Chapter 13: Bear The Pain, Memory Retain, Or Be Consumed Where The Dark Reign (3)
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Outside the walls of Black Sand, where forests and paved roads lie, not a day passed without tales of blood and wailing being inscribed.
Far from the conflicts of Black Sand's youth, another story is being told.
Whoosh.
"...The fog is thickening. Worse still, the coming days are rainy."
A bloody fight in the rain, aaah, my heart races, my arms itch to cut!
...Setting aside his questionable thoughts, the presence of rain changes many things, in a very, very bad way.
The sharp-eyed youth stood on a tree branch.
The branch was brittle, to the point one would find themselves surprised it didn't break under the youth's weight.
Blue, flashing eyes with a sharp white slit in the middle, black hair with dark blue edges at the temples, his long hair flowing with the wind.
"The wolf pack is migrating west, and Lucas's village might bear most of the damage. These wolves can jump high; those walls won't work against them. A shortage of troops... not to mention the issue of the White Lake elders."
They are in an unenviable position.
A smile split Dio's face, gripping his sheathed sword.
"Exactly as I wish."
People's faith in heroes grows during the fiercest calamities, and the value of help magnifies in times of hardship.
O people of Black Sand, taste the woes of ruin, soak in the flavor of blood, then I will bring you my cleaving sword, cutting off humiliation and grief from you!
A spark flickered lightly across Dio's body.
"Number 664 wolves. Some are old and will be exiled. Most are normal animals. The problem lies with these fifty..."
There was a pack invisible from this distance, but Dio saw them as if they were before him, the gleam in his eyes shining even in the depths of the rising fog.
Across the horizon where the wolf pack dominated, the young were playing with their parents, and some were licking their wounds.
And atop a somewhat large hill, lay the monsters.
They were undoubtedly wolves, but the small storms forming around them and the green lines across their bodies said otherwise.
These were Howling Wind Wolves.
Humans are creatures with minds and overflowing emotions.
Since they were such, they feared the unknown and the effort coming from discovering it, so they classified things to put their hearts at ease.
In various parts of the world, the worst terror and greatest nightmares—from the terror of the unknown emerged what is meant by monsters.
To reduce the value of that terror, it must be made known.
From here came the classification of monsters, just like for Ego warriors, the Path, Ego, even talent.
They are eight ascending levels.
And everyone gave these levels the title of "Fangs".
for what cuts the prey's throat but the predator's fangs?
Monster levels are the Eight Fangs.
Zero, Animal: A normal person can deal with it using weapons.
A Second Star, Gray Moon warrior can kill one alone after hardship, and in the Third Star can kill five, and so on.
First, Beast: To deal with one beast, a warrior at the peak of the Gray Moon must be present, 2 in the Fourth, 3 in the Second, 5 in the First.
Second, Mutant: Hybrid monsters, often leading packs of animals and beasts.
A Blue Moon warrior, Second Star at least, is needed to deal with it, because the human level is no longer useful; it's a fight of monsters amongst themselves.
Third, Predator: A level capable of annihilating a village alone.
Innate leadership ability, unique capabilities passed down through generations, where a crystalline heart forms in the body, rapid energy regeneration.
It is a monster, and even if multiple Second Moons gather against it, they are incapable, utterly incapable.
Its equal is a moon shining with dusk-colored light, meaning the Third Moon.
Fourth, Calamity: Dragon, giant, colossal octopus, phoenix—those legendary creatures.
Calamities that eradicate races and even cities. Power that shatters what is beneath it, despising what is not itself.
It is a struggle against a Green Moon that ravages the environment like a storm and raging waves.
Their scarcity makes the world fortunate, for if they were numerous, that would undoubtedly be the Calamity.
Fifth, Annihilation: Throw your logic against the wall. Forget your hopes and forget yourself.
No time for screaming, no emotions to feel, no despair to perceive.
It is the annihilation of you all.
You feel no pain, you are incapable of resistance.
An entire nation, an island and all within, will be wiped out in an instant.
Only a Luminous Moon can confront Annihilation—a purple radiance that determines the fates of its subjects.
That is the level of a nation.
The Violet Moon is your only hope of salvation.
The remaining Fangs are only mentioned in legends: Ash, Nightmare.
Precisely in the tales of the first warrior the world witnessed, and even that mention did not do them justice.
"My eyes have seen the Sixth Fang, yet..."
The Sixth Fang has no specific form. It is vast if you say so, it is small if you say so.
