Return of the Forsaken
The heartbeat echoed from within.
Slow… deep… ancient.
It wasn't his heart that beat—it was the Void Cells.
They pulsed in rhythm with his lifeforce, spreading like threads of night through his meridians. The unknown black energy that had long slumbered within him stirred in response, resonating with the Void Cells. Then, like a whisper awakening, it blended—calmly, purposefully—into them.
A subtle tremor ran through his veins. The chaotic surge of qi and mana that once clashed violently was suddenly subdued.
The unknown energy glided through his meridians and devoured only a small portion of the impurities within the mana—just enough to quell the raging conflict inside—and it did so as if those impurities had always belonged to it.
The corrupted essence dissolved wherever it passed, leaving behind streams of mana that flowed clearer, steadier than before.
It didn't purify everything; it acted with precision and intent, taking only what was necessary.
It was alive—patient, cautious, deliberate.
When the storm finally subsided, the three forces—qi, mana, and the unknown essence—began to converge. A small portion of the purest qi and mana, now harmonized, merged with the black energy. For a brief, fleeting moment, they achieved unity.
And then… the unknown energy devoured it all.
The violet tint that shimmered faintly within it deepened—vibrant, regal, terrifying. Power flowed through his meridians with a strange harmony, while the remaining, unpurified mana and qi were sealed and restrained by the Void Cells.
Ray exhaled slowly, his consciousness returning to his body.
But just before he opened his eyes, he felt it—something stirring within his right eye.
A strange sensation, as though he could feel the air itself brushing against his sight.
When his eyelids parted, his right eye gleamed with a radiant violet glow—cold, divine, unearthly. It wasn't merely light—it was authority. A gaze that could silence gods.
Through that eye, he saw the world differently—no longer colors and shapes, but outlines and luminous streams. He could see energy itself—the rhythm of cells, the pulse of life.
Then, as he glanced at his hand, realization struck him.
The unknown energy was manifesting—forming patterns across his left hand. It swirled like living smoke, gathering and shaping into a faint black aura.
He clenched his fist and threw a punch into the air—
—but nothing happened.
The energy refused to obey.
It simply shimmered faintly, as though it had its own will, observing him.
When it finally receded, the glow faded from his eyes, and his vision returned to normal.
Ray sighed quietly. His body felt drained, yet his heart was calm.
He trekked through the wilderness, guided by moonlight until he reached his small home—a wooden dwelling built upon the broad branches of an ancient oak. Inside, he ate a few forest fruits, then rested for hours in silence, listening to the whisper of the wind through the leaves.
Tomorrow… he would set out into the world.
He knew where the nearest settlements were. He had avoided them for years, choosing solitude over noise—peace over chaos. But now, the wilderness no longer needed to be his prison.
He was ready.
Strong enough to face whatever waited beyond.
__
Dawn painted the forest gold as Ray walked along the overgrown path.
The world was quiet—until he heard voices.
Ahead, four men dragged two children through the forest. The children were bruised and crying, bound by rope. The men spoke in low, callous tones.
Ray slipped behind a tree, listening.
"Move faster," one of them barked. "We're behind schedule."
"Why bother?" another sneered. "No one's coming for these brats. We already wiped that village clean."
The boy, no older than ten, shouted through his tears, "T-The Enforcement Regime will punish you!"
The rogue mercenaries laughed cruelly. One slapped him hard across the face.
"The Regime?" he spat. "They're the ones paying us, kid."
Ray's eyes darkened. He followed silently, unseen, as the men led their captives deeper into the forest.
After some time, they reached a cave—its entrance guarded by soldiers clad in white armor. Their polished plates shimmered faintly even in the dim forest light, the emblem of the Enforcement Regime etched proudly upon their chestplates.
Inside, dozens of villagers were bound and gagged—men, women, and children, all trembling in silence.
The mercenary leader frowned.
"Hey," he muttered, "why do you need all these civilians, anyway?"
One of the enforcers turned toward him, voice cold and clipped.
"It doesn't concern you."
Another officer leaned lazily against the wall, his smirk twisting beneath his helmet.
"We're getting paid. That's all that matters."
The mercenary's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more.
The children's hope flickered out as they stared at the white-armored men—once symbols of safety, now exposed as monsters in disguise.
Ray's fists tightened. His heart throbbed with fury. The sight of those emblems—the same that glimmered under the firelight the night his parents were taken—made his blood boil.
Before he realized it, his killing intent seeped out like a shadow, cold and suffocating.
The highest-ranking officer stiffened, his head snapping toward the treeline.
"Who's there?"
Ray didn't answer.
The Void Cells swirled across his face, forming a black metallic mask—sharp-edged, almost demonic.
Then he moved.
The Void Cells focused around his legs—his figure blurred forward, the air itself bending from the force.
In the next instant, he was in front of the officer, gripping him by the collar.
The sudden burst of air erupted like a shockwave, flinging the others backward.
Before Ray could strike, the officer's lips curled into a grim smile.
"I didn't want to use this."
Then an ominous energy erupted from him—dark and chaotic, devouring his reason. His eyes turned crimson, his veins blackened, and his aura surged uncontrollably.
The officer roared, swinging his blade wildly—striking at everyone, ally and enemy alike.
Ray leapt back, grabbing a fallen sword. Though it was his first time holding one, the weapon felt… familiar. His stance was sharp, balanced—each movement fluid and precise.
The Void Cells within him pulsed faintly, guiding his limbs, adjusting his weight, refining every motion until his body moved as though it had practiced for years.
The enforcers and rogue mercenaries turned toward him, panic spreading like wildfire. The leader of the mercenaries summoned his aura—a dull grey energy that shimmered around his blade.
The others stared in awe.
Sword aura.
A power most men could only dream of seeing once in their lifetime.
Now, in the heart of that cave, chaos erupted—
On one side, the berserk enforcer, consumed by demonic power.
On the other, the terrified mercenaries and corrupt soldiers, forced into uneasy alliance.
And standing between them—
Ray, the World's Reckoning…Facing the false judgement.
End of chapter 4