Jun could feel the clash resonate through his bones, each strike of his fists a reminder of a question that clawed at his mind. "What am I even doing?"
As his fists met the force of the old man's attacks, a new kind of silence filled him, as if a world inside his heart had paused. It was the silence of his doubts, a stillness broken only by the explosive bursts of power. Was it really him who wanted this fight? Was he chasing a goal, a purpose in each strike, or was he just aimlessly throwing himself into another battle?
"What do I want?"
A powerful strike ripped through his thoughts, sending him flying backward. He spun through the air, snowflakes blurring his vision, until he saw the old man in front of him once more, his palm radiating a crackling light. There was no mercy in the man's gaze, only cold calculation. The palm struck with a booming clap, a wave of sound and electricity that reverberated across the forest, and Jun's body hurtled into the ground, sending him crashing into the snow below. A deep crater carved itself around him as he sank into the cold earth, snow and frost falling back to cover the freshly made pit.
The old man peered down into the crater, his expression calm and curious, but with a glimmer of disappointment. "You look young. It's rare to see someone with your strength at such an age." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You look like *them*… yet, at the same time, no, there's something else." He sighed, brushing off the thought. "Well, I needed to interrogate you, but I suppose I was too harsh… I've likely killed you."
In the silence of the crater, Jun's eyes closed. "is that it, then?" In the darkness, memories flickered like old lantern lights.
"The demons… my family… all those lives I witnessed fading away."
The lives of strangers who had once been more vivid than his own came rushing back to him. Every scream, every dream, every last breath. All the weight he bore, every memory he had gathered from those who had perished, they were as heavy as chains—and as inescapable.
"But why?"
It was then, as his mind sank deeper, that he felt something stir beneath his own thoughts—a ripple, like the soft disturbance of still water. Slowly, from that darkness, a face began to emerge, its features shadowed, yet distinctly his. It had horns, but no expression; it was as if a part of him was rising, one that he had tried to keep buried. A scream ripped through his mind, shattering the stillness as a chorus of other faces appeared—faces of those who had lived their final moments through him, all twisted in a mixture of pain, regret, and rage. Their cries grew louder, the vibrations shaking him to his core, an earthquake within him, as if demanding recognition. Then, in a thunderous roar that seemed to come from every direction at once, they quieted, the silence absolute.
Jun's eyes snapped open. He could feel every sound, every vibration in the world around him, like threads of a tapestry woven from everything he had seen and experienced. His breath steadied, and he felt his energy flare to life, a vortex of power gathering and surging within him, colors swirling like a storm. He sighed, letting the weight of his past release, and rose, slowly, from the depths of the crater. Floating into the air, he caught the old man's eye.
The man turned in astonishment, his breath catching at the sight of Jun ascending.
"What… are you?" he muttered, squinting as if trying to make sense of something he could not comprehend. Then, recovering slightly, he shrugged.
"Never mind. Maybe it's best that you're alive. But I sense something different about you now. Something dangerous."
Jun descended, his feet touching the snow. At that moment, the howling winds ceased, and an uncanny stillness settled over the clearing. The very storm itself seemed to hold its breath, the world waiting in anticipation. A chill washed over the old man's body, and the hairs on his skin stood up in warning. He narrowed his eyes, warily measuring Jun's presence. "Hmph," he muttered.
Electricity surged around the old man's body, sparking along his limbs as he drew in his Qi. Slowly, the storm began to swirl, energy coalescing into a towering form above him—a massive dragon of lightning, its scales shimmering like an armor of thunderclouds, its size filling the sky. A soul dragon, born from the old man's Qi, unlike any demon Jun had faced before. This creature felt ancient, its malice restrained, yet its gaze was keen and powerful as it looked down on Jun, its massive body descending, ready to crush him beneath its weight.
The air thickened as the dragon's pressure radiated outward, its immense presence weighing down on the snow-laden earth. Any lesser warrior would have been shattered by the force alone. But Jun stood firm, his gaze unwavering. He shifted his stance, sinking his weight, lowering his center of gravity. His energy pulsed and then vanished, as if he had no trace of martial arts within him at all, his expression calm as he reached across himself with his right hand, fingers curling as if grasping the hilt of an unseen sword.
The dragon roared, shaking the heavens, its descent quickening. And in that moment, Jun moved—drawing the invisible blade in a slow, fluid motion. The air itself seemed to split, an invisible force ripping through space. The dragon halted mid-descent, its form quivering as though something immense had restrained it. The old man's eyes widened, his jaw slack. "I-impossible," he whispered, watching as the massive creature shimmered and then, in an explosion of light, split cleanly in two.
In the darkness of the night, the dragon's form shattered into fragments, illuminating the sky with a blinding brilliance. The light was so intense that it turned the night as bright as day, every shadow erased as the radiant energy from the dragon burst outward. The ground itself was carved with a deep sword mark that stretched far into the mountains beyond, an impossibly precise line as if the entire landscape had been bisected.
The old man staggered backward, disbelief and horror mingling on his face. Blood trickled from his nose, eyes, and mouth, his Qi ravaged by the incomprehensible blow he had just witnessed. His knees buckled, and he fell, his body trembling as he stared at Jun with a mix of awe and terror.
