The Giant had fallen.
Its enormous body lay motionless beside the lake, surrounded by the remnants of the battlefield. Dark blood flowed from its wounds, mixing with the soil and slowly turning the ground black.
For several moments, nobody moved.
The soldiers were too exhausted to celebrate.
They had spent everything they had against the creature.
Yet what frightened them most was not the Giant's death.
It was the question of who had killed it.
The dark mist that had surrounded the Giant still covered the battlefield. It moved slowly, crawling across the ground like a living thing.
Lucian stood beside Irene, his sword still in his hand.
"Who is that?"
No one answered.
A silhouette emerged from the mist.
A man.
He walked calmly through the darkness, his footsteps making almost no sound.
The soldiers raised their weapons.
Lucian's Light Mana began gathering around his sword.
Irene stared at the approaching figure.
Something about him...
Something about the way he walked...
The way he carried himself...
It felt familiar.
The man continued forward.
The mist gradually faded from around him.
His face became visible.
Irene froze.
Her sword slipped slightly from her hand.
Her eyes widened.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe.
"No..."
The man stopped.
He looked at her.
And then he smiled faintly.
"Irene."
Her entire body trembled.
There was no mistaking that voice.
No matter how much time had passed, she could never forget it.
"Henry...?"
The battlefield disappeared from her mind.
The soldiers disappeared.
The Giant disappeared.
There was only the man standing before her.
A man she had mourned.
A man she had buried in her heart six years ago.
A man she had believed she would never see again.
Henry Tecka.
Alive.
Irene took a hesitant step forward.
"Henry..."
Her voice broke.
Henry walked toward her.
He looked different.
Far different.
His face was covered by a thick, unkempt beard. His hair had grown longer, and his body appeared stronger than before.
But it was his eyes that disturbed Irene the most.
They were still Henry's eyes.
Yet something had changed within them.
They were calmer.
Colder.
There was a seriousness in them that had never existed before.
Irene reached him.
For a moment, she simply stared.
Then she struck his chest with her fist.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
"You..."
Her voice trembled.
"You..."
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"You were supposed to be dead!"
Henry said nothing.
Irene grabbed his clothes.
"Six years!"
Her voice finally broke.
"Six years, Henry!"
Henry slowly raised his left hand.
Irene froze again.
The mechanical arm was gone.
The bionic arm that Henry had designed and built himself—the arm that had become one of the symbols of his research—was nowhere to be seen.
Instead...
There was flesh.
A completely new left hand.
It looked perfectly natural.
Henry gently placed it against Irene's shoulder.
"I am sorry."
Those three words were enough.
Irene buried her face against his chest.
For the first time in years, she cried without holding anything back.
Henry stood silently.
His hand rested against her back.
But even during their reunion, there was something strange about him.
He didn't cry.
He didn't tremble.
He simply stood there.
As though returning from death was nothing extraordinary.
The Return of Henry Tecka
News of Henry's return reached the capital within days.
The reaction was immediate.
King Mark refused to believe the first report.
"Say that again."
The messenger repeated it.
"Lord Henry Tecka has returned from the northern battlefield."
Mark stood from his throne.
"Henry..."
A smile spread across his face.
His oldest friend was alive.
The man whom everyone had mourned had returned.
Mark immediately sent an invitation.
He wanted Henry to return to the capital.
The nobles wanted to see him.
The royal family wanted answers.
And more importantly, William needed his father.
But Henry refused.
His response was simple.
"I will return when the continent is free from Demonic Energy."
Mark stared at the letter for a long time.
"Still the same stubborn man..."
But deep down, Mark knew.
He wasn't.
The Henry he remembered would have complained about the journey, argued with his friends, spoken endlessly about his inventions and probably dragged half the royal engineers into another experiment.
This Henry was different.
There was no excitement.
No jokes.
No curiosity.
Only purpose.
Demons first.
The Questions Nobody Could Answer
Everyone wanted to know what had happened.
How had Henry survived the destruction of the Manan Manor?
How had he escaped?
Where had he been for six years?
How had he grown back his lost arm?
Why could he manipulate Demonic Energy?
And most importantly...
Was he truly still the same Henry Tecka?
Henry answered none of them.
Not even Irene.
Whenever she asked, he remained silent.
"I thought you were dead."
"I know."
"I saw the crater."
"I know."
"There was nothing left."
Henry looked toward the horizon.
"There was."
Irene stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
Henry didn't answer.
He simply walked away.
The Father and Son
William was waiting.
He had spent years imagining the day his father would return.
He wanted to run toward him.
He wanted to ask him where he had been.
He wanted to show him everything he had learned.
But Henry refused to meet him.
"I have matters to deal with."
Irene looked at him in disbelief.
"Henry, he's your son."
"I know."
"Then see him."
Henry remained silent.
"Later."
William never heard those words directly.
But he understood.
His father had returned.
