Everything blurred for Raudra. He felt numb as the spear burned his very nerves. He didn't know what was happening or why that man wanted to kill him, but he felt weak. For the first time in his life, he thirsted for power—and wanted to kill someone. It was a new emotion, but it awakened something within him.
His body had changed, unbeknownst to him, after the dream last night—or he would have already died from the fall and the burns. The fragment of information he couldn't recall suddenly became vivid, as if he were in a trance.
"Blood domain," he uttered in an almost whisper, as if it had always been familiar to him. The heat-distorted sky suddenly turned red, reacting to Raudra's words. The air began to chill with an eerie sensation as Lord Astratoth's expression changed. He felt danger for the first time since gaining his powers. He flew toward Raudra, seemingly to finish him—but before he could, chains appeared from the ground where Raudra was buried, binding him.
Lord Astratoth struggled against the chains with all his might, but neither his flames nor his strength could break them. The more he resisted, the tighter they became—until he couldn't move at all. Terror gripped him as the reality of his death struck him suddenly and without mercy.
"No! How is this possible? How can your inheritance still be alive!? You died long ago!" The king possessing the human body had devoured the soul within, and so he knew the other kings well. Lord Astratoth stared in disbelief as the chains constricted further. Before he could utter another word, they crushed him into a mist of blood.
The flames died out, and Raudra's figure became visible—his eyes now narrow slits like the Decimator King's, his hair longer and tinged with a faint red hue. Whatever Lord Astratoth had said, Raudra hadn't heard. His gaze was distant, unfocused. His wounds had already healed.
He stood still for a few seconds until clarity returned to his eyes. He looked around at the devastation.
"What just happened? I was sure I was dead. Am I still dreaming?"
"No. This is no dream. I can't believe we were so unlucky to encounter a king so soon—especially one possessing a human. Still, this battle will attract others. We have to move. I saved you this time, but I won't be able to do it again."The voice echoed in Raudra's mind. It was the Decimator King.
Suddenly, Raudra's body moved on its own. In a flash, he appeared in front of the girl who was now unconscious, maybe fainted from the heat or the shock. Others were in the room now—the maid from earlier and several guards—but before they could react, Raudra grabbed the girl and vanished.
"Hey—what's happening? Why can't I control my body!?"Raudra panicked, trapped inside himself, watching everything unfold but unable to move.
"This lord is drawing on his own power now," the Decimator King explained calmly. "You're too slow. It's not safe anymore. I hoped for more time, but now I have to accelerate my plans. I'm sending this girl away—we can't protect the key under these conditions. But using this power has consequences. You will be forced into a long slumber."
"What do you mean, 'slumber'? I don't understand any of this! Who even are you!?"Raudra was overwhelmed. Just yesterday, he had been partying with his brother. Now, he'd nearly died, and none of it made sense. But the Decimator King didn't answer—as if Raudra's questions were beneath notice.
Suddenly, Raudra's body stopped. Before him stood a dense forest—unfamiliar and far from Sector C, his home.
"This far should be alright." the Decimator King muttered.
Before Raudra could respond or ask anything, his body moved again—drawn toward a cave nestled among the trees. The King, still in control, stepped inside and gently laid the unconscious girl on the cool, stone floor. Without pause, he lifted a massive boulder—easily weighing several tons—and rolled it across the entrance, sealing the cave.
Then, without warning, he brought Raudra's own hand to his mouth and bit down on the index and forefinger. Blood welled up immediately, but it didn't fall. Instead, it hovered in the air, igniting with an unnatural crimson flame.
Using Raudra's bleeding fingers, the Decimator King began tracing symbols in the air. The blood shimmered and twisted, shaping itself into a complex sigil that glowed with arcane energy. It was a symbol Raudra didn't recognize—written in an ancient language that pulsed with immense power.
As the last line was drawn, the sigil brightened, shifting from deep red to a radiant gold. It hovered for a heartbeat, then descended gently onto the girl's body. In an instant, both she and the symbol vanished—gone without a trace.
Raudra didn't even try to speak. Whatever was happening was so far beyond him that questions felt meaningless. All he could do was hope—hope that he wouldn't be killed without warning, and that, somehow, he might get his body back.
"I've sent her far away from here. Hopefully, she can survive until the end and avoid capture by those Dogs of All-Heaven. I no longer have the time or the strength. From here on, you'll have to survive on your own. Remember—get stronger. Only then will you find the answers to your questions."
As the Decimator King spoke these final words, Raudra collapsed to the ground, too exhausted to move. Pain radiated through every muscle in his body as his eyes fluttered shut, and everything descended into darkness.
His body drifted, suspended in what felt like a vast, viscous ocean. The world around him was dull and dark, thick with resistance, making every motion feel impossible. After what seemed like an eternity, a light appeared. It grew steadily, brighter and brighter, until the scene around him shifted.
He now stood on what could only be described as a battlefield. Corpses lay scattered—tens of thousands of them—stretching beyond the horizon. The sky above was shattered, fractured like broken glass. Amidst this apocalyptic ruin, a lone figure stood in the center, his back turned to Raudra.
The man's appearance was unassuming. His long hair flowed freely down to his waist, and in his hand he held a saber—its blade still dripping with fresh blood. Just as Raudra finished taking in the sight, the man slowly turned his head. His gaze locked onto Raudra, sharp and unfathomable, as if it pierced through the very fabric of reality.
Though there was no killing intent in his eyes, Raudra felt as though the gaze alone could end him. Frozen in place, sweat poured down his forehead. The man's lips curled ever so slightly, as if forming a smile—though Raudra, paralyzed by fear, barely registered it.
"Get stronger."
The voice echoed inside Raudra's mind.
In an instant, the vision shattered like glass, and Raudra's eyes snapped open.
He was staring at the ceiling of a cave, cool water dripping steadily onto his forehead. His body felt unfamiliar, foreign. He sat up, gasping for breath, trying to make sense of it all—when a voice interrupted him.
"Welcome back, my liege."