Aron walked with firm steps, every movement filled with overflowing confidence, as if the whole world bent to his will. Beside him, Hernan advanced, his body tense, consumed by increasingly dark thoughts. Today, he had to prove his worth. There was no turning back.
He knew this moment would come. But knowing it didn't make it any easier.
—Hehehe, stop thinking so much, kid. Just follow me —Aron murmured with a twisted smile—. You'll see how fun it is to paint the world red.
Hernan clenched his jaw.
—I'm not like you. I don't enjoy this. I do what I must to survive. It's an order from the leader. If I had a choice, I'd avoid it.
Aron stopped at a corner, his eyes locked on the mansion before them. Guards patrolled the entrance, though their relaxed stance betrayed them. Thugs, not warriors.
—We're here —he said in a low voice, his tone devoid of emotion—. Listen carefully. We must do this with precision. The most important thing you need to understand is that, in a real sect, there will always be those who want you dead. If you hesitate, they will destroy you. You must harden your heart when necessary. Without doubt. Without hesitation.
Hernan swallowed hard. He was right. He had killed before, in self-defense. But this was different. There was no escape. There was no other option but to act.
Aron smirked, as if he could read the conflict in his eyes.
—Hehehe, enough pointless talk. It's time for some fun!
He signaled with his hand and advanced toward the mansion. Two guards stepped into their path.
—Halt. State your names and the reason for your visit.
Aron's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.
—Hehe, our names don't matter. What we want is to paint the night red.
The air grew dense as his arms enveloped themselves in dark energy, twisting into lethal blades. There was no warning. No mercy.
With a swift motion, he pierced the guards' throats. Shock was still frozen on their faces when they collapsed, life slipping from their bodies.
Aron leaned over the corpses.
—Hehehe, two down. Let's see how many I get before the night ends.
As if the universe answered his challenge, an alarm blared throughout the mansion. A roar of boots, unsheathed swords, and war cries erupted like a hurricane of violence.
Hernan tensed. More guards appeared. He materialized two wind blades, readying himself.
The first enemy charged with a curved sword. Hernan spun, blocking the strike with his own, deflecting it with calculated speed. He didn't kill. He only disarmed.
Aron, on the other hand, dove into battle with inhuman ferocity. Every strike was an execution, every movement a sentence.
—Hehehe, come, die for me! Three… four… five…
His laughter reverberated like the echo of a nightmare. Each number marked a life extinguished.
Hernan moved through the chaos, parrying strikes, dodging blades that reached for him. His body worked with surgical precision, incapacitating without killing.
After several minutes, all the guards lay on the ground. Some still breathed, unconscious.
Aron eyed the fallen with disdain. He wouldn't allow it.
Without hesitation, he raised his arm, still shaped into a dark blade. From its edge, sharp black spikes burst forth, impaling the remaining bodies. Those who still clung to life lost it in an instant.
—Hehehe, let's move on, but… —For the first time, his voice grew serious—. We have a mission. If you can't handle this, go to the meeting point. Understood?
Without waiting for a response, he stepped into the building.
Hernan remained still, his breath uneven, his mind trapped in the disaster before him. He didn't want to kill them. He didn't want this.
But Aron was right. Hesitation could mean failure.
And failure was unacceptable.
Without thinking further, he crossed the threshold.
Inside the building, the shadows were alive. Screams, chaos, and desperation wrapped around the air like a curse. The remaining guards emerged from the darkness, ready to defend what little remained of their fortress.
The real battle had only just begun.
In the hall illuminated by golden chandeliers, an older man, around fifty years old, reclined in a chair while a slave fed him. His face, marked by age and excess, showed absolute indifference. Around him, several guards stood alert, waiting for news of the invaders.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows.
—Count Sebastián, we must get you out of here. At this pace, the invaders will be upon you at any moment.
The count clicked his tongue and took another bite.
—Me, a count of the capital, fleeing from mere rebels? Ridiculous. Did you notify the palace to send troops?
—Yes, but they will take time. By the time the message arrives and reinforcements are sent, it will already be too late if we do not retreat.
The count responded by striking the slave.
—Bring me beer.
Before the conversation could continue, the hall doors exploded into countless pieces.
—Hehehe, too late. I don't think you can escape now.
Aron emerged, drenched in the blood of his rivals. His dark arms, still transformed into swords, gave him the appearance of a demon. Behind him, Hernan breathed heavily, clutching his two wind blades. He had made a decision upon entering: to kill without hesitation. And he had done it. But the weight of it pressed on his conscience.
The weight of every life he had taken clung to his chest like a shadow.
—How dare you, damn rebels? Guards, eliminate them!
The soldiers obeyed the count's order and charged forward. At the same time, the hooded figure positioned himself before Sebastián, ready to protect him. In a corner, the slave curled up on the ground, paralyzed by terror.
Hernan moved with deadly precision. His blade pierced a guard's chest. Another fell with a clean slice to the throat. A third victim died when his skull was punctured.
Three more deaths. Three more in his hands.
But he couldn't stop. He mustn't stop.
Before he could catch his breath, a sword engulfed in flames descended upon him.
The attack was swift. Lethal.
But Aron appeared between them and countered.
—Hehehe, you like attacking from behind, huh? So you wield fire techniques… This will be fun.
The hooded man retreated, summoning multiple blazing shields to fend off Aron. Then he raised his sword and brought it down violently, unleashing a storm of fire directly at his enemy.
Aron effortlessly dodged each flame. In an instant, he moved his hand and unleashed a barrage of black spikes that advanced with brutal speed.
The hooded figure conjured more fire shields, but they shattered upon impact. Several projectiles embedded into his body. His sword slipped from his grasp. He was badly wounded.
He tried to rise. And then he felt the blade at his neck.
Hernan had moved silently behind him and, without thinking, severed his head with a single stroke. He wouldn't give his enemy a second chance.
Count Sebastián began to tremble. Fear crawled up his spine like poison. All his guards had perished. Even the envoy from the Shadow Sect, his last hope, had been slain. No one was left to protect him.
He cursed himself for not fleeing when he had the chance.
—Stop! Do you know what you're doing? I am Count Sebastián, a close friend of the king. If you dare lay a hand on me, he will hunt you across the world.
Aron smirked.
—Hehehe, better. More people to eliminate. Let them come. But when that happens… you won't be here to see it.
Without hesitation, he leaped forward and pierced the count's heart. Then, with a precise motion, he severed his head.
The count's body collapsed lifelessly. His head rolled across the floor. Terror was still frozen on his face.
The slave, witnessing the massacre, curled into a fetal position. She knew this wouldn't save her. Everyone was dead. And these people wouldn't leave any witnesses.
Hernan stepped toward her. She was young, barely twenty-one. Her clothes were dirty and torn, her skin marked with bruises. The evidence of the count's cruelty was etched upon her body.
—You're coming with us.
The slave trembled. If they took her, surely her fate would be worse than death.
In a last attempt to escape, she ran with all her strength.
But before she reached the door, she felt a blow to the back of her neck and collapsed unconscious.
Aron laughed.
—Hehehe, sorry, girl. But now you're ours.
Without wasting time, they took her body and exited the building.
Outside, as they carried the slave, the city's bells tolled.
It was the kingdom's alarm signal.
Chaos had begun.
Hernan scanned the streets. There was fire. Noise. Screams.
The shadows of buildings flickered between the glow of torches and the glare of destruction.
This was just the beginning.
They had to hurry. They needed to reach their hideout quickly.