1.
The rulers of the southern continent—those whom neither the imperial family nor even the Emperor himself dared to offend.
The House of Don-Bringer.
For over ten years, the Don-Bringer family had waged a brutal civil war. It was a war for the right to be called Head of the House. The moment the previous head’s life force began to fade, his seven children turned on one another and began their struggle for power.
And the victor of that war was the second son of the family, Roberian Don-Bringer—along with the heads of the twenty-four vassal houses who had followed him.
“I…”
The “Black Fox” was… merely one of the hounds raised by that very Roberian.
2.
— Kh… Khk—!
Every breath tore through him as if his lungs were being ripped apart.
“A hole in my lung?”
It seemed likely. Fragments of shattered ribs were digging into his flesh. On top of that, his body was covered in dozens of stab and slash wounds from relentless battles, and his left eye no longer saw. Honestly, the fact that he was still breathing was nothing short of a miracle.
Feeling his life flicker like a candle in the wind, the man named Kun let out a ragged exhale.
— Fuu…
He turned his head.
Before him lay a heap of bodies, facedown in the earth. Beneath a crimson moon, in mud mixed with collapsed soil, blood, and the stench of death, nearly twenty corpses were scattered across the ground.
All of them had once been knights of the Black Fox Order, which he commanded.
Though, to be precise, they were knights in name only…
In truth, they had never been treated as such. Unlike ordinary warriors who fought in the light, the Black Foxes lived in darkness—in the family’s shadows. In essence, they were not knights at all.
They were shadows.
Or hunting hounds.
Among them, the Black Foxes were the personal hounds of the new Head, Roberian. The very ones he had trained and raised since long ago to build his own power. In a sense, they were the hidden heroes who had secured his victory in the war.
Perhaps that was why.
…Just yesterday, they had been drinking together, talking about the future after the war. One had dreamed of no longer being a “dog” and becoming a true knight. Another wanted to find the family he had lost in childhood.
But now—
In a single night, they had become cold corpses rotting in the mud. He still breathed, but that was only a matter of time. Soon, he would share their fate.
“If I gather everything I have left… can I move just once more?”
As that thought crossed his mind, Kun shifted his gaze again. He wanted to see the faces of those who had reduced him and his comrades to this state.
…Head of House Slot, Plansh Slot, and the Iron Hawk Order.
…Head of House Lorenz, Vigan Lorenz, and the Blood Fur Order.
…The Iron Sword Order of House Peshua.
And many others. All familiar faces. The heads of vassal families who had once sworn allegiance to Roberian.
Astonishingly, it had not been remnants of rival factions who destroyed the Black Foxes.
“…I thought they were allies.”
Kun’s eyes suddenly flared.
Among them, he found one face.
Despite the softness of his outward appearance, his expression was impossible to read. Long greenish hair. Gentle hazel eyes.
“Roberian Don-Bringer!”
The new Head of the great house. The ruler of the South. The man who had ordered the personal slaughter of the very Black Foxes he had raised.
Outwardly, he was known as just. In truth, he was a cold-blooded monster—one who would slit the throats of subordinates, parents, even brothers, if it served his interests.
A hypocrite wearing the mask of righteousness.
Kun clenched his teeth and glared at him with savage hatred.
— Why… — he forced out in a low voice, gripping the broken blade in his hand so tightly it hurt. — Why did you do this?
Each word growled from him like a wounded beast.
In truth, he already knew the reason.
Assassinations, kidnappings, blackmail, arson… The war had lasted ten years. And now that the new Head had ascended, someone had to shoulder the filth accumulated over that decade.
But that wasn’t what Kun wanted to ask.
— WHY US?!
His furious roar shook the battlefield.
“Why…”
This house controlled half of the southern continent. They had plenty of “shadows.” Plenty of “hounds.”
So why—
— OUT OF ALL OF THEM, WHY DID YOU CHOOSE US?! Kh—khk! Ghh!
Blood burst from his lips before he could finish. The broken rib had pierced deeper into his lung.
“Damn it…”
His vision swam. Anyone else would have collapsed long ago from such blood loss. But Kun bit down on his lip until it bled, forcing himself to stay conscious.
“I can’t fall yet. At least…”
Perhaps the sight of him still struggling irritated them. One of the gathered heads stepped forward.
— Hah.
His gait was lazy, his expression filled with crude annoyance.
— To think a mere dog doesn’t know its place and dares to bark. It’s sickening watching you thrash around trying to survive.
His manners were far too vulgar for the head of a noble house.
Kun knew only one man like that.
“Vigan Lorenz…”
One of the few he had never gotten along with.
— You look pathetic. A hunting—?!
Before he could finish, someone calmly raised a hand.
— Enough.
