The Weeping Forest.
The final mission. Escort and Path Clearing.
Drizzle fell endlessly in these woods. No storms, just an eternal, misty rain.
The wind whistling through the trees sounded like a woman sobbing.
The nobleman's carriage rolled slowly behind me. They were terrified. The horses were skittish.
I walked point, spear in my right hand, a cigarette in my mouth that stayed lit despite the rain—the single small miracle that comforted me.
"Mister Scorpion... are we safe?" the driver asked, his voice shaking.
"Keep moving."
Beyond the mist, red eyes flared.
Wolves.
Not ordinary wolves. Their faces were distorted in a state of permanent grief. Tears of blood wept from their eyes.
This place... was formed from sorrow.
Legend had it that a family was massacred here, and their anguish poisoned the earth, birthing these monsters.
"AWOOOOO..."
The howl wasn't a threat. It was a lament.
They attacked.
I moved. Not with the anger I had against the Minotaurs, but with dead silence.
Slash. Stab.
They died with barely any resistance. Their bodies crumbled into gray ash.
The ground trembled faintly.
The Alpha emerged from the mist. A wolf the size of an elephant, bearing a pale blue crystal on its forehead.
It looked at me. Its eyes... were so tired.
Bloody tears soaked its matted fur.
It didn't roar. It didn't lunge.
Slowly, the Alpha lowered its head, exposing its neck to me.
It didn't want to kill me. It wanted me to end its suffering.
I dropped my spear.
I drew my black katana.
Respect.
I stepped forward. No killing intent, only the intent to grant rest.
One clean strike.
The head parted from the body.
No furious roar. Just a long exhale as its massive frame collapsed, as if a thousand-year burden had just been lifted from its shoulders.
I approached, extracting the crystal from its forehead.
The moment my skin touched the cold surface of the stone, my walls crumbled.
Not sound.
But sensation.
Like being plunged into a vat of ice water, then burned alive.
Thousands of unspoken screams detonated inside my head. The loss of a mother. The terror of a child. The sheer despair of watching loved ones torn apart.
"URGH!!"
I staggered. My knees slammed into the muddy earth.
My chest seized—not from asthma, but from emotions far too immense for a vessel far too empty. It felt like pouring an ocean into a cracked glass.
My hands clawed at the earth, nails digging deep into the mud. I wanted to vomit it all out. I wanted to scream for the noise to stop. But my jaw was locked.
Tears streamed down my face—uncontrollable, yet unaccompanied by sobs. Just a silent flow of saltwater burning my cheeks. My body trembled violently, reacting to a grief that wasn't mine, simply because it found no grief of my own to counter it.
The Alpha had died in peace.
But it had bequeathed its hell to me.
I lay on the wet earth, letting the rain wash away these shameful tears.
"It hurts..." I whispered hoarsely.
Finally. Pain. Even if it wasn't mine.