Ravien watched everything from beginning to end.
It was truly astonishing. At first, Asogi and that captain of the guards seemed to be equals.
But no… that wasn't the case at all.
Asogi had been playing a game from the very start—like a child playing with their toys.
I leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers lightly against the edge of the table. I took a deep breath.
The scent of meat still lingered in the air. That familiar metallic smell of blood.
I was used to it.
For the first time, I had created an intelligent monster. But one question lingered in my mind:
How did this intelligence form?
From what I had observed, Asogi first ate the initial guard.
Then he took on his form, assimilated his memory.
Not just his body—he seemed to have absorbed his way of thinking as well.
I had never seen such a behavioral pattern before.
This wasn't mere mimicry… this was internalization.
He was performing far beyond my expectations.
He advanced to the next stage faster than I had anticipated.
What happened here might seem disgusting or horrifying to most people.
But I wasn't affected at all.
Was it because he was my creation?
Or was it something left over from my previous life?
Or had I simply stopped caring about certain things?
I didn't know.
But to me, this all felt… almost normal.
In fact, this battle was even… a little entertaining.
I wanted to see more.
I wanted to fight with my own hands.
But it wasn't time yet.
There were still things I had to do.
I heard footsteps.
Asogi was slowly walking toward me.
His steps were uneven, as if he was both excited and uncertain about what to do.
There was a crooked smile on his face—his lips were uneven, one of his eyes was squinting too much.
He stopped in front of me for a moment. Then he tilted his head slightly and said,
"I killed them all, Father."
His voice was soft, but there was a strange energy within it.
He looked at me as if expecting praise.
His eyes were waiting for something—approval, or maybe just attention.
Well then, let's give him what he wants.
"You did well," I said.
"As a reward, tell me what you want."
Asogi's body trembled slightly with excitement. His shoulder muscles tensed, his torso leaned forward.
Suddenly, two small mouths appeared on his face. Small, wet, quivering structures.
Clearly, he hadn't yet fully learned how to control his emotions.
"Father… Father… I… I, um… err…"
His voice wavered. He seemed unsure of what to say.
Even though his intelligence had developed, he was still a child.
A newborn.
"It's okay," I said. "You can tell me when you figure it out."
My eyes moved to his hands.
Both were tightly clenched. His knuckles were strained.
He was hiding something.
"What's in your hands?"
He moved closer. Silently.
Then, he slowly opened his hands.
"Look, Father," he said.
"These are that man's eyes. He tried to look at you with them.
So I took them out… and brought them to you."
The eyes were still wet. Their whites had turned dull, with purplish veins.
There was some dried blood on them.
I paused for a moment.
Then, I looked away from them.
"This isn't something I need," I said in a calm voice.
"But since you brought them, they shouldn't go to waste."
"Eat them."
Asogi's expression fell slightly.
A small disappointment.
But then he nodded slightly, without saying a word.
He brought the eyes to his mouth.
Slowly, he began to chew. A faint creaking sound echoed, like the crunch of a wet shell. The fluid inside leaked from his tongue to his cheeks.
A drop hung from the corner of his mouth—a thick, red mixture—and he carefully wiped it away.
Then he swallowed.
He did all of this without breaking eye contact with me.
(POV: Ravien)
There was nothing left to do here.
I stood up silently, shaking off the dust from my clothes as if brushing away specks of dirt. Without turning to Asogi, I spoke:
"Asogi. Come with me. Let's check the caravan."
It was as if he had been waiting to hear those words. He immediately began walking behind me.
The path to the fortress was littered with broken stones, some slick with blood. Scattered flesh, internal organs… a severed leg, a torn-off jaw, a still-twitching finger…
None of it made me feel anything.
Not that I needed to feel anything.
They had done their job. They had died protecting their masters.
What could be more honorable than that?
One corpse caught my attention. It was different from the others.
Wedged between broken stones, buried under other bodies.
Its right arm had been torn off.
But its body… was still moving.
(POV: Cean)
Damn it… Everyone is dead. Everyone.
What am I supposed to do now?
My only chance to get out of this shithole is this: Keep playing dead. I must not move. I must slow my breathing. I must hide.
My right arm is in terrible shape. Maybe it's completely severed, but I have to endure the pain. I grit my teeth. My eyes are shut. I stay still.
Footsteps… they're coming toward me.
No. No, no, no. They couldn't have noticed me. I played dead perfectly. It can't be this easy.
"Hey. Get up. You're not dead, are you?"
What?! Did he notice me?! Or is he just… bluffing?
My heart was pounding like crazy. But I still didn't move.
Maybe… he was just bluffing. Maybe…
---
(POV: Ravien)
No response.
I looked back. There was a shadow over Asogi's face, his brows furrowed.
"I killed them all," he had told me. But now, this twitching corpse was like a stain on his pride.
"I'm sorry, Father," he said quietly.
"I must have overlooked one."
