Massacre
Night had fallen, and the full moon hung in the heavens like a great lamp, casting its pale glow over every inch of the Floating Island. Countless stars shimmered across the sky, like grains of diamond dust scattered upon an endless black canvas—a sight so beautiful and tranquil it almost seemed unreal.
Inside a lavishly furnished chamber, Noah and Marcus were deep in serious conversation. Marcus's expression kept shifting, his brows knitting in confusion and his eyes widening in shock with every word his companion spoke.
"Sect Master Noah… is what you're saying really true?" Marcus' voice was tight with disbelief.
He couldn't stop himself from gaping. If Noah was right—if even a fragment of it was true—then the entire Sacred Dragon Kingdom could soon find itself in grave peril.
"I wish I were mistaken," Noah murmured, his gaze fixed on the starlit window. "But my instincts are not so easily fooled. I suspect Lord Helbram has sensed it as well, though he hasn't yet put it into words. And you know as well as I do—he'd hesitate to cast suspicion on that boy, not with Association Master Morris standing behind him."
His eyes turned grave, shadows gathering in their depths as though haunted by memories he could never fully bury. Slowly, he lifted the sleeping Little Red from his shoulder and stroked the creature's soft fur, an uncharacteristic softness flickering across his expression. The little beast gave a drowsy hum of contentment.
Marcus watched him quietly. He knew the story of what had happened seventeen years ago. Back then, he'd already been an Elder of the Cloud Soaring Sect, and Noah had merely been a core member. He turned to look at the moon, its light gleaming cold on his weathered face.
"Should we report this to the Sacred Dragon Family?" he asked in a low, serious voice.
Noah slowly shook his head. "Even if I trust my intuition, we have no concrete proof yet. If we act without evidence, we risk angering Association Master Morris—and he remains one of the most influential Adventurers in the entire kingdom."
"Elder Marcus," Noah continued quietly, "once we return to the sect, I want you to investigate that boy in secret. We cannot allow this suspicion to spread any further. It stays between you and me. If we are careless, we could set off a far greater disaster."
Marcus held his gaze for a moment, then bowed his head solemnly. "I understand, Sect Master Noah."
--
Deep within the boundless forest of the Mystic Treasure Realm.
A young man clad in a crimson uniform stood without a shred of fear before a massive serpent. The beast—a Gigantic Vicious Python—was a Fourth Grade Vicious Beast, its strength comparable to that of a 7th Level Scarlet Gold Rank.
Its colossal fangs glistened like polished blades, and its azure scales rippled with menace. Pitiless eyes regarded the youth as if measuring the tenderness of fresh prey. Its long tail lashed the ground, purple venom dripping from the tip.
An attack brimming with lethal poison.
Finn only smiled, shifting his weight the instant the serpent's tail blurred toward him. It barely grazed him, slamming into the earth with an ear-splitting crack. The python's murderous gaze flared hotter, but Finn was already surging forward in a blur. He leapt—and drove his fist straight down.
With a wet crunch, the python's skull shattered like brittle stone, rancid blood splattering the grass. For a heartbeat it writhed violently, then fell still, its massive coils slackening as silence reclaimed the glade.
"What a waste," Finn sighed, studying the crushed head. "Too much venom in the meat. Would've made a fine supper otherwise."
He shook his head and exhaled, frustration clouding his tone. "That's the twelfth Fourth Grade Vicious Beast I've killed so far. Why haven't I come across a single Fifth Grade one yet?"
He wasn't here merely to slaughter weaklings. He was here to temper himself—to gather experience worthy of the path he meant to walk. Yet no matter how far he wandered, every foe that rose against him crumbled after a single blow of his bare hands.
Most of their parts were worthless to him, tainted by poison or too low-grade to bother harvesting. Only their magic crystals found their way into his interspatial ring.
Finn had no use for weapons or soulforce to face such prey. His raw physique alone was more than enough.
He found himself growing increasingly uninterested in these lesser beasts. He wanted something stronger—something that could push him to his limits. And this forest was vast—he had barely explored ten percent of its breadth. There had to be worthy adversaries somewhere within.
After extracting the crystal, he turned away, leaving the python's corpse to rot. He had no desire to waste time purging toxins from meat unfit for a proper meal. He had plenty of superior flesh stored away—trophies from prior hunts, ready to be roasted and eaten whenever he wished.
Truth be told, at his current level, he no longer even needed food. The ambient soulforce alone was enough to sustain his body indefinitely. But he liked the taste of a proper meal—and that was reason enough.
As dawn broke over the trees, Finn continued his silent patrol. Hours passed in relentless, single-minded pursuit. Dozens more beasts fell to his blows—Fourth Grade and even a few rare Fifth Grade ones—but none were a challenge.
