23. Morning Light
Bleeding heavily, Hound fought through the horde of night creatures in a frenzy of slaughter.
The last words of his father and the tribesmen haunted him, a desperate plea ringing in his skull like the howls of beasts:
"Live..."
But his thoughts were a storm of violence:
I need to kill...
I need to reach Kanaz...
I need to save her...
Kill! Kill! KILL!
The beasts fell in heaps, just as they had with the Moonlit Wolf—their corpses littered the ground, some with jagged blood crystals jutting from their skulls.
He didn't stop. Couldn't stop. His mind burned with nothing but slaughter, blind to everything else.
His hair shifted like his skin—bleaching pale white with every savage roar.
With each cry, it grew longer, wilder, until the silver strands cascaded down to his knees.
Hound was becoming something else—something monstrous.
His teeth sharpened into fangs, his nails into claws.
He tore through the beasts like a wolf avenging its slaughtered pack, all reason drowned in bloodlust.
This was no mere Barbarian Rage.
This was something more—something primal, unleashed, unstoppable.
Fury.
Not the disciplined wrath of warriors, but the Berserker's Fury—raw, untamed, and all-consuming.
And then... he crossed the threshold.
No longer just a man.
No longer even a beast.
Hound had become a Lesser Demon of Neglect, a being twisted by corruption.
A true Berserker of Wrath.
…
Dawn broke.
The endless tide of beasts had finally thinned, leaving behind a grotesque carpet of mangled corpses and spilled innards—so mutilated they no longer resembled anything recognizable.
The dirt drank deep, stained crimson under the pale morning light.
Hound stood amidst the carnage, his form more monster than man.
His chest heaved violently, each ragged breath making his ribs shudder as if they might crack apart.
His body trembled, muscles screaming from the night's relentless slaughter.
Then his gaze fell upon the remains of his Tribe Leader—kneeling in death, his upper half gone, as if erased from existence.
And Kanaz…
She was nowhere.
No trace. No body. Just gone.
Hound staggered forward, movements hollow, like a corpse puppeted by lingering rage.
He had survived. Endured until dawn. But what did it matter?
He had saved no one.
The question coiled in his mind, venomous and suffocating:
"Is it even right... to keep living?"
"Live..."
A hollow laugh escaped him.
His tears had long dried—no more crimson streaks, no more grief left to shed.
He felt nothing.
His emotions had withered, leaving only a creeping apathy in their wake.
Each step was feeble, his body screaming in protest, begging for rest.
But he couldn't stop.
He had to keep moving.
He had to find Kanaz—his childhood friend, his first love, the one who meant more to him than anyone else.
He clung to the memory of their promise:
To see the world, to taste the food that they had never imagined, to swim in a vast rivers, and to find those legendary oceans.
While him... cooking food for the glutton Kanaz.
Maybe it was just puppy love, but it was real.
He remembered her smile, warm like sunlight.
Her embrace, safe and comforting.
Their laughter as they ran wild through the untamed lands.
Everything.
And now?
She was gone.
No sign. No clue. Just emptiness.
Was she alive? Dead? He didn't know.
But if she was truly lost...
At the very least...
He needed to find her body.
To lay her to rest in the morning light.
Hound's lips twisted into a tragic smile.
The memory of Kanaz's final, sweet expression—that radiant smile she had gifted him before vanishing into the night—burned brighter than any wound in his heart.
This single memory alone propelled his broken body forward, driving him deeper into the cursed expanse of the Bone Orchards.
Then... his blood ran cold.
There, beneath the twisted branches of an acacia-like tree, sat a familiar silhouette in perfect posture.
The tattered remnants of her clothing barely preserved her modesty, the fabric hanging in ribbons that fluttered like ghostly banners in the morning breeze.
Every muscle in Hound's battered body screamed in protest.
His vision swam with exhaustion, his mind barely tethered to consciousness.
Yet some primal instinct took over.
He lurched forward desperately, his weakened legs betraying him as he stumbled through the blood-soaked earth, each clumsy step carrying him closer to the horrifying truth he both sought and feared to confirm.
He spotted Kanaz—bleeding.
Bleeding meant life.
The sight sent a surge of strength through Hound.
He dragged himself toward her, crawling like a wounded wolf desperate to reach its pack.
But as he got closer, the horror became clear.
A massive gash split her body from chest to thigh.
Her face—once so bright—was now half gone, her left eye just a hollow, bleeding pit.
Gasping, Hound dropped beside her and pressed his ear to her chest.
Silence.
Then—
Thump.
A heartbeat. Weak, but there.
She was alive.
His breath caught.
Without hesitation, he sank his fangs into his own arm like a wild beast, letting blood pour forth.
Using his blood manipulation ability, he desperately tried to heal Kanaz as she teetered on death's edge.
"Please... please work!" he begged, voice shaking.
His own wounds kept closing, but he tore them open again and again, forcing more blood out to save her.
Gradually, Kanaz's injuries began to mend—but with each passing second, Hound grew weaker, his thoughts clouding as blood loss took its toll.
Then—her eyes fluttered open, clear and whole once more.
She gazed at him with tender affection, the way only someone who loved him could.
"Anik..." Kanaz smiled, her expression so tender it eased the pain in Hound's heart.
"We... we made it till the morning light," Hound whispered, voice thick with emotion.
"But...the others...they're all..." Her small hands clutched at Hound's shirt.
"How...how can we go on without them?" Her fingers dug into his arms like she was afraid he might disappear too.
The weight of their loss hung between them.
Just two children left in a world that had taken everything.
Hound hesitated before confessing,
"I... I was taken in by Lady Rose." The words tasted bitter.
Then, with renewed determination, he reached for Kanaz's hand.
"We'll survive this together. Like we promised."
Kanaz met his eyes, seeing both their shared grief and fragile hope reflected back.
"Then I'll follow you," she vowed softly.
"Always."
They clung to each other in a desperate embrace—no longer just childhood friends, but each other's last tether to the world they'd lost.
In that moment, they became the only home either would ever need again.
Until Hound felt something warm and wet seeping through his clothes.
At first, he thought it was just Kanaz's tears—but there was too much. Too thick. Too warm.
His hand moved to her back, searching for her heartbeat beneath his fingertips.
Then—nothing.
With trembling arms, he pulled away, only to see the horror carved into Kanaz's lifeless face—a single black feather embedded in her forehead, her eyes wide with shock.
"You nearly died there, my prince."
Hound's vision blurred.
His body shook.
A scream tore from his throat—raw, guttural, so piercing that the birds scattered from the trees in terror.
In blind rage, he lunged at the black-cloaked figure standing nearby.
But Kalix was no ordinary killer. A master assassin, he could have slaughtered a hundred Hounds without breaking a sweat.
CLANG—
A black feather met a dagger of crystallized blood, the impact ringing through the silent orchard.
"Turn around."
The voice slithered into Hound's ears.
Slowly, he turned—
Kanaz's corpse was changing.
Her body twisted, stretched—skin peeling away to reveal something monstrous.
A Skinless Leopard, its limbs unnaturally elongated yet corded with dense muscle. The true ruler of the Bone Orchard.
Hound dropped to his knees.
His body shook—not with fear, but unholy rage. His white hair lifted as if charged with storm-winds, veins bulging like roots beneath his death-pale skin.
Blood welled in his eyes, his fangs lengthening—sharper than the Moonlit Wolves' he had slaughtered.
Then—
A scream.
Not of pain, but shattered humanity.
From his back, a single wing burst forth—black as void, edged in crimson.
The mark of a True Blessed of Death.
And then—
Thud.
Darkness swallowed him whole.