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The world around him was dark.
His body lay still, motionless. No thoughts stirred in his mind. He had left all worldly desires behind and surrendered to the darkness.
It crept over his legs, then his arms, his torso, his chest, his neck—until finally, it swallowed his head.
It didn't hurt. Or perhaps the man had grown used to the pain.
It beat with his heart, breathed with his lungs, heard what he heard, saw what he saw, tasted what he tasted—and hungered for the same bloodlust.
The two had become one—a single, fused entity standing in the void.
He didn't know if he could ever return to the man he once was. In matters like these, he never did. That choice belonged to the darkness now.
"—Where the hell did it go?!"
"I don't know. It's gotten too dark in here to tell. Hey, isn't that…?"
Familiar voices echoed through the gloom, drawing him back.
One of them gasped, "—That's him, all right. I'm surprised he's still alive."
"So that's where you've been…"
He felt his body being lifted.
"Help me drag him out. We need to get him out of the tunnel."
He couldn't wake up—no matter how hard he tried. The darkness had drained him.
He was dimly aware of being pulled from the rubble, slung over someone's back… but everything else was a blur.
Before long, he slipped back into unconsciousness.
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"—Huh? What the hell?!"
William jolted awake from his unconscious state, only to find himself alone. He coughed, spitting out the dirt clinging to his tongue.
"This isn't—where am I?"
He glanced down—and froze. The arm that had once been amputated was now perfectly reattached.
A grimace twisted his face. The memory clawed at the edge of his mind.
"What did you do? —Ugh!"
Suddenly, the world tilted. His vision spun. Screams echoed inside his skull—shrill, desperate cries begging to be saved. They pleaded for an end to the misery. They didn't want to die like this.
Even though William didn't understand the meaning behind the voices, he felt their pain as if it were his own.
"Make it stop, please—no more!"
He clutched his head, covering his ears, but it was useless. The cries seeped through. The words "I don't want to die" repeated like a broken record—each repetition a needle burrowing into his brain. He thrashed across the floor like a madman. Tears streamed down his face as he screamed in agonizing pain.
"I need... to get out."
Using the wall for support, he hauled himself to his feet and staggered forward, dragging his feet away from the phantom voices—until he slipped and collapsed into a puddle.
When he looked down, his breath caught.
"This is…"
He had fallen into a puddle of blood.
His eyes followed the trail—and it led directly to two lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground.
A torch flickered to life in front of him, revealing their identities.
"No way… this can't be…"
It was Shiro and Ron—the rookie mercenaries.
"Why did you come back here?!"
Parts of their bodies had been eaten away. The bite marks were blackened, veins darkened by a familiar poison. William knew that corruption anywhere.
"Where are you?" he called out, his voice barely above a whisper.
As if in response, a low growl rumbled nearby. The sound sent a chill down his spine.
Slowly, the creature emerged from the shadows—cautious, deliberate—revealing itself to William.
"You… Was this your doing?!"
The creature stood still, silently inspecting the blacksmith.
"You're alone this time… So they really did find you."
It didn't respond.
For some reason, it kept its distance—cautious, hesitant. William couldn't understand why, but he recognized one thing.
A grin tugged at his lips, "You came running here like a coward."
Suddenly, the torch beside the Jawer went out. Another one—this time near William—flickered to life. He knew what that meant.
"Did that strike a nerve? Well, come at me, you disgusting piece of crap!"
The sound of footsteps echoed through the space—growing louder, faster. The creature lunged toward him, fangs bared, ready to tear into his flesh—
But just before it could reach him, something—someone—intervened.
The beast froze midair, just inches from William's face. Its eyes widened with confusion, then terror. It struggled to move, squirming violently— And in an instant, it was obliterated. Gone before William's eyes.
The blacksmith stumbled back, stunned, "What… just happened?"
From the shadows, a small figure stepped forward. It was none other than—
"—Nicolas?" William couldn't believe it.
