Rhyver stepped out of the main gate of the city hall, his imposing figure framed by the grandeur of the massive gray mansion behind him. The building was flanked by a sprawling garden, with two large fountains on either side, their water glistening under the moonlight. Rhyver's black military-style uniform, adorned with gold accents, caught the light as he moved. The uniform was meticulously crafted: a peaked cap with gold embroidery and an emblem, a double-breasted coat with gleaming gold buttons, epaulettes with tassels, and intricate decorative trim. Medals and ribbons adorned his chest, and a belt with a gold buckle completed the formal look. A draped fabric over his shoulders added an air of authority.
"I can't believe they made me wear this..." Rhyver thought, his expression one of annoyance as he descended the steps. "It's been a long time since I've had to put on this ridiculous uniform." His sharp eyes scanned the area, landing on the gates where five demon soldiers stood waiting. They were dressed in standard black military outfits, their posture stiff and respectful. Behind them, the dragons loomed, their massive forms silent and still.
As Rhyver approached, the soldiers bowed deeply, their voices ringing out in unison. "General!" they called, their tones filled with reverence.
Rhyver barely acknowledged them, his red eyes filled with simmering anger as he continued toward the dragons. His steps were heavy, each one echoing his frustration.
One of the soldiers leaned toward the man beside him, his voice a hushed whisper. "General Rhyver isn't having the best day, it seems," he said, his hand covering his mouth to muffle his words.
"Well, he has his reasons," replied the second soldier, his tone matter-of-fact. "General Rhyver is a beast who's always hungry for a fight, especially if his opponent is strong."
A third soldier joined the conversation, his voice low but eager. "I heard he once requested a spar against Kajin, but the king refused," he muttered, his eyes darting toward Rhyver.
The fourth soldier chimed in, his tone laced with irony. "The king must've been scared Rhyver would've torn that slave apart."
Finally, the fifth soldier crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Rhyver as he spoke. "General Rhyver isn't someone to be messed with," he said, his voice carrying a note of caution. "A lot of Darkvillians think he's a weak general because he doesn't contribute much in battles, but that's just bullshit." He paused, his eyes widening slightly as he continued. "The reason Rhyver doesn't fight is simple, he's too ruthless to handle."
The other soldiers fell silent, their attention fully on him now. "My father was one of Rhyver's commanders during the war against the rebellion," the soldier explained. "He saw firsthand what Rhyver is capable of. Single-handedly, Rhyver slaughtered almost half of the human army we were fighting. He did things so brutal that the other kingdoms consider him a war criminal. To avoid tarnishing Darkvill's image, the king heavily restricted him from participating in battles and turned him into more of a figurehead, like General Othid."
Rhyver turned his head sharply, his piercing gaze landing on the five soldiers. "Stop talking and prepare the dragons already," he said, his voice cold and commanding, cutting through the air like a blade.
The soldiers flinched at his tone, their bodies stiffening momentarily before they nodded in unison. Without another word, they hurried toward the dragons, their movements quick and efficient. Rhyver watched them for a moment, his fists clenched so tightly that his claws dug into his palms. His body trembled slightly, a barely noticeable shake that betrayed the storm raging within him.
"Ugh... I can't keep going like this," Rhyver thought, his mind a whirlwind of frustration and pent-up energy. "It's been so long since I've had a real fight." He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as he tried to suppress the primal instincts bubbling beneath the surface. "My instincts... I can't ignore them forever."
Suddenly, his claws began to extend slightly, their sharp tips glinting in the dim light. His fur bristled, standing on end as if electrified. "Agh..." he muttered under his breath, his hand rising to cover his face. "I'm losing myself..."
With a deep, shuddering breath, Rhyver forced himself to regain control. He lowered his hand, his eyes snapping open. But something was different. His red eyes glowed more intensely than before, their usual sharpness replaced by a predatory gleam. His pupils were thin and focused, like those of a beast ready to pounce.
The first soldier, approached cautiously. "General, everything is—" he began, but his words caught in his throat as he saw Rhyver's face. The soldier froze, his own face paling as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. "U-u-uh... t-the dragons... are r-ready, General!" he stammered, his voice trembling.
Rhyver didn't respond. Instead, he walked past the soldier, his movements slow and deliberate. The atmosphere around him shifted, growing heavier and darker, as if the air itself was recoiling from his presence. The soldier stood rooted to the spot, his heart pounding as he watched Rhyver's retreating figure.
"That... wasn't the General," the soldier muttered, his voice barely audible. His face was a mask of shock and fear. "That was... a bloodthirsty beast."
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor as Kajin sprinted, his breath ragged but controlled. His sharp eyes, though focused, betrayed a flicker of unease, a disturbance that lingered just beneath the surface of his determined gaze. "5th..." he thought, his mind racing as he dashed past the 5th section. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat urging him to move faster.
The groans and muffled cries from the cells lining the walls seemed to grow louder, clawing at the edges of his consciousness. Kajin clenched his teeth, forcing himself to block out the haunting sounds as he entered the next section. "6th..." The flickering lights above him cast erratic shadows, their intermittent glow making the corridor feel like a living, breathing entity. The metallic clangs of distant doors and chains reverberated around him, each sound amplifying the tension in the air.
"7th..." Kajin's grip tightened around the potion in his hand, his knuckles whitening as the liquid inside sloshed violently with every stride. His jaw clenched, his resolve hardening as he pushed himself to move even faster. "8th..." The corridor seemed endless, but Kajin refused to slow down. His legs burned, his lungs ached, but the thought of failure was far more unbearable.
