Chapter 17: The First Blood

Morning came.

Like always, I joined the other trainees on the field. The air was cold, the kind that bit through your clothes and sank into your bones.

We trained. Sword drills. Sparring. I went up against Daren and Nicholas—again—and, as usual, got my ass handed to me. Bruised ribs, sore arms, and a kick to the jaw I didn't see coming.

Nothing new.

Lunch with Liana came next. Quiet, warm, and familiar. She didn't say much, but her smile made the food taste better.

Then came aura practice.

The pain returned like an old friend, cutting through my veins with every failed attempt to circulate it properly. Still, I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

A few hours of solo drills followed. My muscles burned, but my mind stayed locked in.

Dinner again with Liana. She told me I looked like I'd walked out of a war. I told her I still had another one to fight.

Now, night has fallen.

The fortress is quiet. Most of the trainees are asleep in their quarters, their snores echoing faintly through the halls.

But not me.

Because for me—this is the time I've been waiting for.

I strapped on my armor in silence.

Piece by piece, the cold metal settled against my skin. Not enough to protect me from what was out there—but better than nothing.

I grabbed my katana.

Its weight was familiar now. Like an extension of me.

Then, with a slow breath, I opened the door and stepped out.

The fortress was silent.

Dark.

Only the dim orange glow of mana-lamps lit the hallways. Outside, knights patrolled the grounds with practiced rhythm, their boots crunching against gravel, their armor clinking faintly in the cold night air.

But I wasn't worried.

These past six months, I hadn't just trained and collapsed into bed every night. I'd watched. Learned. Studied every patrol route, every blind spot, every habit the knights had when night fell.

Now, it was time to use that knowledge.

I moved like a shadow—silent, precise, light-footed—through the corridor, then slipped into the outer yard where we trained every morning. Two knights were posted at the far side, standing guard.

I hid behind one of the training trees, barely breathing.

Then I reached down, picked up a small stone… and threw it.

It clinked softly against a metal stand to the left.

Both guards straightened.

One began walking toward the sound, hand on his weapon.

The other kept his eyes locked on the same spot, watching with tense focus.

Perfect.

While their attention was fixed elsewhere, I crept behind them, hugging the shadows. Step by step, inch by inch—until I reached the edge of the training grounds and darted toward the massive outer wall.

The only thing separating us from the wild, cursed forest beyond.

There, covered in thick green vines and moss, was my escape.

I reached forward and pulled the vines aside, revealing a narrow hole near the base of the wall—hidden beneath roots and dirt.

It had taken me six months to make.

Each day after training, when no one watched, I dug.

A little at a time. Patience. Secrecy. Persistence.

Because I knew this day would come.

I dropped to the ground and slipped into the tunnel, crawling forward, dirt pressing into my armor, damp stone brushing against my shoulders.

At the end of the tunnel, a stone blocked the exit. I placed it there myself to hide the way.

I took a breath.

Then pushed.

It shifted with a dull grind.

And just like that… I was out.

Outside the fortress.

Alone.

Beyond the walls.

Standing at the edge of the most dangerous forest in the world—The Dark Forest

No backup.

No reinforcements.

Just me, my katana, and the knowledge that somewhere in this cursed expanse… was a dungeon that wasn't supposed to exist.

And I was going to find it.

Moonlight spilled through the clouds above, casting a pale glow over the treetops.

It tried—desperately—to pierce the thick canopy of the Dreadwilds. But the leaves were dense, the branches overgrown, and the jungle below remained wrapped in shadow. The silver light barely touched the forest floor.

Before me lay only darkness.

Tall grass swayed in the breeze. Towering trees loomed like silent giants. And the path ahead was choked in gloom, as if the forest itself was daring me to enter—welcoming me with open jaws.

My heart beat faster.

Each thump echoed in my chest like a warning. A primal instinct. As if my body already knew what my mind refused to accept: this place wasn't safe. This wasn't some ordinary wilderness.

This… was one of the most dangerous regions in the world.

I clenched my fists, grounding myself.

You've come this far.

I took a slow breath, steadying my nerves, and stepped forward.

I had to do this.

I had to find the dungeon.

And if I ever wanted to stop feeling like prey… I had to come here again and again—until the fear faded.

So I walked.

Light footsteps. Careful breathing. No unnecessary noise.

This part of the forest was still close to the fortress. The knights patrolled it regularly. Most monsters didn't dare linger here for long.

But that didn't mean it was safe.

Even the weakest monster could kill me if I wasn't ready.

So I stayed silent, eyes scanning every shadow, every rustle in the grass. The smell of damp earth filled my lungs. The air here was heavier than in the fortress. Tainted.

I wasn't wandering aimlessly.

I had a plan.

If the dungeon that exploded was strong enough to destroy the entire fortress and kill even S+ ranked awakened…

Then it had to be at least an S-rank dungeon.

Dungeons were ranked from F to SSS, without sub-ranks. Each rank had a clear structure:

Weak monsters at the base level,

Stronger ones deeper inside,

And a final boss that could wipe out entire squads if underestimated.

An A-rank dungeon would have A- ranked fodder, A-ranked elites, and an A+ ranked boss.

The strongest dungeon ever discovered was SS-rank—and even those required entire elite corps to clear.

There had never been a confirmed SSS-rank dungeon in recorded history.

So if this one really exploded…

And if the explosion was strong enough to reduce a fortress filled with knights to ash…

Then it couldn't be anything less than an S-rank.

Which made it worse.

Because that kind of dungeon shouldn't be able to hide.

They released toxic mana. So much of it that even a low-ranked awakened should be able to sense it from kilometers away.

But no one here had sensed anything.

No dungeon had been reported.

So where is it?

I narrowed my eyes as I stepped deeper into the forest.