He shot to his feet and ran toward the boy, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He ran his fingers gently through Nicolas's hair, his touch filled with warmth and relief.Out of everything he had endured… this was all he had wanted: For Nicolas to be safe. Here he was—just as he'd wished.
"I've been looking everywhere for you… Listen, I need to tell you something. It's very important, so it can't wait. You see…"
He hesitated, his voice faltering as he looked at the boy in front of him, "Nicolas?"
The young man didn't react. He remained completely still, silent as stone.
William's heart dropped. He realized then how inconsiderate he was being. He wasn't the only one suffering through this situation—Nicolas had endured just as much, if not more.
"I'm sorry, Nicolas. Where have you been all this time?"
There was still no answer.
Instead, Nicolas gently raised a hand and placed it against William's cheek—a gesture so unexpected that it took the blacksmith by surprise. Nicolas had never been one to express affection through touch. Their relationship hadn't reached that point, not yet. But even so, William didn't pull away.
Still, something felt wrong.
As he stared into the young man's eyes—the windows to the soul—William noticed how empty they looked, hollow and distant. The hand on his cheek felt cold, unnaturally so.
"Nicolas… are you okay?"
Nicolas smiled faintly, though the expression lacked any warmth, and in a flat, monotone voice he asked, "Will you, little wolf?"
William's body tensed, a cold sweat forming along the back of his neck.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
For just a second, he caught a flicker of life behind Nicolas's gaze—just enough to see him mouth a single word:
Run.
Before William could even react, he felt the sudden rise in temperature radiating from Nicolas's hand.
It was already too late. Whatever was coming for him had arrived, and he had no way of stopping it—Or so he believed.
"Nicolas?"
The heat from the young man's hand faded abruptly.
"Master…"
He coughed up blood onto William's face, and in that moment, the light vanished from his eyes.William caught him as he collapsed forward—only then noticing the weapon lodged deep in Nicolas's back, piercing straight through his heart.
"No… no, no, no, no!"
Blood spilled heavily from the wound. There was no saving him. This was the end.
William recognized the weapon instantly.
The katana.
The same blade he had forged with his own hands—to protect Nicolas and now it had taken his life.
The culprit pulled the weapon from the young man's body.
"—I did what had to be done."
"Why?!"
"I told you, didn't I? He was a ticking time bomb, and you were ready to let him explode—with all of us still around."
"I could've found a way to save him… You didn't even give me a chance!"
"A chance for what? You looked ready to die with him. You were the one who needed saving, he was already a lost cause."
William fell to his knees, slamming his fist against the ground as tears streamed down his cheeks, "Sebastian… did you ever care for him?"
"This is me caring for him. What about you?"
William scoffed, his face flushed red with fury, "Of course I did! All this time, I—"
"—All this time, you kept looking the other way. Pretending not to see what was right in front of you. And yet you painted me as the villain."
"How could I not, when everything you've done has been against him?!"
"I was never against him. I was pointing out what needed to be dealt with before we ever set out on this journey. You knew about his unstable affinity for magic—and you refused to acknowledge it. Now look where we are."
William's eyes widened. He had no words.
He saw it all flash before him—
Olivia's organs splattered across stone walls.
Ron and Shiro's bodies, rotting and poisoned.
And Nicolas, limp and lifeless in a puddle of his own blood.
—All these bodies… are because of me?
"—Hehe. The lion and the little wolf, always at odds."
"Huh?"
A new voice broke through the tension—one neither of them recognized.
They looked down.
Nicolas's body was glowing.
"Yet there's no bond stronger than that of a cat and dog."
The light intensified, forcing them to shield their eyes. Heat surged through the tunnel, so fierce it felt like it would melt flesh from bone. Still, William couldn't bring himself to move.
"What's happening?"
"—William, get down!"
In that instant, the dragon's mountain—and more than half of the Lost Forest—was consumed, vanishing in fire and light.