Your Face is Mine
"Young master, that relic is a blessing," a knight from House Volteris said, his voice filled with reverence.
"Of course it is," Varric smirked, gripping the Verdant Core tightly.
Midnight draped the Eldermoon Forest in shadows, its treacherous terrain illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon and scattered luminescent stones. No sane person would dare set foot here at night.
But Varric wasn't just anyone.
Not anymore.
With this artifact in his hands, he felt like the master of the forest itself.
Never in his wildest dreams did he thought he would acquire something this powerful.
Varric Volteris—the second son of Duke Volteris—had always lived in his elder brother's shadow. Admiration had long since soured into ambition. He didn't just want to match his brother. He wanted to surpass him.
When he turned thirteen and awakened his mana, he thought it was fate. Even more so when he discovered he possessed a rare ability—Face Craft.
The power to steal another's face.
The ability to mimic their mana.
For a brief moment, he was the center of attention, basking in admiration. But that moment didn't last.
Because his ability had a fatal flaw.
To take on another's face, he had to kill them—peel their face off. Even then, the transformation was temporary, and the mana he copied was only half as strong as the original. Worse still, if he wanted to take on a new identity, he had to discard the previous one completely.
A cursed gift.
In a family that valued strength above all, it was nothing more than a parlor trick.
Frustrated, he turned to swordsmanship, throwing himself into relentless training. His technique became razor-sharp, his footwork precise—but no matter how much he honed his skill, he lacked the sheer destructive power his brother wielded.
Then, one day, his father—the Duke—made a decree.
"The next heir will be the one who brings the greatest value to the family."
Varric clenched his fists. This is my chance.
But his brother was already ahead. He had discovered the location of a powerful relic hidden deep within the Eldermoon Forest.
Varric needed an opening.
Then, he learned that House Stormbane had somehow caught wind of their secret and begun searching for the relic.
A plan formed.
Through spies embedded within Stormbane's ranks, he leaked just enough information to make it seem as though the relic's location had been compromised.
They took the bait.
Stormbane hastily assembled an expedition. That was when Varric made his move.
He targeted the healer—a quiet, unassuming choice. Silencing him was effortless.
With a blade and his cursed power, he peeled the man's face away and became him.
Then, as a Stormbane knight, he infiltrated their expedition.
That was when he noticed Nathan Stormbane.
He had always heard of the Stormbane heir—a weakling, a disgrace, a pervert unworthy of his title. But what he witnessed was… unexpected.
Nathan, despite his frail frame, had a fire in his eyes. He stood his ground. Even against his own knights, even without power—he fought back.
Was he really the pathetic fool the rumors claimed?
Curious, Varric observed him closely. He chose to share a tent with Nathan, stayed near him, watching, analyzing.
And that turned out to be the best decision he ever made.
Nathan didn't just navigate the ruins—he cleared the trails without anyone noticing. He discovered a hidden chamber as if he had always known it was there.
A prophecy? A vision? Varric didn't know.
But what he did know was that driving his sword into Nathan's chest and ripping the relic from his severed hand was utterly satisfying.
The way he struggled—weak, desperate—only made it better. And that look in his eyes, the one of a dream shattered beyond repair? Perfect.
After escaping Stormbane's troops, he rushed to the family elders to investigate the relic.
The revelation was shocking.
Without hesitation, he bound the Verdant Core to his blood.
His brother's face when he found out?
Priceless.
Varric clicked his tongue in irritation. Tch. If only Edric hadn't interfered, he would have taken Nathan's head, too.
If he had delivered Stormbane's heir's severed head to his father, the title of heir would have been his then and there.
But it wouldn't be long now.
With the Verdant Core in his hands, all the relics hidden in this forest belonged to him.
Varric marched forward, eyes gleaming with ambition, leaving sleep behind.
"These damn Ghostfangs are getting annoying," a knight grumbled, swinging his sword to his right.
Even though they had control over the forest's traps, these creatures were relentless. But behind him stood over fifty knights from House Volteris—there wasn't a single living being in this forest that could stop them.
Or so he thought.
Varric suddenly halted.
Something felt... off.
His skin prickled. A presence loomed over him, unseen but undeniable, like unseen eyes boring into his soul.
His grip tightened on the glowing green gem in his palm.
Around him, the undergrowth stirred. Movements. Too many.
His body stiffened. Ghostfangs.
He had already encountered an army of them before—when he had infiltrated as a healer. But that was in an entirely different part of the forest.
"Everyone, get ready! We might be facing another Ghostfang swarm!" he barked.
In unison, every knight unsheathed their swords, their metal ringing through the tense air.
But suddenly, their movements stopped—silence.
The forest stilled.
Even the wind that had rustled through the leaves moments ago vanished.
Varric's heart pounded.
What is this...?
BAM!
A crushing force slammed onto his shoulders.
"Graaah!" The knights groaned in unison as the ground beneath them pulsed with invisible weight.
A pressure trap?
The same one he had countered while disguised as a healer.
But why was it activating now?
It didn't matter. He had the Verdant Core in his hands. That alone should have been enough.
Varric exhaled sharply and focused.
Dispel it.
The core pulsed.
Nothing happened.
His stomach twisted.
Why isn't it working?
Worse—the pressure doubled.
"Young Master! Do something!" a knight rasped behind him, his voice laced with panic.
Varric's spine went rigid. The ground started stirring again.
The faint slithering of the Ghostfangs.
He commanded the core again.
Again.
Again.
Nothing.
Damn it!