And then, he started walking—slowly—toward the corpses. There was that familiar hunger in his voice.
"Allow me… to correct my mistake. Let me eat every corpse here."
---
(POV: Cean)
No! No, no, no… This can't be real.
Every corpse?
My body started trembling uncontrollably. My breath quickened, and an involuntary rasp slipped from my throat.
Get up, Cean. Get the hell up!
I pushed myself onto my knees. I opened my mouth, just about to speak—
The creature's right hand… extended.
Like a serpent, it slithered forward and coiled around my throat. It was cold. Wet. And strong.
(POV: Ravien)
Just as he was about to speak, Asogi's hand shot out, wrapping around Cean's throat. Suddenly. Swiftly, yet calmly. My eyes flicked to Cean. He was struggling to live.
But he could no longer make a sound.
"Asogi," I murmured.
"Stop. I have some use for him."
A brief hesitation crossed Asogi's face. His eyes twitched, but in the end, he loosened his grip.
The moment Cean was freed, he collapsed to the ground. He was gasping for air. He was trying to think, but the pain, fear, and panic had paralyzed his mind. In the end, to survive, he resorted to the most pathetic defense a human could muster:
Begging.
He pressed his face to the ground. Stretched his hands toward my feet.
"P-please… don't kill me. I'll do anything… I swear…"
Ah. So this was the path he chose.
"Lift your head," I commanded sharply.
Trembling, he raised his head. For the first time, I saw his face clearly. Messy brown hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes… amber-colored. He was young. No older than twenty-three. An age where life had only just begun to make sense.
I paused for a second. Then, I spoke calmly:
"I will spare you."
Cean's eyes instantly lit up. The hope within him filled his pupils. His thoughts were practically written across his face:
"Am I… really going to survive?"
But of course, there was a price.
"With one condition."
Cean immediately responded. This time, his voice was clearer, stronger:
"What condition?"
He looked straight into my eyes as he asked. It wasn't courage… it was desperation. The kind of hollow bravery of someone who had barely grasped a sliver of hope and was clinging to it for dear life.
But then, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew heavier. It was as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.
Asogi's eyes locked onto Cean.
His expression changed. At first, it was merely stern.
Then, slowly, something deeper, something more feral emerged.
And in a voice that cut through the air like ice, he spoke:
"LOWER YOUR EYES."
His voice echoed against the stone walls of the castle.
Cean froze. His face turned pale as chalk. His entire body began to tremble. Whatever little courage he had left shattered instantly. He dropped his gaze to the floor, his voice barely a whisper.
"L-l-lord… w-what… what condition?"
Asogi said nothing. Instead, I stepped forward, locking my eyes onto Cean's face.
"The merchant you were protecting… was he tied to anyone else?"
Cean nodded. His voice was quieter this time, but clear.
"Yes… my lord. He was under the rule of the Lord of Lacrima City. Every month… he paid a tribute. In exchange for protection."
Ravien's eyes narrowed slightly.
"So, Lacrima…"
He thought for a moment, then fixed his gaze back on Cean.
"And… where exactly is this place?"
Cean cleared his throat.
"Well… to the west. A few days on horseback. Maybe three, maybe four…"
Ravien asked a few more questions, piecing things together. Cean's answers spilled from his exhausted lips, but they were consistent.
Finally, Ravien bent his knees, lowering himself to Cean's level.
"I will spare your life. But in return, you will do something for me."
Cean lifted his head, eyes filled with a mix of hope and shock.
"You will go to the Lord of Lacrima City yourself and deliver this message. Word for word."
Ravien spoke slowly, every syllable laced with an eerie politeness—yet the threat beneath it was unmistakable.
> "To the Esteemed Lord of Lacrima City,
I am Ravien Duskbane.
I would very much like to meet you in the future—perhaps even do business together.
However… ignoring Fauriel's crimes may make some complicit in his fate."
Cean nodded. He burned those words into his mind. Then, he tried to push himself up—but failed. His body was still too weak, and blood was still seeping from his arm.
Ravien watched him.
"You're in no condition to walk, are you?"
Cean silently shook his head.
Ravien extended his right hand toward the torn shoulder of Cean's missing arm.
"Stay still. Don't move. I'll be done in a moment."
His fingers pressed against the wound. The moment he touched it, Cean let out a sharp gasp. His entire body tensed. But then… something happened.
First, there was a cracking sound—bones shifting.
Then, his veins began to stir. Flesh, muscle, skin—all of it started knitting itself back together.
The arm… was regenerating.
And not just regenerating—it looked as if it had never been severed at all.
Cean, breathless and wide-eyed, stared at his arm in pure disbelief. Strength had returned to him. No pain. No exhaustion.
"You seem fine now," Ravien said, standing up.
"There's nothing stopping you from leaving. Go and deliver my message."
Cean stood frozen for a moment, then quickly bowed his head in a deep salute.
"As you command… Lord Ravien."