Was your heart supposed to be calm, Clark, after Jean charged in? On the contrary... his gaze was calm, his heart was calm—ready for the danger that would most certainly come. His eyes foresaw it all, for danger had always been looming.
Clark's mind was tranquil, like a mountain breeze over the banks of a great river. And his heart? Ready—no, ablaze with thrill, like a volcanic eruption breaking the silence of the ages!
He surged forward with a powerful assault, dodging the Goblin King's strikes with astonishing speed. The massive axe of that beast moved in deadly arcs, swung with terrifying precision.
Clark's face was focused, his eyes narrowing, facial muscles clenched—as if time had frozen inside him.
Meanwhile, Jean evaded with desperate effort, lunging in between the blows to stab at the giant king's arms.
Clark, smirking to himself, whispered inwardly:
> "No matter how strong this fool is, he'll tire. I need him to defeat the Mad Sun... I must feed it strong souls, not lull it to sleep. Sure, he's mentally shattered... but what harm is there in using the idiot today?"
And indeed, fatigue began to show on Jean. His breath was heavy, the whites of his eyes dull and pale, his gaze lifeless... which was natural, considering the vast number he had fought.
Clark yanked him back and hurled him aside, then spat out mockingly:
Clark (with a cold smirk, expression tense):
"Leave this work to real men, not fragile little girls. You seem more of a woman than your rank or brain suggest."
Jean (shocked, eyes trembling, brows twitching with repressed rage):
He said nothing, but fury burned in his chest.
Clark laughed internally, his face dripping with satisfaction and a devilish grin curling his lips:
> "Yes... I crushed his pride. Now, every corner of Jean's mind will begin to fracture. He'll become a dog, kneeling at my feet. And now... it's your turn to die, Goblin King."
The forest blazed, flames rising here and there. Jean lay on the ground, and Alyssa had pulled him up, frantically scanning the battlefield for the missing Lux.
Alyssa (face tense, breath ragged):
"Where did Lux go? I can't sense him at all!"
Jean (in his mind, half-closed eyes, a faint inner voice):
> "It's better that Lux disappeared… so he won't find out what happened to his friend."
The wind brushed over the blood on Clark's face. His hair was slicked back, his eyes sharp, and he raised his now jet-black sword. His physical strength and flexibility had increased—he had decided that this fight would be brutal, hand-to-hand.
Clark (with a mad sparkle in his eye, grinning):
"My level is now... four. It jumped two after this massacre."
A new power awakened within Clark—strange, dark. Its name: Devour.
Now, Clark would live in a state of eternal hunger—a hunger for souls, for all forms of lust and craving, feeding and strengthening his spirit. He could now steal skills from monsters ranked B and above.
Clark (tilting his head back, laughing maniacally, face brimming with madness and confidence):
"Hahaha! The heavens have always sided with this emperor!"
Alyssa (stepping back, brows raised, visibly tense):
"Why…? Why do I feel this strange sensation? Like a seasoned user, a master... is finally revealing their true skills…" (muttering)
"Has he always had this aura… and we just didn't notice?"
Jean (gritting his teeth in despair, face filled with frustration):
> "Damn it… I couldn't even land a critical blow on the Goblin King! And yet, he—he's fighting him toe-to-toe! And the only one at a disadvantage... is the Goblin King!!"
Clark (after dodging a heavy downward axe blow, leaping towards the king's face):
He laughed and cried out:
> "Yes… I needed to pierce your face!"
He stabbed into the creature's face, then activated the skill Black Flame, which surged directly into the Goblin's brain—causing it to explode.
The Goblin King was dead.
Clark didn't laugh this time. He stood silent, face dark.
The terrible part... had only just begun.
---
Moments earlier... when Lux vanished...
Lux had been fighting like the others, slaying goblins and orcs.
Suddenly, a strange voice echoed—one he hadn't heard in so long.
A soft, loving voice whispered to him:
> "He was always the weakest… in spirit, heart, and courage. The most afraid… by nature. Of course he would fear death—it's always been black and cruel in our hearts, hasn't it? So what's the difference…"
The voice (now tender):
> "My dear child Lux… Don't you miss your mother?"
Lux's face contorted, his eyes widened, his lips trembled, his heart surged with yearning.
He moved eagerly… the longing overtook him.
> "I definitely heard her voice... haha!"
He laughed and cried at once.
Everyone had forgotten about him—or more accurately, everyone had forgotten each other—fighting like madmen.
The voice (whispering with deadly sweetness):
> "Come to me, Lux... I've been watching you. Ah, how my sweet little Lux has grown… Strong, brave, protecting the people of the capital…
Come embrace your mother, who missed you so dearly."
Lux began running toward the voice, face confused yet passionate, eyes watering.
He forgot everything. He just ran.
The goblins and orcs struck his back mercilessly, but he didn't feel a thing.
Did he give up? Perhaps.
But the truth is… he didn't.
His longing heart simply moved.
And he ran…
And then... it happened.
Was this cruel... for someone named Lux?
Was he important?
Did anyone have the right to The pain
--
To be continued