The Black Sun Rises

Chapter 17: The Black Sun Rises

The body lay still, the fire casting flickering shadows across its bloodied face. Kim Han's grip tightened around his sword, his breath slow, controlled. The warmth of fresh blood on his hands sent a shiver up his spine.

He had killed before—guards, mercenaries, enemies in the Pit. But this was different.

This time, he had killed because he wanted to.

Because it felt right.

Han pulled his sword free, watching the corpse slump onto the dirt floor. The fire cracked, sending embers dancing into the air. The stench of iron filled his nostrils, mixing with the lingering scent of burning wood.

His stomach churned.

He had eaten the meat.

Not out of choice, but out of desperation.

And now, he could feel it sitting inside him, heavy, suffocating. He clenched his jaw, forcing the nausea down. No time for weakness.

A survivor had no right to feel disgust.

He had made his choice.

And there was no going back.

---

The Village of the Damned

The firelight flickered, casting long shadows over the ruined buildings. Han wiped his sword against his tattered coat, stepping over the corpse. The village was empty, abandoned long before he arrived.

At least, that's what he thought.

A sound.

Faint.

Breathing.

Han turned sharply, eyes narrowing. He wasn't alone.

He stalked forward, his movements silent. His grip tightened around his weapon, his instincts screaming to kill—eliminate the threat before it eliminates you.

He followed the sound, weaving through the wreckage. And then—

A pair of eyes.

Wide. Terrified.

A girl.

She was no older than thirteen, her body frail, her skin covered in dirt. She clutched a broken dagger in her small hands, shaking. Her breath hitched as she stared at the blood on Han's sword.

He could smell her fear.

Han didn't move.

She was weak. No threat.

He should walk away.

But her eyes—they reminded him of himself.

The boy who had once clutched his mother's hand, staring up at Daichi Sato as his world burned. The boy who had screamed, who had begged for mercy.

No one had come to save him.

No one ever would.

The girl trembled, backing away. "P-please…" she whispered. "D-don't…"

Han stared at her.

What was he supposed to do?

Kill her?

Leave her?

Neither option felt right.

She was just a child.

But so was he when Daichi Sato showed him mercy.

Mercy was weakness. Mercy was a lie.

And yet…

Han lowered his sword.

The girl flinched, her grip tightening on the dagger.

"I'm not going to kill you," Han said, his voice hoarse.

She didn't believe him.

He didn't blame her.

---

A Cruel World

The girl didn't speak, but she followed him.

Han didn't acknowledge her, but he didn't stop her either.

She was too weak to survive alone.

She reminded him too much of the past he was trying to kill.

Together, they moved through the village, searching for supplies. Han found an old canteen, shaking it—half full. He tossed it to the girl.

She hesitated, then drank greedily.

He watched her.

She was small, thin. Not just malnourished—starved.

Just like him.

"What's your name?" Han asked.

The girl wiped her mouth, hesitant. "Y-Yeon."

Han nodded. "Where are your parents?"

She flinched. That was answer enough.

He didn't ask again.

They were both alone.

Both broken.

Neither of them belonged anywhere.

The world had thrown them away.

But Han knew one thing—survivors always find a way.

And Yeon was still breathing.

For now.

---

No Place for Weakness

The sun rose, painting the sky in shades of red and gold. Han and Yeon moved through the wasteland, their steps slow, steady.

Han didn't know why he let her follow.

Maybe it was guilt.

Maybe it was pity.

Or maybe, deep down, he just didn't want to be alone anymore.

But the world was cruel.

And he knew it wouldn't let him keep anything for long.

Not food.

Not warmth.

Not even her.

Because everything in this world was meant to be taken.

And Han had nothing left to lose.

Not anymore.

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