Sebastian lay helpless on the ground, drenched in blood, his entire body feeling as if it had been shattered into pieces. His healing abilities worked tirelessly to keep him conscious and alive, but his fighting spirit had faded. Now, he had no idea what to do.

  Cain approached swiftly, and before Sebastian knew it, he was standing right in front of him. Cain looked down at Sebastian with cold, indifferent eyes, as if he were about to crush a meaningless insect.

  "Are you truly a Saint?"

  Sebastian was bewildered by the question. He had never asked himself that before. He had always believed he was a Saint because that was what Father Daniel had told him. The stigmata on his hands, the sudden awakening of holy magic—these were all the defining traits of a Saint, at least according to Sebastian’s understanding. He had never once questioned it.

  "No one has ever asked you that before, have they?"

  Cain raised his sword high. Sebastian couldn’t move—he didn’t know what to do. He shut his eyes as he saw Cain’s sword swing down. A searing pain erupted in his hands as the blade sliced through his stigmata. He let out a scream of agony. Even though his body already felt broken beyond repair, this new wound burned far worse than anything he had experienced before.

  "Even now, you still don't know what you should do. How pitiful."

  Sebastian suddenly recalled something Father Daniel had told him a few days ago. Why did both of them—Cain and Father Daniel—share the same sentiment? The more he thought about it, the more his anger flared. He tried to push himself up and fight back, but his body refused to move.

  Cain simply stood there, looking down at him with a sorrowful expression. In front of him lay a lost Saint—someone who should have been a beacon of faith, someone meant to embody the church’s ideals and possess a direct connection to the Almighty—now reduced to nothing more than a mindless beast.

  "Perhaps you're still too young. You think you can do everything on your own. You trust yourself too much and forget everything else."

  Cain sheathed his sword and turned away, leaving Sebastian behind. Desperate, Sebastian struggled to rise, but his body wouldn’t respond. His wounds were healing, slowly but surely, but for now, he remained paralyzed.

  A storm of emotions swirled inside him—despair, rage, helplessness, and sorrow. He felt completely lost.

  For an entire hour, Sebastian lay there, unable to move. His mind kept replaying Cain’s words, as well as those of Father Daniel. No matter how hard he tried to find meaning in their words, he couldn’t grasp the answer.

  Gradually, his strength returned. He managed to move his arms and legs, then slowly pushed himself up. His eyes scanned the devastated city. Buildings lay in ruins, fires raged uncontrollably, and corpses littered the streets. In the distance, he spotted noblemen attempting to flee in their carriages.

  Sebastian took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. A part of him wanted to rush back to the church and challenge Cain to another fight, but he knew that would be foolish. Cain had spared him when he could have easily ended his life.

  For now, Sebastian had to return to his original plan—run as fast as he could back to the village and check on his mother.

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  As he sprinted toward his home, his mind kept circling back to a single question: Why did Cain let me live?

  Was it because he was a Saint? But Cain had been ready to kill him in the church. And that question—Cain’s voice still echoed in his mind.

  "Are you truly a Saint?"

  Sebastian ran through streets filled with monsters and the bodies of fallen soldiers. The number of corpses was staggering. It must have been a massive Stampede, he concluded—a monster horde attacking the city. And the city guards had failed to stop it.

  After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the village.

  The sight before him was far worse than the city.

  Homes had been reduced to rubble, monsters prowled the ruins, feasting on human corpses.

  His breath caught when he saw his house—damaged but still standing. Without hesitation, he rushed forward, cutting down every monster in his path.

  Please, let her be alive. Please, let nothing have happened to her.

  His heart pounded as he burst through the door.

  Blood.

  It was everywhere.

  His room was in shambles, the windows shattered, the dining table broken into splinters. His parents’ bedroom door was wide open. A trail of blood led inside.

  Sebastian’s mind went blank. His ears rang. His vision trembled, as if his body refused to acknowledge what lay ahead.

  He took a step forward, then another.

  And then he saw them.

  Father Daniel sat on the floor, covered in blood, clutching his hammer. His chest was torn open, jagged ribs jutting out. His breaths were weak and ragged, his body trembling from the cold creeping in.

  Beside him—

  Sebastian’s mother lay motionless, her eyes wide open in an empty stare.

  His world shattered.

  Sebastian staggered inside, and Father Daniel’s fading eyes landed on him. Despite the pain, he smiled.

  "You're... alive..." the priest rasped.

  Sebastian stood frozen. He didn’t know what to do. His mind was blank, his heart numb.

  The sounds of monsters outside felt distant. All he could hear was his own heartbeat.

  His breathing was heavy—too heavy, as if he were drowning. His legs lost their strength.

  "Come... closer... please..."

  Sebastian crawled toward Father Daniel. The priest lifted a trembling hand, wiping away Sebastian’s tears with bloodstained fingers.

  Then, he pulled Sebastian close and whispered something into his ear.

  Slowly, his grip loosened. A final breath left his lips.

  Silence.

  Sebastian clenched his fists. Hot tears fell freely, dripping onto the blood-soaked floor.

  He let out a silent scream.

  And he cried.

  He cried until night fell, his body wracked with grief deeper than any wound he had ever suffered.

  He wanted to believe this was just a nightmare—something he would wake up from any moment now.

  But the cold, lifeless body before him was real.

  Morning came, and the monsters retreated into the depths of Sullar Forest, their feast complete.

  Not a single soul in the village had survived.

  Except for him.

  Sebastian rose to his feet and made his way toward Justin’s forge. The smithy was still standing, though parts of it had been damaged.

  He stepped inside.

  Justin’s lifeless body sat slumped in the corner, still gripping his sword. His throat had been torn open, parts of his body missing.

  Sebastian walked past the corpse without a word. His heart was ice. His mind was empty. He moved only by instinct—driven by a singular purpose.

  His eyes scanned the room. He grabbed a steel shovel but paused when something caught his attention in Justin’s bedroom.

  A hammer.

  It lay in the center of the room—a warhammer, adorned with intricate bronze carvings along its handle.

  Sebastian stepped forward and picked it up.

  It was heavy. Incredibly heavy.

  Beside it, a letter rested on the table.

  Sebastian opened it, recognizing Justin’s handwriting.

  "You’re finally old enough, Sebastian! Here’s my gift to you! Don’t worry—your father already paid for it."

  The hammer was far too heavy for him now.

  Justin must have planned to give it to him when he turned eighteen.

  But fate had other plans.

  What should have been a cherished gift was now just another bitter reminder of everything he had lost.

  Sebastian secured the hammer at his waist and stepped out of the forge.

  Now, this hammer was the only thing connecting him to this place.

  The only proof that this village ever existed.