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n?Where am I?

nIt feels as if I’m submerged under the sea, where sounds are muffled by the water, carrying a low echo.

nWhat place is this?

nDarkness surrounds me, devoid of any touch, my body seems to have detached from my soul.

nHow do I get out?

nGreg attempts to open his eyes, but nothing changes, save for a vague sensation emanating from somewhere.

nIt’s like distant calls, intermittent and faint.

nHis memory halts abruptly at Soma’s devastating blow, like a film rudely cut short.

nGreg realizes a fact.

nHe is likely blind.

nSensation might return, but the prospect of regaining his sight seems bleak.

nPondering over this grim conjecture, Greg feels his sensation slowly returning to his body.

nOr rather, he is gradually reclaiming control over his body.

nHe does not know how long he has been unconscious, but judging by the aches scattered across his body, the battle seems to be ongoing.

nHe smells blood, the scent of pyrotechnics, and the charred odor of flesh; his skin can feel the air moving, his ears catch the “whooshing” sound of flames, moans from a corner, and footsteps that were approaching step by step before halting.

nThose are Soma’s footsteps.

n“You really are tenacious.” That is Soma’s voice.

nPerhaps the loss of sight has sharpened his hearing, for Greg detects weariness in Soma’s voice, even his heavy breathing.

nClearly, Soma is not faring well either, possibly in as dire a state as he is.

nGroping and struggling, he manages to stand, staying motionless in his spot.

n“As long as you’re not dead, how can I afford to die!”

n…

nGreg stood up again, swaying, but he stood nonetheless.

nSoma had never thought it possible for anyone to rise under such circumstances.

nThe likelihood of survival was negligible, let alone standing up by one’s own strength.

nHis brain should have turned to mush!

nTaking a deep breath, Soma suppressed his surprise.

nIf Greg wished to stand, then he would continue the assault.

nIf he wanted to stand, let him stand.

nBefore his demise, no matter how many times, Soma would oblige.

nOnce? Twice? A hundred times? Two hundred?

nIt didn’t matter.

nSoma would fight until Greg could no longer rise.

nGreg’s resilience excited Soma.

nThe desire for destruction was ingrained in his very bones.

nHe had thought nothing could satisfy him anymore, but Greg’s tenacity at that moment stirred something in him.

nDestroy him! Tear him apart like dismantling a doll!

nRip off his arms, tear off his legs, sever his body from his head! Like a child dismembering ants or crushing bugs underfoot.

nThis was part of Soma’s nature, inherent from birth.

n“This is truly exhilarating!”

nSoma dragged his left leg forward, leaving a blurred trail of blood on the ground.

nThe fire had spread to the surroundings, but Soma was indifferent to it.

nLike a simple child, his mind was consumed by a singular thought.

n“I will dismantle you, tear you apart.”

n“Why? Why can you stand? Why won’t you fall!”

nGreg did not respond; he was incapable of any movement now, even stepping forward required immense courage.

nHe had no idea what lay ahead, what obstacles or pitfalls might ensue; a mere stone could trip him, a few sharp spikes could end him.

nHe had never understood the terror of blindness until now, experiencing it in a way he never anticipated.

nSoma’s voice was clear to him, the madness palpable.

nBut there was nothing he could do, only listen as Soma’s footsteps drew nearer.

nWait! Perhaps he wasn’t entirely out of options.

nIf he couldn’t move, then maybe he could prevent Soma from escaping too!

nThis thought flashed through his mind and quickly took root.

nIt wasn’t a noble strategy, nor was it clever—just a trick commonly used by street thugs.

nYet, in this dire situation, it became Greg’s last lifeline.

nHe didn’t want to die, as is the case with any sane person.

nBut there are things more important than living.

nHis loved ones, his family, the deep-seated hatred and vendettas, Greg couldn’t simply push these to the back of his mind.

nGreg rarely spoke of his past.

nVivia didn’t know, not to mention Howard and Ali.

nAntalya had some idea, but even her understanding was not clear.