The voice was indifferent, emotionless—as if speaking of something trivial.
It was Roberian Don-Bringer.
Vigan froze instantly.
Roberian, having stopped him with a single gesture, continued:
— I merely thought that if we are to “boil” a hunting dog, it is better to choose a larger one. That way… when it is buried, it can take far more filth down with it.
His tone was dry and steady—impossible to believe he was speaking of men he had raised with his own hands.
Even Kun felt a chill run down his spine.
But Roberian was not finished.
His gaze turned glacial.
— But what I find amusing…
— …?
— Since when does a dog I raised dare ask its master for reasons?
The dryness vanished from his voice, replaced by pure, cutting frost.
A bitter laugh escaped Kun’s lips.
— Ha…
They had been born slaves or orphans. Endured hellish training. Instead of becoming knights, they had remained shadows.
Still, they were loyal—because they believed that one day, their devotion would be rewarded.
“And it didn’t matter whether we were acknowledged as knights or not.”
And this—
This contemptuous stare and miserable end—
This was their reward.
Rage, molten and searing, erupted inside him.
— YOU BASTARD!!
Unable to endure it any longer, Kun spat the curse and launched himself from the ground.
His body shot forward like an arrow.
Flash!
The movement was lightning-fast. As if answering his will, brilliant light gathered along the broken sword in his hand.
Weapon Aura.
The light that symbolized a Master—one who had reached the pinnacle of martial prowess.
Like the fang of a beast, it lunged toward Roberian’s chest. The air shrieked. The blade’s path burned white-hot.
But a fraction of a second sooner—
Shhk!
Another flash of steel carved across Kun’s chest.
— Kh—!
— Insolent cur… how dare you—
Blood sprayed along the wound.
The blade belonged to Plansh Slot, Head of House Slot and master of the Iron Hawk Order. He had drawn and struck the instant Kun moved.
Then, as if waiting for that very moment, Vigan Lorenz’s rapier pierced forward.
Shhk! Shhk!
— I told you. Pathetic, dog!
With every vulgar word, the blade stabbed into Kun’s arms, legs, shoulders, and chest.
Blood scattered everywhere.
— Kh…
Plansh’s heavy boot crushed down on Kun’s chest as he fell.
Crack!
He was utterly suppressed.
It had been expected. To break through several sword masters alone, in a body already ruined—
— Gh…
Darkness crept into his vision.
Within that encroaching void, Kun forced his lips apart.
“I’m sorry…”
An apology.
To the subordinates lying in the mud, eyes still open.
“I’m sorry…”
He had wanted at least to avenge them. If he could not sever Roberian’s head, then at least leave him with a scar to remember them by.
But his life was slipping away too fast.
— The rest is yours… — Roberian’s voice grew distant. — Into the pit. All accusations will fall upon the Black Foxes…
The voices of Vigan Lorenz and Plansh Slot faded into indistinct noise.
Perhaps this was death.
“Curse you… all of you…”
Kun released his final curse into the dying darkness of his consciousness.
They did not notice.
That night, beneath the unnaturally red moon—
Kun’s shadow writhed.
…It moved.
The shadow twisted into an unnatural shape. It straightened, as though observing the scene—unlike its master, whose limbs lay severed upon the earth.
Suddenly, the “head” of the shadow split in two.
Like a mouth.
And from that grotesque maw came a voice.
— Shall I help you?
“…?!”
A voice neither male nor female. Too beautiful to be dismissed as a dying hallucination.
At the same time, it sounded like a devil’s whisper. Or an echo from a dream.
“…Who are you?”
Kun tried to answer—
Then stopped.
“…It doesn’t matter.”
Whoever owned the voice, this was merely the delusion of a dying man.
And yet—
He answered.
— Help me.
If it meant vengeance, he did not care whether it was a hallucination or the devil himself.
The voice seemed pleased by his sincerity.
— Hahahaha!
The shadow expanded instantly. Laughter filled his head, deafening.
Flash!
Something burst into his mind through the crown of his skull.
Whoosh—
Memories.
An overwhelming torrent of information—impossible to describe. He did not know whose life they belonged to.
But instinctively—
He understood.
“This is…!!”
A past life.
The traces of someone who had lived before, bearing a soul like his own.
— Very well. I will grant you a chance.
The voice continued.
— You are my future incarnation, and I am your past. Our souls mirror one another—day and night standing back to back, heaven and earth gazing upon each other. I grant you another opportunity. Do not forget. My name is Myung. King of all ghosts and corrupted beings. The one who reached the summit of dark arts, who gazed upon outer realms and twisted fate. Others called me the Living Calamity.
The words burned into Kun’s mind like a brand.
— Now then, my future self. As per our contract, I grant you a new destiny and a chance. Live as you see fit.
Flash!