The grand hall was no longer the sanctuary it had been moments ago. The air hung heavy with fear and disbelief, amplified by Rendall's report. Though they were some of the strongest martial artists in Murim, the elders now stood uncertain, their confidence fractured by the unknown horror outside.
Cedrin scoffed loudly, breaking the uneasy silence. "This is absurd," he declared, crossing his arms with a stubborn glare. "Dandelion is a fortress! The strongest warriors in the region reside here. If anything has gone wrong, it's because of carelessness—not because of some unstoppable monsters."
But even as he spoke, his voice lacked its usual conviction, and his clenched fists betrayed his underlying fear.
Elder Lysandre, always the most composed of them, now spoke in a trembling voice. "If even our lord, one of the strongest in Murim, cannot fight these creatures… what chance do the rest of us have? What hope do we have if this spreads beyond the city?" Her gaze flicked to Graviel, searching for reassurance.
Her words sent a ripple of unease through the group, though some tried to mask it.
One of the younger elders, lowered his gaze to the ground, his hands shaking faintly. "Perhaps… it's not about strength," he murmured, barely audible over Cedrin's bluster. The other elders turned to him, their expressions ranging from surprise to disdain.
"What are you suggesting?" Cedrin snapped, glaring at him.
Vario hesitated but pressed on, his voice unsteady. "The child said these creatures feed on fear… If that's true, then maybe… maybe we're the problem."
The words hung in the air, cutting deeper than Cedrin's denial.
Graviel's hand rose sharply, silencing the room. His voice cut through the murmurs like a blade.
"Enough."
His gaze swept across the elders, his silver eyes hard. "This is not the time for arguments or denial. We act now, or we risk losing everything."
The weight of his words hung in the air, forcing even Cedrin to hold his tongue. Graviel turned to Rendall, his voice low but resolute. "We'll address this immediately. Prepare the strongest warriors. We leave for Dandelion at once."
As the room stirred into reluctant motion, Graviel's sharp eyes settled on Elion. He gestured for the boy to follow him. They moved to a quieter corner of the hall, away from the frantic elders and murmurs of doubt.
Graviel crossed his arms, his towering frame casting a shadow over Elion. "You knew this was coming," he said, his voice steady but edged with curiosity. "You know more about these creatures than anyone here. How?"
Elion met Graviel's gaze, unflinching. "Experience."
Graviel's eyes narrowed. "That's not an answer. A child cannot 'experience' something like this."
Elion smirked faintly, his expression calm but inscrutable. "You already know this isn't the end. If you're going to stop what's happening in the city, you'll need me. Whether you trust me or not is irrelevant."
For a moment, Graviel studied him, his silver eyes searching for something in the boy's golden gaze. Finally, he exhaled sharply and nodded. "Very well. You will come with us."
As Graviel turned to leave, Elara and Verion approached Elion quietly. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out, her voice soft and laced with worry.
"Elion…" She hesitated, searching his face for something familiar. "Just… don't let this thing take you away from me."
Elion's gaze softened briefly, his golden eyes losing their sharpness for just a moment. "I won't, Mother," he said simply, his voice unusually gentle.
Verion stepped forward, his expression stormy. "You knew," he said, his voice low but taut with barely restrained anger. "You knew about these things, and you didn't tell me. Why?"
Elion turned to him, his calm demeanor returning. "I didn't know these things exist in this world. That's why I didn't tell you anything. But even if I told you, would it have mattered?"
Verion's fists clenched. "If I had known—"
"You still wouldn't have been able to touch it," Elion interrupted, his tone sharp. "Not with the way you're fighting yourself."
Verion froze, his anger flickering into something closer to shame. He wanted to argue, to shout, but the truth of Elion's words cut deeper than any rebuttal. After a tense moment, he exhaled sharply and looked away.
"Fine. But don't screw this up."
As the conversation ended, a familiar chime echoed in Elion's mind. A translucent screen materialized before him.
Ding! [New Quest!]
[Mission: Purge the corruption in Dandelion City by eliminating all Dreds.
Reward: Cryos, the Legendary Vossmer Ice Martial Art.]
Elion raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Cryos…? The legendary Vossmer ice martial art, huh?. He smirked faintly. Interesting.
Still, he dismissed the thought. The reward was irrelevant. The moment the Dred had appeared, something deep within him had awakened—a fire that had burned low for too long. The system's mission merely confirmed what he already intended to do.
Time to hunt.
But before Graviel could begin assembling the warriors, a piercing scream shattered the tense quiet. It came from outside the grand hall.
"AARRRGHH!!"
The elders froze, their expressions shifting to wary alarm.
Graviel's silver eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he closed his eyes briefly. Extending his senses, he scanned the estate—and what he saw made his stomach sink.
