Chapter 6 — Cinders and Ash

The Stray rose slowly, bones cracking with every movement. Taller than the rest. Shoulders hunched unnaturally. Veins pulsing. Its eyes weren't hollow like the others. Horns like a vivid bull's. They glowed—just faintly—but enough to tell him what he needed to know.

"...You're not like the rest."

The bow in his hand began to twist again. The severed wrist reformed, flesh weaving itself like silk, bone snapping back into place. His arm was whole again—Joran took a breath. A girl behind him whimpering quietly, still hidden behind a broken fruit stall.

He didn't look back.

His eyes were locked on the evolving Stray in front of him.

---

The dust had barely settled. Niko locked eyes with the monster.

The Howler's voice slithered through the air like a taunt from the void. "Getting tired already? You don't look like you have much left. What makes you think you can defeat me, human? I am one of the strongest in the army of The Griever."

The Griever.

The word stuck to Niko's skin like oil. No time to unpack it. No time to dwell. But he memorized it. Something about the name chilled him deeper than the howler's threats.

Still breathing hard, Niko stared at him. He saw it now—not just a monster. A former human. Or something like it. He didn't know why. But Mercy in Panic made him feel it. Not pity. Not understanding. Just... truth.

Niko straightened his back. "What's your name?"

The Howler blinked, then scoffed. "Do you think we Nullborn are like you humans—obsessed with names and identity? Only the weak crave names. Only those pretending to be human wear them like masks. Our kings may name themselves, but the rest of us—we are what we are."

"You Nullborns could almost pass as humans. Even if you won't admit it."

A long pause. Then a slow, crooked grin. "Among the army of The Griever, they called me Greed. Greed the Deceit."

Niko smiled faintly. "Too long. I'll just call you Greed."

Greed's laughter scraped the walls. "Do whatever helps you cope. But before I tear your limbs off—aren't you curious about the boy from before?"

Niko's stomach turned.

"You saw my power, didn't you? You're smart, so you must've figured it out by now. Since I anchor my illusions on the greed of others. That boy... the one you saw me as before... he was real."

Niko's expression froze.

Greed leaned forward. His tone shifted—silken, venomous. "His parents were simple folk. Soft. Kind. So touching."

His voice dropped, wistful—mocking. He tilted his head, as if remembering a lullaby.

"When I encountered them, I had a thought. What a pure loving family."

His grin stretched wider. His gaze, unfocused for a moment, glazed in twisted fondness.

"Then. I had an idea."

He tapped the side of his temple gently with one clawed finger. A gesture too casual.

"So I captured them."

The air chilled. Niko's fingers twitched—tightening.

"I ran the idea by the parents, but they refused. Said they couldn't abandon their little boy."

He gave a short, breathy laugh. His eyes flicked up toward Niko—not searching for approval, but savoring the disgust building in him.

"I asked the boy. Your life or theirs?"

Greed leaned back slightly. A pause.

His smile returned.

"Know what he said?"

He whispered this next part. "Take them. I don't wanna die."

Niko's expression froze. His brows furrowed—barely perceptible, but there.

Greed didn't miss it.

"That little boy, despite his parents willing to sacrifice their lives for him... He was so dark-hearted, he couldn't even care less about their lives."

A flicker of delight passed across Greed's face. He raised a hand and mockingly covered his chest like someone feigning offense.

"So I made the boy watch."

He mimed pulling something apart with both hands—fingers spreading, bloodless.

"As I opened them. From neck to navel."

The street seemed to fall silent. Even the wind died.

"Made their screams echo in his ears."

A long pause.

Greed's next words came low and slow.

"Then I told him I'd spare him."

Niko's fists curled tighter. His jaw set.

But he said nothing.

"I made him hope. I made him crawl to me."

Greed tilted his head again. His smile softened into something crueler, something… delighted.

"And when he did…"

He gave a quiet chuckle. It echoed too long in the broken silence.

"I devoured him. Slowly."

His tongue passed over his cracked lips.

"I made him hear their voices one last time."

He closed his eyes, inhaling like the memory itself nourished him.

