The sky was aflame.
Not with the warmth of dawn, nor the promise of new beginnings, but with ruin. The heavens wept ember and ash, and the earth choked on the acrid breath of the dying. The stench of burning flesh, charred wood, and something far fouler the rotting remains of a dream reduced to nothing.
The screams had long since died, suffocated beneath the relentless march of fire and steel. What remained was silence. Not peace, nor respite, but the hushed, hollow stillness of a graveyard.
And in its heart, Veythor stood.
His crimson eyes gleamed with an eerie, unfathomable light as he knelt, fingers curling around the hilt of a sword buried in the scorched earth. Black not the black of iron nor shadow, but something deeper, something that devoured light and hope alike.
Not far from him, Erika stood frozen.
The flames licked at her skin, yet she did not flinch. Did not move. Did not breathe.
She had heard of war before tales spun by warriors, legends woven by poets. But they had lied. All of them.
No song, no story had ever captured this. This horror. This emptiness.
Her lips parted, but her voice barely left her throat. "You... you..."
The words caught in her lungs, strangled by the weight of what she had just witnessed.
And then, at last, she found the strength to spit it out.
"You're a monster."
Veythor did not react.
The accusation did not faze him. The disgust in her voice did not move him.
Instead, he smiled.
"A monster?" His voice carried no outrage, no denial—only amusement. He stepped forward, boots crunching against the brittle remains of the fallen. Bone turned to dust beneath his heel.
"Tell me, Erika, what did you expect me to do? Surrender? Beg for mercy? Should I have knelt before them and prayed they would spare me?"
His tone was light, almost playful. As if this were nothing more than a meaningless conversation.
Erika's hands trembled.
"You're justifying this?" she snapped, voice cracking. "Then explain why did you kill the children of the tribe? They weren't soldiers! They weren't a threat! Why?!"
Veythor exhaled, shaking his head—as if disappointed.
"I expected a better question."
He turned to her fully, firelight casting jagged shadows across his face.
"Very well. I will answer you with a question of my own."
He took another step forward.
"Tell me, Erika... if an ant bites you, and you turn to find an entire colony before you do you kill only the one that bit you?"
Erika's breath caught.
"Or do you burn the entire nest, ensuring you are never bitten again?"
The world seemed to tilt.
Erika clenched her teeth, her mind screaming, refusing to accept it. This isn't right. This isn't how the world should be.
And yet deep down she already knew the answer.
The realization made her sick.
Still, she refused to let it end there. She forced herself to speak, clinging desperately to whatever hope remained.
"Then tell me," she growled, eyes burning, "why did you betray my father?"
For the first time, Veythor's smirk vanished.
The air turned heavy, thick with something unseen the weight of old wounds.
He exhaled slowly. When he spoke, his voice was quieter. Colder.
"Because he was a fool."
Erika's heart twisted.
"He believed the world could be changed." Veythor's tone was unreadable. "That it could be conquered, ruled, shaped into something better. But he was wrong."
His crimson gaze bore into her, piercing through the illusions she had clung to all her life.
"The world is not something you conquer, Erika."
"The world is something you crush beneath your feet—or it crushes you."
The fire behind him raged, its glow licking at the dark sky like a dying god's final breath.
"Miral and I were different." Veythor's voice was calm once more. "He and I walked the same road, saw the same hell, bore the same scars. But he wanted to rule this world…"
"And I want to destroy it."
The words rang through the silence.
Erika stood paralyzed. Her mind was breaking apart, unraveling like burnt parchment in the wind.
Still, she refused to yield.
Desperation clawed at her throat as she tried one last time. "Then why why did you kill my siblings two years ago?"
Veythor's gaze did not waver. There was no regret. No hesitation.
Only a simple, absolute truth.
"I could have spared them."
A pause.
"But I didn't."
The final blow.
Erika staggered. The ground beneath her feet may as well have crumbled. Her throat constricted, nausea rising in her stomach. It felt as if her very soul had cracked.
