The mages watched in horror, blood still dripping from the severed head. A few tears clung to her widened, shocked eyes—no life left in them.
The entire ordeal lasted only a few seconds—yet for them, it was an eternity.
From the black void, the figure slowly rose.
Its head emerged first, peeking out from the dark. Then the naked upper body followed. Finally, his entire form stepped out.
Lior had left the ditch.
He stared at the sun, shielding his eyes with his left hand—his right still gripped the head.
"Oh my," he whispered, "it's so bright outside."
Gently turning his head, he noticed the mages staring at him, fear and confusion etched deep into their faces.
Then he looked down at what he held.
With no emotion on his face, he tossed it aside. The girl's head fell and rolled across the snowy plain, stopping just before the mage leader's foot. Her pained expression stared up at him.
Lior's gaze shifted to the sword lying beside the ditch.
"So you're still here."
He walked toward it. His steps made no sound—only dark footprints marked his passage through the snow.
"Stop!" the leader's voice rang out.
Lior didn't react.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Calm down," Lior said evenly. "I'm not running away."
He glanced over his shoulder. "And neither are you."
Their hearts dropped. Something in his voice—so calm, yet so absolute—made it sound like the outcome was already decided. Despite the cold, sweat trickled down their backs.
What is this? the leader thought, his hands trembling. No Dormant kid should be able to make me feel this way.
Then he looked closer—really looked.
He formed a core? But why is it black?
With a subtle motion, he signaled his men to prepare for battle.
Lior crouched and picked up the Odachi.
His thin fingers ran along the blade, brushing snow from the surface. Reflected in the steel were black irises ringed with faint, shimmering silver—like a lost moon in a void. His pale skin shimmered faintly in the light.
Straightening, he raised the sword above his head.
"I think it's time, my friend," he murmured with a wry smile.
At that moment, the world darkened.
Beneath Lior, a small black puddle formed. Inky tendrils slithered outward, curling around him.
Slowly, they wrapped themselves around the Odachi. The blade reacted.
It changed—its color deepened until it turned pitch black.
Black metal with veins of deep violet beneath the surface, like fractures in a dying star. The edge curved slightly. The guard was minimal—just a dark iron crescent to stop blood from sliding down the hilt.
Even unsheathed, the sword looked hungry.
A small smile tugged at Lior's lips.
"I always wanted to name you," he said. "But it never felt right back then."
He paused. His eyes weren't reflected on the darkened blade.
"Now it does… Ashrender."
Satisfied, he lowered the sword. His piercing gaze found the indigo-robed figures once more.
Evoking the Umbra, he gave the sword its first command.
"Now, Ashrender—"
His eyes narrowed, a chilling grin stretching across his face.
"Sing."
As if answering his call, the blade—
"It hissed!" one of the mages cried, panic and disbelief in his voice. "I swear it hissed!"
The leader looked back at his shaken subordinates, the fear eating at him too.
Not good. He's inside our heads already.
"Fret not!" he shouted. "He may have strange powers, but we outnumber him."
Just then, a whisper slid past his ear.
"It doesn't matter. I alone can kill all of you."
Time slowed.
A black haze flew past the leader—and suddenly, Lior stood before the rest of the group. Fifteen mages in total. All Awakened.
Before they could react, Lior moved.
With wild, explosive swings, he brandished Ashrender like a beast. His strikes were erratic—unpredictable, lashing like a whip.
Limbs flew. Screams followed.
Blood sprayed across Lior's cold face, painting a grotesque portrait.
Impossible. The leader watched in horror as his men were butchered. His knees buckled. He couldn't move—only stare as the haze danced with blood.
It didn't last long. Only three remained.
They kept their distance, frantically gathering essence.
Lior stood still, waiting.
They raised their hands in unison. A large orb of flame formed between them.
It shot forward.
Lior inhaled deeply, raising Ashrender high.
Black haze flowed from his eyes as the darkness deepened.
"Pit Eater."
With a devastating cleave, he brought the sword down. It erupted into a mouth-shaped arc of darkness, like the abyss snapping shut.
The ground trembled. For a brief moment, black snakes seemed to slither from the torn space.
The flame vanished—consumed along with the mages.
Only mangled lower halves remained. Intestines splattering the snow with red.
One mage, the one Lior had passed earlier, stood frozen in shock. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide.
"Now," Lior said, flicking the blood off his blade, "you and I are going to have a nice conversation."
The man's brow furrowed. "What do you want?"
"Just a few questions. No need to panic." Lior's voice dripped with sarcasm.
He raised a finger. "Where are we currently?"
The man hesitated before answering.
"West of Arenhast… just before the Virelith border."
Lior tapped his chin. "Alright. Next."
"Who captured me?"
"I have no idea who—"
Lior's expression darkened. He noticed the twitch in the man's brow. The slight falter in his voice.
"If you lie again," he said coldly, "I'll pluck your eyes out."
The man flinched. After a few deep breaths, he spoke.
"Warden Ernest. And his wife, Eadda."
"Good. Now, the last question."
"What's the current state of the war?"
The man blinked, surprised by the question.
Eventually, he replied, "We're winning. Overwhelmingly."
"Virelith's nearly taken. Just the southern region of Solmira left. Velgrynd's forces are down to half."
Lior stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"All right. It's still salvageable."
He turned and started walking away.
"Wait, boy!" the mage called. "Why not join us? Lady Miras would gladly accept someone like you."
Lady Miras?
Without looking back, Lior responded flatly.
"No thanks. But I do have a request—since I'm sparing your life."
The mage eyed him warily. "What is it?"
"Nothing hard. Just deliver a message to Warden Ernest and his wife."
Dark energy flickered around him.
"Kazuragi Lior will visit them soon—and fulfill his promise. Make sure they're ready."
With that, Lior leapt toward Virelith, vanishing into the distance.
The mage stood stunned.
Kazuragi… Where have I heard that name before?
---
Running through the outer lands, Lior groaned.
Shit…
He glanced at the dark energy leaking from his body, then down at his core.
Leaking again, huh.
His time in the ditch hadn't allowed him to stabilize the core. Each time he drew on its power, it leaked—a wasteful, unsustainable drain.
He alternated between dispersing and emitting the energy, trying to maximize his usage.
After a few hours, he arrived.
Approaching the small cottage, he paused.
Fenric's charred husk lay outside.