Finn slowly opened his eyes. At first, everything was blurry. Shapes existed without meaning, light without form. His eyelids felt heavy, as though they were weighed down by exhaustion he could not remember earning. He forced them open again, blinking sluggishly, letting his vision adjust little by little.
As his vision adjusted, the first thing he saw was a campfire. The flames danced quietly, casting shadows that stretched and shrank against the surrounding trees. Three men sat around it. Their mouths were moving, and faint smiles rested on their faces as they chatted. Their voices did not reach him properly, as he stared at them.
He could barely hear a thing. A sharp ringing filled his ears, drowning out every other sound. It pulsed in his skull, steady and relentless, as if something inside his head had cracked and refused to settle.
'Where am I? he thought, trying to understand what he was seeing.'
His thoughts felt slow, slippery. He tried to piece together what had happened, but the moment he reached for memory, pain bloomed behind his eyes. He remembered riding. The wedding. The noble who would not stop talking. Then nothing but darkness.
He attempted to move, but his body wouldn't respond. Not even an inch. Panic flickered in his chest, subtle at first, then sharper. He tried again, willing his fingers to curl, his legs to shift, anything.
As his surroundings slowly became clearer, he lifted his gaze and saw leaves hanging above him. Branches overlapped one another, forming a broken ceiling of green and black. Crescent light filtered through the gaps, scattering across his vision in pale fragments. He blinked several times, forcing his eyes to focus, and realization hit him, h was tied to a tree.
Rope dug into his wrists and chest, rough and unforgiving. The bark pressed hard against his back, cold and uneven.
He was in the woods. The truth settled heavily in his stomach. They are here to kill him.
As he grunted and struggled to free himself, testing the tightness of the ropes, one of the men noticed his movement.
"He's awake," he said, alerting the others.
The casual tone of the words sent a chill through Finn. Not surprise. Not concern. Just acknowledgment.
The three of them stood up, picked up their swords, and walked toward him. Boots crunched softly against dirt and fallen leaves. The campfire crackled behind them, unconcerned.
As they stepped into clearer view, Finn's heart sank.
Finn recognized one of them immediately. It was the noble who had escorted him from the wedding.
"What do you want from me? If it's money I don't have okay...." Finn asked, his voice strained as the memory of the blow to his head returned. It had been painful then, but now the pain had mostly subsided. What remained was a dull ache, a reminder that he had been struck without warning, without mercy.
"I want you dead. You killed my best friend, and your life is the price," the noble said coldly.
"I don't understand what you're talking about, I have never killed people before, I can't even kill a cockroach," Finn replied.
He searched their faces for hesitation, for doubt, for anything that suggested this could still be resolved. He found none.
"Refresh his memory, since the useless Baron's son can't remember a thing."
The order was carried out immediately, the other two stepped forward and began punching Finn in the face nonstop. Fists collided with flesh again and again. His head snapped forward and back, teeth clacking painfully. He grunted with every hit, the pain rattling his brain, sending sparks of white across his vision. He could taste his own blood.
His ears rang louder with every strike. He lost count of how many times they hit him before the noble raised his hand, stopping them. Finn's face was already swollen, his vision uneven.
"Now do you remember?"
Finn spat blood onto the ground.
"Look, I don't know why I'm getting beaten like this," Finn said weakly. Each word felt like effort. "And if you keep going, you still won't get an answer because I don't know you. Maybe I did something wrong in the past, but that wasn't me. It was the old me. This new me won't take credit for whatever he did. But on his behalf, I apologize. Please stop hitting me."
The words were clumsy, desperate, but honest.
The noble grabbed Finn by the head, fingers digging into his hair, forcing him to look up. His eyes were filled with hatred, raw and unfiltered.
"You killed my knight weeks ago at the Kutiyas Inn. Do you remember now?"
The name echoed uselessly in Finn's mind.
"Weeks ago?" Finn said, confused. "You need to be specific because I don't remember killing anyone. Maybe it was the other me like I said, but first, what is the Kutiyas Inn? That name doesn't ring any bell."
Every time Finn spoke, the noble grew angrier. His breathing quickened. His jaw tightened. He instructed the other two to hit him again.
Pain exploded across Finn's face and ribs. His body strained uselessly against the ropes.
"I am Lord Vincent Karen," the man said. "Due to your clumsy act, my knight and best friend, Sir Larry, was killed."
The name meant nothing to Finn, but the grief behind it was unmistakable.
"Trust me, I'm sorry about that," Finn muttered as fragments of memory surfaced. "Someone pushed me, or maybe kicked me, and I stumbled into him. I never intended for your knight to die like that. It wasn't my fault."
"Sorry can't bring him back now," Vincent replied. "Your death will bring him justice."
He drew his sword and placed it against Finn's neck. The cold steel pressed into his skin, stealing his breath.
"This is Sir Larry's sword. Slaying you with it will allow him to rest in peace."
"But the killing wasn't me," Finn protested. "Why don't you go after the noble who poisoned him? Why me? I was pushed too, just like he was. So why kill me?"
Vincent hesitated for a moment before responding. His eyes shifted, just slightly.
"I wish I could," he said. "But those are no ordinary nobles. Especially Duke Fenrik. He does whatever he pleases, and anyone who questions him, along with their entire bloodline, dies. No one dares to cross his path. And you made Sir Larry share the same fate as his other victims."
The words revealed a kingdom far uglier than Finn had imagined.
"Please," Finn said desperately. "Let me go. My hands are aching. Killing me won't avenge your friend. File a complaint with a higher noble or maybe the king himself."
Before Finn could finish speaking, he screamed.
"Ahhhhh! Fuck! What the actual fuck!"
Vincent swung his sword and severed Finn's right arm. Blood gushed out as Finn screamed in agony. The pain was unbearable, blinding, consuming everything else. His world collapsed into fire and red.
This was exactly why he never wanted to leave his father's estate, to avoid this kind of madness.
"Killing you may not avenge my friend's death," Vincent said, "but it gives me peace knowing I've done what I wanted to do to those cunts who think they're gods of this kingdom, killing anyone who crosses their path."
"You want me to file a complaint against the Duke of Northside?" he continued. "He's the king's brother, his favorite one. The king doesn't give a fucking shit about justice. He only cares about himself and his royal family. No one gives a shit about us barons. We're nothing but tax collectors filling their pockets."
Vincent slashed Finn's other arm. Pain swallowed him whole.
"Even your death won't be questioned. No one will care what happened to you. Don't worry. I'll leave your body here so the vultures can feast on it. At least you'll be useful."
Finn screamed as the other two laughed.
"I've wanted to kill you since that day," Vincent said. "And when I saw you at the wedding… any last words?"
"I will kill you... All of you!" Finn screamed, unable to suppress the pain. He cursed the author who trapped him in such a cruel story. Everyone here was insane.
"Too bad a dead man can't rise again," Vincent said.
He swung his sword and cut off Finn's head.
Afterward, Vincent instructed his men to dispose of the body and leave it somewhere visible for wild animals to feed on. Then he left.
The two men untied Finn's decapitated body and dragged it away. As they prepared to dispose of it, something eerie began to happen.
Finn's severed body parts started to move.
The two men froze. One trembled and fell to the ground, while the other drew his sword, pointing it at the moving corpse.
Slowly, Finn's hands crawled back toward his body. His head followed. They watched in terror as the pieces reattached themselves, forming a complete body once more.
Before they could react, Finn's eyes opened, stood up. His expression was different.
As he stared at the men who had murdered him, only one thought filled his mind.
Killing the one who killed him.