Chapter 3: Beneath Twin Moons

"So, shall we go now, human?" the minotaur asked, eyes gleaming with the same greed as before as they locked onto Nerion.

Nerion stared at him momentarily, then caught a glimpse of Angelina's corpse from the corner of his eye—her face still wearing that gentle smile.

He wasn't sure why, but as more time passed in this strange world, the splitting pain in his mind had started to fade—almost to nothing. With it, the emotions that didn't belong to him were growing faint, and even the sharp ache in his stomach, whose origin he still didn't understand, had begun to drift away. Yet, he couldn't explain why he had ever suffered from any of it in the first place.

"Can we bury her before we leave?" he asked the minotaur, already knowing the answer would be yes. The beast still needed him to find the so-called "sword of his family," after all.

The minotaur narrowed his eyes at Angelina's corpse. He didn't care for humans. He and his "companion" had only followed a voice out of curiosity. Yet now, against all odds, he had stumbled upon such a unique human in the heart of the "Primitives' lands."

'Still… this journey wasn't a waste after all. And I think she'll be quite pleased with this catch,' he thought, then gave Nerion a short nod.

"Fine. We'll take her and bury her along the way. But… how the hell did you survive that poison?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Nerion's lips.

'Huh? What's he talking about?' Nerion thought, confused.

The minotaur's eyes sharpened further.

"You don't know you were poisoned?" he asked as he pulled a small pendant from his pouch. With a flick, it opened to reveal a mirror. He held it in front of Nerion's face.

Nerion blinked. He hadn't expected this.

Despite the clear signs of fatigue and malnutrition, the face in the mirror was… stunning.

Long, straight black hair flowed down to his elbows with a strange, elegant shimmer—even brighter than Angelina's. His nose was sharp and slightly upturned at the tip, and his lips bore a natural pink hue that leaned toward red. His eyebrows were straight and well-defined, giving him a sharp, intelligent look—tinged with coldness.

And then there were the eyes.

His heart stopped for a moment.

Those eyes… they were the same scarlet-red ones he'd had in his past life.

'What…?!' Nerion's mind reeled. Could it be that he and the original owner of this body just *happened* to share the exact same rare eye color?

'...No. That's impossible.'

He remembered something—words from a doctor he'd once visited with his parents, back when they were trying to understand the mystery behind his eyes.

...

"It's a miracle. One in a billion. But… not entirely unheard of," the doctor had said, winking at Noah.

"Your son is the product of interbreeding between the descendants of the two oldest civilizations on Earth. During the recombination process, a rare genetic mutation occurred—one that activated ancient bloodlines, resulting in the merging of two of the most powerful and ancient genetic heritages known to man."

"Don't worry, though," she'd added, her eyes still glowing with fascination as she examined the boy's red eyes. "It doesn't come with any dangerous or chronic conditions. It's just… unique."

...

Back in the ruined cabin…

'What a face,' Nerion thought.

'It'll be useful.'

A faint smile crept onto his lips. He didn't particularly like the overly delicate appearance, mostly because it lacked a beard. Nerion had always liked having facial hair—not a thick beard, just enough to add a masculine edge.

While he did appreciate a handsome face, he preferred a more rugged charm. Thankfully, this body had both—a strange but perfect mix of ethereal beauty and sharp, masculine elegance.

His eyes lingered on his jawline for a moment, sharp and defined… until he noticed a streak of dried foam near his lips.

His eyes narrowed.

It was the same as Angelina's.

Then, it clicked.

'So that's what happened. They gave up on life when the pain became too much.'

He looked down on the body's previous owner with disdain.

There was no way it had been Angelina's idea—based on the scattered memories he'd absorbed, she would never make such a choice. That only left one possibility: the original Nerion had begged her to end it all… and she, with no one else left, had followed her little brother into death.

'Pathetic.'

His contempt grew with every second.

Then he closed his eyes and made up his mind.

"So? What happened to you?" The minotaur asked again, growing impatient.

"I don't know," Nerion replied.

"Hah?"

The minotaur blinked, puzzled.

Nerion didn't give him time to question further.

"I really don't. All I remember is hazy fragments of the day… nothing clear enough to explain what actually happened."

It wasn't a lie—and wouldn't change anything, anyway.

"Strange," muttered the minotaur.

He'd never seen anything like it. Two people, clearly poisoned, one dead… one alive.

He didn't dwell on it. It wasn't his business.

"Then let's move."

The minotaur bent down and lifted Nerion onto a rickety wooden wheelchair. The craftsmanship was crude, clearly old—custom-made by a long-forgotten hand.

