"Six serpent scales. Four for us, two for you. How's that sound?" asked the man as he stepped closer to Leon and Uzi. His name was Rykel—long hair, soft voice, but sharp as a blade.
Uzi frowned, but before he could say anything, Leon spoke first. His tone was calm, cold.
"We did most of the work, but you get most of the loot? Even a child knows that's bullshit."
Rykel didn't flinch. "Yeah, but it's my quest. Not yours."
Uzi narrowed his eyes, voice thick with disdain. "Without us, both of you would've been snake food. And now you're bragging about that quest in front of us?"
Tension crackled in the air. Rykel's partner, a fat, bald man named Noster, began shifting nervously. But Rykel held his ground, expression as cold as ever.
"You better watch your mouth. I've been polite enough. Take the share, or leave it," he said, this time with firm resolve.
Leon gave a crooked smile. "In that case… I'll take the third option."
Without warning, his fist shot forward. Blue fire surged around his arm just before it crashed into Rykel's face, sending the man flying a dozen meters back. The flames tore into his skin and clothes. His scream of agony ripped through the night air like a jagged blade.
Noster panicked. His eyes went wide. He turned to run—but it was already too late.
Uzi lunged like a shadow made flesh. His first punch shattered Noster's jaw, snapping the man's head sideways. A sickening crack echoed, followed by a brutal flurry of strikes—gut, chest, face. Each blow drew a splatter of blood and a choked scream full of pain.
Bones snapped. Breaths were stolen. Noster's body slammed into the ground like a sack of meat stripped of dignity.
And the night… became an altar of violence.
Their last screams faded into bloodstained silence. Only the ragged sound of breathing remained—shallow, strained, almost silent. Rykel and Noster were no longer men, just ruined corpses still clinging to life. They lay broken on the dirt, faces barely recognizable, bodies soaked in blood and carved with pain.
Leon stood over them, untouched by the horror he'd unleashed. His hands still dripped with blood—some of it his, most of it not. His eyes were cold, not a hint of pity, only contempt wrapped in quiet satisfaction.
He reached down and scooped up all six serpent scales, holding them like trophies from a merciless war.
"You thought you could use me?" he said softly, each word slicing like a knife. He leaned down slightly, grinning at Rykel's barely conscious body.
"This is your reward, fuck ass."
Without a glance behind, Leon turned and walked away, leaving a trail of blood in every step.
Uzi spat toward one of the fallen men, then followed Leon into the dark. The forest returned to silence, save for two half-dead men too broken to even groan.
Stillness hung heavy in the air, broken only by the ragged breaths of shattered bodies. Rykel and Noster were still conscious—technically—but far from alive. Bones were fractured, joints dislocated, and blood poured freely. They didn't know if they could still move… or if all they could do now was wait for death.
Maybe, if miracles existed, they'd survive.
And in that moment, footsteps echoed. Slow. Steady. Deliberate.
Someone emerged from the misty night.
A tall, lean figure carrying a long spear—Eryon.
Rykel's bruised, half-blurred eyes caught sight of the silhouette. A flicker of hope lit up in his swollen gaze.
"H-Help us... please," he rasped, voice hoarse and barely audible.
Eryon crouched before him, staring without emotion. His dark eyes held the silence of the abyss, like a deep sea hiding storms beneath its surface.
"Who did this to you?" he asked, voice calm—almost gentle.
Rykel clenched his jaw, pain cutting his breath short. But his hatred burned hotter than the pain.
"The young one… Leon. The older one, Uzi. They stole our quest reward... and beat us without mercy."
Eryon nodded slowly. Leon—the blue-flame wielder. Clearly not the one yelling "firebending" at D-tier level. And Uzi… from what he'd seen, the man likely had sword-related talent. Both dangerous. He'd remember their names.
"Take… take us to the village. We can pay. Please."
Eryon looked at Rykel once more. "Thanks for the info," he said flatly.
Before Rykel could react, Eryon's spear moved. The blade pressed against the side of his neck, cold as death.
"P-Please… don't… I'm still—"
SCHLK!
The spearhead sank into flesh and throat in one smooth, merciless motion. Blood spurted, and Rykel's body twitched once before collapsing lifeless. His eyes froze in shock, never having time to accept the truth.
Noster watched in horror, eyes wide. He'd just escaped two monsters—only to meet a true demon.
"Don't kill me!" he cried with what voice he had left. "I don't even know him! I was just tagging along!"
Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, a mix of fear, pain, and complete emotional collapse.
Eryon didn't respond. He simply reached out his hand.
[Essence Reap Active: Emotion 'Despair' Absorbed]
Noster jolted. Something drained from within him. Fear… will to live… everything felt like it was being sucked out, leaving only emptiness.
Eryon watched his own palm, now wrapped in a thin veil of whispering darkness. Like black mist dancing slowly in the air.
"Despair... so this is what it looks like," he murmured. "Interesting. Let's see how it works."
He channeled the energy into his spear.
[Spear Coated with Despair Essence]
[Effect: Each strike induces intense psychological trauma by stimulating nerves and distributing non-physical energy. Wounds cause not only tissue damage but also trigger consciousness pathways that simulate acute loss, emptiness, and identity disorientation]
[Duration: 30 seconds]
He gave a small smile—not a sadistic grin, but the curious smile of a scientist testing a theory.
"If emotions can be crystallized into energy," he whispered, "then despair should work like a neurotoxin."
Without another word, he drove the spear into Noster's chest. The strike was precise—slipping between the ribs, aimed straight at the heart.
But the result wasn't just physical damage.
As the blade sank into flesh, the dark energy pulsed like silent lightning through every nerve. Noster's body convulsed, then went limp. His heartbeat faltered. His breathing turned ragged.
And then… his eyes—eyes once filled with terror—began to change. The light faded, and he no longer looked at Eryon… or anything at all.
He cried, without knowing why.
In that instant, his body dropped—lifeless. But it wasn't just his body that died. His soul had been unraveled, deleted, like data slowly wiped away.
Eryon withdrew his spear calmly. Two corpses now lay before him—meaningless, worthless.
He took a slow breath.
This… felt lighter than killing Wyatt.
Maybe because he had shed more blood now. Or maybe because they… deserved to die.
Even so, his heart beat faster. That adrenaline... was thrilling.
Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind. His eyes widened slightly, and he whispered:
"If that energy can be absorbed… then what if…"
He placed his palm against his own chest.
[Essence Reap Active: Emotion 'Guilt' Absorbed]
Immediately, the faint weight on his mind… vanished.
It works.