The battlefield was painted in crimson.The once-pristine grassland had been swallowed by carnage. Blood soaked the earth, mixing with the shattered remains of warriors who had once believed themselves invincible. Severed limbs lay scattered among broken blades, the air thick with the stench of iron and decay.Under the moonlight, the corpses were clearer than ever And Veythor still stood.Erika trembled, blood dripping from a deep gash on her forehead, her breath ragged.
She wanted to kill him—no, she needed to.But Karban placed a firm hand in front of her.
Stop it. We can't fight him now. Not like this.
"Her rage boiled over. She slapped his hand away.
"Then what?! Let him escape?
"Karban's gaze remained cold beneath his blood-matted hair. His voice, quiet but resolute, was heavy with restrained fury.
"I never said that.
"A bitter wind howled across the battlefield."We will kill him tonight.
Veythor stood a few feet away, his face a masterpiece of blood and grime. His black hair clung to his skin, soaked with the sweat of battle. His crimson eyes gleamed, filled with the same mocking amusement that had never faded.A quiet chuckle left his lips."Heh. You finally get it."He raised a bloodied hand, brushing damp strands from his face."But it's too late. You should have killed me when you had the chance."Karban clenched his jaw but then smirked.
"You're right. I underestimated you. I won't make that mistake again.
"From beneath his cloak, he pulled out a massive beast bone—a whistle. The moment he brought it to his lips and blew, the battlefield trembled.A deep, beastly howl echoed through the corpse-littered land.From the shadows, warriors emerged—one after another, their eyes burning with vengeance. Some were drenched in blood, their bodies scarred and battle-worn.Twenty. No—twenty-five.Veythor exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.
"Ah… so this is how it ends?" He smiled. "Fine. Let's see if you can make me kneel.
"Erika lunged first.Her scream tore through the battlefield, her blade aiming straight for Veythor's throat. But just as she struck—
CRACK!
Her body twisted mid-air as Veythor's foot connected with her ribs. The impact sent her hurtling across the bloodied ground like a ragdoll.She coughed violently. Blood splattered from her lips.The others didn't wait.Karban sprinted forward, a blur of motion. His sword flashed in the moonlight, aimed to cleave Veythor's skull in half.
CLANG!
Veythor caught the blade barehanded. Blood dripped from his palm, but his grip was unyielding."Pathetic."With a twist of his wrist, the sword snapped in two.Karban's eyes widened, but before he could react—A knee crashed into his face.
BAM!
Blood and teeth scattered in the air as Karban was sent flying.Another warrior lunged from behind, dagger flashing toward Veythor's spine.Veythor ducked. The blade whistled past.With inhuman precision, he grabbed the warrior's wrist, twisted until the bone snapped, and then—
SHHNK!
Veythor buried a dagger into the man's throat.A wet gurgle escaped the warrior's lips as he collapsed, convulsing in his own blood.Two more came from either side. Veythor spun, dodging one strike while plunging his fist straight through the other's stomach.
RIP!
His arm tore free, dragging a mess of bloodied entrails with it.The second warrior hesitated—fatal mistake.Veythor seized the hesitation, forcing the warrior's own blade into his gut."You were too slow."With a final twist, he gutted the man like an animal.More warriors rushed in.Veythor grinned, his bloodstained face monstrous.
"COME!
"But even he was not invincible.They struck together, attacking from all angles.A blade slashed his shoulder.Another carved into his thigh.His movements slowed. His breath grew heavier.Erika, barely standing, wiped blood from her mouth and screamed—
"KILL HIM!
NOW!"A warrior grabbed him from behind, locking his arms.Another slammed a mace into his ribs.CRACK!His bones shattered. Blood spewed from his mouth.Yet, he refused to fall.A warhammer crushed his knee.CRACK!His leg snapped.Finally—his body collapsed onto one knee.Karban, barely able to walk, stepped forward, sword in hand."This is the end, Veythor."Veythor lifted his gaze, his bloody lips curling into a smirk."You're wrong."A flicker of madness danced in his crimson eyes."This is just the beginning.
"SHHHNK!
The blade pierced his throat.Blood gushed from his mouth.And finally—his body crumpled onto the blood-soaked earth.The Hollow Victory
The warriors stood in silence, their bodies trembling from exhaustion.Karban stepped forward, gripping Veythor's blood-drenched hair. With one final swing, he severed the head.He raised it high.The warriors roared in victory.The monster was dead.Erika stared at the severed head, her hands trembling. She had dreamed of this moment for so long.So why did she feel so empty?Karban smirked, whispering to himself—
"Tonight, the demon has fallen. We got our revenge. We got it."He screamed—
"WE GOT IT!