"Everyone, prepare for battle!" he barked. "We can get out of the gravity trap, but focus on the Ghostfangs first!"
The knights straightened despite the crushing force. He couldn't afford to show weakness—not after leading them this far.
HISSSSSSS!
The air trembled as a deafening hiss echoed around them.
Then, like a storm, they came.
A swirling mass of invisible snakes struck from all directions.
The knights fell into formation, swinging their swords desperately. Blades cut through the air, but the weight on their bodies slowed them down—it felt like they were lifting a hundred kilograms with each strike.
"Why the hell isn't the pressure affecting these damn snakes?!" a knight roared, yanking the serpent sinking its fangs into his neck.
"Stay focused! They won't last long!" Varric shouted, slicing through the air at lightning speed.
It was a lie.
He knew it.
Deep in his gut, he knew this wasn't going to end.
One by one, his knights began to collapse, saliva foaming at their lips as venom coursed through their veins, result of countless bites.
Poof.
Suddenly the pressure lifted and snakes moved away.
Varric gasped for breath, his lungs burning.
Did the core finally work?
A flicker of relief bloomed in his chest.
It lasted only a second.
Then—rustling.
Not the slithering of snakes.
Not the eerie stillness of before.
This was different.
This was the sound of beasts.
Felines. Large ones.
And they were coming.
He turned to his knights.
Most were barely standing, their bodies wrecked from the unrelenting waves of venomous bites and the unbearable weight they had just endured.
Varric clenched his teeth.
This... this wasn't right.
Fwoosh.
From the shadows, wolves began to emerge—dozens, then hundreds. They surrounded them from all directions, their eyes gleaming with an eerie glow.
Shadow Wolves.
Varric's breath hitched. Why now? These creatures should be avoiding their heavily armed knights, not charging at them. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation.
Awooooooo!
A chilling howl echoed through the forest, and as if answering the call, the wolves howled in unison. Then, a massive figure stepped forward—a towering wolf, twice the size of the others. But what made Varric's blood freeze wasn't the beast itself.
It was the man riding on its back.
His eyes widened to their limits. His heart pounded like war drums.
Nathan.
The same man he had killed a week ago.
"T-This is impossible," Varric stammered, gripping the Verdant Core in his hand like a lifeline. His palms were slick with sweat, his fingers trembling.
Nathan dismounted effortlessly, his movements too fluid, too controlled. Beside him stood a mysterious woman draped in a dark robe, her face hidden beneath the hood.
The wolf growled low, its gaze locked onto Varric.
"You... You're alive?!" Varric's voice cracked, disbelief and fear intertwining.
Nathan smirked.
Varric clenched his teeth.
No.
He had come too far. He was this close to claiming his rightful place, to surpassing his brother. There was no turning back now.
Swoosh!
Without hesitation, he swung his sword, aiming straight for Nathan's neck.
BAM!
A crushing weight slammed down on him.
His body locked in place, his knees buckling under the overwhelming pressure.
"Young Master!" The knights lunged forward to assist him—only to freeze mid-step, their bodies suddenly immovable.
Their gazes darted to the hooded woman beside Nathan.
Her violet eyes glowed beneath the shadows.
"It seems you've figured out the Verdant Core's true power, huh?" Nathan murmured, looking down at Varric.
Varric's jaw clenched so tightly his teeth nearly cracked. His hands trembled as he fought against the unseen force pressing him into submission.
His mind raced. What did I miss? How did this weakling gain such incredible power?
He glared up at Nathan, pure hatred burning in his eyes.
And then—
Nathan grabbed him by the throat.
"GAHHH!" Varric choked, his hands clawing at the fingers crushing his windpipe. "B-Bastard! A weakling like you—!"
Nathan's grip tightened.
"Release me! My house won't let you get away with this!" Varric's voice grew hoarse, his vision darkening at the edges. No. No. No.
His hands scrambled desperately, panic consuming him.
FUCK! Am I going to die?!
All because of this bastard?!
And then—
Nathan suddenly let go.
Varric collapsed onto the dirt, gasping for air, his hands clutching at his bruised throat. The pressure lifted, but his relief was short-lived.
Nathan stared at his own hands.
Wide-eyed. Confused.
A strange, eerie purple glow flickered around his fingers.
Varric's stomach twisted. A chill ran down his spine.
Then, Nathan's lips curled into a smile.
A twisted, eerie, inhuman smile.
Every instinct in Varric's body screamed at him to move.
BAM!
The crushing force returned, pinning him down harder than before.
Nathan reached out again.
No. No. No. Get away from me!
But there was no escaping.
Nathan's fingers clamped down on his jaw—and then, with deliberate slowness—
His nails pierced the skin.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Varric's body convulsed. A searing pain spread through his skull. His eyes widened in terror and disbelief.
This?! Isn't this my mana element?!
Nathan's fingers sank deeper.
And then—
He started pulling.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
A soul-piercing scream tore through the forest as Varric's face began to peel away.
Blood gushed in thick rivers. Flesh ripped from bone. Nerves were exposed, twitching. His eyes bulged, tears mixing with crimson.
For ten whole minutes, Nathan worked.
Peeling.
Stripping.
Savoring.
When it was over, Varric's body lay in a pool of blood, his skull raw and exposed. His breaths came in ragged, shallow gasps, his mind barely clinging to consciousness.
Nathan held the flayed skin in his bloodstained hands. It pulsed with an ominous purple glow.
The forest fell into an unnatural silence.
Slowly, Nathan turned to face the remaining knights.
Gulp.
The sound echoed in unison.