Anahita paused, as if searching for the right words.
"When you saw your mother's body… you lost control of yourself. The shock you felt released something from inside you."
Lioran frowned.
"What? What was released?"
Anahita explained, her eyes cold.
"A gray mist. A mist that burst out of your body. It's what turned this forest into what you see now."
"A gray mist?" Lioran repeated under his breath.
Anahita nodded.
"To be more precise… it was a Mist of Death. That mist drains life. Anything living that touches it dies."
Lioran stared at his hands in confusion. He had never even known something like that existed within him.
"But I've never felt anything like that inside me before… So where did it come from?"
Anahita shrugged slightly.
"I don't know exactly either. But it's probably because you use Death Qi. Your dantian is filled with it. Maybe when you lost control, that energy simply found its way out."
Silence fell.
Lioran looked again at his mother's body—
at the arrows that still pinned her to the dry, lifeless tree.
"I don't know… maybe you're right."
His voice was quiet, yet firm.
"I'll figure out where that mist came from later. Right now, none of that matters."
He slowly rose to his feet.
"Right now I need to bury my mother. She shouldn't remain tied to that tree any longer. I don't want her soul to suffer any more than it already has."
At that moment, he suddenly realized his body was completely naked.
Then, beside his right hand, the space suddenly rippled
as if the air itself had cracked.
A small vortex of dark blue and black formed, calm yet deep.
Lioran reached his hand into it. A chill ran across his fingertips.
A moment later, he pulled out a set of black clothes from within the space—
simple, without any decoration, yet heavy… as if it carried mourning within it.
And he began to put them on.
Anahita knew very well how heavy this moment was for Lioran.
So she spoke softly,
"Give me control of your body… If you want, I can do it for you."
Lioran put on a white shirt with a slightly open collar, a pair of simple black trousers, and a pair of brown boots.
The cold fabric settled against his skin, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing on his chest.
His gaze drifted down to the ground.
That was when he saw it.
His mother's ruby necklace lay among the dark, lifeless soil—yet it still shone just as it always had.
He walked over slowly and bent down.
He picked up the ruby.
For a moment, he clenched it tightly in his fist.
Then he extended his hand toward the magical space and placed the necklace inside it.
In a quiet, cold voice, he said,
"No… This is the only thing I can still do for her."
—
The spell Lioran used was a common magical spell known as [Magic Space].
Among mages, this spell is not considered particularly rare.
Almost any mage who reaches Level Four or higher is capable of using it.
Magic Space is essentially a personal storage dimension where a mage can keep their belongings.
The stronger the mage—or the more advanced their magic circle—the larger the storage space becomes.
In simpler terms:
More power = more storage space.
—
Lioran stepped forward slowly and approached his mother's body.
His gaze, cold and unmoving, rested on her withered face—the face that once warmed his entire world with nothing more than a simple smile.
He stopped in front of her.
The heavy silence of the dead forest wrapped around them.
In a very quiet voice, almost a whisper that only he himself could hear, he said,
"I'm sorry, Mom… You deserved a better son… A son who could laugh for you… A son who, at the very least, would shed a few tears at your death…"
He paused for a moment.
Then he continued softly,
"…But even so, thank you."
He placed one hand behind his mother's head and wrapped the other around her waist. With a gentle, careful motion, he lifted her body slightly.
The arrows slid out one by one without resistance۰
from her lifeless body.
No blood spilled. No sound broke the silence…
As if even death no longer had the right to harm her.
Lioran gathered his mother in his arms—
one hand beneath her head, the other under her legs.
He looked at her face and quietly said,
"Thank you for always being by my side…"
Lioran moved away from the black, lifeless ground and walked deeper into the forest.
The farther he went, the scent of death slowly faded—until his eyes fell upon a tree that seemed to shine within the darkness.
Around it, flowers had grown—sky-blue in color; alive, calm, and strangely out of place… as if they didn't belong to this dead forest at all.
Lioran stopped.
His gaze drifted over the flowers, and under his breath he murmured,
"Those flowers… they're as beautiful as your eyes, Mom…"
He slowly walked toward the tree. His feet sank gently among the flowers without harming them.
....
One hour later…
His mother had been buried at the foot of that very tree, surrounded by a ring of sky-blue flowers.
Lioran sat on the ground beside the grave. His arms were wrapped around his knees as he stared silently at the fresh soil.
No tears. No trembling.
Only silence.
After a while, in a quiet and weary voice, he said,
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Mom…"
He took a deep breath and continued,
"I hope in your next life, you'll have a son who laughs with you in happiness… and cries with you in sorrow…
And I hope you find a husband who will always stay by your side."
Lioran slowly rose to his feet.
For the last time, he looked at his mother's grave—a brief glance, yet heavy with meaning.
"I hope your soul finds peace…"
Then he turned and walked away without looking back.
His steps carried him toward the distant orange glow—
toward a fire whose enormous flames were devouring the sky.
A fire that stood waiting for him,
like destiny itself.
Lioran stood before the fire—not so close that the flames would claim his clothes again, yet not so far that he couldn't feel its presence.
The massive wall of fire roared like a living creature. It breathed and burned; flames twisted and tore at the sky without weakening in the slightest.
"Seriously… from last night until now, not even a bit of its heat or flames has faded."
Anahita's voice rose from within him, calm but serious as she replied,
"I told you. This fire belongs to a Ancient dragon. A flame like this can burn for years—maybe even decades—unless several Ninth Circle mages work together to extinguish it."
She paused for a moment before continuing,
"But I still wonder… why did it attack this place?"
A heavy fire burned in Lioran's eyes.
For a few moments he stared silently at the wall of flames. Then he slowly clenched his fists at his sides; the knuckles turned white.
"It doesn't matter what its reason was…"
He took a deep breath. His shoulders rose slightly, then fell.
"I'll destroy that damned creature—and anyone who had a hand in this."
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharpening.
"I'll break their entire families right in front of their eyes… I'll make them suffer a hundred times the pain they gave me."
Then, without even looking at the flames again, he turned his back on the fire.
His body began to change. His eyes turned black once more, and his hair shifted to crimson.
He had taken the same form he used when hunting.
Then he began to walk.
"Where are you going?" Anahita asked.
"First, I'm heading to the nearest city… Orestal.
If I want revenge, I need to find the killer first."
"But your mother always wanted you to use your power to protect others."
"That's exactly what I'm doing,"
Lioran replied.
"To protect good people… you have to destroy the bad
ones."
Anahita opened her mouth to say something.
"But—"
Lioran cut her off.
"Don't worry. I won't kill all of them. I'll kill a few… as a lesson.
If the rest change, good. If they don't… I'll keep breaking them until they do.
That way no good people will ever suffer because of them again."
A few moments of silence fell between them.
Behind Lioran, the flames flickered softly.
Anahita let out a quiet sigh and muttered to herself,
"I suppose killing them might be the only way for you to 'correct' them."