[In the Shadows of the Headquarters: The Ritual of Corpses]
The headquarters was boiling with an oppressive, suffocating silence. A thick, Dan had been missing for exactly one week. In our world, an absence of that length was never a sign of peace; it was the quiet retraction of the ocean before a devastating tsunami. That disappearance was a dark omen that made the blade of "Sin," sheathed across my back, hum with a faint, restless vibration.
"Ray... come closer," Sycoro muttered, his voice raspy, carrying the heavy grit of exhaustion and a grim seriousness I rarely saw in him. "I had to drain a small fortune into the greedy hands of one of the palace's senior stewards. The information I extracted... it is going to overturn everything we thought we knew about the 'Dragon's Heart'."
I stepped forward, my massive frame casting a long, dark shadow over the scattered, ink-stained maps on the wooden table. I leaned in, my hands resting on the rough edges of the wood. "Speak, Sycoro. What exactly is hiding behind this so-called Heart?"
Sycoro exhaled a long plume of grey smoke, his eyes narrowing in disgust. "The Heart is not merely a magical stone that grants raw power, Ray. It is an ancient, parasitic entity. A relic of pure, predatory magic. The 'Reflection' technique will never open its gates to a bastard like Dan unless the Heart is fed. And it doesn't just drink any blood; it demands pure, unadulterated royal blood. Blood that descends directly, without a single impure fraction, from the lineage of the First Dragons of Draka."
I stared at him, my expression chilling into a mask of cold indifference. "And who currently possesses this untainted blood?"
"Three people in the entirety of this miserable kingdom," Sycoro replied, tossing three small, crumpled portraits onto the table. "King Baron. His eldest son, Crown Prince Muriel. And his youngest, Prince Cyril. These three are the only surviving roots of the original bloodline."
Sycoro paused, knocking the ash from his pipe, before continuing with a description that made the very blood in my veins run cold. "For Dan to absorb this power, assassination is merely the first step. He must corner a host of pure blood and strike them down. But before their soul departs—while their heart is still desperately clinging to its final, frantic beats—Dan must cleave their ribcage open and physically embed the 'Dragon's Heart' directly into the dying organ. He has to wait as the ancient parasite fuses with the royal blood, anchoring itself to the host's fading life force."
Sycoro looked up, his eyes meeting mine with grim horror. "And then... once the fusion is complete, Dan must consume the corpse. Completely. He has to eat the royal host, piece by bloody piece, tearing through flesh and bone so that the hybridized, sovereign power enters his own digestive tract and permanently binds to his soul."
A heavy silence fell over the room. My mind instantly conjured the image of Dan—with that psychotic, ear-to-ear grin of his—crouching over the mutilated body of a prince, tearing into royal flesh with the ravenous hunger of a starving ghoul. Dan was utterly deranged. He wouldn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. He would gladly butcher and devour a king if it meant ascending to godhood.
[Beneath the Oak Tree: The Forgotten King]
At the break of dawn, I left the suffocating stench of the city. Draka was currently existing in a state of silent, paranoid emergency, the streets patrolled by nervous guards, but the forest remained my only true sanctuary. I bought a few loaves of freshly baked, steaming bread and salted cured meat from a terrified vendor, then made my way into the dense woods.
When I arrived at the secluded cabin, the crisp, damp scent of pine and morning dew filled my lungs, a stark contrast to the rust and rot of the capital. I sat on the wooden porch with Ryu's mother. Outside, in the small clearing, the young boy was engaged in a brutal battle against the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree. I watched him strike the bark repeatedly with his small, bruised fists. His form was sloppy, but his sheer, unbreakable will was terrifying for a child his age.
The mother watched him for a long time. The warm steam rising from the bread between us seemed to blur the deep, tragic lines etched into her face. She let out a breath that sounded like a heavy burden shifting. "He looks so much like his father," she whispered, a fragile smile touching her lips. "The exact same stance. That identical, unwavering fierce determination in his eyes."
I tore a piece of the warm bread, chewing slowly. "His father?" I asked gently, trying not to intrude. "Is he a migrant? Or did he travel to another city looking for work?"
She slowly turned her gaze to me, and I saw that her eyes were drowning in a bottomless well of sorrow. "No, Ray... He was murdered. Slaughtered in cold blood, seven years ago."
I stopped chewing. I set the bread down on the wooden table, sensing the sudden, drastic shift in the air. "Murdered? By whom? And why?"
She took a long, trembling breath, wrapping her worn shawl tighter around her shoulders as if trying to ward off a sudden frost. "Ryu's father was named Arthur. He was the older brother of King Baron. He was the legitimate, absolute heir to the Dragon Throne."
