teravoll

Dathweet awoke to find himself trapped inside a rusted iron cage. Beneath him, a swirling ring of purple mana glowed faintly—but instead of healing him, it sucked away every trace of energy from his body. He couldn't recover, couldn't move, couldn't even feel his strength.

His eyes scanned the surroundings. This was the center of the town. And he… was on display. Like some sick exhibit in the middle of a crowd of the infected.

Coss (laughing from outside):

"Awake already? Damn, you looked so peaceful, I almost didn't want to interrupt your nap."

Dathweet (frowning):

"So I'm important enough for you to keep alive?"

Coss (stepping closer):

"Only because you carry Redsol blood. That's the only reason you're still breathing."

Dathweet:

"Let me guess… another twisted little secret?"

Coss:

"I was ordered by King Lion to infect Holid. But somewhere along the way… I realized something. Here, among these creatures, I'm not just a soldier. I'm a goddamn king. So I decided—I'll be king of the whole damn world."

Dathweet:

"And I'm the piece that gets you there?"

Coss (nodding):

"Exactly. Redsol blood is a living elixir. It can cure many things… but when refined just right, it becomes something far worse—A weapon. A perfect contagion."

Dathweet (voice lowering):

"So you want to use my blood to increase the infection rate?"

Coss (smirking):

"You catch on fast. We spread mostly through blood, but so far… the infection rate is only around 20 to 30%. Your blood? It's the key to pushing that number way up."

Dathweet:

"How do you even know I have Redsol blood?"

Coss:

"I used to be in the army. I've read things. King Lion… he loathes the Redsol line. Says your history disgraced his bloodline. Anyone suspected of having Redsol ancestry is monitored. Always."

Dathweet:

"And once the world's infected… what? You'll infect me too?"

Coss (cold grin):

"Even if you were infected… it wouldn't matter. Your blood's too special to corrupt. It resists the change. You're a perfect vessel."

He turned and walked a few steps away, then looked back over his shoulder.

Coss:

"I won't do anything to you yet. Rest up. Once you're strong enough, I'll drain your blood—Again and again—until the whole world is kneeling beneath my plague."

His footsteps faded.

Dathweet clenched his fists. His entire body trembled. The mana circle beneath him drained more than energy—it drained will. Helplessness coiled in his gut like a venomous snake.

Dathweet:

"Ken… you still there?"

Ken (voice echoing inside his head):

"Still here. When you blacked out, I tried to take over—tried to run us out of there. But… They've sealed us. Blocked the flow of power somehow."

Dathweet:

"What the hell do we do now? I… I can't take looking at another one of those monsters."

Ken:

"Try connecting to Onbe's mind. Remember what he said? If you use your breath properly, you can still link with those who once passed their energy into you."

Dathweet began to breathe harder, forcing himself to close his eyes.

He drew in a slow breath, then exhaled—recalling the meditative techniques, the way Ogon had taught him to feel the inner flow of energy.

His body was weak. But his will began to gather—sharpening into a single point.

A faint white light shimmered before his eyes.

And then… the world disappeared.

What remained was a vast white void. Empty. Silent.

Except—there was someone standing there.

An older man. Gray-haired, wrapped in coarse robes. Gentle face. But his eyes…

His eyes were deep. Like a bottomless abyss.

Dathweet (voice trembling):

"You… Onbe? Is that really you?"

Onbe (smiling faintly):

"Dathweet? You're still alive?"

Dathweet (desperate):

"Please… please help me. I'm trapped. They've caged me—I can't get out. I can't keep seeing those sick bastards… I can't…"

Onbe was silent for a long moment. His expression wasn't sad.

It was… regretful. Quietly, deeply so.

Onbe:

"I… can't help you. I'm already dead."

Dathweet:

"No… no, that can't be. Please… I'm begging you—save me!"

Onbe:

"I really am dead, Dathweet. This is just what's left of my consciousness. A final remnant. Back when our team went out to search for supplies… we were ambushed. I stayed behind to hold them off. And then… I was killed."

Dathweet (falling to his knees, fists clenched):

"Then what am I supposed to do…?"

