At that moment, all across Felsek Island, the manic, savage laughter drove residents to their knees. Terror hollowed their eyes with a despair they had never known.
The Celestial Dragons—those so-called gods—were going to hunt them like animals.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
At last, the slaves gathered from every corner of the world began to move. Shaking with fear, they stumbled from their unlocked cages and fled, weeping, shackles dragging and clanking over the ice-crusted ground. They ran for the mountains, the thickets, anywhere at all—blind, desperate, urged on by a terror that left no room for thought.
They knew the Celestial Dragons' promises were lies.
They knew almost none would survive a hunt like this.
But there was no other choice.
Time crawled, a rasping breath at a time.
Half an hour passed.
Bang!
The Celestial Dragon serving as referee fired into the sky.
The restraint broke. Celestial Dragons exploded into motion with wild laughter, weapons flashing as they surged down from the platform.
"Hahaha!"
"Kill!"
"The first kill is mine!"
"I want that black-haired girl!"
Madness cracked open. The bloody curtain of the death game rose.
Most of the Celestial Dragons streamed into the snowfields to begin the hunt.
Babos sauntered toward Vice Admiral Darren with a slow, poisonous smile. "So, Vice Admiral, what are you waiting for? Ever since you set foot on this island, you keep checking that pocket watch."
Darren's glance was cold. "Wasn't the last lesson enough, Excellency Babos?"
"Tch." Babos's laugh turned mocking. "You think Saint Saturn was protecting you? Don't flatter yourself."
He leaned in, malice sharpening his whisper. "They say you're the 'King of the North Blue,' that there's a saying up there—'He takes your money and gets the job done.' I'm curious. Ten minutes from now, when the hunt truly begins, what kind of face will you make?"
The towering man lifted his hand and slapped Darren across the face, a performance of aristocratic scorn. "You take the money and fail. You can't even protect the civilians under your command. Tsk, tsk. How amusing. Hahahaha!"
He bowed with theatrical grace. "Just stand there and watch, mighty Vice Admiral—armed with your Marines' pitiful Justice."
With a flourish of his rapier, he turned and strode toward the trees, a ring of Celestial Dragons lingering to drink in Darren's supposed humiliation.
Babos halted after a few steps, as if struck by a memory, and looked back with a sneer. "Do you know why Saint Saturn dragged you to this island? Because he wants you to watch it happen. One civilian after another will die before your eyes, and you'll do nothing. You'll even escort us—'the murderers'—to safety. That helpless despair will eat you alive."
"That old bastard just wants to see how much you can endure."
Click.
Darren's pocket watch snapped shut.
"Are you finished?"
He lifted his head, voice quiet, face unreadable.
Snow drifted like feathers between them.
Meeting the Vice Admiral's empty gaze, Babos's smile faltered. Darren's figure blurred and vanished.
A cold, mortal danger tore through Babos's chest.
Could it be—?
His rapier flashed on instinct.
Clang!
The blade sheared cleanly in a horizontal streak, and the same movement carved through flesh without slowing.
Babos's pupils pinpricked.
A heartbeat later, an arm still gripping the broken Western sword spun into the air, scattering blood like red petals through the snow.
Shock rippled the onlookers. Faces went paper white; awe flipped to terror.
"You… you dare injure me?!" Babos staggered back, roaring, blood jetting from the stump to spatter the snow in starbursts.
This Marine is insane.
He had only prodded him—how could a Marine lose control like this?
Then Babos met that same indifferent gaze and felt his fury gutter out, replaced by a chill he had never known.
Killing intent.
Real killing intent.
This man truly meant to kill him.
"Don't come any closer… My uncle won't let you—"
Darren advanced, step by step, blood dripping from his hand. Babos's breath hitched in ragged bursts. The Vice Admiral blurred again.
Wind roared, kicking snow into a white squall.
"No!! Saint Saturn, save me!!"
Panic broke him at last. He lurched away, screaming.
Zzzzzz—
A magic circle flared nearby, black flames licking and lightning crawling across its rim. At its heart, a dark pentagram spun, ringed by the numeral "5," and a dreadful, eldritch power surged outward.
Relief sparked in Babos's eyes.
"Haha—"
Shlick.
Heat bloomed in his chest; then everything went cold. Pain and numbness swallowed him whole.
He looked down, uncomprehending, at the hole punched through his breast.
When he finally lifted his gaze, Darren stood before him, eyes as calm as before, as if he had only swatted a fly. In his hand beat a heart, slick with blood.
His heart.
The heart of a god.
"Hah… you…" Babos gurgled, blood running from mouth and nose. His sight tunneled as Darren turned away without a second glance.
He killed me without even looking at me.
He never even saw me.
That bitter absurdity was the last thing left of him.
Darkness closed in. The red-haired Celestial Dragon toppled.
Black flame writhed; eerie lightning crawled across the fallen body.
Darren turned toward the old figure rising from the circle. For the first time since setting foot on the island, he smiled, a thin cut across a hard face.
"I'm afraid I've disappointed you, Saint Saturn, Excellency."
His fingers clenched.
Snap.
The warm, pulsing heart burst in his fist, blood spattering his face and lending him a feral, savage cast.
He watched Saint Saturn's expression harden.
"I really can't stand the smug faces of you Celestial Dragons," he said softly. "So much so that I can't help wanting to…"
He bared his teeth.
"Kill them… all!"
To be continued...