In this world, the weak do not die because they are killed.
They die… because they were never considered alive.
And those who continue to endure are not heroes, but something lower, dirtier, more… difficult to destroy.
…
Maggots.
And today, a maggot begins to learn… how to become something feared.
The fog drifts slowly, as if pulling something back to where it belongs. The sounds of the forest return. Wind. Leaves. The breath of a living world.
Noc sits silently inside the cabin of his hut, not moving, not speaking. Traces of tears still remain on his face, but something within him has finished.
He raises his hand slightly, staring at it. Old wounds. Scratches. Rough skin. All of it is real. All of it, proof.
"…Enough."
His voice is quiet. Flat. Not rejection, not emotion, but closure.
He lowers his hand. His gaze returns to emptiness, calm and cold.
That flashback, those memories, are not merely wounds. They are… answers. And now, he knows what must be done.
Noc takes a slow breath, observing the forest before him. Thin fog still veils part of his view, but this time he does not see it as an obstacle. He sees it as… protection.
"If I remain the same as before…"
"I could die from something I don't understand."
"If I go too deep…"
"I could die from something I cannot fight."
He pauses for a moment, calculating, weighing.
"…so I will do neither."
He stands. He moves sideways, circling the perimeter around his hut, always on the edge, never in the center, as always.
The small horned creature still sits on his shoulder, silent, observing.
Noc glances at it briefly.
"…You won't tell me either, huh."
No answer. But this time, Noc doesn't care, because he already has something more important.
Information.
"Augustus."
The name crosses his mind.
"He is strong."
"That much is certain."
"And he believes I am above him."
Silence.
"Which means…"
Noc stops walking. His eyes narrow slightly.
"…I can determine the direction."
Not through orders, not through control, but through choice.
Choices that seem like his, but… are not.
The corner of Noc's lips lifts slightly. Thin. Not a smile. Calculation.
"If I want to live…"
"…I must ensure he keeps moving… for me."
And for that, he needs something.
A test.
On the other side, the deeper part of Irinthal Forest is darker, quieter, heavier.
Augustus' steps come to a halt. The air shifts. Pressure. Not from outside, but from something alive.
He slowly opens his eyes, his gaze sharp, focused.
"…Here."
The ground before him trembles. Like the rhythm of a drum, slow footsteps echo, extremely heavy.
The creature emerges. Its body like a serpent, with two arms, no legs, massive in size, thick-skinned, and a head shaped like an ape that can open its mouth unnaturally wide. Long black fangs. Red eyes that pulse slowly.
A high-tier monster, Vel'Khar Serpentis.
It does not roar, does not hiss, does not move quickly. It simply stares. And that is enough.
The air around them becomes heavy, pressing.
But Augustus does not retreat. He stands firm, calm.
His hand moves slowly, touching the hilt of his sword.
"A creature like this…"
He speaks quietly, but not to the monster.
"…is worthy of being offered."
In a single motion, SLASH.
The air splits. No grand swing, no shout. Just one movement. Clean. Precise.
The monster's body is split apart.
Blood erupts, but does not touch Augustus. He has already moved.
His steps are light, as if gravity does not touch him.
Yet he does not stop. His eyes narrow.
"…This easy?"
He turns his head deeper into the forest.
And there… more.
Shadows moving. Other creatures. Larger. Darker.
Augustus raises his sword, and for the first time, that aura appears. An invisible pressure, enough to make the air tremble.
"…If this is what my Lord desires…"
His gaze hardens.
"…then I must not disappoint."
Augustus steps forward slowly. But each step causes the ground beneath him to crack slightly, not from his weight, but from the pressure he carries.
He raises his hand slightly, looking at it, feeling that flow.
Energy.
Not like before. No longer wild, no longer difficult to control.
Now, it feels… natural. Like a part of him.
"…This…"
He clenches his hand. The air around him trembles, faint but enough to shift the leaves on the ground.
"…is truly different."
He recalls the previous sensation, when his power felt like something that had to be forced out, like squeezing something unwilling to emerge.
But now… no.
Now, he only needs to think, and the energy flows without obstruction, without any felt limit.
"…As if…"
His eyes narrow.
"…my old body has been destroyed."
He takes a deep breath, slowly, and for the first time he truly tries. Not resisting, not enduring, but measuring.
In a single step, he vanishes.