Perhaps an island or an entire sky is the Sixth Fang, A sea or mountains.
Ages spanning epochs, Hidden intentions like fog.
Pure destruction, with no impurity within.
A warrior's death from a Sixth Fang attack is an honor beyond which there is no honor.
Ash is Annihilation and Destruction. No strong one is capable against it, nor any mighty.
The White Moon's light is its equal. Moons unheard of who reached them, and no tales of how to attain them.
This is what the tales of the first Ego warrior throughout the ages mentioned—the times of the Moon's Radiance.
"Suffice it to say, a Third Moon calamity was named in honor of the Sixth Fang, namely, the Calamity of Ash Night."
The state of Dio's body now did not hide from him as soon as the memories floated to consciousness.
The sky is red, with eyes containing mouths within it.
Monsters spitting their young from their mouths and bellies.
The smell of blood and vomit announcing itself across the horizon.
The ground is nothing but remnants of rotten flesh from corpses that never tasted the earth, and the roar of ugly sounds that don't leave the sleeper even in dreams.
And hallucinations that accompany a person until their dying day.
He was trembling.
With fear, excitement, terror!
"Haaaaaa ~ hahaha, when will the day come that I cut Ash, kill it, annihilate it, destroy it! What is that feeling? Confronting a calamity that wipes out nations like brushing off scattered dust? Only my sword and my strength, and the resolve for death or victory? Only this makes me tremble!"
Calm down, calm down Dio. Your battles will undoubtedly come as long as you live, so gather the fragments of your self.
"Dio! How many are they?"
Below him was Loki. He drew his swords while observing, pondering.
Should I kill the entire pack instead of wasting my time?
"664. 50 of them are beasts. The pack leader is a mutant. It's a Winged Wolf, can fly for a while and is two and a half meters tall!"
Snapping out of his reverie, Dio shouted to Loki. He had the same thoughts.
Isn't exterminating this pack faster and better than waiting for them?
Then more people won't die needlessly.
That's what the heart says.
"But it won't benefit future plans."
Even if the current tide ends, there are always more. Monsters always exist.
And if neighboring powers notice?
Conflicts will arise over empty forests and resources, leading to forced conscription, food shortages due to monopoly, more work, greater exploitation.
Minor wars lead to major wars.
Leon's group's power was enough to ignite that war, and of course, stop it.
But with greater calamities on the way, this is a foolish act.
What does yielding to the heart's pang now mean?
More innocent deaths.
That's what the mind says.
Listen to your heart sometimes, and at other times, listen to your mind.
This situation calls for sound judgment and a clear heart.
[Although exterminating the monster tide before it happens is beneficial, I have a plan. That plan requires the existence of monsters. Don't kill them, because I intend to use them against White Lake and Red Frost. Moreover, there's a chance to harm the hidden ones while we remain safe.]
[We cannot save everyone, so save those who can be saved. They will be useful in the coming days. So, however much your hearts burn with anger, do not annihilate the monsters. Kill those who bother you, but certainly not the monster packs! You especially, Ragna! Even you, Dio! Don't cause trouble!]
What a complainer.
That's what Leon said, so...
"Don't do anything, Loki! We're here to observe!"
Although he's not the type to ask people for patience, what must be done, will be done.
"I know, I know!"
"Sheath your swords before talking. Learning loyalty won't harm you, you know?"
"Speaking of loyalty, you still owe me 20 Ego stones."
"..."
This scoundrel, five years have passed and he hasn't forgotten that yet?
"What? You're usually talkative, why the silence? Where's my money?"
"Man, times are really tough. We barely have a livelihood, so how can we afford this amount? I know you have a kind heart, buddy, haha, hahaha!"
"..."
Loki didn't know whether to laugh at the joke or cry for his situation.
Just 20 stones, you tyrant?
"...Just give me my money later."
"Don't worry, I'll definitely return the money. Have I ever lied to you?"
"This bastard! Let's stop, just, let's stop. This is bad for my heart. Where are Lloyd and Ragna?"
"They're inspecting nearby villages for survivors. The last thing Lloyd said was that most have become ruins, but the search continues."
Dio sighed in relief because Loki dropped the money issue, then the sparks across his body increased.
"I'll monitor the surrounding areas. You watch those scoundrels over there."
Saying that, he suddenly disappeared with a faint flicker.
No roaring sound, no lingering energy traces, no passing breeze.
"Look at those scoundrels, going with only three people? Perhaps they're expendable pawns. How pitiful."
