Rossain's eyes fluttered open, vision swaying with a dizzy blur, the dull ringing in his skull growing louder with every heartbeat.
The scent of ash and blood lingered thick in the air. The cold rubble beneath him pressed against his back, yet a darker cold sat in front of him. When his gaze finally adjusted, he saw Raizen.
The boy sat cross-legged in the center of the wreckage like a monarch of carnage, arms resting on his knees, bloodied hands calm,
his breath barely visible in the smoke-riddled air. He stared at Rossain with a calm that was far more terrifying than rage.
Raizen's hair—once silver—was now dyed with streaks of ashen black, matted to his forehead, and his eyes, a gleaming,
haunting crimson. His skin glowed faintly in the flickering embers around them, and his face was devoid of emotion. No twitch of fury. No trace of mercy. Just a suffocating stillness.
"Why did you kill them?"
The voice was low. Controlled. But it crawled through Rossain's skin like icy poison. Each syllable dropped like a hammer blow, carrying the weight of something far older and colder than the boy's years.
Rossain's throat tightened. The pain in his head wasn't helping, nor the sharp ache in his shoulder. "I-I didn't mean to!"
A hand moved.
A blur.
The crack of a strike echoed through the chamber. Rossain's head snapped to the side, pain blooming like fire across his face. He collapsed into the rubble again, lips split and blood trickling down his chin.
Raizen stood over him.
"You... expect me to believe that?"
Rossain wheezed, one hand gripping his side. "Th-the shard," he croaked, "it demands sacrifices! It was the only way to stabilize the mana. You don't understand—"
A solid kick slammed into his ribs, air exploding from his lungs. His body rolled across the debris like a discarded doll. Coughing violently, he tasted metal.
Raizen walked forward, boots crunching over broken glass and bone, like death incarnate. "The only way, huh? So you're saying you'll even murder innocents if it aids your cause."
Rossain trembled. He raised a hand in protest, his mouth moving before his brain could catch up. "Th-their deaths weren't for nothing! The shard is almost fully awakened! I just need more time—"
Raizen crouched, his fingers twisting Rossain's collar as he hauled him up just enough to stare into his soul. "Even if you had sacrificed every soul in this estate... I might've let you live. Might've. But not them."
He let Rossain drop, his head hitting the rubble with a dull thud.
A silence stretched.
It wasn't the silence of peace—it was the silence before a storm, of something ancient and terrible holding its breath.
Then something shifted.
The shard embedded in Rossain's chest began to glow, veins of crimson light slithering outward from it.
It pulsed like a second heart, wild and unstable. Rossain screamed, his body seizing as the shard tore itself free with a sickening sound, floating into the air like a parasite tasting freedom.
It hovered, dripping with blood, trembling.
Then it darted.
Straight into Raizen's chest.
Raizen gasped, staggering back, the crystal vanishing beneath his skin. Red light traced through his veins, racing across his body before vanishing. He stood still. Cold. Silent.
Rossain stared in horror. "It... chose you? But that means—"
His voice broke into nonsense. Curses. Ancient syllables. Forbidden names that should never be spoken aloud. A sound not made for human tongues.
Raizen's eyes blazed.
He didn't hear the name.
He saw red.
His fist moved before his mind did.
Bones crunched. Rossain choked, a gargled sound that ended too abruptly. His neck contorted unnaturally as his body slumped back into the debris, lifeless.
Silence again.
But now, it was final.
Raizen stood in the center of the wreckage, hands trembling—not from fear, but restraint. His chest heaved. His eyes remained locked on the corpse as if expecting it to rise again. The veins on his arm still glowed faintly, as if resisting the shard's influence.
The first droplet of rain tapped against his cheek.
Then came the storm.
Rain fell violently, drenching everything in seconds. Thunder cracked overhead as if the heavens themselves cried out. The manor—once the pride of House Helios—now stood in crumbling ruin. Walls shattered, floors split, ceilings caved in.
The rain washed over corpses. Over shattered paintings and blood-stained marble. Over the bodies of maids and guards caught in the crossfire. Over the broken remnants of a life that would never return.
Ryan's shouts echoed through a crumbling hallway.
"Sylvia! Stay awake!"
The young girl, barely conscious, whimpered in his arms. Her dress was soaked. Her arm bruised. Ryan clutched her tighter, shielding her from falling debris as he sprinted down the eastern corridor. A beam collapsed behind him, slamming into the floor where they had just been. Fire licked the edges of the manor from magical backlash.
Servants screamed. Some were running. Others frozen in place. Chaos reigned. No one knew what had happened—only that something had broken.
Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the estate in flickers.
Some fled through the gardens. Others hid in cellars that wouldn't save them. A few watched from the village below as the sky above Helios darkened unnaturally.
Raizen walked forward, emerging from the ruin like a phantom.
His robe—once white—was now soaked and stained with crimson patches. His hair clung to his face.
His eyes, no longer human, held a light that even the gods would question.
He didn't look back.
He didn't need to.
Behind him, the ruin smoldered. The echoes of Rossain's crimes, of the shard's madness, of his own restraint breaking—now all silent. All ash.
He stepped out into the courtyard. A servant saw a blur and froze, there was nothing there mouth open but no words coming out.
Raizen walked past.
Not a single soul to his world spoke.
The storm howled louder.
When dawn broke, all that remained of the once-glorious Helios Manor was a shattered silhouette on a broken hill.
No explanation.
No survivor willing to speak.
Something is in motion.