Jun, his stance steady and calm, slowly released his grip from the imaginary hilt, letting his hand fall to his side as silence reclaimed the world. The snow continued to fall, light and gentle, as if eager to cover the scene, and yet nothing could erase the mark he had left on the land.
Jun stood motionless before the old man, whose face twisted in disbelief, his hands trembling as he backed away. Blood streaked down his face, his voice a weak whisper. "You… you're a monster. *What* are you?"
Jun didn't respond, his gaze steady, unreadable. Yet, just as he was about to draw breath, a sudden, chilling pulse throbbed in his chest, an instinct, a terrible urgency. A feeling that told him he needed to go back. Now. His eyes sharpened, and, without a glance back at the old man, Jun turned and took off, his body a blur as he cut through the frozen night, flying over the snow-covered ground like a force unleashed.
"Wait!" the old man's voice trailed behind him, cracking with shock. But Jun didn't stop, his thoughts racing. *What happened?* he wondered, a dread blooming in his mind. *This feeling…* He pushed himself faster, a sense of foreboding driving him like a whip.
Then, he saw it. Even from afar, the glow of flames reached him, a sickening halo against the night sky. His heart dropped, and he broke into a sprint, tearing across the snow, his blood running cold. As he approached the village, the warmth he had come to know there was now replaced by the stench of smoke, charred wood, and death. Bodies lay scattered across the ground, twisted and broken like discarded dolls, their faces still frozen in expressions of horror.
Jun's breath came ragged as he took in the massacre, his senses numbly counting the presences left: 24 men. And… a single girl.
Following his instinct, he found them. The gang members stood around in the village square, blood spattered across their clothes, laughter spilling from their mouths as they taunted one another over the horror they had wrought. In their midst was the gang leader, holding the little girl by her arm, her face streaked with tears, her shoulders and abdomen bleeding from cruel gashes. She struggled weakly, her eyes darting around in terror, but her strength was gone. The men laughed harder, mocking her cries.
One of the gang members noticed Jun's approach and pointed with a sneer. "Look who's come back! Thought you'd be a hero, did you?" He grinned, glancing at his companions. "Now, you'll see who's going to suffer."
Another one chimed in, his voice a cruel sing-song. "Your precious little village, all of them, gone. And there's nothing left for you to save. You'll regret crossing us. We'll make sure of it." He ran his blade along the girl's shoulder, drawing fresh blood, making her cry out. "See how helpless you are?"
But Jun didn't flinch. He didn't feel the dread that had driven him here, nor the rage he might have once felt. He looked at them, and in that moment, he felt nothing. There was no drive to save, no fear, no anger, nothing left but emptiness. They mocked him, sneering at his silence, interpreting it as shock, as if he were frozen in place.
"Look at him!" the gang leader barked with a laugh, dragging the girl closer, his hand gripping her hair cruelly. "You want her to suffer more, huh? Then beg. Go on. Beg us to show her mercy."
But Jun didn't stop walking, his expression as blank and dark as a shadow. One of the gang members raised his sword, stepping toward him with a mocking grin. "You deaf? Our boss told you to—"
The words stopped, cut short as his head erupted, blood spraying across the snow, his body dropping limply to the ground. The gang's laughter faltered, confusion flickering across their faces.
Another man stepped forward, raising his sword in anger, but just as he opened his mouth to shout, his head too exploded, his body crumpling to the ground. A sickening quiet fell over the remaining men as they stared, horror dawning in their eyes.
With every step Jun took, another head burst in a spray of blood, as if an invisible hand were reaching out to deliver death. Panic spread across the gang members' faces, the mocking smirks dissolving into desperate fear.
"What is he?" one of them whispered, his voice thick with terror. The others began to back away, their faces contorted with realization as they stumbled over one another, trying to escape. But it was too late.
One by one, the bodies fell, each step Jun took bringing death in its wake. Their taunts turned to screams, their laughter to pleas, until silence reigned. Twenty steps. Twenty-three corpses littered the square, lifeless, each with a look of terror etched into their faces.
At the center of it all, the gang leader still clutched the little girl, his body trembling as his grip slackened. His lips quivered, and he stammered, "S-spare me… please…"
But before he could finish, his head too erupted, his body slumping to the ground beside the girl.
Jun stopped in front of her, his gaze dropping to her tear-streaked face, her chest still heaving in shallow breaths, her hands clutching at her wounded shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading, her mouth moving as if to speak, but no words came. Her pain, her innocence, her suffering—they were all written in the blood and tears that covered her.
Jun felt a weight settle over him, heavier than anything he had felt before. He crouched down beside her, his hand trembling as he reached out, placing his palm over her eyes. "Rest now," he whispered, his voice a hollow echo.
He closed his hand gently, and with it, her breathing faded. The pain left her face, her body relaxing as he granted her peace, a final, eternal rest.
In the silence that followed, the only sounds left were the crackle of flames and the gentle fall of snow, blanketing the village in a quiet that would never be broken.