—Rexdeus—
This forest was too quiet.
Not a peaceful silence—
but one that rejected my existence.
As if every leaf, every breath of wind, every pulse of life in this place…
had silently agreed to stay away from me.
There were no insects.
No faint rustling of creatures hidden beneath the undergrowth.
Even the wind seemed hesitant to touch me.
As though my very presence was something the world refused to accept.
As the pain subsided slightly, my awareness slowly returned.
And with it—
Came a bitter certainty.
I was alone.
Truly… alone.
I had become weak.
Most of my power was gone.
My body felt stiff—no longer responding to my will as it once did.
As if something inside me had been locked.
The wound in my chest remained open.
Refusing to close.
Black blood continued to flow slowly—sticky, warm, and foul-smelling.
But what disturbed me most… wasn't the wound.
It was the feeling that the blood…
…was no longer mine.
It moved.
It pulsed.
Like a foreign living thing.
Something hungry.
Something slowly trying to devour me from within.
Sooner or later—
I would fall.
Not simply die…
But become something far worse than death.
Is this… what it means to have no hope?
I never had a future.
Not since that judgment was passed.
Since my existence was rejected.
Since I was deemed something that should have never existed.
All that remained…
was despair.
And suffering that would repeat endlessly.
I had been cast aside.
By my clan.
By Erebos—my own father.
My origin.
My identity.
The truth of what I really am.
All of it—
became the reason to erase me.
And now…
What should I do?
Endure? For what?
Fight? With a body like this?
Or…
Just give up?
Let everything end here—
without struggle, without meaning.
And yet—
Even in the midst of those thoughts…
Something remained.
Something small. Weak.
Yet unwilling to fade.
A voice—
That refused to let me stop.
Strange…
Even my own father had already given up on me—now he even wants me dead.
Wouldn't it be easier… if I just stopped?
This body is already too exhausted to keep moving.
And yet…
Something refuses to surrender.
Again.
A faint stir within me.
Weak.Fragile.
Yet stubborn.
A will that felt… familiar.
As if it had always been there—
pulling me back whenever I was about to lose control.
I don't know what to call it.
But I know one thing—
I cannot hate it.
Maybe it's because I've taken too many lives. Maybe the souls I've devoured refuse to let me stop.
Or maybe…
This is just another form of punishment.
Whatever it is—
At the very least…
I have to bear it.
Slowly, I shifted my gaze.
The surroundings had been completely destroyed.
The ground had blackened—cracked, stripped of all fertility.
The trees had withered—
their trunks dried, their leaves rotting before they could even fall.
No life remained.
Everything had been drained away by my own cursed blood.
A trail far too obvious.
Far too conspicuous.
Anyone who saw it would know—
I had been here.
I let out a heavy breath.
The air felt filthy—thick with the stench of death.
If I stayed here…
It would only become an invitation.
For those hunting me.
Or for something far worse.
I pressed against the wound in my chest.
The pain was still there.
But I forced my body to move.
To stand.
Unsteady—
but still standing.
I have to leave.
Now.
In this weakened state, I'm nothing but easy prey. Especially for Larcenous.
More importantly—
Right now, he's probably performing that ritual. The ritual to become me.
Once it's complete…
my presence will be exposed.
No matter how far I run.
I forced my hand to move.
Slow.
Heavy.
Painful.
Pathetic.
But finally—
My fingers touched the wound on my chest.
Black blood clung to my palm.
Sticky.
Warm.
Still faintly pulsing.
"You can't be wasted…" I whispered.
"Go."
With what little control I had left—
I commanded my blood.
To spread.
To seep into the soil.
Into the trees.
Into the shadows clinging to every corner of the forest.
My aura followed—
dissolving within it.
Shattered.
Torn apart.
Becoming false trails—
Fragments of myself.
Decoys.
Something to deceive the senses of anyone hunting me.
I exhaled slowly.
Relief—
just a little.
How ironic.
Once—
I was ranked third among the Anathema.
Now—
I feel relieved just for pulling off a cheap trick like this.
I started moving.
One step—
I fell.
I held my breath. Forced myself up again.
Another step—
My legs faltered.
My body lurched forward.
I fell again.
My hands caught the ground.
I crawled.
Dragged myself forward.
Then—
Forced myself to stand again.
Every movement tore through my body from within.
Every breath felt heavy—
as if my lungs refused to work.
And yet—
I kept moving.
Again.
One more time.
Just a little more.
I have to make it.
At some point, the pain began to change.
It was no longer something to resist—
But something… to accept.
Slowly.
Without me realizing it—
My legs could finally move without staggering.
Still heavy.
Still aching.
But stable enough to keep going.
I tore a piece of my clothing.
The fabric was rough and filthy—
But it was enough to wrap around the wound on my chest. At the very least, it could slow the bleeding.
After that—
I left the place behind.
Without looking back.
Slipping deeper into the heart of the forest—
Following what little instinct I had left.
The only thing I could still trust.
Time passed unnoticed.
And the sun—
had set for the second time.
That was when—
I felt it.
An emptiness.
A hollow void.
As if something had been torn out from within me.
Without even needing to look—
I already knew the answer.
Larcenous…Had stolen my identity.
He succeeded. At least… partially.
That coward—
who only dared to act because the gap between our strength had narrowed.
And without Erebos' approval—
He would never have dared to lay a hand on a fellow Anathema.
A truth that only confirmed one thing.
One bitter reality I had already swallowed.
I no longer belonged among them.
I understand Erebos's reasoning.
I truly do.
He gave me three warnings—
and I broke them.
But understanding…
doesn't make it easier to accept.
It doesn't make it lighter.
It doesn't make it…
hurt any less.
I let out a quiet breath.
The night air was cold.
Empty.
Just like me now.
But I don't have time to stop.
No time to drown in these thoughts.
If I stop now—I'll die as prey. Nothing more than that. Without meaning.
So—
Even if only darkness awaits me—
I will still walk into it.
Because for the first time—
I no longer have a place to return to.
I don't know where to go.
No destination.
No direction.
And yet—
My feet keep moving.
I keep walking.