The overwhelming stench of burnt flesh and blood saturated the air, choking him. Axel could barely breathe, let alone move. His clothes clung to his body, drenched in a cocktail of sweat and blood—not just his own but Noel's too. He collapsed onto the scorched ground, its heat biting through his skin.
His vision blurred.
'What... just happened? My head... it feels like it's splitting in two. I can't... I can't get up.
No, I'm on the ground... again.' Axel struggled to focus, his mind swimming in pain and confusion. His vision slowly adjusted, though the world around him still spun in disorienting circles.
[HP 2/70]
'Damn it! I need... a potion!' His thoughts were sluggish, his body even more so. He fumbled into the system menu, fingers trembling. His mind raced as he tried to remember how to navigate the familiar yet distant interface. Everything felt slower, like his body was stuck in molasses.
His shaking hand swiped at the health potion icon.
*Tap.*
He blinked.
A sword materialized in his hand instead of the potion. He'd missed by a few inches.
'No... that's not what I need!' His heart raced with frustration, his body screaming for relief. He tapped the screen again, this time more carefully. Finally, the health potion appeared. Without wasting a second, he downed it in one gulp, the liquid surging down his throat like a cold wave washing over his aching body.
[HP 50/70]
The ear-piercing noise that had been ringing in his head for what felt like an eternity slowly receded, and the agonizing pain dulled to a tolerable throb. His vision cleared, revealing the charred remains of what had once been his home.
Flames licked the edges of the once-cozy structure, consuming it with a ravenous hunger. Black smoke billowed into the sky, tainting it with death.
'No... Annie!' Panic shot through Axel as he scrambled to his feet, his legs weak and unsteady beneath him. He searched frantically through the chaos, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. His eyes scanned the surroundings, desperately looking for his sister.
And then, he saw her.
Noel lay motionless before him, her upper body intact but her legs... gone. Blood pooled beneath what was left of her, the ground soaked in a gruesome red. Her skin was pale, her face frozen in the grotesque stillness of death.
His breath caught in his throat.
She was dead.
A cold shiver gripped his spine as he stared, unable to look away from the horrifying sight. "Arrggh!" Axel gasped, stepping back in horror. His legs nearly gave out beneath him. "Annie! Annie! Where are you?!"
But his frantic calls fell silent in his throat as his gaze shifted.
Further in the distance, through the swirling smoke, he saw her. Annie. His sister. She lay impaled on a broken metallic rod, the jagged end of it piercing through her chest, her blood staining the ground beneath her. The dress she wore was torn, soaked in crimson.
"No... no, no, no..." His voice broke. He stumbled toward her, his feet barely carrying him as his mind went blank. 'This can't be happening...'
His thoughts spiraled out of control.
'My sister... she's dead... they're all dead... all of them... everyone I care about is going to die!'
The weight of it crushed him, but he couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop reaching for her, as though there was still a chance, as though he could reverse time and stop all of this. But he was too late.
***
**Earlier...**
"So delicious!" Axel exclaimed, shoving another spoonful of pudding into his mouth. His grin stretched ear to ear as he devoured more and more of the sweet dessert.
"Why wouldn't it be? You're eating all the pudding!" Annie snapped, reaching over and snatching the large bowl from him. Half of it was already gone, thanks to her gluttonous brother.
"You told me to bulk up! To gain more muscle, remember?" Axel whined, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms in defeat. He could never win against Annie when it came to arguments. Girls were impossible to understand sometimes. One minute, she wanted him to get bigger, now she was upset that he was eating too much.
"You're already gaining too much weight. You're eating like a child!" Annie glared at him, but her lips curled into a small smile despite herself. She could never stay mad at him for long.
He was broken—physically, mentally, and whatever was festering inside him wasn't helping.
'Why can't I get drunk? Why can't I even digest this damn ale? It's like I'm cursed...' Rowin slammed his fist onto the counter in frustration, knocking over one of the empty bottles. The bartender shot him a disapproving glance but said nothing.
His thoughts raced as the dull ache in his side throbbed harder. The injury he'd sustained wasn't healing—no matter how much he slowed his body's processes, it continued to rot from within. It wasn't a normal infection. It was something far worse, something that even his powers couldn't stave off. And he knew, deep down, that he was running out of time.
'At this rate, I'll die... or worse.' The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Suddenly, a sultry voice broke through his brooding.
"Hey, cutie, lost my ride. Mind helping me out?"
Rowin groaned and turned his head sluggishly to see a woman leaning against the bar beside him. Her dress clung to her in ways that made it hard to look away, but her eyes... they held something far more dangerous than lust.
"I don't have a car," Rowin grunted, barely glancing at her before turning his head back to the counter. He didn't have the energy for games right now, not when he could barely stay upright.
She didn't leave. Instead, she stepped closer, her hand brushing his shoulder, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Her voice was a low, almost mocking purr.
"I wasn't talking about a car. I'm looking at my ride."
Rowin stiffened, a flash of anger igniting within him. He shoved her hand off roughly, snarling, "Do I look like a car to you? Go ride a horse or something! Can't you see I'm trying to get drunk here?"
The woman let out a soft, amused laugh, the sound both irritating and unnerving. "Get drunk? You think you can still drink that vile liquid? You don't even know who you are, do you?"
Her words struck a nerve. His heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in the past few hours, he actually paid attention. He turned his head, eyes narrowing as he faced her fully.
"What the hell are you talking about?" His voice was low, laced with the edge of desperation. Something in the way she spoke made his skin crawl. And yet, he couldn't look away. "Who I am?"
She smirked, leaning closer, her breath whispering against his ear. "Or more appropriately... what you are becoming."
A cold sweat broke out on his skin. The room seemed to tilt for a second, and he had to grab onto the bar to steady himself.
She knew. She knew what was happening to him.
Before he could say anything else, the woman patted his back like they were old friends, her touch sending an icy chill through him. Then, without another word, she started to walk away, her hips swaying as if this was just a casual encounter at the bar.
But for Rowin, it was far from casual.
Panic surged through him, and he shot up from his seat, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stumbled after her. "Wait!" His voice cracked. He sounded pathetic, but he didn't care. "Do you... do you know what's happening to me? Please...
Please, I need your help!"
His voice wavered with something he hadn't felt in years—fear.
The woman paused, turning slightly, a cruel smile playing at the corners of her lips. She tilted her head, as if considering his plea for a moment.
"You've held on longer than most," she said with an almost admiring tone. "But the only cure... is to let the corruption take control." Her eyes gleamed darkly, like she was enjoying his suffering. "Trust me, you'll feel much better then."
Rowin's blood ran cold at her words. His mind whirled, trying to make sense of what she was saying, but the pit in his stomach only grew deeper. Let the corruption take control?
"What... what do you mean by corruption?" he stammered, his throat tight, dread seeping into every word.
Her laughter was soft but twisted. "You'll find out soon enough."
She turned away once more, leaving him standing in the middle of the bar, his legs shaking, his mind racing. Rowin wanted to scream, wanted to demand more answers, but the words wouldn't come. All he could do was watch her retreat into the shadows, her presence like a specter haunting his every thought.
His fingers dug into the bar counter as he slumped back onto the stool, heart pounding in his chest. Whatever was happening to him, it wasn't just an injury. It was something darker, something that threatened to consume him whole.
Rowin gripped the empty bottle in front of him, his knuckles white as the thoughts clawed at his mind. He had to figure it out. He had to stop it. But where would he even begin?
And worse... what if she was right? What if the only way to survive was to let go? To let the darkness take over?
Read now on m_vl_em_p_yr
For a brief moment, he considered it.