Nocthar, hidden within the suffocating darkness, slowly lifted his gaze.
His yellowish eyes glowed faintly.
They locked onto the figure that had just entered his domain.
For the first time in a long while—
He felt something close to surprise.
This kind of boldness…
It was unfamiliar.
Rare.
Even the generals of the so-called Heat Emperor did not dare to approach him carelessly, let alone step into his territory without permission.
Yet this man…
Walked in.
Calmly.
Without hesitation.
Nocthar's lips curved slightly.
A thin, amused smile.
"What gave him the courage…" he thought quietly, "…to walk into my asylum?"
His gaze sharpened.
This place was not just a shelter.
It was his prison.
His asylum.
His workshop.
A place where fear was cultivated…
Harvested…
Consumed.
His eyes studied the burly figure carefully.
He sensed it—
A faint pressure.
Not overwhelming.
But present.
Subtle.
Unclear.
That alone made Nocthar cautious.
In this world shaped by the Inkforce, anyone who had survived this long…
Was never simple.
Never harmless.
He narrowed his glowing eyes slightly.
Then—
He searched deeper.
Not the body.
Not the strength.
But the emotion.
He probed.
Silently.
Patiently.
And then—
Nothing.
No fear.
No trembling.
No hesitation.
Nocthar's expression shifted ever so slightly.
That…
Was unusual.
Very unusual.
His gaze slowly dropped to the body in his hand.
A shriveled, lifeless corpse.
Dry.
Twisted.
Its skin clung tightly to bone like an empty shell.
Without warning—
He threw it.
The corpse tore through the air violently, crashing toward Steven.
Steven's reaction was immediate.
He stepped sideways.
Clean.
Effortless.
The body slammed into the ground with a dull, heavy thud.
Steven's eyes followed it.
Curiosity flickered briefly.
He stepped closer.
Then crouched slightly.
What he saw made his gaze sharpen.
A middle-aged man.
Dead.
But his face…
Still held something.
His expression was frozen in place—
Eyes wide.
Mouth slightly open.
A look of absolute terror.
Not ordinary fear.
Not panic.
But something deeper.
Primal.
The kind of fear that stripped away reason.
The body itself was disturbing.
It had been…
Used.
Drained.
Parts of the flesh had been torn and chewed away.
Not cleanly.
Not like a weapon.
But like something had fed on him.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Steven stood up again.
His eyes darkened slightly.
This wasn't the work of a wild beast.
No…
This was something worse.
Something controlled.
Something that understood exactly what it was doing.
He turned his gaze back toward the darkness.
The direction where the corpse had come from.
Then—
A voice echoed out.
Calm.
Soft.
Almost gentle.
But carrying a cold, merciless undertone.
"That feeling… in your chest…"
A pause.
"Don't suppress it."
The air seemed to tighten.
"It feeds me."
The darkness shifted.
And from within it—
A figure stepped forward.
Slowly.
Revealing himself.
A lean man.
Handsome.
Almost unnaturally so.
His yellowish eyes glowed clearly even in the dim, suffocating room.
His body was well-built.
Not bulky—
But perfectly defined.
Every muscle line sharp.
Precise.
Controlled.
His skin was pale.
Almost white.
But what stood out the most—
Was his hair.
Long.
Blood-red.
Flowing all the way down to his waist.
It moved slightly as he stepped forward.
Like it was alive.
His entire body was drenched in blood.
Fresh.
Dark.
Dried.
Layered over time.
The scent of iron intensified with his presence.
Combined with the faint, cruel smile resting on his lips—
He looked less like a human…
And more like something that had abandoned humanity entirely.
Something that fed on it.
Steven felt it then.
A wave of pressure.
Heavy.
Oppressive.
It pressed against his body from all directions.
Not just physical—
But something deeper.
Something that brushed against the mind itself.
Steven's expression didn't change.
But his body responded.
Naturally.
Instinctively.
A surge of his own power rose to meet it.
Clashing silently against Nocthar's presence.
The air between them grew dense.
Unstable.
Dangerous.
Steven steadied his stance.
His breathing even.
Controlled.
His eyes locked onto Nocthar without wavering.
A confrontation was inevitable.
This was not someone he could reason with.
Not someone he could ignore.
This was a predator.
And stepping into this room…
Had placed him directly inside its hunting ground.
Still—
Steven spoke.
Calm.
Unbothered.
"What feeling…"
He paused slightly.
His gaze sharpening.
"…are you talking about?"
Steven waited.
A few seconds passed.
Silence.
No response.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
The man just stood there…
Watching.
Smiling.
Like a predator observing prey that had already been caught.
Steven's patience began to thin.
His voice came out again—this time colder.
More direct.
"Who are you?"
There was intent behind it now.
Pressure.
A quiet warning embedded in the tone.
Still—
No reply.
Not a single word.
The silence stretched.
Heavy.
Steven's expression hardened.
A faint crease appeared on his forehead.
He was already beginning to lose patience with this man's strange behavior.
Just as he was about to act—
The voice came again.
But this time…
It was different.
Sharper.
Colder.
Carrying a ferocity that hadn't been there before.
"You're trying to prevent that feeling from coming out…"
A pause.
The air seemed to tighten unnaturally.
"Suppressing it…"
Another step.
Slow.
"Preventing me from feeding."
Nocthar's tongue slid across his lips slowly.
Deliberately.
His glowing yellow eyes flickered with something far more dangerous now—
Hunger.
Pure.
Unfiltered.
Terrifying.
His smile widened slightly as he continued,
"But no rush…"
His voice softened again.
Almost amused.
"I'll absorb it sooner or later…"
A faint tilt of his head.
"It makes no difference."
And then—
He moved.
No—
He vanished.
Not fast.
Not like a blur.
But like he had simply ceased to exist in that spot.
Steven's pupils shrank instantly.
His instincts screamed.
Too late.
A terrifying force crashed into his stomach.
BOOM—
The impact was heavy.
Violent.
Precise.
Steven's body bent slightly from the blow as the shockwave rippled through him.
The ground beneath his feet cracked faintly.
A dull, suppressed sound echoed within the enclosed room.
For a split second—
The air froze.
Steven's eyes widened just slightly.
Not from pain—
But from surprise.
That speed…
That power…
He hadn't seen it.
Hadn't predicted it.
A rare occurrence.
Very rare.
Behind him—
Nocthar stood.
One arm extended.
His posture relaxed.
Like he had merely tapped something aside.
His expression?
Disappointed.
His glowing eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke again, his tone colder now.
"Nothing…"
A brief pause.
His gaze sharpened.
"Still nothing."
His lips curled faintly.
"No fear."
The hunger in his eyes didn't fade.
It grew.
Deeper.
Darker.
More dangerous.
"Interesting…"
Steven slowly straightened his body.
The impact had been real.
Heavy.
Enough to crush an ordinary mutant instantly.
But his face…
Remained calm.
He exhaled once.
Controlled.
Measured.
Then—
He turned.
Facing Nocthar directly again.
His eyes locked onto the blood-soaked figure.
Sharp.
Unshaken.
And for the first time—
A faint, dangerous aura began to leak from him.
Not explosive.
Not wild.
But dense.
Like something being compressed to its limit.
His voice came out low.
Steady.
With a hint of something darker beneath it.
"You talk too much…"
A brief pause.
Then—
"…for someone who hasn't done anything yet."
The air shifted.
Tension spiked.
Standing within a confined space.
Both analyzing.
Both waiting.