As I walked out of the Pathaneon estate, I heard a voice behind me.
"Wait!"
I stopped.
When I turned—
I saw Reinam running toward me.
For a brief moment, an old ache surfaced inside my chest.
But strangely—
there was no pain anymore.
No anger.
No sadness.
Only quiet acceptance.
She finally stopped in front of me, breathing heavily.
"I remembered," she said.
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're the boy from the orphanage."
"The one who said he would love me until death."
I stayed silent.
"It wasn't what you thought," she hurriedly said. "I tried to—"
I raised my hand gently.
"No need."
She froze.
I slowly shook my head.
"I don't want explanations anymore."
Because I truly didn't.
I didn't know whether hearing the truth would bring relief—
or simply reopen wounds I had struggled for years to bury.
And honestly—
I no longer cared enough to find out.
So instead—
I smiled faintly.
"Live happily."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"And if life becomes difficult…"
I turned toward the distant outline of the Dark Forest.
"…come find me there."
Then I walked away.
I never looked back.
But I could still feel her standing at the estate gates long after I left.
Watching silently.
As I passed through the outer courtyard, another figure stood waiting.
Ranel Revan Pathaneon.
The fourth son.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he suddenly said:
"I know what you did."
I looked at him calmly.
"I hated you after the duel."
"Not because you beat me."
His jaw tightened.
"But because Father respected you afterward."
There was bitterness in his voice—
but not hatred anymore.
"When I shouted at him for protecting you," Ranel continued, "he slapped me."
My eyebrow lifted slightly.
"He said:"
'We are the swords of the Emperor.'
'Do you think the Emperor needs weak swords?'
Ranel laughed bitterly.
"Then he asked me something."
'You lost fairly.'
'But why stab him while his attention was elsewhere?'
His gaze lowered.
"That question haunted me more than losing the fight."
For the first time—
I saw shame in his eyes.
Not arrogance.
Not jealousy.
Just shame.
He exhaled slowly.
"After that, my training became hell."
"Bruises. Broken bones. Endless drills."
"But eventually…"
He looked directly at me.
"…I realized you weren't the problem."
"I was."
Then he extended his hand.
"I treated you unfairly."
I stared at him for a second—
before shaking his hand.
No hatred remained between us anymore.
And with that—
I finally left House Pathaneon behind.
I returned to the Dark Forest.
The place that once nearly killed me—
yet somehow felt more like home than anywhere else.
Deep within the forest, I built a small cabin.
Nothing impressive.
One room.
A crude bed.
A tiny cooking area.
Simple.
Quiet.
Safe.
When I opened the old wooden door after months away, spider webs covered the corners.
Dust coated the floor.
But strangely—
I smiled.
This place belonged to me.
And there—
alone—
I began training again.
Not swordsmanship.
Not hunting.
Beast Breathing.
I had already learned how to strengthen my body while actively using the technique.
But now—
I wanted something more.
I wanted that strength to remain even without activating Beast Breathing itself.
Permanent enhancement.
Permanent adaptation.
So I trained.
Relentlessly.
Summer heat burned my skin.
Winter cold cracked it.
I trained until my muscles tore.
Until my bones screamed.
If beasts approached my cabin—
I killed them.
Otherwise—
I trained.
Days blurred together.
Eventually I stopped counting entirely.
Maybe months passed.
Maybe years.
I no longer cared.
Then—
one day—
it finally happened.
Without activating Beast Breathing—
my body still carried its strength.
I stood there breathing heavily—
then laughed.
I had succeeded.
But the next moment—
I coughed blood.
Dark red blood spilled from my mouth and nose.
My body collapsed to one knee instantly.
Pain spread through my veins like fire.
I staggered toward the nearby hot spring beside the cabin and washed the blood away immediately.
The scent of blood attracted monsters.
Carelessness meant death in the Dark Forest.
Even while writing this—
my hands are shaking.
My body feels weak.
But I do not regret it.
Because now I understand the flaw of Beast Breathing.
The human body cannot endlessly endure that violent blood flow.
Children adapt more easily.
Adults break.
That is why this technique was never meant for ordinary people.
Never stop using Beast Breathing completely.
Treat it like a companion.
A loyal beast walking beside you.
Not a weapon to draw only when needed.
As I reached the final pages—
the writing ended.
The remaining pages were blank.
No conclusion.
No final answer.
No mention of what happened to Runderg or if ever returned to House Pathaneon.
No explanation of how this book reached my father's hands.
Nothing.
I slowly closed the book.
But now—
at least—
I understood the path hidden inside it.
And what kind of monster its creator truly became.