The ground where he stood shatters, cracks, as if struck by something immense. Yet there is nothing there.
And in the distance—
BOOM.
The air explodes. His body reappears dozens of meters from his original position.
Yet even that does not feel enough.
"…Faster."
He whispers, and in an instant he moves again. This time farther, sharper, cleaner, as if space itself makes way for him.
And when he stops, there is no heavy breathing, no exhaustion, only awareness.
"…This is not a normal increase."
His eyes sharpen.
"This…"
"Transcendent!!" Valdryss resonates with Augustus' words.
Something moves from behind the trees. Fast. Aggressive.
A Thalgrim appears and lunges, mouth wide open, fangs ready to pierce.
But Augustus does not move.
He simply raises one finger, slightly.
And—
CRACK.
The creature's body halts mid-air, as if it collided with an invisible wall. Its eyes widen, but it cannot react.
Because in the next instant, its body shatters. Without contact. Without a swing. Only pressure. Pure. Absolute.
Silence.
The forest falls quiet again.
But Augustus does not stop.
He looks at his hand again.
"…At this point…"
"…I haven't even reached its limit."
And that is the most dangerous part.
Because he does not know where that limit is… or if it even exists anymore.
More creatures begin to appear from the shadows, from the ground, from the trees, drawn by that aura.
But to Augustus, they are not threats.
They are… measuring tools.
He steps forward, and this time he does not hold back.
That aura erupts. Without sound, without light.
But the pressure that follows is enough to collapse the ground.
Trees crack. The air… stops.
The creatures are instantly forced to the ground, unable to move, unable to resist, unable to… live.
Augustus looks at them, flat.
"…Still too weak."
And with a single swing, everything ends.
Blood flows, but does not touch him, as if the world itself refuses to stain him.
He stands in the middle of destruction.
Silence.
And slowly, he raises his head, his gaze distant toward where Noc is.
"…My Lord…"
His voice is low, almost a whisper.
"…is this enough?"
But there is no answer.
And because of that, he continues.
Deeper. Farther.
Because in his mind, one thing is certain.
If this is a test, then he will surpass it, no matter how far, no matter how deep.
Because now, he is no longer the same man.
He is a sword.
Reforged.
By something he does not understand.
On the other side, Noc stops, far from there.
But he feels something. Not clear. Just a faint vibration beneath where he stands, his hand gripping a tree as if waiting, hoping to feel something.
But enough to make him aware.
"…He has started."
He closes his eyes for a moment, calculating time, distance, possibilities.
"If he succeeds…"
"…he will return."
"And when he returns…"
Noc opens his eyes.
"…I must be ready."
He turns toward the hut. His steps shift back, calm, unhurried.
But his mind moves fast.
"If he brings something large…"
"I cannot look surprised."
"If I look unaware…"
"That becomes a gap."
"If I react wrongly…"
"That could be the end."
His steps stop in front of the hut.
Silence.
He looks at the door.
"…So."
He exhales slowly.
"…I will not react."
A simple decision, yet heavy.
"No matter what he brings…"
"…I will accept it."
"As if it is exactly what I wanted."
Silence.
And there, that first manipulation truly takes form.
Not from words. Not from grand plans.
But from the choice to not speak the truth, the choice to let others believe, the choice to use it.
Noc sits again in front of the hut. He stops at the door but does not enter immediately.
His hand touches the wooden door.
Still.
Thinking.
"…Expression," he murmurs softly. "It must not be wrong."
He takes a breath, slow, then exhales.
And slowly, his face changes.
Empty. Calm. Unreactive.
Not curious. Not surprised.
As if he already knows.
As if all of this is part of his plan.
"…enough."
He nods slightly, locking that expression, memorizing it, turning it into a mask.
"If he sees hesitation…"
"…that is a gap."
"If he sees confusion…"
"…that is danger."
"If he sees nothing unusual…"
Silence.
"…that is the truth."
"…what I need is to become the figure he believes in."
"Because you see me as your lord…"
The corner of his lips lifts slightly, thin, cold.
"Then I will truly become your lord… Augustus."
And there, Noc truly changes.
Not into someone strong.
Not into someone brave.
But into someone who knows how to appear as something he is not.
Calm. Silent. Waiting.
As always.
But this time, not just to survive.
But to control.
Even if only slightly.
Even if only an illusion.
And deep within the forest, blood begins to flow.
And something large… is being brought back.