Onbe:

"If you can maintain your consciousness here long enough… I'll try to pass the last of my energy into you. Teach you how to stay calm, to master yourself— And maybe… How to survive despair."

Dathweet opened his eyes.

The world around him once again fell into darkness—but this time, it wasn't the serene void of meditation.

It was the darkness of reality.

He had exited the connection state. His body was still bound, trapped inside that energy cage, the same faintly glowing purple mana ring beneath him draining every last drop of life from his veins.

His inner energy was almost gone.

Around the cage, a group of infected had silently gathered.

No one spoke. But their eyes… said everything.

One of them tilted his head, studying Dathweet like he was figuring out which part would be the softest to start with. Another licked his lips, eyes gleaming like he'd just spotted a rare delicacy.

A third chuckled quietly while rummaging through his coat—whatever he was holding, the way he handled it made Dathweet's spine crawl.

Another whispered to himself, gaze locked on Dathweet's skin, as if imagining how it would look stretched across his own face.

He couldn't move. Couldn't fight back.

But he could feel it—each look peeling away parts of him, mentally stripping the flesh from his bones.

Then came the heavy footsteps.

The crowd parted.

Coss appeared.

He walked forward casually and kicked away the one who had reached for the cage.

Coss:

"Don't worry. No one's gonna touch you while I'm here. If anyone does… it'll be me first."

He smiled. A gentle, almost comforting smile—And yet, it made Dathweet's heart pound with dread.

From morning till dusk, they left him there.

No one beat him.

No one tortured him.

But no one shielded him either.

Out in the open, beneath the scorching sun and choking dust, Dathweet was forced to witness it all

A town center where humanity had shed its skin, where beasts wore human faces and civilization had rotted into primal chaos.

Laughter.

Screams.

Howls of ecstasy and agony

All of it blended into a symphony of madness.

There were no rules. No right or wrong.

Only raw desire, let loose like a starving animal unchained.

Dathweet had thought he'd seen hell before.

But this place—this place was something far worse.

Before his eyes, human society had crumbled into the filth of depravity.

No morality.

No reason.

Only instinct, hunger, and perverse pleasure ruled now.

Some killed over a smirk.

Others peeled flesh from their victims like twisted tailors working on monstrous outfits.

Groups formed to bet body parts—losers had to offer "tribute" to the winners.

And then… there were things that couldn't even be named.

He saw a girl dragged away in the middle of feral howls.

They tore her clothes off, one shred at a time.

Held her down. Bit into her.

Blood spattered on the ground while her screams were muffled by the crowd's frenzy.

A blade plunged into her body—not to kill—But to toy with her.

One of them leaned in, face near the wound, breathing it in—like he'd just discovered the most exquisite pleasure imaginable.

No one helped.

No one pitied her.

These things…

They were no longer human.

Even the children in this cesspit were like demons.

One giggled while jumping rope with strips of fresh flesh.

Another slit his own stomach open and swung his intestines around like a twisted toy.

Sex.

Violence.

Torture.

Blended into an endless, sickening festival of madness.

Dathweet…

Couldn't take it anymore.

He threw up.

For the third time.

His head spun. His vision blurred.

At one point, he thought about biting off his tongue. About smashing his head into the cage bars until he stopped breathing.

But every time his eyes met theirs—that wild, hollow, hungry gaze—

He hesitated.

Not because he was weak.

But because…

He refused to die in front of creatures that no longer deserved to be called human.

He curled up in the corner of the cage, arms wrapped around his head, trembling like a child.

There was no hope here.

No light.

Only the sound of savage howls—And the kind of horror that branded itself into the soul.

Coss:

"Better start getting used to it."

Dathweet didn't answer.

He just sat there—eyes blank, sclera fully visible, arms limp at his sides. Like he'd turned to stone. His face was pale, gaunt. His skin lost all color. His gaze was fixed on the scene around him.

In a matter of hours… he looked like he had aged ten years.

He tried—tried to breathe deeply.

Focus the breath. Use the breath. Hold onto what's left of your humanity.

But the harder he tried, the more it slipped through his fingers.

The laughter. The moans. The slicing of blades through skin—

It wasn't outside anymore.