I remained entirely silent, letting the shock ripple through my mind as she continued.
"Arthur was an anomaly in the royal family," she said, her voice carrying a mixture of pride and devastating grief. "He was entirely different from anyone who carried the blood of the dragons. He despised the endless slaughter. He believed in forgiveness, in diplomacy, in spreading peace across a land that had only known war. His father, the old King, loved him beyond measure. He saw Arthur as the true salvation of Draka, the only leader capable of restoring our lost humanity."
She smiled bitterly, a tear finally escaping and tracing a clean line down her dirt-smudged cheek. "And despite his status... Arthur fell in love with me. A simple, nobody woman who sold herbs and roots in the mud. Every night, he would sneak out of the grand palace disguised in the rough clothes of a commoner. He would wear a simple cloth mask and come here, to this very cabin. He would help me pick wild flowers, or stand by the hearth stirring the soup. I remember him laughing so loudly when he accidentally burned his hand on the iron pot. He used to look at me, kiss my forehead, and say, 'All the supreme power in the world means absolutely nothing compared to the warmth of this small room.' Those stolen, quiet days with me... that was his real life."
Her voice began to crack, the fragile memories giving way to the nightmare. "When the old King's illness worsened, Arthur spent every waking hour by his bedside, holding his hand. Meanwhile, Baron was dwelling in the shadows, orchestrating his treason. Baron despised his brother's kindness. He viewed Arthur's desire for peace as a pathetic weakness that would eventually lead to the absolute ruin of the kingdom. And so, exactly one week before the grand coronation ceremony, Arthur simply vanished. For three agonizing days, he didn't come to the cabin. He didn't appear in the royal court. I was terrified. And... I was exactly one month pregnant with Ryu."
She was trembling visibly now, her hands clutching the edge of the table. "On the day of the coronation, Baron stepped out onto the grand balcony, smiling triumphantly to the cheering masses, wearing the crown. He shamelessly declared that his older brother had buckled under the pressure, abdicated the throne, and fled the kingdom to live in exile. But the truth... the truth was far more grotesque. Weeks later, they found Arthur's body washed up on the rocky shores. It was horribly mutilated, discarded in the ocean like useless garbage. Baron didn't just steal a blood-stained crown. He brutally murdered his own flesh and blood, and he stole a father from my Ryu before the boy was even born."
[Oath of Sin: Birth of the Shadow King]
I sat frozen on the porch. Deep within the confines of my skull, I felt a familiar, scorching heat begin to radiate from my left eye—the cursed red eye. A tidal wave of pure, unadulterated fury swept through my entire muscular frame, so potent and violent that the blade of "Sin" strapped to my back began to vibrate, emitting a terrifying, low-pitched hum that resonated with my dark mana.
I slowly turned my head to look at the young boy in the yard. Ryu had just punched the oak tree so hard his knuckles bled, yet he merely wiped the blood on his pants and readied another strike.
This boy was not just some random, unfortunate half-breed bastard. He was the ghost of the murdered king. He was the sole, legitimate heir to the throne of Draka.
"So..." I whispered to myself, the words barely escaping my lips as the horrific puzzle pieces snapped perfectly into place. "Ryu possesses the purest bloodline in this entire wretched land."
He was exactly the flawless, untainted vessel that Dan was desperately hunting to awaken the ancient parasite. And simultaneously, he was the walking, breathing embodiment of King Baron's greatest nightmare. If anyone in the capital discovered who this boy truly was, armies would be sent to butcher him.
A slow, chilling smile began to stretch across my face. It was a dark, twisted, and monstrous expression—the smile of a predator that had just found the ultimate justification for a massacre. I turned my gaze away from the forest, looking out toward the distant, towering spires of the Royal Palace that pierced the morning sky.
"Baron..." I muttered, my voice dropping to a demonic, gravelly timbre. "You murdered your own brother for a tainted, worthless piece of metal. But in your arrogance, you left a loose end. You left his son alive... to be raised, trained, and protected by a monster like me."
I reached back, my calloused fingers wrapping tightly around the cold, leather-bound hilt of my sword. My objective in this world was no longer simply about survival. It was no longer about merely finding a way to the next door.
My purpose had evolved into something far more sinister and grand. I was going to be a kingmaker.
"I swear to you, Ryu," I whispered to the wind, my dark aura leaking slightly into the cold morning air, causing the nearby grass to wither. "I will march into that palace, and I will make every single traitor kneel before your tiny, bleeding fists. I will ensure that Baron begs for the mercy of drowning in the sea... long before I finally let him die."