Until he came upon the Poisonous Scaled Tortoise—a hulking brute with a shell that could repel the strikes of most 3rd Level Profound Rank Adventurers.
Finn shattered it with one punch.
That had been the final straw.
He scowled, lips curling in disgust, and broke into a sprint. Every beast he encountered died in a heartbeat, whether alone or in packs. He didn't bother drawing a blade—he didn't need to. His fists alone were more than enough to reduce them to ruin.
And yet, even in the midst of his rampage, he never stooped to slaughter the weaker creatures that cowered at his passing. Third-grade beasts posed no threat to him, and to kill them for sport would have violated his principles.
He killed only those that attacked him—and only those whose strength warranted the title of adversary.
At last, after who knew how many dead monsters, the anger in his chest began to cool. He stopped hunting lesser prey and turned instead toward the forest's depths, seeking something that could finally satisfy his hunger for challenge.
Leaping lightly from branch to branch, he searched—until, without warning, a foot snapped toward his face with terrifying speed.
His eyes widened. Reflexively, he blocked the kick—only to feel its crushing weight. It struck like a hammer blow from a 5th Level Profound Rank.
Even so, he caught it—but the force hurled him from the tree. He slammed into the earth, sending cracks spidering through the soil in every direction.
Finn straightened slowly, brushing dirt from his sleeve. He smiled.
At last.
He hadn't even turned to see his attacker when three enormous feet came barreling toward him all at once.
He sprang backward just in time. When the dust settled, he saw them clearly—three hulking figures, each one radiating strength equal to a 5th Level Profound Rank.
The spot he'd been standing exploded into a crater.
Finn's lip twitched. "Tch. Are you bastards trying to ruin my handsome face?"
ROAR!
Three deafening bellows shook the forest. Weaker beasts fled in panicked droves.
Finn closed his fingers around his interspatial ring—and a great crimson blade appeared in his grasp, its edge humming with restrained menace.
It was a High-Tier Excellent Armament.
[Blood Heavy Sword]
Grade: Excellent
Quality: High-Tier
Damage: 10,200
The dust cleared, revealing his foes: towering golden apes, each with four massive arms and fangs like ivory scimitars. Their fur glistened metallic in the dawn light, and their crimson eyes glared warily at the sword in Finn's hands.
"Four-Armed Golden Apes," Finn murmured.
Notoriously dangerous beasts—so strong that even most 6th Level Profound Rank Adventurers would flee rather than face three at once. They always hunted together. Always fought as one.
For a heartbeat, silence held the clearing. Neither side moved. They were measuring him—and he was measuring them.
And then Finn grinned, leveling the Blood Heavy Sword with deliberate slowness.
Let them come.
He was no ordinary 5th Level Profound Rank—and he had been waiting far too long for a real fight.
His aura exploded outward, searing the grass to ash as he launched himself at the apes in a blur of killing intent.
The first ape lunged forward, bracing its four arms to catch the blade.
ROAR!
The sword bit down, drawing a thin line of blood. Not nearly enough to fell it—but enough to enrage all three beasts.
All at once, they surged toward him, fists wreathed in pulsing red energy.
Finn leapt high as their strikes collided in a thunderclap that sent him tumbling through the air.
He crashed through a tree, blood trailing from the corner of his lips. But he was already back on his feet as the apes advanced again, his sword blazing with power.
He swung in a wide arc, unleashing a wave of slashing energy that ripped the air itself apart.
Seven Heavy Sword Art—First Skill: Heavenly Slash!
The apes' eyes widened in primal terror. Two leapt clear—but the third was too slow.
It tried to block—but the moment the energy struck, it was swallowed in a roaring explosion.
BOOM!
The shockwave tore through the clearing. When the smoke cleared, the ape collapsed, its body a ruin of gaping wounds. Blood spread in a thick pool around its twitching form.
ROAR!
The surviving apes howled in fury, their auras flaring to a berserk pitch.
Finn lifted his sword, sweat rolling down his temple as he steadied his breath.
They charged, smashing their fists into his guard over and over, each blow rattling his bones. He gritted his teeth, refusing to yield an inch, waiting—waiting for the perfect opening.
And then, at last, he felt it: the weakening of one's rhythm, the loss of focus born of blind rage.
He smiled.
In a blur, he swung three times.
Rapid Three Slashes!
His blade sheared clean through the closest ape, carving it into pieces before it could even scream.
Blood drenched him in steaming torrents.
The last ape froze—then began to tremble all over.
It knew.
It could not win.
It looked at the corpses of its kin, then turned to flee, leaping into the treetops in a frantic bid for escape.
Finn's smile turned cold, a dark glint flickering in his eyes.
"Trying to run?"
"Hmph. I won't let you."