Kael's voice came, muffled beneath the mask.
"No… it amplifies me."
The slime burst.
Chains shattered.
Tendrils exploded outward, two of them grabbing Eiden mid-swing.
Kael activated Mana Shield again as he surged forward—face bloodied, tendrils burning.
He didn't swing like a swordsman—he swung like a butcher.
His katana crashed against Eiden's shoulder.
Bone cracked. Eiden screamed, glyphs flickering.
Kael didn't relent.
Tendrils pinned Eiden's legs.
He plunged his blade forward—but Eiden twisted just enough to avoid a killing blow.
The noble's bloodline flared again, body glowing gold, and he released a shockwave spell, blasting Kael off him.
Both men staggered back, panting, bloodied.
Eiden wiped blood from his eye, snarling.
Kael stood with his chest heaving, katana coated in black and red.
The clearing looked like hell—craters, blood, pulsing slime trails. The trees were broken silhouettes against a night sky smeared with smoke.
They weren't done yet.
Kael braced himself.
The slime pulsed along his arms like it was breathing with him.
"Alright… let's end this, buddy."
One tendril whipped down—Eiden dodged.
Another lashed sideways—he blocked, barely.
But the third coiled around his leg.
The fourth drove him into the dirt.
CRUNCH.
He screamed as bones snapped.
Kael landed, stepping calmly through the smoke and gore, katana dragging lines of molten red across the ground.
Eiden rolled, barely escaping another downward strike that shattered the stone beneath.
He launched a barrage of flame spells, lighting up the forest—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
But from within the inferno, Kael walked forward, untouched.
The slime boiled, but didn't burn.
"What are you?" Eiden whispered again, stumbling back.
Kael's eyes, faintly visible behind the mask, were hollow. Cold.
And certain.
He raised his katana, tendrils drawing back like scorpion tails.
The tendrils struck.
SHUNK. SHUNK. SHUNK.
Eiden's limbs twisted unnaturally. He screamed again, this time gurgling as one tendril pierced through his side and lifted him off the ground.
Kael dragged him forward, eye to eye.
"I'm not the monster they warned you about. I'm the silence that comes after." Kael whispered.
But—
In that final second, Eiden's bloody fingers curled into a sign. A faint glyph lit the air.
Kael's tendrils struck—
But light erupted.
A blinding flash.
Teleportation.
Gone.
Just blood on the ground where he had been.
Kael stood in the silence, breathing hard, the slime pulsing slower now, heavier.
Yue emerged from the shadows, eyes locked on him, shaken to the core.
Aerik, behind her, had dropped to his knees.
Mute. Pale.
Kael didn't feel victorious.
He felt…
Unchanged.
Or maybe just—
Less human.
Kael exhaled, a low sigh escaping his lips.
"So he escaped..."
His eyes narrowed, the aftertaste of battle still thick in his throat.
Teleportation spell? Coward's trick.
Kael looked down at his hands, the silence of Mount Veilspire pressing in like a shroud.
The black slime—slick and pulsing—began to recede inch by inch, slithering back up his arm as if obeying an unseen command.
His breath came slow, but steady.
The worst was over—for now.
But not within him.
That thing—whatever it truly was—still pulsed.
Not just on his skin, but in him. Its presence throbbed in the back of his mind, not speaking, but hungering.
Always hungry. Not for food. Not even for blood.
For violence. For power. For destruction.
Kael's fingers curled into fists. He was still trembling, though not from fear.
From the aftershock of the battle... and the realization of what he'd become.
This thing—whatever it was—was growing.
Even now, he could feel it evolving… changing… like a parasitic god whispering promises in silence.
"If this thing is this strong at Rank 1..." Kael muttered to himself, voice hoarse.
"What will happen when it grows?"
The thought chilled him—and thrilled him.
He looked down at the black substance still coiled loosely around his wrist, watching it pulse faintly like it had a heartbeat of its own.
It wasn't just a weapon.
It was alive.
It was part of him.
Kael sighed, then gave a faint smirk, talking more to himself than anything else.
"I'll call you... Venom."
The slime shuddered, as if it approved.
Yue's voice came softly behind him.
"Are you alright, Kael?"
He gave a curt nod. "Well, some back pa—"
He didn't finish.
Yue moved without warning, and though she was a spirit, intangible and cold as mist, she wrapped her arms around him in a mimicry of warmth.
There was space between them—**no flesh, no true contact—**but emotion bridged what form could not.
Kael stiffened. Awkward.
"Uh… okay?"
Yue sniffed. "Hmph."
A silence passed.
Then—softly, her voice gentler than before—"Let's go home."
Kael nodded at Yue's words, but his gaze never left the shadow slipping away down the blood-soaked mountain path.
"There's one more thing I need to do," he murmured.
Yue's expression tensed. "Kael?"
But he was already walking.
Aerik, sensing that same presence again—thick, oppressive, like a fog pressing on his chest—froze mid-step. He turned slowly, hands trembling, lips quivering.
"P-please… I'll do anything… just let me live…"
From the darkness, the devil emerged.
His footsteps were slow. Deliberate. The crimson mask, the edges of his robes sticky with gore, and the black slime pulsing faintly from his wrist like a living thing still tasting battle.
Kael knelt before Aerik, his tone eerily calm.
"You want the duchy, right?"
Aerik blinked. Then nodded—frantic, desperate.
Kael tilted his head slightly. "Then follow my orders."
Silence.
Aerik hesitated, then stammered, "W-why… why are you helping me?"
Kael's voice dropped to a near whisper, flat and cold.
"I want a puppet duke."
And with that, every doubt vanished from Aerik's face.
A strange relief took over—he understood now.
He wasn't chosen.
He was claimed.
Kael leaned in, whispering his plan. It was bold. Twisted. Meticulously crafted.
Aerik's eyes widened with each word. Shock turned to awe. And awe, finally, into submission.
"You're a genius," he breathed. "I'll follow exactly what you say."
He turned, running down the path with a new purpose.
Kael stood in silence, the wind pulling lightly at his cloak.
Then, slowly, he reached up… and removed his mask.
A cruel grin split his face.
"Foolish," he whispered. "The Duke will be me only."
It was inevitability.