And the flames burned on.
Then, suddenly Veythor started laughing.
Hahahaha. Hahahaha. Hahahaha. Hahahaha.
The sound cut through the silence like a blade, jagged and raw.
He placed his hands over his face, shoulders shaking with laughter. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a sick amusement.
"You're truly pitiful and naive, Erika."
Both Erika and Ralf looked at him in sheer confusion.
Erika clenched her fists, though not as tightly as before. A shiver ran down her spine. "What do you mean?"
Veythor tilted his head slightly, crimson eyes gleaming.
"You're believing my words without any hesitation."
A pause.
"I think you shouldn't use past terms for your siblings."
Erika's breath froze in her throat. Her world already on the verge of collapse shattered.
"What?"
Ralf, too, stood motionless, his body trembling slightly.
Veythor smirked, stepping forward, his shadow stretching toward them like the maw of a beast.
"Your younger brother and sister—they're still alive." His voice was smooth, deliberate. "When I killed Miral and you escaped, they were captured."
Erika felt the weight of the world pressing down on her chest.
"I could have killed them," Veythor continued, his voice now a whisper, "but do you know why I didn't?"
A pause.
"Because I knew you would eventually come for vengeance."
The flames crackled, their glow flickering against the dead earth. The night stretched endlessly, swallowing all warmth, all hope.
Erika did not speak.
She could not.
The fire around them would one day fade.
But the fire Veythor had ignited within her—the one that burned now with rage, despair, and something far more dangerous—would never die.
The crackling embers pulsed in the darkness, their glow casting twisted shadows across the ruined battlefield. Smoke hung thick in the air, mingling with the coppery scent of blood. The remnants of battle lay scattered: charred corpses, shattered weapons, and the faint echoes of the defeated's cries.
But none of it mattered.
Erika's breath was ragged, her hands trembling as she fixed her gaze on the man before her. Her vision blurred—not from the pain, but from the sheer, suffocating rage boiling inside her.
Her siblings.
Alive.
And in his hands.
Veythor had reopened every wound of her past, and some painful memories still clung to her mind, twisting her heart in fiery knots of hatred.
"You… you bastard!" Her voice cracked, raw with fury.
"How dare you lie about them right in front of me?! How dare you even speak their names?!" Her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood as she squeezed her fists in fury.
You fucker… "I'll kill you," she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice thick with venom. "I swear... I'll kill you!"
The air around her chilled. A layer of frost crept over her arm, ice crackling as a sword formed in her grip. The weapon pulsed with unstable mana, a reflection of her own violent emotions.
Veythor stood motionless, his crimson eyes glinting with unreadable amusement. His lips curled into a faint smirk.
"Oh?"
His voice, dripping with mockery, sliced through the tension.
Kill me? How amusing… when even your so-called almighty, undefeated genius father couldn't. How ironic.
He raised a hand lazily, as if beckoning her forward like a child. "Come on then."
Behind her, Ralf finally moved, stepping forward to place a steady hand on her shoulder. His grip was firm, unyielding. His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight she couldn't ignore.
"Princess. Don't do this. You can't."
His words struck her like a blade, their cold clarity cutting through the haze of rage in her mind.
He wasn't saying she shouldn't fight. He was saying this wasn't the time.
For a split second, the rational part of her the part trained by her father agreed. But the fire in her veins drowned it out.
"Shut up."
Her mind drifted
I can feel the rage within me, boiling, burning. They're still alive. They have to be. And it's all his fault. He's the one who took them. He's the one who tore apart everything that mattered. I won't stand for this. I won't. I can't."
"Why am I hesitating? I've trained for this. I've bled for this. My father, my family, they all died because of him. I have to stand here now and destroy him. I have to avenge them. This is my moment."
"But even as I feel the power surging in my hands, there's this flicker of doubt, something sharp and cold. A shadow. Fear? No. I can't afford fear not now not ever he doesn't deserve my hesitation."
