"Oh." Scar managed only that much. For a fleeting moment, he fell silent as painful memories resurfaced.
Eight years ago... it was the day when one pretender encountered another.
"Hahaha. Burn. Burn. BURN!"
Lost in a manic frenzy, Scar unleashed hellfire without restraint as one of the Information Guild's bases fell under a sudden ambush by the Fractsidus.
"¡Vaya, vaya! What do we have here?"
After nearly destroying the interior of the Guild, the Fractsidus operatives noticed a man standing calmly at the exit.
His voice rang out with sardonic amusement. "I believe the Information Guild doesn't hire clowns. What's going on here?"
The man glanced around casually. Taking in the carnage, he gave a small nod and said, "Ah. So you're the enemies."
The instant the man finished speaking, nine blades were already looming over him.
PULL — SNAP —
In the very next heartbeat, five streaks of silver cleaved through the air, and the nine melee assailants were ripped apart, their bodies severed before they could even comprehend what had transpired.
Sakuryu Arts: Five Petals.
"???"
They had encircled him completely, yet the moment he invoked the technique, it felt as though the five petals of a sakura blossom had been torn away from their center, as five parabolic slashes shot outward, leaving only the man who remained at the core.
"Well, I believe I should eradicate a common foe. After all, the Ghost Hounds and the Information Guild have rather deep roots intertwined with one another."
The man leisurely flicked his blade, and a crimson arc hissed from its edge, streaking across the air before carving a thin line along the floor.
"The Iron Hound of the Ghost Hounds, Kurian, will be annihilating the savages present here." Kurian's voice carried evenly as bullets, knives, and raging flames hurtled toward him like bolts of lightning.
However, responding with calm precision, Kurian merely cast them a passing glance before charging straight ahead.
Accelerating in an instant, he increased the mass of his weapon and propelled himself forward, riding the force of his dash and the weapon's weight.
The Mandate: Degeneracy
He narrowly weaved through the barrage aimed at him, slipping past each attack by a breath.
Sakuryu Arts: Tidebreaking Carp.
PLUNGE — SPLATTER
Kurian targeted the nearest foe and dispatched him in an instant.
What followed was a cascade of metallic reverberations — clang, clang, clang — flowing in seamless succession like a river born from glacial melt under the blistering heat of summer, rushing down to the fields of reeds to herald the coming of spring.
His blade moved in a serpentine rhythm, a faint vapor trail lingering in its wake.
Sakuryu Arts: Herald of Spring.
Each swing alone generated violent shockwaves, the force spilling outward and inflicting collateral damage to any unfortunate soul caught within the radius of its deadly grace.
Though many of the Fractsidus still stood, they now understood with chilling clarity that they were in grave danger.
Scar's gaze fixed on Kurian, and something within his memory clicked into place. "Ah… You're the one Christoforo once tormented."
"Hm. Since you can speak his name so casually, I presume you're an Overseer as well. And from that flamboyant getup of yours, you must be the manic Scar." Kurian guessed.
"The one and only." Scar offered a theatrical bow.
But Kurian didn't respond so politely; he had already closed the distance, his blade mid-swing.
Scar sneered as the ground beneath Kurian seemed to give way — not collapsing, but splitting open to reveal a void leading to another dimension beneath his feet.
Yet, the next instant — SHATTER—
"What?!" The dimension didn't just fail; it detonated. The sound of a thousand mirrors breaking echoed as Kurian's boot found solid ground where there should have been a void.
The Decree: Phase Shift
His blade arced toward Scar's neck in a precise, asymptotic curve. Scar leapt back. "Close one."
Kurian merely smirked. "Really?"
PLOP — THUD.
One of Scar's arms dropped to the ground, severed cleanly, and the next moment — SPLATTER — blood gushed from a deep cut carved across his neck.
"I believe my attack should have taken your arm and your head," Kurian remarked coolly, before his eyes narrowed. "Your body isn't normal, is it?"
"Tch!" Snapping out from his reminiscence, Scar addressed Rover, "It would be better if you do not get involved with that monster."
"Says the monster who destroyed this village." Rover shot back, her voice sharp.
Scar let out a low, incredulous laugh, something brittle flickering beneath it. "Monster?" His smile twisted, but it did not quite reach his eyes.
"Such a simpleton you are. 'Oh, I am a bad guy, so I am the one responsible for anything bad.'" He spat the words out, mimicking her tone with biting mockery, though there was something wounded in the way his jaw tightened. "Is that how your world works? Find a villain and hang every sin around his neck?"
"…" Rover remained silent.
She knew she had already tested her luck. The only reason Scar had remained restrained, had not so much as grazed Yangyang, was because he still had a purpose tied to her.
If he abandoned that objective, if his temper shifted even slightly, Rover knew exactly how catastrophic that would be.
And truthfully, she had provoked him on purpose. It was a calculated move, an attempt to establish some measure of authority in this unstable exchange.
Still, there was a fine line between assertion and recklessness, and she had no desire to discover where it ended.
Turning away from him, she surveyed the village. The wind stirred debris across the empty streets. Torn pages lay scattered along the ground, their edges frayed, ink smudged but still legible.
