CHAPTER 2
The morning mist clung to the shattered plains like a dying breath, cold and heavy with the metallic scent of blood. Orion stood alone among the remnants of last night's battle. Hundreds of beasts lay twisted on the ground—some cleaved cleanly, others erased entirely by his blade.
His cloak fluttered softly behind him as he tightened it around his shoulders. The black sword at his side pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging the lingering killing intent in the air.
A tremor rippled through the soil.
Not thunder.
Not nature.
But the synchronized footsteps of an army approaching him.
Orion closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the cold air. The world around him felt still, as though preparing itself for the slaughter that was about to begin.
"You're here again."
A small voice broke the quiet.
The same young boy from earlier approached hesitantly, holding a cloth bag with both hands. Dirt streaked his face, and the fear in his eyes was unmistakable—but he stood his ground.
"I brought food… and water," he whispered. "You saved my sister before. I—I want to help."
Orion accepted the bag, opened the flask inside, and drank. He didn't look back at the boy, but his tone softened.
"You should leave."
"I can't," the boy whispered weakly. "There's nowhere else to go. The monsters destroyed everything."
Orion exhaled slowly. A bleak truth.
He rested the bag on the ground and finally turned his head slightly.
"Then stay behind me. Don't run. Don't shout. Move only when I move."
The boy nodded, grateful relief filling his eyes.
Orion stood, stretching his shoulders. His joints popped quietly, though his expression remained calm. Beneath his skin, an unfamiliar pressure was building—heat rising in his veins, ringing in his bones.
Stage 5 was stirring.
Calling to him.
But this was not the moment to embrace it.
Power gained too early disrupts instinct, throws balance off, creates openings that cannot be afforded in war. He waited. He always waited until the world forced him to ascend.
A low rumble rolled across the plains.
A giant wolf burst from the mist, three crimson eyes locked onto Orion. It leaped forward, jaws wide.
Orion didn't blink.
His blade whispered through the air and the wolf split cleanly in two. Its blood sprayed like mist, drifting over the gray morning.
More shadows moved within the fog.
Then they charged.
Dozens of beasts rushed toward him from all directions—claws scraping earth, fangs snapping in frenzy. The boy stumbled backward in panic as Orion stepped forward, entering the flow.
His sword carved silent arcs through the air.
One slash—three bodies fell.
A sidestep—two more collapsed with severed limbs.
A twist of his wrist—heads rolled across the ground.
His cloak followed every motion like flowing shadow.
To the boy watching behind him, Orion was not a human warrior. He was a quiet storm tearing through a field of brittle wood. Nothing stopped his stride. Nothing touched him.
A massive boar lunged from the side, tusks aimed for his ribs.
Orion lifted two fingers and snapped.
Time hiccuped.
The boar froze mid-air as if the world itself paused its breath.
A heartbeat later, its body shattered into fragments that scattered across the dirt.
The boy gasped, hands trembling uncontrollably.
"Stay close," Orion murmured without turning.
The monsters kept coming—fifty, then a hundred, then hundreds more. Their bodies piled at his feet faster than the ground could swallow the blood. His blade moved with a cold, deliberate rhythm—no wasted strength, no unnecessary motion.
Every slash was a sentence.
Every step a verdict.
The pressure in Orion's body surged again. His heartbeat pounded like a war drum. His vision sharpened until he could see every muscle twitch of every beast around him.
Stage 5 clawed at his soul.
Not yet.
He forced it down.
He needed the perfect moment—
that thin line where death brushes the skin,
where instinct cracks open,
where evolution becomes inevitable.
A shadow darkened the battlefield.
The monsters parted instinctively, creating a path as something enormous stepped forward.
A towering beast—armored like living stone, eyes glowing with wicked intelligence. Its aura alone dwarfed the rest.
A fake Stage 5.
Its strength nearly comparable…
but without a Domain.
The boy fell to his knees in fear.
Orion lifted his gaze, calm as still water.
The colossus roared, and the shockwave tore through the land, ripping soil from the earth and tossing corpses aside like feathers.
Dust billowed.
The world shook.
Orion planted one foot back, lowering his stance, sword tilted in a quiet line of death.
Inside him—
the pressure reached a breaking point.
His blood surged.
The world dimmed at the edges.
Just one more push.
"Come," he whispered.
The colossus charged.
And the moment began.