Baptism Of Blood

The air was thick with the scent of burning wood and iron. The village, once a peaceful settlement hidden deep within the mountains, was now drenched in the screams of the dying. Lee Byung Hun stood amidst the chaos, his breath ragged, his blade trembling in his grip. His body ached, wounds scattered across his arms and legs, but there was no time to falter. The enemy was relentless.

Across from him, a monstrous warrior clad in black iron loomed, his blood-red axe dripping with the lives he had just claimed. The raiders had come at dawn, moving like shadows between the trees before descending upon the village like a storm. The villagers fought, but they were no match for trained killers.

Byung Hun tightened his grip on his sword, his heartbeat steady despite the madness around him.

"Focus. Breathe. Kill."

The voice of the forgotten god whispered in his mind. The warmth of the god's presence, a phantom hand resting on his shoulder, calmed the storm inside him. His eyes sharpened. The axe-wielding warrior charged, raising his weapon for a killing blow.

Byung Hun reacted. He sidestepped the downward swing, the ground splitting where the axe landed. The impact sent debris flying, but Byung Hun was already moving. He twisted his body, his sword flashing in the morning light. His blade struck the warrior's side, cutting through leather and flesh. The raider roared in pain, stumbling backward, his grip on the axe faltering.

Byung Hun didn't let up. He pressed forward, ducking under a wild swing before driving his blade into the man's stomach. The warrior gurgled, eyes wide with shock, before he fell to his knees. Byung Hun yanked his sword free, blood spraying across his already stained tunic. The warmth of it felt foreign—disgusting yet necessary.

But there was no time to rest. More were coming.

He turned just as another raider lunged at him with a spear. Byung Hun barely managed to parry, the force of the attack sending him skidding back. His boots dug into the dirt as he steadied himself. The spearman smirked.

"You've got skill, boy. But you're still just a child."

Byung Hun didn't reply. He was tired of words. He rushed forward, slashing upward. The spearman twisted his body to evade, but Byung Hun had anticipated it. He shifted his weight mid-strike, adjusting his angle to slice deep into the man's thigh. The raider's balance broke, and Byung Hun capitalized on it.

A second strike, this time straight through the throat.

The man gurgled, his eyes rolling back before he collapsed.

Byung Hun exhaled heavily, wiping sweat and blood from his brow. Around him, the battle was still raging. The villagers had been reduced to mere pockets of resistance, holding on desperately against the overwhelming force. The leader of the raiders, a towering figure in dark robes, stood at the center of the village, watching the massacre unfold with cold amusement.

Byung Hun's gaze locked onto him.

"He's the one I need to kill."

The forgotten god's presence grew stronger.

"Then go. Show them your resolve."

Byung Hun sprinted toward the leader, cutting down two more raiders in his path. His body was screaming, his muscles burned, but he kept going. He had to. If he stopped, everyone would die.

The leader finally noticed him. He smirked, drawing a long, curved blade from his side.

"You've got fight in you, boy. I'll grant you an honorable death."

Byung Hun didn't respond. He just attacked.

Their blades met in a blinding clash. Sparks flew as steel ground against steel. The force of the impact sent vibrations up Byung Hun's arm, but he pushed forward. He twisted his blade, forcing the leader to disengage. Then he struck again. And again. His movements were relentless, his attacks calculated.

The leader parried each blow, but his expression shifted.

He was surprised.

"Not bad… for a child."

Then, the leader retaliated. His blade moved like a viper, fast and unpredictable. Byung Hun barely managed to dodge, the edge grazing his cheek. He countered, aiming for the man's ribs, but the leader sidestepped effortlessly.

Then—pain.

A sharp, searing pain exploded in Byung Hun's side. The leader's knee had slammed into his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. He stumbled back, coughing. Blood dripped from his lips.

The leader didn't wait. He advanced, slashing downward.

Byung Hun barely blocked in time. His arms shook from the sheer force of the blow. He needed an opening—fast.

Then, instinct took over.

He dropped his sword.

The leader's eyes widened. But before he could react, Byung Hun stepped in, slamming his forehead into the man's nose. A sickening crack followed. The leader staggered, disoriented.

Byung Hun didn't waste the chance. He snatched his blade from the ground, spinning it in his grip before driving it straight through the man's chest.

The leader gasped, his eyes filled with disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

Byung Hun twisted the blade.

Then, with one final, brutal pull, he ripped it free.

The leader collapsed to his knees, his hands clutching at the gaping wound in his chest. His lips moved silently before his body finally went still.

Silence.

The battlefield was still alive with the sounds of fighting, but Byung Hun barely registered it. His entire body felt numb.

Then, he heard it.

A voice—no, voices.

The souls of the fallen.

They whispered to him, their voices filled with sorrow, rage, and regret. He could feel them… waiting.

A new power stirred within him.

The forgotten god's voice echoed in his mind.

"Take them, Byung Hun. They are yours now."

He exhaled. Then, for the first time, he reached out—not with his hands, but with something deeper.

The souls obeyed.

And with them, Lee Byung Hun rose, stronger than before.