Words of prejudice and hatred had been scrawled across the walls, accusations layered over old paint like scars upon scars.
Scar's voice followed her, quieter now, but heavier.
"Let me tell you a story," he said, stepping closer. "About lambs and a shepherd."
His gaze drifted over the ruins as if he were seeing something far beyond them.
"The lambs were weak," he continued. "Ordinary creatures, always trembling, always afraid. Wolves circled them, and they spent their days praying not to be the next one taken."
He let out a soft, humorless chuckle.
"Then came the shepherd. He promised them protection. Safety. Abundance. And they were so desperate, so hungry for relief, that they handed him everything. Their freedom. Their choices. Their trust." His fingers curled slowly at his side. "He started as their guardian… and they raised him into a god."
Rover's eyes flicked to another torn page. Ink described blessings granted, fields flourishing, predators vanishing.
"They got what they wished for," Scar went on, his voice tightening. "But nothing is free. Not power. Not prosperity. The shepherd gave them comfort, yes… but always at a cost." His gaze sharpened. "A lamb here. A lamb there. Quiet sacrifices no one wanted to notice."
He stepped closer to the writing on the wall, brushing his fingers over the faded script.
"Except one."
His voice lowered.
"A black lamb. It watched the flock grow smaller. It counted what others refused to count. And it dared to ask why."
Silence stretched between them.
"And do you know what they called it?" His lips curved, but the expression was pained. "A monster."
The word lingered, thick and bitter.
"They said it threatened their peace. Their security. Their faith. So they drove it out." His eyes burned now, something raw flickering behind the composure. "Better to exile the question than confront the truth. Better to blame the dissenter than admit the price of comfort."
Rover felt the weight of his stare.
"You think equality just exists?" Scar asked quietly.
"You think people won't let someone else bleed if it means they can sleep peacefully? Ha!" His laugh was hollow. "Authority survives on fear and desire. Give them something to be afraid of, something to crave, and they will kneel willingly."
He turned away from the wall, facing her fully.
"So when you call me a monster," he said, voice steady but edged with something far more fragile than anger, "understand what you are really defending."
His gaze did not waver.
"The black lamb was not the demon," he murmured. "The system was. The faith that kept the shepherd on his throne was."
A faint smile returned, though it carried no warmth. "But it is always easier to blame the one who speaks than the ones who listen."
"Now then…" Scar finally asked, his tone almost playful. "Since I have told you my tale, who was the real culprit behind the diminishing number of lambs?"
Rover paused.
For a moment, she truly considered the question. The shepherd? The flock? The black lamb?
But then a different thought surfaced: 'Wasn't the question itself flawed?'
Yangyang was trapped somewhere, and yet Scar stood here weaving parables about betrayal and sacrifice. Why frame it as a search for a culprit at all? Why must there always be someone to condemn?
Suddenly, she recalled what Kurian had told her the day before: "A person who doubts even the smallest of things will never find peace."
At the time, she thought he spoke of caution. Of vigilance. But now it felt different, as though he had been speaking of faith.
'Did he know this moment would come?' She wondered.
Yet, the thought felt absurd.
Since when had faith become so fragile that a single whisper of suspicion could shatter it? Since when did trust bend so easily beneath prejudice?
"Let me apologize to you," Rover said at last, her voice steady despite the tension coiling between them. She met Scar's gaze without flinching. "I was indeed harsh in labeling you a villain out of prejudice. You aren't one, but instead a preacher."
"???"
Scar's brows drew together, surprise flashing across his features, but she did not give him time to speak.
Her arm lifted, finger pointing directly at him, accusation sharp as steel. "The real culprit of this tragedy... is you, who preach this tale that slanders faith."
A faint breath escaped her, almost contemplative. "Though it is a compelling tale."
In the same motion, she drew her blade. The metal rang as it left its sheath, catching the light before she lunged forward, challenging him head-on. "Since when did faith become so fragile that it turned into a brood hive of suspicion?"
The blade and the card collided with a sharp, reverberating clang, sparks bursting between them, as they pushed against one another, neither yielding.
Rover held his gaze through the clash, her voice cutting through the strain. "Love can never be evoked without faith. And in a world where love does not exist, how can equality be there?"
To be continued...
***
A/N: I am sorry to all the readers, as this is a very serious announcement. I apologize if this fanfiction may not turn out to be as good as expected.
Somehow, I have envisioned an answer to the ambivalence I have always felt, and in doing so, I have managed to conjure a story that may finally allow me to say the things I have long wanted to express aloud.
I am sorry for this message, and I am not even sure whether writing it is a good idea.
However, this fanfiction may not meet everyone's expectations, as I am saving my energy and courage for that original fiction I truly wish to create — the voice I want people to hear.
I apologize for any inconvenience. I may sound like a madman, but perhaps it is that very madness that led me to a conclusion which finally settled the dispute within my heart.
I will finish this fanfiction in about seven months at most. I will also be taking a short hiatus to focus on my upcoming exams.
After that, I will pour my sincerity into this work — striving to orchestrate, articulate, and depict the story I have envisioned for this fic.
Once again, I hope readers will understand.
Thank you.