Servants and soldiers twisted in agony as their bodies contorted unnaturally. Their skin blackened, their features grotesquely warped. Others—fully transformed into Dreds—turned on their comrades, slashing through flesh and armor with inhuman ferocity.
Graviel's fists tightened. He had faced countless enemies in his time, but this... this was different. His strength, his unrivaled mastery of Qi—none of it could reach these creatures.
His arms folded more tightly across his chest as Kaelan's distorted form flashed before his eyes, followed by a fleeting image—one long buried.
Kaelan as a boy, his small hands trembling as he held a practice sword. His father's voice cold as ice:
"You're too weak. Pathetic. No son of mine will disgrace this family with such mediocrity."
Graviel blinked, banishing the memory, but its sting lingered. The twisted figures outside reminded him of that same vulnerability. These were people under his protection, and he couldn't save them—not from this.
Suddenly, a voice broke his thoughts.
"You're hesitating," Elion said, his tone calm, almost understanding.
Graviel didn't respond immediately, but his jaw tightened. Elion's golden eyes softened briefly, as though he understood Graviel's turmoil better than anyone.
"I'll handle it," Elion said simply, stepping forward.
The heavy doors creaked as Elion pushed them open, revealing the chaos outside. The courtyard was a bloodbath. Screams and the wet sounds of tearing flesh filled the air. The once-pristine grounds of the Vossmer estate were now littered with broken bodies and blackened veins crawling across the ground.
Servants and soldiers fought desperately, but their blades passed harmlessly through the twisted forms of the Dreds. The corrupted figures moved with inhuman speed, their jagged claws tearing through their former comrades.
Elion took it all in with an eerie calm. For a moment, he simply stood there, his small frame stark against the chaos. Then he stepped forward, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
Something shifted.
The Dreds froze. Their jerking, twitching movements stilled as their hollow, black eyes turned toward him. Slowly, their bodies began to tremble.
Ding! [Title Effect Activated: The Dred's Killer]
[Effect: All Dreds now perceive you as their ultimate predator. Their fear of you is so overwhelming it paralyzes them.]
Elion read the system message, his grin widening. To the Dreds, he was no longer a boy. He was a towering shadow of their deepest fears, a manifestation of death itself.
Inside the grand hall, those watching from the doorway felt the change. Graviel, Verion, and Elara stood in silence, an unspoken tension gripping them all. Even without knowing what was happening, they felt it—a suffocating presence emanating from Elion.
Verion swallowed hard, his fists clenching at his sides. "What… what is this feeling?"
Elara, standing nearby, brought a trembling hand to her chest. Her heart raced, but she couldn't tell if it was fear or something else.
Elion unsheathed his sword, its blade gleaming like moonlight against the darkened courtyard. The Dreds remained frozen, their trembling forms unable to move as his golden eyes bore into them.
With a single step, he began.
SLASH!
His blade moved like liquid silver, cutting through the air in smooth, powerful arcs. Each strike was clean, each movement precise. The Dreds—once terrifying monsters—could only fall before him. Limbs flew, heads rolled, and with each swing, black blood sprayed into the air like rain.
The blood fell on him, splashing across his face and soaking his clothes, as if the world itself was mourning the death of these creatures. The blood didn't just stain him—it marked him. It was as if the darkness of the battle was now a part of him.
One by one, the Dreds collapsed to the ground, their once-terrifying forms now nothing more than lifeless bodies. The horror that had been alive only moments ago was gone, reduced to piles of twisted flesh.
Elion moved through the carnage as if he were a part of it, his movements precise and controlled, like a predator savoring every kill. There was no hesitation, no mercy. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim light, their intensity sharp enough to cut through the chaos.
He had become something more—something unrecognizable to those who had known him.
From the doorway, Verion watched in stunned silence. His anger and shame twisted inside him like a coiled serpent. Elion moved with such precision, such deadly grace—it was as if he was performing a dance of death.
He's faster than me. Stronger than me. Better than me.
The thought burned, but what hurt most was the truth of it. Elion wasn't just fighting the Dreds—he was toying with them.
Beside him, Elara's hands tightened into fists. Her lips trembled as she whispered, "Elion…" Her pride in his strength clashed with a growing fear. This wasn't the boy she had cradled in her arms.
The blood splattered across his face, the sharp glint in his eyes, the smile that didn't waver even as he cut through dozens of monsters—it all made her chest tighten.
How much has he been hiding from me? How much of my son is still there?
When the last Dred fell, silence blanketed the courtyard. The only sounds were the soft drip of black liquid pooling beneath the corpses and the faint hum of Elion's blade as he lowered it.
The system chimed again, but Elion ignored it. He turned back toward the grand hall, his bloodied face illuminated by the faint glow of his golden eyes. His grin widened as he locked eyes with the stunned figures standing in the doorway.
"What's wrong?" Elion asked, his voice calm but carrying a chilling edge. He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by their fear. "You look like you've seen a ghost."