If I couldn't sense it now… then maybe it hadn't fully manifested yet. Maybe it was still forming—slowly, quietly—under the earth.

My plan was simple.

I would start with the outer perimeter—fifteen to twenty kilometers around the Morvath Vigil, the fortress's last border before the Dark Forest swallowed everything. It wasn't deep. Not even close. The Dark Forest was three times the size of the entire Human Federation.

But for now… this was enough.

If a dungeon was in the process of manifesting, there was a high chance its effects would begin to show within that range.

So I moved.

My body stayed low, knees slightly bent, every step cautious. My fingers rested lightly on my katana's hilt, eyes wide open, every sense sharpened to the edge of paranoia. The world around me was a sea of black and green—massive trees, thick undergrowth, shadows that shifted like beasts waiting to pounce.

The moonlight tried to help me, bleeding through the treetops.

But it wasn't enough.

Still, I had grown used to the dark. My body, trained and tempered, could see more clearly now—even in this gloom.

The forest was… peaceful.

Not in a comforting way.

It was serene the way a predator's den is silent before a hunt. Wind whispered through the branches like a lullaby, trying to make me lower my guard.

But I knew better.

I knew what lived in these woods.

Creatures beyond understanding. Beasts strong enough to rip an S-rank awakened in two with a flick of a claw. Monsters that had no place in the world of men. If even one of those showed up here, no amount of training would save me.

Still, this part of the forest was relatively tame.

The knights kept it clear of most threats. Nothing too dangerous was supposed to come this close to the fortress.

An hour passed.

No signs of a dungeon.

No signs of monsters.

Just me, walking through the dark, alone with my heartbeat and the crunch of twigs beneath my feet.

Then—

Vishhh.

Crack.

The sound came from the bushes ahead.

Instantly, I dropped into a stance—katana unsheathed, blade gleaming in the moonlight. My breath caught in my throat, and cold sweat slid down my spine.

Something was there.

I waited, muscles coiled like a spring.

And then—something moved.

A figure darted out of the bushes. Fast. Too fast to think.

I struck.

No hesitation.

The blade sliced cleanly.

I felt the resistance of soft flesh, and then a body hit the ground.

Silence.

Panting, I stepped forward, ready for another strike. But when I looked down…

My blood ran cold.

It wasn't a monster.

It was a fox.

Small. Harmless. Its fur was a soft red, almost glowing under the moonlight. Its body twitched once, then stilled—lifeless.

My katana dripped with its blood.

I stared at the corpse, my grip trembling.

Then—

More rustling.

From the same bushes, three tiny figures emerged—barely the size of my forearm. Fox kits. Same red fur. Same eyes.

They waddled up to the fallen body… and stopped.

They didn't understand.

They didn't scream or run.

They just… nudged her. With their noses. Their tiny paws.

As if trying to wake her up.

One of them let out a high-pitched whimper.

Another curled beside the body, pressing close, seeking warmth that was no longer there.

The biggest one turned toward me.

Its eyes locked onto mine.

There was no real power in them. No threat.

Just a silent question.

Why?

And suddenly… I couldn't breathe.

My hand dropped. My katana hung limp at my side, still stained.

I took a step back. Then another.

I didn't remember walking back.

Didn't remember crawling through the hole I'd carved beneath the fortress wall.

Didn't even remember slipping past the patrol routes I'd memorized.

The next thing I knew—

I was in my room.

The door was closed.

And my katana was still in my hand.

I placed the katana against the far wall—its steel still stained with blood—then collapsed onto the bed without bothering to remove my armor.

I couldn't move.

Not from exhaustion.

From something else.

From the weight of what I'd done.

Tonight… I killed.

Not a monster.

Not a threat.

Just a fox.

A mother.

Out hunting for her young.

She wasn't dangerous. She wasn't aggressive. She was just… surviving.

And now she was gone.

Because of me.

Because I didn't wait long enough to see. Because my instincts screamed strike and I obeyed.

And her kits—small, helpless creatures—would likely die without her. Eaten. Starved. Left to cry in the darkness until even their voices gave out.

All because I reacted.

Too fast.

Too blindly.

My first kill.

My first bloodstain.

Still on my blade.

And I didn't even have the strength to wipe it clean.

I stared at the ceiling, my chest hollow, my fingers trembling against the rough bedding.

This world… it demanded blood. Not just from monsters. But from beasts. From humans. From anyone who got in your way.

I already knew that.

I knew that if I was going to survive, I'd have to kill—not just those who deserved it, but maybe even those who didn't.

Innocents.

Friends.

People like Liana, maybe… if it ever came to it.

My lips curled in disgust.

Not at the world.

At myself.

Because deep down, I'd already accepted that. From the moment I arrived here, from the moment I accepted this reality.

I wasn't here to be a hero.

I wasn't here to save anyone.

I was here to survive.

And if that meant becoming a killer, then so be it.

But right now?

Right now, I was shivering over a dead fox.

A harmless animal.

My blade had tasted blood… and I couldn't stop shaking.

How the hell was I supposed to survive in a world where people didn't blink before taking a life? Where betrayal came from your own blood and death waited in every shadow?

I let out a breathless laugh.

Then another.

And another.

Until the sound twisted—warped into something bitter, hollow, cracked.

"Hahahaha… Hah… Hahaha…!"

Like a madman.

Because maybe I was one now.

Or maybe I had to become one to live.

This world wasn't kind.

It didn't care about empathy or mercy. It didn't reward kindness or weakness. It chewed up people like me and spat them out broken and dead.

So I would have to kill again.

And again.

Until it didn't feel like killing anymore.

Until I could look into the eyes of a beast—or a man—and strike without flinching.

Until this trembling, useless part of me was buried for good.

And I had the perfect training ground for it.

The Dark Forest.