nSoma and he were actually old acquaintances.

nBefore joining his current adventure group, Greg stayed with another, alongside his brother.

nBack then, Greg was young but had already begun to refine mana.

nAt that time, Soma was a member of that adventure group.

nGreg met Soma through his brother Naya.

nThey didn’t interact much but unexpectedly got along well.

nAs Greg grew older and fell in love with a girl named Dora, he eventually crossed paths with Antalya and the others.

nAfter some events and in pursuit of self-improvement, Greg decided to join Antalya’s adventure group.

nIt was the right decision, for just three days after he started moving with Antalya’s group, he received news of an attack on his brother’s camp, nearly annihilating the group.

nThe death list included his brother and his lover—his only family at the time.

nSoma was not on the death list; he had disappeared. 𝘪𝘳.𝒸𝑜𝑚

nWhat followed was a clichéd plot.

nGreg investigated the attack, spoke to survivors, and received consistent answers.

nSoma was the traitor who killed Naya and Dora.

nMore evidence confirmed it.

nThus, Greg began searching for Soma, but to no avail for seven years, until a month ago.

n“It’s quite the clichéd story,” Greg said with a self-deprecating laugh.

n“In these kinds of tales, the protagonist rarely ends up well, regardless of the outcome.”

nLosing loved ones, killing the enemy, what remains is nothing but emptiness.

nYet, such thoughts couldn’t sway Greg’s resolve.

nThose who have never felt hatred might find it hard to understand, but the anger that erodes reason day and night can drive a person to madness.

nForgiveness isn’t as simple as saying the words, and pardon is never just a matter of declaration.

nMoreover, some people are beyond the reach of forgiveness and pardon.

nSoma extended his arms forward, his movements stiff like a zombie, yet his arms remained strong.

nHe leaned in, intending to clutch Greg’s throat, to put his thoughts into action.

nGreg didn’t step back; instead, he stepped forward, crashing into Soma’s embrace!

nAll his strength burst forth in that collision, like a moth plunging into the flames.

nGreg had no idea what lay ahead; vague sounds were his only aid in judgment.

nHe felt himself hitting a solid, slippery body, the smell of blood assaulting his nostrils.

nSoma, already unsteady on his feet, wobbled under the impact, his body tilting to one side!

nGreg firmly grasped Soma’s limbs, slowly but resolutely climbing onto Soma’s chest.

nAfter Soma’s degradation, he towered over two meters tall, while Greg stood merely at one meter thirty, not even as long as one of Soma’s legs.

nYet, sitting atop his chest now, Greg instilled a sense of fear in Soma.

nGreg grasped Soma’s throat, the latter’s last vestiges of strength scattered by Greg’s impact, leaving him devoid of the capacity to resist.

nHis gaze held little fear.

nFear stems from the unknown, but he was acutely aware of what was to come, of what he was about to face.

n“How do you plan to kill me?”

nSoma’s final question came as his consciousness began to drift away from his body.

n“How did you kill Naya and Dora?”

nGreg countered, breaths heavy, blood froth spilling from the corners of his mouth.

nSoma managed a weak smile.

n“You wouldn’t want to know.”

nGreg nodded, his face void of expression, save for the twin trails of bloody tears streaming down from his deformed eyes.

n“Then, I suppose, you wouldn’t want to know either.”

nThe last bit of mana, emanating effortlessly from the palm of his hand, invaded Soma’s body.

nWith his internal mana depleted, the degradation spell began to corrode his body, now as fragile as a sandcastle on the beach, ready to crumble at the slightest wave.

nThe invasion of mana was cautious yet smooth.

nGreg, with utmost concentration, controlled the mana as it gradually occupied every neural interface in the back of Soma’s brain. .𝒎

n“Do you know?”

nGreg gasped, the intricate operation draining much of his strength.

nAlthough the loss of sight hardly affected the procedure—

narguably even aiding in focusing his attention—Greg’s physical condition was no better than Soma’s, hanging on by a mere thread of vitality.

nThe source of this content is .

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