Yet his father was still somewhere far away.
Irene didn't know what to think.
The old Henry would never have done this.
Something had happened during those six years.
Something terrible.
Something Henry wasn't ready to reveal.
The Secret Within His Hand
That night, Irene finally asked him about the Giant.
They sat together away from the soldiers.
The moon reflected against the lake.
"You were the one who attacked the Giant."
Henry didn't deny it.
"What was that energy?"
Silence.
"Henry."
He slowly raised his left hand.
Irene watched.
Dark energy began to emerge from his palm.
Her expression changed instantly.
"Demonic Energy..."
The energy curled around his fingers.
It didn't consume him.
It didn't corrupt him.
It obeyed him.
Irene stood up.
"How?"
Henry closed his hand.
The Demonic Energy disappeared.
"I learned."
"Learned?"
"To control it."
Irene stared at him.
"You shouldn't be able to."
Henry looked at her.
"I know."
That answer frightened her more than anything else.
He had learned to control the very force that had destroyed kingdoms.
The very energy that had corrupted countless people.
The very power they had spent years trying to understand.
And Henry controlled it as naturally as he once controlled his machines.
But he gave no explanation.
The March
The following morning, Henry took command.
Nobody questioned him.
The soldiers remembered the stories.
Henry Tecka had once been one of the greatest minds of the continent.
He had created machines that changed warfare.
He had fought in the previous war.
And now he had returned from the dead.
If Henry wanted to march...
They would march.
At dawn, the army moved.
The forest ahead had changed.
The Giant's presence had increased the concentration of Demonic Energy.
Creatures that had once hidden deep within the forest now emerged in enormous numbers.
Demonic Beasts crawled from beneath the soil.
Winged creatures flew between the dead trees.
Large beasts roared from the darkness.
The army prepared to fight.
Henry stepped forward.
Dark energy began gathering around his left hand.
The soldiers watched.
The energy compressed.
It twisted.
Metal-like structures began forming from the darkness.
Within seconds, a mechanical horse stood before him.
Its body appeared to be forged from black metal and condensed Demonic Energy.
Its eyes glowed faintly.
Henry climbed onto it.
Then he looked toward the forest.
"Move."
The army marched.
Then it became a charge.
A Different Kind of Warrior
Lucian watched Henry from behind.
He had heard countless stories about him.
The brilliant engineer.
The man who had sacrificed himself at the Manan Manor.
The father who had supposedly died protecting his people.
But this wasn't the Henry he had imagined.
Henry rode directly into the horde.
A wave of Demonic Energy erupted from his hand.
SHOOOOM!
A dark blade formed.
He swung it once.
An entire group of Demonic Beasts was cut apart.
Another wave of energy formed around him.
It became several spears.
They shot forward.
More beasts fell.
Henry didn't stop.
He wasn't fighting like a soldier.
He wasn't fighting like a knight.
He was using Demonic Energy itself as a weapon.
Lucian watched in silence.
The same power that had nearly killed him as a child was now being wielded by the man who had once saved him.
And Henry seemed completely unaffected.
The Open Ground
The army continued deeper into the forest.
Henry moved faster than anyone else.
He seemed to know where he was going.
He never stopped to consult the maps.
Never asked for directions.
Never waited for scouts.
It was as though he had travelled through this forest countless times before.
By evening, the army finally reached an enormous clearing.
"Camp here," Henry ordered.
The soldiers immediately began setting up tents.
They were exhausted.
They had travelled farther in a single day than they normally would have managed in several.
But Henry didn't appear tired.
He stood alone at the edge of the camp, looking west.
Then he turned.
The Ruins by the Sea
Night had fallen.
The soldiers were tired.
Henry walked alone in secret.
He left the bounds of the camp and into the forest.
He travelled west through the forest.
Past the ruined trees.
Past the old battlefield.
Until he reached the coast.
The sea stretched endlessly before him.
Waves crashed against the shore.
But Henry wasn't looking at the ocean.
He was looking at something hidden among the rocks.
Ruins.
Ancient ruins.
Most of the structure had collapsed long ago.
Yet one stone doorway remained intact.
Henry walked toward it.
He stopped before the entrance.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then he reached toward the door.
His hand touched the stone.
Click.
Something moved.
The ancient mechanism recognized him.
The door slowly opened.
Henry stepped inside.
The darkness swallowed him.
The door closed behind him.
Six Years
No one knew what happened to Henry after the destruction of the Manan Manor.
No one knew how he survived.
No one knew where he had gone.
No one knew who had taught him to control Demonic Energy.
And no one knew why he seemed to recognize places he had never told anyone about.
But perhaps the most terrifying question was something else.
Was the man who returned truly Henry Tecka?
Or had something else returned from the ruins of the Manan Manor?
The answers were hidden somewhere within those six missing years.
And Henry had no intention of revealing them.
Not yet.