Sensing the faint energy far away, Loki laughed sarcastically.
He walked away from the place.
There was nothing more to do, so it was time to return.
Towards Black Sand Village.
"Or should I say, my new home?"
Yes, let's return... home.
Ice flowed through his body, cold mist surrounding his feet.
With a simple inhalation, he leaped towards the sky.
Then disappeared.
Three kilometers away among the trees, three people ran through the forest.
White clothes, their movement speed was not ordinary.
They were White Lake scouts.
Warriors diligent in sensing energy, with extensive knowledge of the environment, their senses unparalleled.
They are always on the front lines.
The monster tide includes this entire forest, so patrols are conducted daily to note any changes.
"The situation is stable. No changes from before."
"Since the coming days are undoubtedly rainy, we must prepare for lake flooding. It seems the village chief will work tirelessly..."
Even though they were running non-stop, their regular breaths betrayed no signs of fatigue.
"I hope the calamity passes peacefully... I don't want my wife to live the rest of her days a widow."
"...I'm not used to you being emotional, Marco."
"I'm human, not a doll."
"You're right. Confide your worries to me, for I am a listening ear and an advising tongue, so speak your heart!"
"This rascal really loves to chatter. Very well, I'll tell you this, don't tell others. I plan to have a child after this."
"Congratulations to you. May the child grow up in lasting health and happiness!"
"...Thank you."
"..."
The third among them was silent, observing the surroundings for any unknown footsteps, strange marks on trees, or mismatched sounds.
Everything was fine.
Why don't they focus on work instead of chattering?
That was the first thought.
Because they have something to return to.
That was the second thought.
Unlike me.
That was the final thought.
"...Congratulations in advance. I'm not good at congratulations, but I'll do my best to train the child when they grow up."
He didn't know how to handle crowded environments, but he could at least do this, right?
"..."
"What's with that face?"
Did he say something wrong?
"...No, I'm just, yes, training is good, isn't it good?"
"Indeed! You're the best trainer I know, Henry!"
"Yes, training is good. Lower your voice, Heisen."
"You love ruining my fun, buddy."
"Less talk, more work."
Whoosh!
The three leaped over trees, but their speed didn't decrease.
Movement arts, suitable muscular capability, coordination between mind and body.
Everything was organized.
While they focused on their bodies and the environment, silence fell.
A comfortable silence, in fact.
"Henry."
Marco opened his mouth.
"What?"
"I haven't said this in a while, but..."
"But?"
"I am grateful to you. Others don't realize the purity of your heart, but I am aware of it. My abundant thanks and gratitude, I hope you accept it."
"..."
Henry didn't know what to say, so he remained silent.
"You smiled! That's definitely a smile on your face!"
Heisen widened his eyes and spoke unintentionally.
"So you can show this kind of expression, huh?"
Marco laughed upon noticing Henry's slight smile.
"Quiet."
Henry suddenly stopped at a tree with half-blossomed flowers.
His expression was serious.
The playful expressions vanished from the others' faces.
Before them was a burned village.
Inside it, wolves roamed.
Outside it, hyenas lurked. There were snakes digging underground, awaiting their chance.
And in the sky, crows flew.
Crack!
A wolf swung its claw, and the ribcage of an old man's corpse broke.
Blood flowed, while his eyes appeared hollow, but the remaining terror hadn't extinguished.
The wolf opened its mouth happily, then took a bite.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
It chewed happily, and the other wolves didn't dare approach.
This wolf had a large pack as a First Fang, but after losing to a Second Fang that came suddenly, its pack was taken and its mate and children were killed, and it fled to not lose its life.
In its search, it found a pack of normal wolves, then came to this village to increase its strength.
Seeking revenge.
As if fate smiled upon it, one of these villagers was an Ego warrior at its same level, and an old man at that.
Chew, chew, chew!
It tore the corpse's arm while chewing.
Entrails scattered, blood pooled, but no wailing.
Corpses never scream.
The Ego the old man possessed had already exploded.
He didn't want to leave anything for the wolf, so he destroyed the Ego he had struggled with since his youth.
Remnants of energy in his body slowly faded, their silver color scattering.
An image of an old man formed in the air.
That old man cried, staring at the sky with regret.
Above the silver image was a moon, with two stars revolving around it, the stars' color yellow.
Then the light vanished.
That old man was apparently at the Gray Moon.
What a pity.
While happily eating the old man's corpse, the wolf's tears fell.
