The silence after the kill was thicker than the blood slowly soaking into the soil.
Rei stood still, blinking. His hands were still relaxed, barely tinged red. The cultists — all four of them — lay twisted, broken, mangled. He hadn't even opened his eyes until it was over. The only signal that they meant harm was the faint flicker of killing intent. His body had moved before he registered it.
No fear. No hesitation. Just instinct.
"...What... just happened?"
His voice was calm, but his heart wasn't. His breathing was steady, but his mind wasn't. He stared down at the broken forms like they were pieces in a puzzle he hadn't known he could solve.
"Did I kill them?" he muttered.
Then something strange happened. Rei smiled.
It wasn't the kind of smile one wears in triumph or cruelty. It was a soft, curious smile — the kind worn by someone who had never seen the sky and suddenly realized it was beautiful.
He looked down at himself.
"Still naked. Damn it."
The first dead man had a decent outfit — dark trousers, black boots, a heavy coat that smelled of dried incense and oil. Nothing fancy, but warm and long enough to cover him. Rei pulled it on with no ceremony, checking the pockets.
To his pleasant surprise: a pouch full of gleaming crimson coins.
"...Oh?"
His grin widened. "Thank you for your donation."
He looted all four, picking the cleanest outfit and tying the coin pouches to his belt. One of them even had a sleek dagger and a worn map.
"Clothes, coins, and a starter kit," Rei muttered, adjusting the sleeves. "I love this world already."
Still, something itched at him.
Not fear. Not guilt. A need to know.
He walked to one of the bodies — the biggest one. It was heavy, armored. Rei crouched, grabbed the body by the ankle, and with a curious flick of the wrist, he tossed it away.
What happened next made the world stand still.
The body vanished from view in an instant — soared into the clouds, higher and higher, a shrinking dot rising toward the edge of the visible sky.
Rei's mouth opened.
"The hell...?"
A faint boom followed, delayed by distance. He wasn't sure if it had hit something — or just broken the sound barrier on the way up.
He stared at his hand like it didn't belong to him.
"This... isn't strength," he whispered. "This is insanity."
He flexed his fingers. There was no surge of energy. No burning aura. No glowing veins or magical runes. Just skin, muscle, and something inside him that no longer obeyed the limits of reality.
"…Instinct," he whispered.
It hadn't been thought or technique. His body had just moved.
Something deep inside him — some Void-born instinct — was active, watching, responding before his conscious mind caught up.
Almost like... a sleeping beast had cracked one eye open.
And now that eye was still watching.