Gernier Village—a peaceful settlent located in the northern part of the continent.
Because there were no tourist attractions nearby, nor was it a bustling area, this village had remained in a semi-isolated state from the outside world.
However, tonight, that tranquility was utterly destroyed.
Towering flas raged, reducing everything to ruins.
A silver-haired, white-clad child, around eight or nine years old, walked slowly down the street.
His mismatched eyes—one blue, one purple—reflected the inferno around him.
Golden energy swirled around his body, manifesting into countless sharp blades that extended outward, piercing the bodies of every fleeing person.
With each strike, a life was taken.
The villagers ran in terror, crying out in despair, begging for rcy, but an impenetrable barrier had sealed off the entire village—escape was impossible.
And yet, the child continued his slaughter, erasing every last trace of life.
With each person that fell, a transparent wisp of energy erged from their corpse and flowed into his small body.
Newborns wrapped in blankets.
Young children full of innocence.
Elderly n and won with hair as white as snow.
Mothers desperately shielding their children.
No one was spared.
No one could escape.
No one could survive.
Crystal-clear tears stread down the child's delicate face, dripping onto the blood-soaked ground littered with corpses.
If one were to stand close enough, they would hear the child whispering the sa three words over and over again:
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I don't want to kill. I really don't want to kill... I'm sorry..."
Nord gazed at the hellish scene he had created with his own hands.
Tears poured endlessly from his eyes.
Each ti he killed, each ti he saw the despair, fear, agony, and pleading on their faces, he felt as though his heart was being pierced—again and again.
The pain carved deep wounds into his soul, leaving it battered and drenched in blood.
When the slaughter finally ca to an end, the village was devoid of any trace of life.
The overwhelming stench of blood hung thick in the air, so dense it felt as though it could be wrung out.
It would linger for a long ti.
Nord, who had brought about this massacre, collapsed onto his knees as if all the strength had drained from his body.
His hands pressed against the blood-soaked ground, and he closed his eyes.
The weight of what he had done—personally taking the lives of so many innocent people—crushed him with unbearable guilt, threatening to shatter the once-unyielding resolve of his heart.
Opening his eyes, Nord stared at his hands, now completely stained with blood.
He knew that from this mont on, he would have to continue killing—many more people, countless more lives.
There was no redemption left for him, no forgiveness to be found.
No matter what justification existed, in the face of the countless lives he had taken, all reasoning beca hollow and powerless.
Nothing could change the truth—he was nothing more than a wretched murderer.
"I am no different from them now... Just a monster who defiles life... I've already beco a monster... Hahaha..."
Nord let out a mad, hollow laugh, his voice filled with despair.
For a long while, his laughter echoed through the silent ruins.
Then, suddenly, it ceased.
And at last, unable to hold it in any longer, Nord broke down and wept.
He cried with all his heart—an anguished, gut-wrenching wail.
He cried until his soul felt as if it were being torn apart.
He cried as though his sorrow could drown the blood that had already soaked the earth beneath him.
---------------
"Hmm, you did well. You listened to my instructions and made sure not to leave any survivors. Heh, if you had spared anyone, I would have had to go through the trouble of hunting them down and slaughtering them myself—just to show you the fate of those you let go."
"Oh, right. Here's the location for your next massacre."
"Tomorrow night, sa as before."
Standing at the entrance of the village, Hughes smirked as he unfolded a slip of paper and held it out toward Nord, who had just stepped out of the ruins.
But Nord didn't reach for it.
He didn't even glance at Hughes.
Like a lifeless husk, he trudged forward, passing by Hughes without a word.
With each step he took, the six wings on his back gradually shrank, retreating into his body until they disappeared completely.
His long silver-white hair slowly shortened, returning to its original golden hue.
Watching this transformation, Hughes murmured to himself in a low voice:
"It's almost ti. Just keep sinking deeper into the abyss, Nord. As your spirit continues to shatter under this tornt, a True God will be born within your soul. And when that mont cos... you, with your pure divine power and flawless Godly soul, will finally beco my perfect creation. Hehehehe..."
Back in the prison, Nord stared blankly through the only window, gazing at the moonlight outside.
He understood.
Starting tomorrow, he would no longer be the person he once was.
All of his dignity, all of his pride, all of his conscience—he had personally torn them to shreds today.
The moral boundaries he once held as a human had been completely shattered.
Sothing precious within him had broken apart like fragile glass, lost forever, never to be recovered.
As he looked at the moon outside, Nord suddenly found it ironic—so incredibly ironic.
The moon appeared so pure and noble from afar, but if one were to look closely, they would see its surface was full of craters, rough and scarred—ugly.
Just like him.
On the outside, he might look unchanged, but inside, he had already lost everything that made him human.
Now, he was nothing more than a wretched, hollow monster.
------------------
Slaughter.
Endless slaughter.
Nord no longer rembered how many people he had killed.
A hundred thousand? A hundred and fifty thousand?
He had lost count.
All he could do was keep killing.
It didn't matter if they were n or won, young or old, good or evil.
He kept killing, over and over again—until the day the laboratory instrunts asured his divine power level at exactly sixty percent.
Yet, despite everything, Nord's expression remained unexpectedly calm.
"...Where is Lia?" he asked.
Looking at Nord's face, Hughes found himself unable to laugh.
He could feel it—if he dared to make any more excuses, this child, not even ten years old, would not hesitate to kill him on the spot.
"Tomorrow, you will see Lia Rutherford. And with that, the experint is officially over. You and Lia may return to your forr life," Hughes said.
Nord nodded, turned around, and walked away.
His frail body soon vanished into the darkness of the corridor.
After Nord left, Hughes cast a aningful glance toward a separate, black-walled chamber inside the laboratory.
Then, he slowly made his way over, summoning a series of intricate magic circles with his hands, pressing them onto the door.
Click.
With a faint sound, the door slowly opened.
Inside, several people dressed just like him were working busily.
Upon seeing Hughes enter, a younger man spoke up.
"Lord Hughes..."
Hughes nodded.
"All operations must be completed today. Nord will co to take Lia tomorrow."
"Understood. The experint on Lia Rutherford has also been fully completed, so everything can end today. But... is it really fine to let those two be together? Given the power they now possess...?"
"It's fine. In fact, this is the best possible outco."
"Because they can never escape the family," Hughes added with a smirk.
The young man nodded, saying nothing more.
Hughes turned his gaze toward the far end of the laboratory—toward a massive cultivation chamber.
Inside, subrged in a tank of erald-green fluid, a small girl with pink hair lay in deep slumber.
She looked to be about eight or nine years old.
But unlike an ordinary child... six black wings extended from her back.
"You have a good brother, Lia Rutherford."
"But Nord Rutherford... after everything he's endured, after all the pain and sacrifices he has made..."
"When he finally sees the truth of it all—"
"What kind of face will he make?"
"I can't wait to find out... Hahaha!"
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