Zeph could still feel the tremor running through his hands, and his breath came in harsh, uneven pulls. His whole body felt as if something was dragging it down, forcing him to collapse. That short fight had truly drained his stamina. On top of that, he had been activating his sigil the entire time.
This was the first time he had killed. Another human. Not just one, but two at once.
It was not the first time he had taken a life. Before this, he had even killed that strange creature that emerged from the massive rift in the sky. But those were not human.
The ones he had just killed were human. And he was not lying to himself when he admitted that he still felt shaken mentally after everything that had happened.
Yet it seemed this would not end anytime soon. Because the person standing in front of him now, only a few steps away, looked like a threat far worse than the last two.
The man’s body began to swell, growing slightly taller, his arms thickening until the clothes he wore tore apart. A pattern marked his left cheek, stretching upward in the shape of a half predator, a jaw open with a foreleg raised. It looked like a hyena.
“I did not think I would have to do this,” the man said calmly.
The mark on his cheek glowed a faint green. It was a Common grade sigil. It should not have been stronger than Zeph’s Epic grade sigil.
However, there was one thing Zeph did not know for certain. The man’s level. Even if Zeph possessed a stronger sigil, the difference in level was not something that could be ignored. Especially if this man was already skilled and fully in control of the ability he possessed.
The man stopped walking for a moment. His hair lengthened, and thick fur spread across his body. The outer part of his face became covered with coarse hair. Like a werewolf beginning to transform, only to stop halfway through.
“Tell me, Zeph,” the man said with a low voice. “Have you started to feel that fear yet?”
Zeph clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the knife. He had to fight. He had to finish this. No matter what happened, he had to kill this man. Because in the end, only one of them would walk away alive.
He had tried to summon his sword, but it would not respond. Maybe the pressure was getting to him. Maybe his focus was breaking apart. Or maybe his stamina had already been drained too much, leaving him unable to call the weapon forth.
“My sigil is Carrion Beast. It’s a transformation type,” the man continued.
He lifted his face slightly. Since he stood with the light behind him, only his sharp eyes and the curve of his teeth in that faint grin were visible.
“Every wound my opponent suffers, every trace of fear in their eyes only makes me stronger,” he said with a faint smile. “That’s the natural order of a predator.”
“You sound like you hate the Awakened,” Zeph said quietly. “But you are one too.”
The man let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “You are too young. Too naive. You know nothing about how the world really works.”
His eyes narrowed. “Hunters do not care about ordinary people. They do not care about the future. They care about themselves. Their own groups. They compete to become the strongest. They crush each other, control territories, start wars behind closed doors.”
His grin widened, exposing more teeth. “You think they exist to protect humanity? Do not be foolish. That is just a story they sell to people like you.”
Zeph kept his attention locked on every slight movement the man made. The longer he talked, the more time Zeph had to recover his strength. Even a little bit would help.
“The powerful figures you see in those staged broadcasts, playing the role of heroes and saving civilians?” he said, letting out a low chuckle. “Are you really so sure the disaster that struck this city yesterday was not caused by people exactly like them?”
“You’re throwing accusations around without any proof,” Zeph replied, his jaw tightening as he held the man’s gaze. “And look at you. You’re no different.”
“No different?”
“You think you understand everything just because you’ve seen the worst of it?” Zeph suddenly shouted. “Don’t drag everyone down just to justify what you’ve chosen to become.”
“Hah!” The man’s eyes sharpened. “I like that fire, Zeph. I would enjoy watching someone like you climb higher and higher, chasing your ideals, believing you are different. Only to end up disappointed by the very things you trusted. And then, when you finally see the truth, you fall into the same abyss as the rest of us.”
He took a slow step forward. “But I will spare you from that fate. I will save you from the lies, from the betrayal, from the moment your faith shatters.”
His claws flexed as his body tensed. “So I will end your life here. Tonight.”
The air between them grew heavy as he lowered his stance, preparing to strike.
Zeph tensed every muscle in his body.
The man moved. But.
What just happened? It was too fast. In less than a blink, the man was already in front of him. The punch landed straight into Zeph’s stomach.
Time seemed to snap forward. Zeph’s body was sent flying, crashing hard into the wall behind him. The impact echoed through the room before he dropped to the floor. Pain exploded through him. He tasted blood. One of his teeth felt cracked, maybe worse. His bones screamed from the collision.
Before he could even gather himself, the man was already there again. Too fast. A hand shot out and seized Zeph by the throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him back against the wall.
Zeph gasped, but no air came. His airway was crushed under the man’s grip. He clawed at the arm holding him, trying to pry it loose, but his strength felt distant.
“Do you see how powerless you are?” the man said coldly. He lowered Zeph slightly so their eyes were level, forcing him to face him.
Zeph struggled to breathe, his vision starting to blur at the edges.
“You cannot even stand against me for a single minute. Your hands are shaking. Your breath is gone. This world is far too cruel for someone like you.”
The man's fingers pressed harder, cutting off what little air Zeph had left.
“You think shouting about hope will change anything? This world crushes people like you. It chews you up and throws you aside without a second thought.”