"But even in death…Veythor's bloodstained smile never faded.The Nightmare Returns
As they celebrated, drinking and dancing in the moonlight, the severed head sat at the center of the field.Until a voice—smooth, amused, and far too familiar—broke through the night."Should I join the celebration?"A chill ran through them.The warriors turned—And there he stood.Veythor.Alive.A smirk danced across his lips, his bloodied face twisted in amusement.Karban's breath hitched. His lips trembled. A whisper barely escaped his throat—
"Im…impossible…
"Erika screamed.
"WHY?! WHY ARE YOU ALIVE?
"Veythor chuckled softly, his voice like silk laced with venom.
"Why, you ask?
He took a step forward.
"Because you never really killed me.
"Ralf stepped forward, face twisted in horror."Then… then who was that?!
Veythor's gaze flickered to the severed head.He whispered one word—
"Vanish.
"The head's eyes opened.And it smiled.Before their eyes, the corpse melted into a writhing mass of darkness, flowing toward Veythor like living ink.Veythor grinned."Meet my new ability—Doppelganger
The warriors stepped back, their battle stances taut with anticipation. In the eerie aftermath of Veythor's apparent defeat, a fragile hope of victory still trembled in the air. Ralf's voice, edged with exasperation, cut through the silence.
"Hey, old fart—I told you to keep close eyes on him! What the fuck were you doing?" he barked at Karban.
Karban's eyes, shadowed by his disheveled, blood-soaked hair, narrowed in disdain. "You're blaming me now because of your own flaws," he retorted, his tone icy and measured.
Erika's scream shattered the moment. "Shut up! Charge at him—we'll have our revenge at any cost!"
In unison, the warriors surged forward—Karban and Ralf among them—until they nearly reached Veythor's fallen form.
Then, without warning, a thunderous explosion ripped from the west. The ground trembled violently, halting every charge. Karban's eyes widened in disbelief as he muttered, "No... no, my tribe—what... what have you done, Veythor?"
A deep despair clouded his face, mirrored by the confusion and dread on the faces of the assembled warriors. One warrior demanded, "What the hell happened just now? What was that explosion?"
Veythor, still amidst the carnage, calmly reached into his pocket and produced a small, metallic orb—a ball-like artifact glinting with ominous promise. He began to toy with it, rolling it between his fingers. The sight of it drew a grim expression on Karban's face, his features etched with despair.
Veythor's voice was soft but razor-sharp as he addressed Karban, "Do you know what this is? This, my friend, is an ancient artifact—The Nukerels. One of these tiny wonders can destroy half of the Yamika tribe. And I've planted seven of them throughout your lands. Did you forget that your children still play in the fields? Just imagine what would happen if these explosives were activated—what fate would befall your families? You all conspired against me; so before your treachery can bear fruit, I will drag your entire tribe down into hell with me. Let's do it—
acti-
A chaos of screams erupted from the warriors—every voice a desperate plea, except for Erika and Ralf, whose eyes met in silent terror. Karban, shaking, dropped to his knees and lunged toward Veythor, bowing low.
"Lord Veythor, please—don't do it. Forgive our rudeness, please, please, please—don't activate those explosives!"
Karban ordered the assembled warriors to bow, excluding Ralf and Erika. In a trembling chorus, they all cried, "Lord Veythor, have mercy on us—we are nothing but little insects before you! Please have mercy!"
"Please, don't do it. We will do anything—just don't activate!" Karban pleaded, his inner thoughts raging,
"Curse you, curse you, curse you, Veythor!"
Ralf, his voice barely a whisper, confessed to Erika, "I knew this might happen. I told Karban to keep a keen eye on him—otherwise, he'd outsmart us. And he did exactly that. We fell into his multi-layered trap." Erika trembled, speechless.
At that moment, a terrific laugh erupted from Veythor—a wild, echoing laugh that cut through the desperate chaos.
"Hahahaha... hahahaha... Hahaha... hahaha..."
This was reality and truth: Veythor had masterfully manipulated them into believing they had achieved victory.
Then, with a cold, measured cadence, Veythor intoned:
"Fate wears no face, yet it watches.
Luck has no hands, yet it pulls the strings.
Some dance in its favor, others crawl beneath its shadow.
A beggar finds gold, only to starve.
A king dodges death, only to fall to his greed.
It is never fair, never just—only a wheel that turns, blind and uncaring.
It leads men to water, then parts the river.
It whispers of mercy, then steals the breath.
It lets you dream, let you hope, let you believe—only to laugh as it all slips through your fingers.
No prayers can bend it, no curse can break it.
It lingers in the footsteps of the desperate, it sleeps beneath the beds of the doomed.
And when you think you've won, when you think you've escaped—
that is when fate smiles, and takes everything."
The words hung heavy in the cold night, sealing their fate.