Rakan noticed the scratch on his body.
A thin crimson line crossed his ribs, faint but undeniable.
He frowned.
"When did you do that?"
Oban stood a few steps away, breathing steady, eyes calm despite the chaos around them. The battlefield was silent now—no more beasts, no more collapsing ground. Just the two of them.
"During the fight," Oban replied quietly. "Your focus was always on overpowering me. Mine was always on that one moment."
Rakan's expression darkened.
The scratch pulsed faintly.
"You think a scratch will end me?"
Oban didn't answer immediately. His entire focus had been on Rakan from the very beginning—not on blocking every strike, not on matching raw strength, but on creating a single opening. Every dodge, every clash, every retreat had been calculated.
Rakan felt something shift inside him.
A subtle tremor.
His rage ignited.
"It's not over!" he roared, and the ground beneath his feet cracked as he launched forward in a burst of speed.
He entered rage mode.
The air distorted around him. His presence alone pressed against Oban like a storm. Rakan swung, aiming to grab him, to crush him before anything strange could happen.
But the damage had already been done.
Oban stepped back—not in fear, but in timing.
The scratch glowed.
Rakan suddenly froze mid-motion.
"What…?"
From the mark Oban had carved, faint threads of crimson light began spreading across Rakan's skin like branching veins.
Oban raised his hand slightly.
"Blood Manipulation."
A translucent system panel appeared before him.
[Skill Activated: Blood Manipulation]Biological Impact: Internal Access EstablishedTarget: Rakan
Rakan's eyes widened.
"You—!"
Before he could finish, his own blood responded to Oban's command.
It wasn't an explosion in a violent sense. It was a collapse from within. Energy surged through Rakan's body as his own power turned against him. His movements faltered. The rage faded into shock.
"You… controlled… me…"
Oban's voice remained steady.
"I only needed one connection."
A pulse ran through Rakan's body. Light burst outward from within him—not tearing flesh, not scattering anything grotesque—but releasing his energy in a final overwhelming surge.
When the light faded, Rakan stood still for a second.
Then he fell.
Silence.
The battlefield felt empty.
Oban looked down at him, not with hatred, but with understanding.
"It didn't have to end like this."
He took a slow breath.
Then, without hesitation, he opened his system interface again.
A new option appeared.
[Crafting Table – Rare Material Detected]Source: Rakan – High-Grade Hybrid EssenceStatus: Compatible
Oban summoned the crafting table—an arcane platform formed from light and symbols. He placed his hand over Rakan's remains, and energy fragments lifted gently, transforming into structured components of power.
No gore. No brutality. Only raw essence being converted.
The system processed.
Crafting… 20%… 45%… 80%… 100%
A vial materialized in Oban's hand.
Dark crimson liquid swirled inside, streaked with silver lightning.
Item Created: Chaotic PotionEffect: Opens gateway to Eternal Void. Duration: Permanent Seal.
Oban closed his eyes for a moment.
Then—
The scene shifted.
Outside the Castle of Foreverness, the war still raged.
Vampires and werewolves clashed under a sky painted in smoke and moonlight. The werewolves had the upper hand now. Their numbers overwhelmed the defensive lines. The vampire ranks were thinning.
Desperation filled the air.
And then—
A ripple tore through space.
Oban appeared above the battlefield.
The fighting slowed.
Whispers spread instantly.
"He's back…"
"Where is Rakan?"
Among the werewolves stood Rakan's uncle—the elder who had fueled the war with pride and vengeance. His sharp eyes locked onto Oban.
In that single glance, he understood.
Rakan was gone.
The elder lowered his weapon slightly.
"So… it's finished."
Oban descended to the ground, holding the Chaotic Potion.
"I didn't come to continue this war."
The elder studied him.
"You defeated him."
"Yes."
Silence fell across both sides.
Oban lifted the vial slightly.
"This can end everything."
The elder's gaze hardened, but not in hatred—more in resignation.
"What will you do?"
Oban looked at the battlefield, at the wounded, at the fear in young soldiers' eyes—both vampire and werewolf.
"This war started from pride."
The elder closed his eyes.
"You're right."
He stepped forward.
"It was our fault. We should never have started this war."
Gasps spread among the werewolves.
Their leader was surrendering.
Oban's grip tightened around the potion.
"In the Eternal Void… you will not suffer. You will live freely. Away from this cycle of hatred. Forever."
The elder nodded slowly.
"A prison?"
"A different existence," Oban replied. "No war. No bloodshed."
The elder looked at the moon one last time.
"Then we accept."
He raised his hand, signaling surrender.
The werewolves lowered their weapons.
Oban threw the Chaotic Potion into the air.
It shattered—not violently—but releasing a vast circular portal behind the werewolf army. The portal shimmered with deep cosmic light, swirling endlessly.
A pull began.
Not forceful. Not cruel.
Inevitable.
One by one, the werewolves were drawn toward it. Some resisted at first, but when they saw their elder walk forward willingly, they followed.
Rakan's uncle stopped before entering.
"Rakan… died with honor?"
Oban looked at him.
"He fought until the end."
The elder nodded.
"That is enough."
He stepped into the portal.
The rest followed.
Within moments, the battlefield was empty of werewolves.
The portal began to close.
Oban watched silently.
As the final edge sealed, he spoke softly—
"Rakan might be dead… but he's still alive."
A flashback flickered in his mind.
At the crafting table earlier, the system had displayed an additional note.
[Crafting Protocol Notice]When an item is created from a living source, a fragment of their essence remains active within the construct. Existence Altered — Not Erased.
Back in the present, Oban looked at the empty sky.
"Rakan exists now… as a different source. In the Eternal Void."
Not destroyed.
Transformed.
The battlefield was quiet at last.
Vampires slowly approached Oban, unsure whether to cheer or remain silent.
There was no celebration in his expression.
Only responsibility.
The moon hung high above the Castle of Foreverness.
The war had ended.
But Oban knew something deeper—
Power always comes with consequence.
And somewhere beyond reality, in the endless stretch of the Eternal Void, a new presence stirred faintly.
Not hostile.
Not peaceful.
Waiting.
Oban turned back toward the castle.
The war was over.
But the story Still remaining