it's called hopelessness," he said quietly. "Something you've probably never experienced before. But don't feel bad. It's not that you were weak."
He stepped closer, eyes cold, voice steady. "Don't feel bad. You're not weak… just unlucky to cross my path."
Suddenly old memories flickered.
He could still remember his father's words vividly before the training began. His expression had been blank, eyes sharp like a blade pressed against his throat. Even then, he should have known—that man had no love for anyone.
A sword hung in his father's hand, its edge dripping with the blood of his own brothers who had tried to assassinate him. The man who killed them stood emotionless, not a hint of care in his eyes.
That day, he looked straight at Shiro, and the words that left his mouth were cold, absolute.
'The weak cannot walk among the strong,' his father had said, voice low but heavy enough to bury him. 'To survive, you must rise beyond them. Shed your skin. Wear the shape of a monster.'
He had been young then. He didn't understand what those words meant.
But now… he did.
A burst of force slammed into him, pulling him out of his daze. The hunter, enraged, bit down so hard it seemed his teeth might shatter. His body began to radiate heat, the air around him turning thick and suffocating. Muscles swelled beneath his armor, the metal groaning under the strain. It was as if he was being cooked alive from the inside.
The man's eyes glowed like molten lava. Flames erupted from his sword, burning hotter, denser. The once black metal now shone a deep, furious orange.
With a deep, gravelly voice, he roared, "How dare you talk to me like that?"
Shiro didn't move. The heat rolled toward him in waves, burning the ground at his feet, yet his expression didn't change. His eyes were calm, like he was watching a child throw a tantrum.
'He's angry,' his inner voice murmured.
"I can see that," he muttered under his breath.
'Well, you gotta stop pissing people off.'
The raging hunter lunged, his massive body exploding forward. The ground cracked beneath his weight as he brought the sword down.
Shiro tilted his body slightly to the side, the overwhelming heat grazing his skin. The blade slammed into the earth, shattering it. Deep, explosive cracks spread through the ground.
Using that opening, he closed the distance in an instant. His dagger slipped through the man's thick armor, stopping just millimeters from his heart. Their eyes met.
Then he pushed it in.
The man staggered, coughing blood. "You… think this is it? If I don't return, my brother will hunt—"
A single, clean swing cut his words short.
The hunter's head hit the ground and rolled to a stop.
"Shut up already."
[Soul Fragments: 40 / 100]