Zeph could barely process the words. His mind was focused on survival. His hands gripped the man’s wrist, straining with everything he had left, but it was useless. His body felt weak. His life felt like it was being pulled out of him. Darkness began creeping into his sight.
The man’s voice grew harsher. “You are weak. Weak in body. Weak in will. You do not have the heart to survive here. So why keep struggling? Why keep pretending you can endure it?”
He bared his teeth in a twisted grin. “If you are going to break anyway, then end it now. Stop fighting. It would be easier than clinging to dreams that will never save you.”
At the most desperate moment, Zeph bit down hard on his own lip until blood burst out and ran down his chin.
Dark energy flared from his right hand as he forced both of his arms downward at the same time.
[Attempting partial manifestation of the Night Cavalry weapon.]
[Due to current limitations, partial weapon manifestation achieved.]
A massive greatsword formed in his grasp. He tried to swing it toward the man’s body, but the man reacted instantly. With a sharp grin, he caught the broad blade using his left hand, stopping the strike mid arc.
“I like this resistance.”
With a single motion, the man wrenched the sword aside and hurled Zeph away. Zeph’s body was flung across the space and crashed violently onto the ground, skidding before coming to a stop.
He lay there, gasping, his chest heaving as if his heart might burst through his ribs. His vision blurred and doubled. Still, he forced himself onto his knees and dragged the greatsword closer.
Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet, using every last bit of strength left in his trembling body.
“Not bad,” the man said. “That persistence of yours is rare. I will give you a chance to fight properly.” His grin widened. “Let us see if you can wound me within one minute. If you cannot, I will tear you apart.”
Zeph clenched his teeth and gripped the hilt with both hands. He raised the massive blade in front of him, its weight pressing down on his shoulders.
Yet there was something he only realized now, standing in this form. For some reason, the sword felt familiar in his hands. As if he had wielded it countless times before. As if the weight, the balance, the motion of it were already carved into his body.
What felt even stranger was this sense that he should be using it with one hand. The movement came to him naturally in his mind. But he could not. His height was not enough, and the blade was far too heavy and long. He had no choice but to hold it with both hands.
Was this a memory? Something left behind by the creature he had killed? If so, it might help him. Because in this form, Zeph could feel his senses sharpened to an extreme degree. His awareness expanded. Every shift in the air, every faint movement of his opponent, became clearer.
“I will kill you!” Zeph said as he burst into a sprint toward the man.
The man remained where he was, unmoving, a mocking grin slowly spreading across his face.
Zeph’s hands tightened around the hilt, veins standing out along his arms. With a roar, he swung the massive blade down with all the strength he had left, aiming to cleave the man in half.
The man stepped aside.
Zeph swung again. The man dodged with ease, almost lazily, then leaped back.
Zeph kept pressing forward, forcing one heavy strike after another. The blade smashed into the floor with a deafening crash, cracking the surface beneath it.
He gritted his teeth harder, ignoring the strain tearing through his arms. He attacked again and again. But this time, the man caught the blade with his bare hand.
And just like that, Zeph’s sword was held in place.
He could not move.
Then, in that same instant, the dark aura collapsed. The sword dissolved into nothing. His senses crashed back to normal like a door slamming shut.
[Sigil deactivated due to exhaustion.]
Weakness crashed over him. His body felt hollow, drained beyond its limit.
The man moved again, faster than before. His hand clamped around Zeph’s throat and lifted him with ease, raising his limp body into the air.
“Look at you,” the man sneered. “You tried so hard. But that struggle was pathetic. You could not even land a single wound on me.”
He leaned closer, close enough for Zeph to see that the fur and wild features were fading. The transformation receded, leaving his face almost normal again.
“I suppose this is where it ends,” he said softly. “I will have to finish you with my own hands.”
By now, he had fully returned to normal, though his shirt had been torn apart during the transformation.
Then, in the heavy silence between them, a strange sound broke through. A loud, sharp rumble.
“What was that?” the man muttered, frowning.
A second later, he realized the sound was coming from Zeph’s stomach.
Zeph managed a faint, breathless smirk. “My stomach is used to being empty.”
The man did not answer. He only hissed in irritation.
Zeph quickly grabbed the man’s wrist, trying to force it away from his throat. The man struggled for a brief second, tightening his hold.
Then suddenly, Zeph opened his mouth and let out a loud, rough belch. Thick, dark smoke burst out from his mouth and blasted straight into the man’s face.
The man panicked. He immediately threw Zeph to the ground and staggered back, coughing as he tried to wave away whatever he had accidentally inhaled.
Zeph pushed himself up, still gasping for air, watching as the man stumbled in visible distress. A faint smile slowly formed on his lips.
“How does it feel,” Zeph said hoarsely, “to breathe in your own poison?”
He had been waiting for this exact moment since the smoke filled the room.
In the next moment, the man turned toward him. His eyes were wide with panic, his mouth hanging open as he struggled to draw breath. A second later, he dropped to his knees, clutching at his chest, choking for air.
Zeph lowered his gaze and reached toward the floor. His fingers closed around the knife he had used earlier.