It was inside his head.

Echoing from the heart.

And then… just for a moment. A fleeting second—

He wanted to be like them.

Not out of lust.

But… freedom.

No more pain.

No more memories.

No more thoughts.

A world without morality… might be easier to breathe in.

The thought passed like a razor across his skin—

Thin, quick—

But it left a deep, bleeding line in his soul.

He jolted upright, forcing his breath into his chest—

Pushing himself to stay conscious.

His hands clenched into fists. Sweat poured like rain.

No… I'm not one of them.

He lifted his head.

Eyes locking onto the pale purple sky above—as if reaching for the last sliver of light in this bloodstained world.

Dathweet closed his eyes again.

He focused.

Trying to reconnect with Onbe.

The harder he tried, the more chaotic his inner flow became—

Until once again, the blinding white void unfolded.

Onbe was waiting.

Onbe:

"Are you alright? You look like you just crawled out of hell."

Dathweet (trembling):

"It's worse than hell, Onbe. Please… keep teaching me Koju. If you stop… I won't make it."

Onbe:

"Your mind is too unstable. I'm afraid if we continue, it'll backfire—and you'll go mad."

Dathweet:

"Time flows slower in this space, right? I'll stay as long as I can. Please… I'm begging you."

Onbe looked into Dathweet's hollow face.

The panic in his eyes.

He went quiet for a moment—then finally nodded.

Onbe:

"Very well. But you'll have to hold your will like steel."

Time passed—how much, neither of them knew.

Dathweet gradually steadied his mind. His breathing slowed. His energy flow found its rhythm again.

When he opened his eyes, something had changed.

They were sharper.

Colder.

Dathweet:

"Has anyone ever gone mad… from learning Koju?"

Onbe (sighing):

"Two. The first… was the creator of Koju himself.

The second—was a former disciple of mine."

Dathweet:

"What happened to them… after they went mad?"

Onbe:

"Violence. They saw no moral lines. Everything twisted through the lens of insanity. But… their strength far exceeded anything normal."

Dathweet:

"So Koju… when fueled by negative energy—gets stronger?"

Onbe:

"It's undeniable.

At the highest level, they could manifest raw energy as blades—

Cut through anything—

No longer needing a physical sword."

Dathweet took a step forward, eyes focused.

Dathweet:

"Meaning… we can fight barehanded if we reach that level?"

Onbe:

"Yes."

Dathweet (whispering):

"Will you stay here… forever?"

Onbe:

"Perhaps.

This is only a sliver of consciousness… held together by breath.

When the breath fades—so will I."

Dathweet:

"Doesn't it get lonely? Don't you want… release?"

Onbe was quiet for a moment, then stepped back.

Onbe:

"…I'm not sure anymore."

The air grew still.

Unnervingly so.

Then suddenly—

Dathweet drew his sword—striking.

Onbe reacted instantly, sword flashing up to block.

Onbe (angrily):

"You haven't recovered fully yet!"

Dathweet (calmly):

"I have."

He pushed forward, a wave of energy blasting Onbe back.

It wasn't a buildup.

It was instinct.

His hand no longer held a true sword. The blade had already broken.

Only the hilt remained.

Dathweet:

"I'm not afraid of them anymore. I'll kill them—on their own terms. No morality. No mercy."

Onbe:

"You're stepping into the darkest part of Koju, Dathweet!

Turn back—before it's too late!"

Dathweet (voice low, nearly emotionless):

"No. I've already made my choice."

Dathweet gripped the broken hilt—and a blade of energy ignited. A crimson light buzzed into shape, trembling, so sharp it seemed to slice the very air. Its glow cast over his face, and in that light, he no longer looked like the Dathweet of before.

Onbe stayed silent for a moment… then tossed aside his own sword. He reached behind his back and drew out a master's hilt—the kind only true Koju masters ever possessed. From it, a pale energy blade formed—soft and cold like the first winter moonlight.

The two lights collided—not with steel, but with raw will.

A piercing whoosh split the air as the blades clashed, sparks flashing silver across the void.

Dathweet surged forward like a storm. His crimson energy sword slashed down with ferocity, while his left hand—wrapped in Nifow—threw a crushing punch.

