Inside, the room stretched wide like a forgotten tomb.
One wall was shattered—chunks of stone lay scattered across the floor like fractured memories. No one knew who had broken it, or why. Through the gaping hole, a monstrous, ancient tree stood silhouetted against the dying night. Beneath it…
A Lonely grave.
Flowers have covered the lonely grave, and a long sword is stuck in the ground. A red scarf is tied to the handle of the sword.
An unmarked mound of earth sat beneath the tree's twisted roots. Whose grave it was, what story it held, and why a wall had been reduced to rubble—these questions hung in the silence like ghosts.
And that silence was about to be broken.
The moonlight had already vanished. Dawn crept just beneath the horizon, but darkness still ruled the room.
Five figures loomed in the gloom.
At the center sat Cielo, the cold-eyed leader of the Scythes. He perched on a wooden crate, casually cradling a long, curved knife in his left hand. The blade glinted with faint menace.
In front of him knelt an old man, bound tightly by thick ropes. His long white hair clung to his wrinkled face, and the lab coat he wore had turned brown from dust and blood. His body was frail, barely able to stay upright.
Behind Cielo, three shadows stood like statues. Two of them were the same men who had dragged Raven into this nightmare—the broad, bearded one and the silent giant, both in tailored black suits.
"The pawn is entering," the brown-haired one muttered, his voice as dry as gunpowder.
[Step. Step.]
Raven Morrigon stepped into the ruined room.
The air inside was heavy—thick with rot and something unseen. Ominous energy pulsed through the broken walls, through the dirt-covered floor, and into Raven's bones.
He saw them—the five figures. The leader in the center. The tied-up old man—his mind instantly recognized him. He had been in the same dungeon as Raven at the start of this ordeal.
Now, the man looked like he was one breath away from death.
Behind Raven, the assassin named Sin entered in silence. She stood behind him like a shadow of death, her crimson hair cascading down her back, her Tachi sword still faintly stained.
Then, Cielo finally broke the silence.
"Raven Morrigon," he said calmly, "what do you think… a hero is?"
Raven blinked. Of all the questions, this wasn't one he expected.
"…Someone who saves people. Someone who helps others," he answered hesitantly.
Cielo flipped the knife across his palm with a serene expression.
"And when… does a person become a villain?"
Raven furrowed his brows, confused by the strange conversation.
"…When they hurt others for their own gain. When they cross the line for power."
Cielo looked into his eyes—unblinking, unreadable—and then drove the blade into his own hand.
Blood spilled like crimson paint.
He didn't even flinch.
The knife in his hand began to glow—tainted by his blood, it transformed into something almost supernatural.
Cielo let the blood-dripping blade fall at Raven's feet.
"Then here's your choice, Raven Morrigon," he said, his voice cold.
"Pick up that crimson knife. Drive it into this old man's heart. Save your friends. Be a hero."
Raven's eyes widened. Horror crept into them like ice.
"Wh-what…?"
Cielo's voice was ice.
"Yes. Kill him—and your friends go free. But remember… killing him will also make you a villain."
He stepped closer.
"So, I'll give you a second option."
Raven clenched his fists.
"…What is it?"
Cielo began circling him slowly, like a predator.
"Run. Escape through that broken wall. Take this old man with you. Save yourself… and him.
But abandon your friends to die."
He paused.
"The fate of five lives rests in your hands, Raven Morrigon."
It finally made sense.
"What happens next depends entirely on you."
That's what Cielo had told him before. Now he understood.
"…And what if I don't choose either?" Raven asked.
Behind him, Sin unsheathed her blade in a single whispering motion. The steel kissed his neck.
"Then you all die," Cielo answered flatly.
"Cough… cough…"
The old man was so weak he could barely speak, but he managed a whisper.
"Kill me… boy…"
Raven froze.
Cielo leaned down, picked up the knife again, and held it out to Raven.
"There are two types of heroes in this world," he said softly.
"There's the one the world praises—the shining knight, the symbol of peace. The one who never spills a drop of blood."
He narrowed his eyes.
"And then… there's the other kind. The one they fear. The one they curse."
Raven's lips parted. He was trembling.
"Why?"
Cielo smiled—a cold, melancholic smile.
"Because that kind of hero kills… to protect. That hero makes the sacrifice no one else dares to make."
He took a step forward, voice lowering.
"He is called a monster by the very people he saves. And yet… he does it anyway."
Then, Cielo looked straight into Raven's soul.
"There are two kinds of monsters in this world, Raven.
Those who devour the weak for pleasure… and those who protect the weak from the shadows.
Which one do you want to be?"
The blade gleamed in the dim light.
Raven's breath hitched.
His mind spun.
His friends. The old man. The knife. The monster.
This was the moment that would shape his future. No matter what choice he made, he would never be the same again.
Behind him, Sin watched silently.
The grave under the ancient tree waited outside.
And in Raven's shaking hands, fate trembled.