Her voice was ice. She slapped his hand away, her wild gaze locked onto Veythor.
And then, she moved.
A burst of speed. A blur of blue light. Her ice blade swung in a deadly arc toward his shoulder, its edge sharp enough to slice through steel.
Veythor merely stepped aside.
Effortless.
She barely had time to process her mistake before his counterattack struck. A brutal, precise fist slammed into her chin.
A sharp crack echoed through the air.
Pain exploded through her skull. The world tilted violently as she crashed onto the dirt, skidding across the scorched earth. Her breath hitched, ash clouding her vision. Blood filled her mouth.
The sky spun above her, dizzying and relentless.
And Veythor?
He hadn't even spared her a glance.
He turned slightly, his crimson eyes flicking toward Ralf.
Ralf's expression remained unreadable, but Erika could feel the hesitation in the air like a thick fog.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself up. Every muscle screamed in protest. Every nerve burned. But she didn't care.
She couldn't care.
The ice blade formed again in her trembling grip.
Veythor exhaled, tilting his head, almost amused.
"Still standing?" His voice was thick with disappointment. "That's unexpected."
Erika's breath hitched, her hatred rising like a flame. Pain anchored her to the earth. She charged again.
This time, Veythor moved.
A shift in the air. A pulse of something unseen.
The sheer weight of his presence crashed down on her like an invisible tidal wave.
The battlefield fell silent. No wind. No movement. Yet, in Erika's mind, the world shook.
Her breath hitched. Her body trembled.
Her hands her own hands trembled uncontrollably.
No. No, this can't be happening. I can't fear him. I won't fear him. The mana blazed through her thoughts like fire. I have to avenge my father. I have to.
Veythor's voice sliced through her thoughts, dragging her back to the present with its biting edge.
"What's wrong, Erika?" His tone was almost casual. "Why are you hesitating? Are you… afraid?"
She stared at him, lips parted, but no words came.
His smirk widened.
"Oh, how pitiful," he sighed. "I can see your father in you, Erika. He, too, was scared when I killed him."
The words hit her like an arrow through her heart.
Lies.
Her mind drifted again
"Lies, It's all lies. My father wasn't scared. He wasn't weak. He wasn't like this."
"How dare he speak of my father? How dare he try to twist the memories of the man I loved? No. He didn't kill him. He didn't kill anyone. My father... He was a legend. My father would have destroyed you, Veythor. He wasn't scared. Not like you think."
"I won't let him keep twisting the knife. I won't let him get inside my head. I'm not like him. I won't give in."
But it didn't matter.
Something inside her snapped.
With a scream, she lunged.
This time, she conjured another sword: twin blades of ice and water.
A dual-wielder.
Veythor's smirk deepened.
What a waste of potential. The thought barely registered before the disdain replaced it. Annoying bitch.
If she wasn't Miral's daughter, I would've killed her years ago.
Her swords sliced through the air, closing in on him.
But they never touched.
Veythor sidestepped, his body moving with effortless grace. His footwork was precise, his movements fluid.
His voice, a whisper in her ear, sent a shiver down her spine.
"Is that all you've got?"
A brutal back kick slammed into her right cheek.
Her world shattered.
She flew backward, her body crashing into the dirt with a sickening thud.
Darkness crept at the edges of her vision. Her consciousness slipped.
The last thing she heard…
Hahaha… hahahaha… hahahahahahaha
Veythor's laughter.
Low. Amused.
Then rising.
Her mind slowly drifted again
A manic, echoing cackle that filled the night.
"That laugh. It's so cruel, so cold. He's mocking me. He's mocking everything I've become."
"I can hear it, hear him laughing. But I won't let him win not like this.No I will stand I have to keep going."
"But… why? Why do I feel like I can't get up anymore? Why is everything spinning? What's happening to me?"
"I can't… I can't... I can't lose."
Despite her struggle she couldn't stand and it was just cruel fate of her no one knows what veythor will do next but his next move will surely bring disasters upon everyone.