"Such Greed…"

A step forward.

"...isn't needed in the world."

Greed's eyes opened again—meeting Niko's.

But Niko didn't move. He didn't blink. He simply looked at him—Not with an immediate anger. With something deeper.

Grief And Mercy.

The silence after lingered—cutting sharper than any blade.

Mercy in Panic surged in his chest. The world shifted.

—SOUL'S REFLECTION—

Soul Strain: 68% → 72% → 76%

Stability: 41% → 39%

The rage didn't explode. It simmered.

His muscles coiled. His fists clenched.

"I thought maybe you could be saved," Niko muttered. "That maybe—just maybe—you were lost, not gone. That maybe if I beat you, you'd remember something. Reflect."

He stepped forward.

"But now? No. You're gone."

He surged. In an instant, he was in front of Greed. Fist to face. CRACK. Greed flew, smashing through a market stall.

Niko followed. Knee to chest. Fist to jaw. A flurry of motion.

Greed tried to counter—summoning a construct midair. Niko ducked, pivoted, drove an elbow into Greed's ribs, and then slammed him into the stone.

"You can't be redeemed."

Punch. "I might be able to forgive you."

Punch. "But that boy had years ahead of himself."

Punch. Blood.

"He could've become a great person in the future."

A single teardrop rolled down Niko's chin.

"But, we'll never know."

Greed struck back, screeching. Constructs erupted. A dozen illusions at once. But Niko's rage focused him. He sidestepped one, ducked another. Slid forward and—

—Mercy in Panic—

Soul Strain: 79% → 84%

Stability: 36%

He clenched his fist. Vibrated through the air—his fingers slipped into Greed's chest like a blur. He grabbed the heart. Pulled. Crushed it.

Greed shrieked.

Niko didn't stop.

He tackled him to the ground, pummeling the skull. Bone cracked. Then split. Something slithered—an organ trying to escape.

Niko grabbed it without hesitation. Squeezed. It burst.

The Howler froze. Eyes wide. Then began to dissolve into black mist—Their eyes locked one final time. Greed's mouth moved, voice a ragged rasp.

"The Griever... will surely come. You'll all die."

Niko stared, chest heaving.

"Let The Griever come. If they're anything like you... I'll take them down too."

Greed vanished.

Silence. THEN.

*Cling*

— SOUL'S REFLECTION —

Essentia Log: [Fragmented Soul Core]

Stability: 38%

[Nullborn Has Been Dispatched]

Type: Howler – Grade Gamma (Γ)

Essentia Acquired: "Echoes of Cinder"

Grade: Yod (י)

Type: Instinctual

Note: "Shadows walk behind the ones who survive."

Essentia Count: 2 / ∞

Soul Strain: 84% → 69%

Essentia Sync: Unstable (Conflicting Paths Detected)

Niko dropped to one knee, gasping. His arms trembled. From the shadows behind him— a faint flicker. A cinder. A shade. An echo—And then it vanished.

He looked ahead. Toward where Greed had stood.

No glory. No pride. Just ashes floating away.

---

The moment the arrow shattered in that Stray's grasp, Joran knew something was wrong.

Its hand had snapped backward unnaturally… and yet it held.

The arrow had pierced five other skulls before this one, phasing through brain matter, heart and melting the Apolus in one go. But this thing—this one—didn't even flinch.

Then it opened its mouth.

A whine at first. Like a kettle screeching.

Then—

A high-pressure beam of light screamed out from deep in its throat. Joran's body moved before his thoughts did. He clenched his jaw, drew a breath, and sliced—His entire left wrist, gone in a blink. The limb spun in midair, blood whipping out in a perfect spiral. Then—

the flesh condensed.

Steel.

The spinning hand reshaped into a circular shield, blades protruding slightly outward like a broken halo. And in a heartbeat, it slammed itself between the beam and the little girl behind him.

WHOOOOOM—!!

The impact scorched the ground. A thunderclap echoed through the air.

But the shield held.

The redirected beam twisted through the street and flew straight back toward the Stray. But then—

It reached out.

