When Eran emerged from the ruins, the city was a battleground.

  Humans and demons cshed violently, turning once-vibrant streets into a wastend of blood and rubble.

  The air reeked of death, and the cries of children pierced the chaos.

  Eran stopped, his eyes scanning the carnage, worry etched across his face.

  For a moment, he stood frozen, lost in the horror.

  Then, a devilish grin twisted his lips.

  A demon lunged at him, sword raised.

  With a swift motion, Eran disarmed the creature, wrenching the weapon from its grip.

  A low growl rumbled in his chest as he tightened his hold on the sword.

  "I like this," he muttered, his voice dark and raw.

  The sword began to glow, a deep, menacing red, as if bleeding with rage.

  Without hesitation, Eran charged into the fray, moving with brutal precision.

  He carved through everything in his path—human, demon, it no longer mattered.

  The difference between friend and foe blurred into nothing.

  Only blood, only death.

  And then—

  A child's scream shattered his rampage.

  Eran froze.

  His heart seized as he watched a demon tear through the small, fragile body of a boy, no older than Kael.

  The faces of Kael and Li fshed before his eyes—their ughter, their screams—and the old, buried agony tore its way to the surface.

  Rage erupted inside him.

  His eyes bzed crimson, glowing with a fury that drowned out all reason.

  The demon vanished into the smoke, but Eran had already lost himself.

  He hunted through the carnage, striking down everything in his way—human, demon, it didn't matter anymore.

  To him, they were all the same.

  Everyone fought for their own selfish reasons.

  The ground grew slick with blood.

  Bodies stacked higher.

  But the hollow ache inside him remained.

  Through the swirling smoke, Eran spotted the demon—the one who had killed the child.

  Fury roared in his veins.

  He hurled his sword with all his strength.

  It tore through the air and struck the demon's gut, ripping it open.

  The creature crumpled to the ground, twitching in its death throes.

  But Eran's triumph turned to horror.

  The bde had not stopped with the demon.

  Behind it—unseen—a child had been standing.

  The bde had gone straight through his small chest.

  Eran staggered back, his breath catching in his throat.

  The battlefield noise faded into a sickening, hollow silence.

  He stared, rattled, unable to believe what he had done.

  His mind went bnk.

  His sword dropped from his fingers, cttering against the blood-soaked ground.

  For what felt like an eternity, he stood frozen, watching the child fall.

  "I... I killed him," Eran whispered, his voice broken.

  He dropped to his knees, his hands shaking uncontrolbly.

  "Still, he struggled to justify himself.

  No, I haven't done anything wrong, he thought. I've been treated cruelly... I have the right to kill them all.

  But then, a flicker of fear gripped him.

  No... I'm becoming just like them—a monster."

  Surrounded by the corpses of demons, humans, and innocents alike, Eran slipped into a trance.

  I've become just like my uncle and aunt.

  This power... this curse... it must have been bought with the lives of Kael and Li.

  I'm not worthy of them.

  I should kill myself.

  All of this... it's my fault.

  The silence around him shattered.

  From the hollow ruins ahead, the harsh csh of swords echoed, growing louder and louder—until it stopped.

  Through the smoke, Eran saw them:

  Three towering demons, monstrous and radiating raw power.

  Opposing them stood two wounded men—one barely able to stand, the other colpsed, gasping his final breaths.

  The kneeling man clutched his sword in trembling hands.

  A roar, primal and furious, tore from his throat.

  "Aaaaah!!"

  Yellow blood oozed from every pore of his body, his rage pouring into the broken earth.

  Eran could only watch, numb.

  Then, in an instant, a terrifying battle exploded between the man and the three demons.

  The force of their csh shattered the air.

  Eran could barely follow—the fshes of swordlight, the shockwaves rattling the crumbling ruins.

  Every roar from the man made the ground quake harder.

  Every ssh of his sword ripped through the battlefield like thunder.

  Eran just stood there, hollow.

  Maybe I should just die here too.

  And then—

  A fsh.

  A tearing pain.

  Before Eran could even react, his body was ripped apart.

  His arm severed.

  His legs giving out.

  It happened so fast he barely understood.

  He colpsed into the blood-soaked ground, broken, bleeding, and fading.