Step one: genocide

*Era of Armageddon, BlackStar Continent*

The forest village of Wendigo was nestled in the heart of a dense forest, where ancient trees, with wide, twisted trunks, formed a natural fortress. The thatched roofs of the small wooden houses peeked above the tall grasses and blooming bushes. Dirt paths, barely discernible among the roots and ferns, wound between the dwellings, while children played near the wells and villagers went about their daily tasks. The constant rustling of leaves in the wind mixed with the cries of birds and distant laughter. A simple, almost surreal peace reigned here, under the benevolent shadow of the trees.

But suddenly, this calm was shattered by a sharp, almost piercing sound that sliced through the air like a blade. The villagers, startled, looked up toward the sky. There, above the village, a strange fissure appeared, floating between the treetops. The rift shimmered, as though tearing through the very fabric of reality.

From this fissure, a young man slowly emerged, floating with unnatural ease. His skin was unsettlingly pale, almost translucent in the flickering light. His long black hair fell in disarrayed strands, contrasting sharply with his equally dark attire. His black coat, lined with thin, glowing red lines, seemed to move independently of the wind, as if it obeyed some invisible force.

A mocking smile spread across his face, revealing pointed canines, too long to belong to a human. His eyes gleamed with deep malice, a spark of danger that made the atmosphere heavy and oppressive. Hands buried in the pockets of his coat, he floated above the ground with an air of detached amusement, watching the villagers below with disdain.

A heavy silence fell over the village. The birds stopped singing, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath in the presence of this strange visitor.

'At first glance, I haven't detected any Elysians or mana within a 1000-kilometer radius,' he murmured to himself, glancing at the people below.

'Well... Either way, I need to create my empire. And we'll start with this little village... but easier said than done.'

Linfer adopted a pensive pose. Until now, he hadn't given much thought to a plan. He lived in the moment, but he still needed a strategy to build his empire and claim his father's throne.

'Basically, I need competent and loyal subjects!?'

A slight smile spread across his lips as ideas began to flow into his mind.

'They're far too primitive... Every decent civilization begins with a cultural shock.'

His smile widened as he let himself fall.

*BOOM*

The ground shook violently as he landed, creating a deafening crash and sending clouds of dust into the air. The villagers, gripped by panic, froze in their tasks, their eyes turning toward the source of the monstrous sound.

The dust clouds swirled around the impact site, obscuring the figure of the strange young man who had descended from the sky. Yet, despite the fear gripping their hearts, a few villagers, curious and incredulous, began to approach, seeking to pierce the haze. They were familiar with enemies from other villages, creatures from the woods, bandits, and even myths of people who could conjure fire from nothing—but never had they seen someone capable of floating through the air and descending like a god.

Among them, a middle-aged man, his face weathered by years of toil in the fields, ventured too close. His expression reflected both curiosity and ignorance. He took one step too far.

Suddenly, without warning, a pale, slender hand shot out from the thick mist. Its cold fingers closed violently around the man's face, gripping his skull with overwhelming force. For a brief moment, everything seemed to freeze. The man's eyes showed surprise, then pure terror.

A sharp crack echoed, followed by the grotesque sound of crushed flesh. The man's head was pulverized in a spray of blood and brain matter, splattering the ground around him. The nearest villagers screamed in horror.

Cries erupted, women called for their children, while some, paralyzed by terror, could only watch, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

The lifeless body of the man collapsed heavily to the ground, a deadly silence settling over the scene as the warm blood slowly pooled around him. With a simple wave of his hand, Linfer dispersed the mist, observing the villagers' reactions with a twisted grin.

Linfer's smile widened as he savored the terror etched on the villagers' faces, before declaring with a wicked pleasure:

"Step one: genocide!"

Before anyone could react, Linfer vanished, his body dissolving into a series of afterimages. Maniacal laughter echoed as these shadows of himself flickered around the village. With each reappearance, screams rang out, followed by the sinister sound of blood spilling. Linfer gave in to a killing frenzy, slaughtering men, women, children, the elderly—without discrimination. His sole objective was death.

Only his demonic laughter floated in the air, turning the once peaceful atmosphere of the village into a living nightmare. Within seconds, the village, once bustling with life, fell into a deathly silence. The ground had become muddy, soaked with blood that streamed thickly, creating a grotesque scene of carnage.

With a simple wave of his hand, Linfer made all the blood evaporate, condensing it into a bright red orb in his palm. His silhouette remained oddly clean, except for his hands, which he had deliberately left stained with blood. As he gazed at the orb, he frowned, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face.

"Just as I thought... no mana or interesting abilities," he muttered. "The ambient mana here is pitifully weak."

Then, a sadistic smile returned to his face. "I'm one step ahead of you, bastard," he said, thinking of Leviathan.

He knew that one of the first people he needed to eliminate would be his brother, and for that, he had to ensure every advantage was on his side. Given that morality was not one of his strengths, he had no qualms about his methods.

With a brutal motion, he drove his claws into his left hand, letting his own blood mix with the red orb. He inhaled deeply as his collar glowed faintly with a red light, and his usually silent heart began to beat. Slowly, his body began to transform: crimson bat wings burst through the flesh of his back, a curved horn emerged from his forehead, and his ears grew pointed. Corrupted mana surged from him, warping the air into a storm of pure malice.

He crushed the orb between his two hands, holding it tightly as it struggled to break free from his control. "Blood Slave," he whispered, and the orb exploded, releasing a bloody mist that enveloped the entire village.