And with an unnatural hiss, the Nullborn absorbed its own beam like mist curling into shadow.

Joran clicked his tongue.

"Great. This one's annoying."

He drew in a slow breath.

Then without hesitation, he raised his right hand—the only one left—and dragged the blade he'd sheathed at his waist. It glinted.

With a breath of calm, he pressed the blade to his little finger and carved slowly, downward.

Finger… palm… wrist… arm.

Blood hissed out in little arcs, but the expression on his face didn't change. Then he twisted the blade with a practiced motion. His entire right forearm split into two. Sinew cracked, bone folded, and in a glimmer of red light—

a katana-like extension of his own flesh formed in place of the wound, long and etched with faint, breathing runes.

"Forge thy self," he whispered.

"Thy sword. Carved in self."

He stared at the beast.

It was crouched now, walking like a gorilla—only twitchier. Faster.

Eyes locked onto him.

"Let's dance, you freak."

Joran surged forward—

and the street lit up with violence.

---

The first strike met flesh, but not deep. The Stray's reflexes had begun to mutate. It swiped, he parried. It ducked, he spun low.

Each clash of fist and blade erupted with shockwaves. Glass windows shattered behind them. The little girl yelped but the spinning shield hovered above her still, redirecting the stray blasts.

Joran's thoughts sharpened.

"My left wrist is gone. Still spinning. Keeping her safe. Can't screw up."

"This one... it's close. Close to turning. If it completes the evolution mid-fight—things will get messy."

The Stray twisted around mid-air and kicked off the wall. Its knee met Joran's cheek—but he weaved under, twisted his blade around its side, and dragged it across its ribs.

Black ichor sprayed.

"Not yet," Joran muttered, "Not letting you become more than this."

The Stray roared and tried to bite. He ducked. Pivoted. Struck its shoulder.

Another shockwave burst.

The girl was crying now.

He heard it over the chaos. That tiny voice. That trembling breath.

His jaw clenched.

"...Right. This needs to end."

He took a breath, raised the katana high—whispers echoed around the blade. Its edges pulsed red.

"Forge Thy Self…"

The Stray lunged, claws flailing—

"Thousand Sword Strike."

The air trembled.

"IGNEOUS WELP—!!"

The katana blurred—

One strike.

Then two.

Then five.

Then twenty.

A hundred.

Joran moved so fast his feet barely touched the ground. Each slash precise, each arc cutting deeper and deeper into the Stray's head, neck, spine, until—

SHLACK—

The Stray stood still. Then it fell apart into dozens of perfectly sliced pieces. Dark mist bled from its core, evaporating into nothing.

Silence followed.

Joran landed on one knee, breathing for the first time with effort.

He wiped the back of his hand across his chin, smeared with dirt and blood.

"…Seriously," he muttered.

"That was exhausting."

He stood. The shield spun back toward him, dissolving. His hand reformed, muscle by muscle. The katana faded into light.

The little girl blinked at him.

He walked over, knelt down, and gently pat her head.

"You're okay now," he said softly. "It's done."

She hugged him. He didn't move.

Not for a while.

---

Footsteps echoed down the smoke-drenched street. Joran stood slowly, eyes narrowing toward the road beyond the gate.

A figure emerged.

Niko.

Walking forward—alone—bathed in the faint afterglow of a fight that had just ended. His shirt torn, one arm lightly bleeding, eyes half-shadowed under the falling ash.

They said nothing.

Joran stared.

Niko stopped a few feet away. Looked up. Met his eyes. In that moment, no words were needed.

Two killers.

Two protectors.

Two survivors who had tasted different brands of hell.

Niko gave a single nod. Joran exhaled and nodded back. And the wind carried silence between them.

The only sound now…

was the whisper of the dead turning to mist behind them.

CHAPTER END.

Chapter 7 Preview – "Ashes of Mercy "

After the bloodshed fades, Niko takes his next step into the uncertain system that governs survival: the Wanderer's Guild.

But even in peace, eyes watch. Some curious. Some cautious. And some… far darker.Registration is only the beginning. What follows may bind him to something greater—or something he'll wish he never touched.