Finally, Kajin skidded to a halt, his shoulders slumping momentarily as he faced the cold, unyielding metal wall at the end of the corridor. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling as he steadied himself. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned to his left, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon the final stretch. "9th..." he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible but laced with determination.
Without hesitation, Kajin surged forward with incredible speed, his body moving as if propelled by sheer willpower. The potion in his hand seemed to glow faintly. Every fiber of his being was focused on the task ahead, his emotions a turbulent mix of fear, urgency, and unwavering resolve.
As Kajin raced past the endless rows of cells, his eyes caught glimpses of the people trapped inside. They wore simple, threadbare white clothes, torn and stained, hanging loosely on their emaciated frames. Some lay motionless on the cold, hard floor, their bodies curled into themselves for warmth. Others sat listlessly, their eyes hollow and unfocused. A few wept silently, their tears carving tracks through the dirt on their faces, while others screamed in agony, their voices raw and desperate. Some were shackled by chains around their ankles, their movements restricted even within their cramped confines.
"These cells..." Kajin thought, his heart heavy with sorrow and anger. "Most of them don't even have the basic necessities a person needs to survive." The stench of filth, sweat, and decay hung thick in the air, a grim reminder of the suffering that permeated every corner of this place.
As he reached the middle section of cells, Kajin's body came to an abrupt halt, his eyes locking onto a small figure huddled in one of the cells. His breath caught in his throat, and his body trembled with a mix of shock, anger, and disbelief. "A child..." he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. He approached the cell slowly, his steps heavy with dread.
Inside the cell, a little girl lay on the cold floor, her light blue hair splayed around her like a fragile halo. Her delicate face was scrunched in discomfort, her tiny body shivering violently as she curled into a ball, trying to shield herself from the biting cold. Kajin stood frozen for a moment, putting the potion in his pocket he gripped the metal bars of the cell so tightly that they began to bend under the pressure. "She's no older than six..." he thought, his chest tightening with a mix of rage and sorrow. "Yet no mercy was shown to her."
With a low growl, Kajin ripped the bars apart, the metal screeching as it gave way. He stepped into the cell and knelt beside the girl, his movements gentle despite the storm of emotions raging within him. Placing a hand on her back, he summoned a soft red glow that enveloped her small frame. "This will keep you warm," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
He opened his wrist bag and pulled out an apple, placing it carefully beside the girl. For a moment, he simply stared at her, his mind flooded with memories of his own past, nights spent shivering on cold floors, of hunger gnawing at his insides, of the helplessness that had once consumed him. He shook his head, forcing the memories away as he stood up and leaped out of the cell, resuming his desperate run.
"That girl... she's just like me." he thought, his heart aching with a mix of empathy and determination.
Kajin ran and ran, the endless rows of cells feeling like a form of mental torture. The cries, the groans, the sight of suffering, it all pressed down on him, threatening to overwhelm his senses. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the voices and the heartbreaking scenes around him. But when he opened his eyes again, his tired gaze was met with a sight that stopped him in his tracks.
The world seemed to freeze, the colors draining away into a stark black-and-white tableau. Kajin's breath hitched, his heart pounding as his eyes locked onto a figure at the end of the 9th section's corridor. A girl was chained from head to toe, her body suspended in a kneeling position, her arms stretched out by the chains hanging from the ceiling. Her head hung low, her long black hair obscuring her face. Blood dripped steadily from her, pooling on the floor beneath her with a soft, rhythmic plink that echoed in Kajin's ears.
For a moment, Kajin was completely zoned out, his entire being focused on her. His white eyes flickered with a faint red glow, a sign of the emotions surging within him. "It's you...?" he thought, his mind reeling.
In the blink of an eye, Kajin was on his feet, rushing toward the cell with a speed born of desperation. "Familiar mana..." he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling as he came to a stop in front of the cell. His white eyes now burned a deep crimson red, rage and sorrow consuming him from within. His expression was a storm of emotions, shock, disbelief, anger, relief, and hope all warring for dominance.
"It's her..."
With a single, powerful motion, Kajin grabbed the bars of the cell and tore them apart as if they were made of paper. The sound of metal screeching and snapping echoed through the corridor as he stepped inside, his movements slow and deliberate. He knelt in front of the girl, his hands trembling slightly under the weight of his emotions.
For a long moment, he simply stared at her, his mind racing. "How can I even face you...?" he thought, his voice breaking in his mind. "I've made so many mistakes... I blame myself for what happened that night..." A single tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another, and another. His hands gripped the fabric of his pants tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to find the words.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered, his voice shaky and raw. "I'm sorry that you had to endure all of this suffering." He loosened his grip on his pants and raised his hands, his movements hesitant but filled with tenderness. "There's one thing I want you to know..."
Kajin's hands gently brushed through her hair, his fingertips trembling as they touched her face. He cradled her cheeks, lifting her head slowly, carefully. His expression was a mix of shame, happiness, anticipation, and even fear. As he brushed her hair away from her face, his breath caught in his throat.
Vanessa's face, striking, her features well-defined despite the pain etched into them. Her fair skin was smooth but marred by bloody white bandages wrapped around her eyes, the dark-red stains dripping like tears down her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, full and naturally pink, though dry and cracked from neglect.
Kajin's tears flowed freely now, his composure crumbling as he pulled her into a tight embrace. "I finally found you..." he choked out, his voice breaking as he buried his face in her shoulder. "Vanessa...!"