Dylan and Melissa rested in the crooked branches of an ancient, bone-colored tree, one they had grown used to sharing on long, cursed nights like these. They kept to their old pattern—taking turns sleeping and staying alert, their senses honed by the horrors that haunted the forest. Each shadow seemed to whisper. Every rustle in the leaves sounded like a blade dragging across the ground.
Once their wounds had closed and their breathing steadied, Melissa summoned her Eternal Lantern, its light pulsing like a beating heart. The eerie glow carved a path through the murky dark, casting warped shadows of unseen things.
"We're gonna hunt down some creatures now!" she said with a grin—too cheerful for someone surrounded by such dread.
Dylan gave a quiet nod. "Of course we have to. It's the only way to survive."
Soon after, Melissa summoned another artifact—Dawn of Beast—a silver, flexible blade that shimmered like liquid light. It moved like a ribbon in her grip, yet it could cut through stone, bone, and metal as if they were paper. She had claimed it from a dungeon deep beneath the earth after defeating an entire army of goblins, their twisted bodies now nothing more than stories buried in blood.
Dylan, still silent, kept hiding his power—his body flickering in and out of sight as he struck from the shadows with his vicious, retractable claws. His teleportation had become sharper, faster. His movements blurred between reality and violence.
Together, they hunted ghost-like beasts—large, phantasmal entities that fed on the souls of lesser creatures. The way they moved was unnatural, floating just above the ground, their hollow howls chilling the spine. But they were no match for the two.
For Dylan, it was too easy. His power had surged, and with every movement, he felt the afterburn of the void still lingering in his blood. Melissa didn't notice the intensity behind his eyes—too busy slicing through the soul-devourers, her blade humming with each kill.
After the hunt, they performed a dark ritual on the corpses—an ancient rite passed down by long-dead nomads. It drew out energy from the creatures, granting them strength. Their muscles tensed with new power, their reflexes enhanced to superhuman levels. For a moment, they felt invincible.
They stopped briefly to eat some of the beasts' meat—bitter and pulsing with residual essence, but packed with energy. They needed it. The Red Valley loomed ahead, a cursed stretch of land whispered about in dead languages and spoken of only in warnings. Once they crossed the cracked bridge ahead, they'd be inside its borders. There was no turning back after that.
While chewing, Melissa glanced up at him and spoke in a more serious tone. "Listen, Dylan, carefully. The Red Valley is close. Just past the bridge. A few kilometers, maybe less. We need to move fast, finish this, and get the hell out."
Dylan nodded, silent but alert, raising a thumbs up with a smirk.
Then, out of nowhere, Melissa looked over at him with curiosity and a strange softness.
"Oh Dylan? We were in such a hurry... I never asked. What happened in there? What did you face in the void?"
Dylan tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. His eyes darkened as he remembered.
"Darker than pitch black… darker than death itself. A place where fate gets twisted and turned to ash. But those soldiers—the Sentinels—they were the key. They were once puppets of the void. We found a loophole… hahaha."
Melissa chuckled nervously. "Really? Then why were you laughing like a madman earlier?"
But before she could finish, Dylan's smile dropped like a blade. He stood up slowly, his expression now void of warmth.
"Before I continue… we need to talk about something more serious."
Melissa blinked. "Like what?" she asked, smiling cautiously.
Without another word, Dylan summoned his claws. They shimmered with killing intent. He pointed them directly at her.
"You knew everything. The alien ritual. The void. Pretending to be injured. It was all your setup, you bloody liar."
Melissa's eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. "What? Dylan, no! You're taking this wrong! What has gotten into you? Did your brain get scrambled in the void?!"
Dylan's eyes flared with something demonic, something old.
"So you knew, huh? Funny. Then tell me—how did you know I suffered in the void unless you were watching? Planning? Or maybe… guiding the suffering yourself?"
Melissa stepped back, stunned. "Because it's obvious, Dylan! You know I cared for you. I saved you! I'd never hurt you! You have to believe that—"
But Dylan threw his head back and laughed, a low, monstrous sound.
"Cared for me? Saved me? You think I'm that blind? I knew you were playing a game from the start. I just waited for you to show your real hand."
He stepped closer, claws gleaming under the eternal lantern's glow.
"I'll show you what the real Dylan does when he's betrayed. You should've made sure I didn't come back alive."
Melissa's hands trembled, her blade still at her side.
And for the first time, the forest seemed to fall silent—not from peace, but in awe of what was about to unfold.
The sky above was cracked with crimson lightning, storm clouds swirling like gods watching in silence. The air around Dylan had changed—no longer divine or righteous. It pulsed with something darker, colder, heavier.
"Dylan?" she asked, her voice tight. "What are you doing?"
He turned to her, expression unreadable, gaze empty yet aware. Behind them, the Sentinels shifted, as if waiting for his command.
"You fought beside me," she said. "You survived hell with me. Why are you betraying me now?"
For the first time, Dylan smiled—not out of joy, but recognition. Cruel, sharp, knowing.
"Why?" he echoed. "You still don't get it… Do you really not remember?"
She took a step back, confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Dylan walked forward, each step resonating like a hammer against fate.
"Did you forget me?" he asked, his voice turning icy. "I'm Dylan Daniels. But I didn't forget you, Melissa."
He paused—then let the name fall like a blade.
"No… Alice Harrison."
Her breath caught. Her eyes widened—not in fear, but in realization.
"Alice… Director General of the Crime Branch."
The illusion broke.
She straightened slightly, letting the name settle. Her voice was calm now, different—colder, more calculating.
"Ah," she said, her tone shedding all pretense. "So you knew."
He tilted his head.
"I always knew. The way you spoke. The way you fought. The orders you whispered in your sleep. You tried to mask your scent, your soul, your rage. But I remember."
Her eyes narrowed. "How?"
"That's none of your damn business," Dylan snapped, his tone shifting with fury. "But I'll tell you what is your business: your fate."
He stepped closer. The Sentinels formed a ritual circle around her.
"You would've killed me. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually. Sacrificed me. Just like I did to your family… in my past life."
Her eyes flickered with a dangerous glint. "So you remember that too."
"I remember everything," Dylan hissed. "The fire. The screams. The blood on your brother's hands—and mine. I was a monster. And you were justice."
"But justice," Alice said, no longer Melissa, "has to play the long game."
He nodded. "And I just ended it."
She struggled as the Sentinels grabbed her arms. "So you'll kill me for something I haven't even done yet?"
"No," Dylan said with a venomous grin. "I'm killing you because I know you. Because no matter what role you play, no matter what name you wear, in the end… you're just another executioner waiting for her chance."
She tried to free herself, but the ritual had already begun.
He raised his hand, speaking in the tongue of the void. Symbols lit the ground. Her power—hidden deep inside, power rooted in divine law and order—was being torn from her soul.
She screamed, not in fear, but in defiance.
"You think this makes you strong? You're just repeating history! Becoming the thing you feared!"
Dylan leaned in close as her body writhed in spiritual agony.
"I am the history now."
Her chest burst in a flare of golden energy. Dylan absorbed it, his skin cracking and reforming with glowing sigils. His aura turned from crimson to obsidian laced with gold. His voice deepened, layered with echoes of ancient tongues.
Her body collapsed. Ash. Burned out. Forgotten.
But her soul—the part of Alice that once vowed revenge—drifted silently into the void, whispering a single promise:
"We are never truly gone."
Dylan turned his back to the altar.
The Sentinels bowed again.
A new age had begun.