He then gently wrapped Angelina's body in a nearby cloth and placed it on Nerion's lap.

Nerion was caught off guard by the gesture.

But then he noticed the subtle tremor in the minotaur's eyes as he glanced at Angelina.

'He's afraid of contamination… from touch?' Nerion realized.

The minotaur grabbed the back of the wheelchair and pushed it out of the hut.

As they exited, the full weight of night fell upon them like a velvet curtain. It wasn't pure darkness, but a haunting blend of light and stillness that shimmered like an ancient spell.

Two moons graced the sky—one in the west, its pale blue glow slicing through the night like an icy blade, and the other in the east, shining like a radiant white lantern guiding the lost.

Their intersecting light painted the village in hues of solemn blue and ghostly white.

The air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked soil, moss, and the sweet breath of storm. A breeze whispered through the towering trees, blending with distant thunder—like the forest itself was holding its breath.

A semi-circle of similar huts stood around them, most silent, their residents likely deafened by the storm.

Nerion turned his head. The minotaur walked confidently beside him, his muscular form catching the twin moons' glow in a surreal, mythical way. He looked like a creature carved from legend.

Nerion, still paralyzed, did not move—but his eyes took in everything.

A chill ran down his spine.

Not from the cold—but from understanding.

This world did not tolerate weakness.

It worshiped only strength.

And he… was ready to be tested.

Just as they reached the center of the village, the minotaur frowned.

"Where did she go…?" he muttered, closing his eyes in concentration. His frown deepened.

"Who are you looking for?" Nerion asked.

"Lady Mia. She was with me on this trip," the minotaur said simply.

"Oh? Looking for me?"

A melodic voice answered from behind them. Neither of them had sensed a thing.

Both turned. The minotaur immediately bowed slightly in respect.

"Lady Mia, this is the human whose voice you heard earlier when we passed this village."

He turned the chair so Nerion faced the new arrival.

Nerion's eyes widened.

The woman was stunning—long black hair flowing like silk, a perfectly proportioned figure that was more full than thin. She exuded nobility and harmony.

'Is she human like me? Has this brute gone mad, trying to sell a human into slavery in front of another—clearly superior—human? That doesn't make sense.'

There was something strange about her.

Nerion lowered his gaze, but she didn't take her eyes off him.

"He's quite the looker," she said, examining his face—and pausing on his eyes.

"Yes, Lady Mia. That's what I thought too. He'll fetch a fortune if we sell him to the Dark Castle—beautiful human slaves always do well," the minotaur replied, proud of his find.

But Lady Mia narrowed her eyes.

"He's paralyzed? That'll hurt his price—"

She froze mid-sentence.

Her nose twitched.

Then her expression twisted into something… hungry.

"You! Your scent… It's delicious!"

Her eyes turned blood-red.

And then—fangs.

Fangs began to emerge.

'What the hell? She's a vampire?!' Nerion's thoughts screamed as he stared at the minotaur, confused.

"Y-yes, Lady Mia is a vampire who broke her chains," the minotaur stammered, glancing nervously at her.

Nerion caught something else in his tone—fear.

'Even this brutal creature is afraid of this slim woman? So… appearances really mean nothing here.'

'But what in the world is a chainbreaker?'

Before he could ask, the minotaur took a cautious step forward.

Mia didn't let him.

She lifted her hand.

And with a flick—

BOOM!

CRACK!

CRACK!

The minotaur flew like a missile, smashed through several trees, and collapsed, unconscious and broken.

Nerion was stunned by the sudden violence she unleashed on the minotaur.

He stared at her, his pupils widening as a cold bead of sweat slid down his neck.

'That power… even if I weren't paralyzed, I wouldn't have had time to blink before she finished me off,' he thought, locking eyes with her as he swallowed hard.

'Damn my luck…' he cursed inwardly, bracing himself for whatever this lunatic woman planned to do next.

Mia turned back to Nerion. She knelt before him, gently cupping his face in her soft hands, fingers gliding along his jaw like a lover savoring a precious moment.

"Now the space is ours, my dear," she whispered, her gaze filled with hunger and strange admiration, as though she wished to carve his face into her soul.

For the first time since he had arrived in this world, Nerion's expression shifted.

Not fear.

Not a surprise.

Disgust.

He detested women like her—those who crossed boundaries without hesitation. Touching a man as if it were their right. No respect. No pause.

It wasn't seduction—it was intrusion.

And Nerion hated it.

But even so… This wasn't the moment he'd snap.

No. That moment would come—soon. And when it did, this world would remember it.