Having something that increased its strength made it happy.
But memories of its family refused to fade, so it cried.
Hoooooowwwwwl!
The howl was inevitable; it's the nature of wolves.
The world is harsh. Blood begets blood, killing begets killing.
But we cannot stop living.
"Mommy! Mommy! I'm scared! Daddy!"
The sound of a child's crying awakened the other wolves.
She was running towards her mother's corpse.
But.
Whoosh!
A nearby wolf pounced mercilessly.
"This bastard!"
Heisen wanted to pounce towards them to save the child.
Slap!
He was taken by a sudden slap.
"You scoundrel! What will you do? What can you do? Die uselessly? It's already too late!"
It wasn't Henry.
It was Marco.
Heisen wanted to scream: Heartless!
But he couldn't.
Because Marco, despite his cold words, was crying.
His body trembled with anger, his tears overflowing, feeling helpless.
It was a sad sight for a man who wanted to start a family.
...Heisen almost forgot.
One driven by passing pity causes calamities.
If he attacked the monsters, survival wouldn't be written for him; certain death for him and his team was what remained.
"...I've memorized their forms. I will take revenge, however long it takes."
Henry's cold voice woke the two.
There was nothing they could do.
Because they had a duty.
To their homeland and their people.
A duty to their nation.
However much they wanted, saving the child wasn't possible.
Crossing between predators towards the wolf attacking her and escaping with her against a full pack?
With the strength of the three of them, simply impossible.
Because they were weaker than a pack numbering 40 creatures.
Not to forget the lurking animals.
The wolf dropped the child to the ground.
Then looked at her.
It was extremely hungry.
It hadn't eaten for a week.
The reason it stayed alive was its mother sacrificing herself so it could eat some food she stole from the hyenas.
But her wounded body couldn't endure, so she died, with the food in her mouth, protecting the wolf.
Today, it was time to eat.
Just as humans hunt animals and feed on them.
Just as one doesn't feel pity for an animal's death.
The same applies to the animals themselves.
This wasn't depravity, this wasn't debauchery, and it wasn't injustice either.
This was simply savagery, "justice."
Because the predator wants to live, it will hunt.
Because the prey wants to live, it will flee.
If the prey flees, that is justice.
If the predator hunts, that is justice.
The wolf was exercising its rights as the victor.
The child, unable to escape, her fate was to be eaten.
And this was justice.
"Let me go! I want Mommy! I want Mommy—"
She screamed.
"Waaaah! Mommy! Why did you leave me alone! Where are you, Daddy! Daddy! Waaaaaah!"
She cried.
Snap!
Then a bite in her throat.
"It hurts! It hurts! No! No! Aaaaaaah—!"
Ear-piercing screams came from the child's mouth.
She felt unbearable pain.
Terrifying cold surrounded her.
Then, the light in her eyes faded.
"Daddy...? Hehe... you're here... where's... Mommy?"
The radiance of the smiling father was clear before her.
"Here you are... Mommy... why are you... sleeping alone? Let's sleep... together... with... Daddy..."
Was it the human instinct to escape fear? Or a delusion to forget pain?
With her hollow eyes, she saw her living family before her, while embracing them.
And as a final reaction, she raised her arms.
She embraced the wolf, thinking she was holding her mother.
The wolf's bite tightened, while her windpipe tore.
"Heek... Heeook... Heeeee—"
Blood flowed from her mouth, preventing her words from coming out.
Her hoarse voice sounded like a twisted search for solace.
The feeling of choking cold increased, making her face pale.
Her neck's direction deformed, her eyes became empty of emotion, like a statue.
Bloody tears flowed from her eyes.
Her smiling expression was truly terrifying.
With meaningless lightness, her hands slowly fell.
She had died.
Splash!
Blood gushed onto the wolf, on its face and the rest of its body, then it began eating her without mercy.
It tore her clothes, revealing her stomach, then began pulling out her entrails, chewing happily.
Grief is often cumulative.
If the child had remained hidden, perhaps survival would have been written for her.
But the fear of loneliness made her run towards her only refuge.
Her mother.
This search for safety amidst fear led to her death.
Hooowwll! Hoooooowwwwwll!
While they ate the corpses of young and old, the other wolves howled, in a dirge of sadness with their leader.
Proud of him for sheltering them, happy for finding food, sad for his loss.
"...These animals."
Heisen's anger was boiling.
But there was nothing to be done.