Onbe twisted aside, spun his hilt, and countered by using its base to release a shockwave, blasting Dathweet back a few steps.

But Dathweet didn't stop.

His breath erupted like wildfire. His eyes flared with wrath.

They circled each other—so fast the ground beneath cracked and shattered.

Every time the blades collided, the very space around them seemed to ripple.

Onbe moved with calm precision, but each step now struck harder, deeper.

One thrust from Dathweet was dodged—and Onbe slashed low in return.

In one flash—Dathweet's left knee was severed.

Before he could even cry out, balance gone—

Onbe struck again.

Right leg—gone.

Right arm—severed.

Blood sprayed into the air like red dust under white light.

Dathweet collapsed, gasping, still refusing to admit defeat.

Onbe stood over him, the energy blade fading back into the hilt, eyes full of sorrow.

Onbe: "I placed my hopes in you… I believed that with your talent, you could lead Koju toward something better. You could have become a good man… if only that hadn't happened."

Dathweet: "I never came here alone."

Just as the words left his lips—

A blade pierced through Onbe's heart from behind.

His body trembled. Blood spilled from his lips.

The one holding the sword—was Ken.

He looked nearly identical to Dathweet—except his hair fell long around his shoulders, his nails sharpened, and his eyes burned red like smoldering coals.

Ken (voice trembling with guilt): "I… I'm sorry. I didn't want this. But for Dathweet… I had no choice. Please… forgive me…"

Onbe turned to face him.

There was no rage. No hatred.

Only disappointment. And a sorrow so deep it hurt to witness.

Onbe (barely whispering): "You… still haven't escaped… the darkness…"

His body crumpled.

Dathweet dragged himself forward—bloodied, broken.

He placed a cut-up hand over Onbe's chest, and began absorbing the last of his remaining energy.

Dathweet (calmly): "You should feel grateful… at least I gave you a clean death."

Onbe's form faded. No longer a body.

Just mist—

Until even that was gone, sucked away completely.

Dathweet let out a quiet breath.

Then looked upward, into the endless void of his own mind.

His eyes now mirrored the abyss itself.

He opened his eyes.

Dim light filtered in through a cracked rooftop.

He was back.

Reality still was hell.

The ground around him was soaked in dried blood.

Entrails scattered like trash.

The air reeked of scorched flesh.

He sat up slowly.

Outside, the howls of the infected were gone.

Most of them had left—to hunt.

Dathweet (muttering): "Must've gone out to hunt…"

He clenched his fists.

From his palms, energy surged.

Twin blades formed—red, sharp, translucent. No hilt.

The final stage of Koju…

When one is no longer bound by morality.

Dathweet stepped forward—silent.

One slash—

The cage shattered. Steel crumpled like paper.

A few infected nearby leapt toward him—

But before they could make contact, they were sliced apart.

Their bodies flew like torn cloth. Blood painted a crimson arc across the wall.

Within minutes, all that remained around him were mutilated corpses.

But he didn't kill them all.

No.

Some he left alive.

Legs hacked off.

Their bodies hung on sharpened bones, dangling from wooden stakes.

In the center—he arranged long tables.

On them were the "dishes"—freshly prepared from infected flesh.

Charred skin.

Blood still sizzling atop cold stone trays.

Hands laid out like chicken wings.

Heads arranged like fruits.

Meat cut into perfect, even slices—lined up with disturbing elegance.

A feast.

His answer to the hell they had forced him to witness.

When it was done, he left.

Silent.

Like a man who had finally avenged every inch of his pain.

Not long after, the infected returned—led by Coss.

The moment he stepped into the town square… he froze.

Before him—

The table.

That grotesque "banquet" bathed in the dying orange light.

The others shrieked with glee.

They rushed forward.

Some threw themselves onto the table, devouring the meat.

Some… bit into their fellow infected—fighting for scraps, blood flying.

Coss gripped his axe tight.

His eyes burned.

Silence—right before the storm.

Coss (roaring): "FIND DATHWEET AND BRING ME HIS HEAD!!!"

— End of Chapter —