He tried to forget what had happened in the cathedral—the disaster he had committed against those who were there. But it seemed his sins were chasing him in an irritating way.
He lowered his head, his face dark, not uttering a single word…
The lights in the place went out, and everything sank into darkness, until a set of yellow candles appeared on a table.
The myst
ery brushed her hand over his shoulder, speaking with cold expressions:
"Are you trying to forget what happened? Or have you accepted the situation you're in…"
"…"
Morder remained silent, not answering her, not even raising his head… while she circled around him, adding a sense of irritation and unease.
"No answer. Let's put that question aside and move to another: can you gather the ring fragments in your miserable state, with only one hand?"
At the same pace, there was no response from him… the mystery smiled and walked behind him, gripping his neck and feeling the bloody mark.
"All people have disti
nct curses with minor symptoms… except you. There is nothing special about your curse. Even the healing, which is considered a combat blessing, has filthy side effects."
She lowered her head as she looked at him.
"Tell me, do you—"
"Can you stop the nonsense?" His breath came out in a contemptuous anger.
"Stop the nonsense? It seems you're starting to cross your limits." She gestured at him with fingers stained with his blood.
"You said the test was about a corpse… and now it has been revealed who the killer is…"
He paused, then raised his head upward, his eyes glowing with a dark black.
"The killer is
me. I am the slaughterer… I don't care about good, and evil means nothing to me. I will walk the path that keeps me alive. There are no innocents in the Brooken lands—even the cursed are nothing but filthy people no different from you."
The mystery opened her mouth in surprise, then her expression turned into a cold smile. She approached him, sat on the table, and held his cheek.
"I don't want you to die."
He lowered his head, then looked directly at her face… but the place began to shake. He looked around in confusion.
"We'll meet later, Crimson Slave."
At that moment, a blinding light burst forth, making it impossible to see…
———
The light was pulled away, as if it had been swallowed into a black hole… and Morder appeared sitting on the same chair,
but in a place he knew well.
"I've returned to the starting point."
Morder was back in the same prison cell he had been in before, but this time he was seated on a chair—physically and mentally destroyed.
He looked at the place where his severed hand had been, grabbing it with his right hand as he bit his lips in bitterness, suffocating.
"I want to cry… but my tears withered since I was a child."
He tried to stand from the chair, but his legs trembled, forcing him to sit again. He had lost too much blood, losing the very fuel of his body.
"I need blood…"
He forced himself to stand, his veins bulging across his face… until he rose to his feet, staggering. Looking down, he found a worn, old dagger.
He picked it up and placed it in his pocket… then left the cell, looking left and right. His e
yes widened in shock—the sight was suffocatingly horrifying.
Blood painted the walls and iron bars, and the ground was a small lake of blood.
"What happened here?"
He walked through the prison corridor, his cautious steps touching the blood, looking around in disbelief… the place was complete chaos.
Bodies were torn apart inside the cells—some completely destroyed, others cut into pieces. There were prisoners' bodies without heads.
He stopped walking and saw ahead of him a knight, and beside him a person kneeling, hands bound with rope, head lowered.
In a single moment, the man's head fell to the ground and exploded into horrific fragments. The knight raised his sword, reflecting the scene behind him.
The knight turned, his red eyes locking onto Morder, from whom an aura of anger radiated.
The knight stepped forward, sharpening his blade, speaking in a sharp
tone:
"It seems we've found the mongrel who started all this destruction."
Morder pulled the dagger from his pocket with a mocking smile:
"Seems I've become wanted."
The knight lunged, and their blades clashed—steel against steel, sparks flying. The fight was so fast that Morder could barely comprehend what was happening.
In a swift motion, the knight grabbed him by the collar, slammed him to the ground, drowning his head in blood, then lifted him and pinned him against the wall.
But Morder did not hesitate—he kicked him, sending the knight flying into a cell door, shattering it.
"Get up. I've grown tired of your filthy methods."
"Who do you think you are? A worthless heretic."
The knight attacked, filled with rage. A single stab from his blade was enough to be fatal, so Morder dodged or deflected with his dagger.
'This bastard fights like a raging bull… I need to end this quickly.' Morder muttered to himself.
Despite having one arm, Morder fought as if
he had two… but the knight had a sharp gaze. He exploited the right side, aiming to drive his sword into Morder's abdomen—but Morder grabbed the blade with force.
His hand bled, suffering deep wounds in his palm as he tried to pull the blade. The knight pushed forward, sending him falling into the lake of blood.
"You don't want to let go of the sword? Fine."
The knight spread his five fingers and pressed them against Morder's face, forcing his head into the blood.
Morder tried to break free, but the grip was ironclad… the knight laughed madly, shouting in excitement:
"The grand prize will be mine."
On the other side, Morder was at the very limit of his endurance—mere seconds away from death.
'I won't die… I won't die…' he screamed within himself like a madman.
Morder released the blade, grabbed his fallen dagger from the blood, and stabbed the knight in the side, causing a sharp pain.
But despite the force of the stab, the knight did not let go—he was extremely stubborn… Morder didn't stop there, continuing to stab until the knight's grip loosened, his strength collapsing.
When he noticed the weakening grip, Morder reversed the
roles, forcing the knight's head into the blood lake, choking him while laughing hysterically.
"Who's the winner now, huh? Or can't you answer?"
Morder choked him like a madman until he snapped his neck… the force of the break caused blood to burst out.
He fell to the ground, panting, placing his five fingers over his face.
A bloody shadow emerged from the knight's body and entered Morder, jolting him awake like a madman. He spat blood onto the knight's corpse and wiped his mouth.
"What filthy blood…"
Morder stood up and took the knight's sword.
"I'll borrow it for a while."
He moved to leave this hellish prison… after about five minutes of walking, he still saw no door leading to freedom.
"It's as if I'm walking an endless path."
As he walked, he remembered the knight's words: "You started all this."
"The disaster I caused in the Diamond Mountains has reached here."
After struggle… he finally reached the gate of freedom—a wooden door. Simple in design, yet it held what anyone desired: freedom.
"…"
Morder grabbed the handle without hesitation and opened it as fast as he could. His eyes widened at a sight beyond even dreams.
He stepped out of the
prison into a place of ruined houses, the sky drowned in darkness as before. But here, something was different—the sky itself released chains, holding small cages suspended in the air, each containing strange creatures.
"Seems like the next hell."