The number of wolves far exceeded them; there was even a Fang among them.
Attacking now was certain death.
So they stood silently.
They closed their eyes in misery.
The wolves' howling escalated.
It was a sad wail for wretched creatures, leaving words scattering like a song.
The dead close their eyes —
Do they savor bitter solitude, or dwell in kinship's guise?
Adrift in the hollow of oblivion, they sleep, eternally still.
But the living burn with bliss, their tears a mournful rill.
And in the midst of pain, they weep, against their will.
The heart's ache does not depart,
So the survivor must strive, with unwavering art.
Until the dawn arrives, and mends the shattered part.
Let yesterday's grief fade, and toward tomorrow's light proceed.
That in its glow, content may plant its seed
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"Everyone is dead."
A cold voice dominated the ruins of the place.
Golden flames surrounded his body, and eyes as calm as the clarity of a lake.
"Ragna, it's not yet time for agitation."
"I am calm."
"What happened has happened. Let us endure a little longer, then we can fight as we wish."
"What's special about that? Getting angry over people already dead is futile. I'm already used to it. Everyone's end is death anyway."
"..."
Lloyd found himself silent.
Although standing still, his mind was immersed in work.
Scattered corpses had their limbs gathered.
Remnants of deformed arms, shattered skulls, broken bones.
Brains painted their colors on faces and soil.
Blood filled the air to mix with the smells of burned houses.
Crushed animal corpses thrown about, adding an overwhelming blackness to the silence.
Limbs of the dead floated in the air by the wind, moving quietly towards the numerous pits.
No proper funeral, no weeping.
A simple burial for fleshless arms, for feet from which nothing remained, for emaciated bodies, with all coldness.
In Lloyd's arms lay a teenage boy, and on his back, a girl.
Although dirt covered them, Lloyd had already healed their wounds.
They were the only survivors.
If not for the father who made himself bait, the two wouldn't have survived.
"That makes the number 15 survivors out of 7 villages. The number is abnormal."
The flames around Ragna's body diminished, while he coldly calculated his next steps.
"It's as Leon predicted 4 years ago in external time, The hands of those bitches have already reached this island, but we don't know to what extent precisely."
Whether they intervened or not, the death of innocents was inevitable.
Their world was a place where, if one doesn't possess strength, they die quickly, suffer easily, are exploited simply.
Even if they saved these people, they wouldn't amount to more than a drop in the ocean.
What about the east of the island? The northern forest? What about the entire world?
Tragedies are normal, and one can only accept that they will happen.
This is the way of life.
Not everyone can be saved.
Only a fool immerses themselves in their solace and delusions to feel purity and that they are without impurity.
That is the greatest hypocrisy a person reaches.
Ragna was not one to immerse himself in his sorrows.
He would step forward, however difficult the path.
This was his unbreakable resolve.
He walked out of the village while Lloyd carried the teenagers behind him.
The predators were already lying in wait.
Grrrr!
The survival instinct was overcome by hunger, leading to an attack instead of flight.
A hyena with blue fur and yellow stripes ran towards Ragna.
Its flowing fur suddenly stood erect, as if it had become a porcupine.
It was a Sleeping Needle Hyena.
Thump!
While pouncing with immense speed, it felt a strange heat surrounding it.
"Nyeeeeh—!"
Before the eyes of its pack members, the hyena burned to death.
Ragna paid no heed to the wretched hyena's scream, then spoke coldly.
"It will be a bloody war, and as the last survivors of the sect, it won't be easy."
Lloyd answered succinctly, his different-colored eyes flashing: "Whether it's easy or not, we are the ones who chose to walk this path, so we must tread it to the end."
Ragna laughed lightly: "You're right."
"Let's go. We've only just begun."
With the end of Lloyd's words, the flames rose in the forest.
Strangely, the grass didn't burn, the trees didn't burn, and the fire didn't spread towards the houses.
"Nyeeeeh!!"
Only resounding screams rose.
All the animals died.
Like the Sleeping Needle Hyena, their deaths were no different.
Walking on the ash of their corpses, an absolute silence dominated the two youths.
A war that stretches from the past to now, It rewrites itself, as fate allows.
The strongest, most dreadful, claim the crown,
And bend the world's laws, to cast it down.
Remnants of a broken creed,
Like pawns upon the world's board they proceed,
To seize a victory they may never own,
In a war where two truths alone have grown:
For the world, since ancient days begun,
Was built on two—and only one has won:
The Victors,
And the Lost.