Chapter 18: The Carved Indoctrination
Rhaizen didn't waste a second.
The moment the last Shadow Veins scout vanished into the trees, he followed the direction of the footprints. His body still ached from the fight, but his mind felt sharper than ever.
Something about the escaping scout bothered him.
He didn't run like someone fleeing for his life.
He ran like someone returning to report.
Rhaizen's eyes stayed locked on the trail—soft dirt, faint prints, broken weeds, marks on fallen leaves. The path curved deeper into the forest, where the trees grew thicker and the light dimmer.
Everything felt wrong.
The deeper he walked, the heavier the air became.
Wind didn't pass here.
Birds didn't sing.
No footsteps echoed except his own.
It felt like the forest was holding its breath.
Rhaizen kept moving.
His right hand kept a faint layer of Qi around it. Not enough to drain him, but enough to react if something attacked again.
Minutes turned to twenty.
Twenty turned to thirty.
Then… he saw it.
A shape behind a cluster of large roots.
Too straight to be natural.
He stepped closer.
A thin wooden plank leaned against a rock. Strange symbols carved deep into its surface—sharp lines, circles, spirals. They weren't like any language he recognized.
But each line made his chest tighten slightly.
He crouched.
The carvings weren't random.
They formed a set of phrases—simple, short, unsettling:
"Strength without hesitation."
"Silence the weak."
"Obey the Veins."
Rhaizen read them once, then again slower.
The second time he read them, a faint pressure wormed into his mind.
Like a hand touching the back of his skull.
Not painful… but cold.
He jerked his hand away from the plank. His breathing grew sharper.
"Is this how they control people?" he muttered.
The carvings pulsed slightly, almost glowing in the dim light.
Rhaizen stood.
This wasn't the main base. Not even close. But the Shadow Veins used this place. And the wooden plank was only the surface.
He kept walking, following the faint tracks, now more careful than before.
---
A Hidden Camp
Five minutes later, he sensed something ahead—movement, quiet and slow.
He stopped behind a thick tree and peeked around the trunk.
There, in a small clearing hidden by walls of brush, was a camp. But not a normal one.
Three tree stumps positioned in a triangle.
A small fire pit of black stones.
Seven wooden planks placed around the clearing like a ritual circle.
Each slab had carvings.
Dozens of carvings.
Dozens of repeated phrases.
"Strength without hesitation."
"Obey the Veins."
"You exist to follow."
"Silence the weak."
Each phrase was carved so deeply it looked like the wood was bleeding.
Rhaizen's jaw tightened.
"Brainwashing," he whispered. "They're forcing loyalty into people."
But it wasn't only that.
Between two of the planks sat someone he recognized.
A villager.
The same man taken last night.
He wasn't tied.
He wasn't gagged.
He wasn't restrained at all.
He sat with his legs crossed, eyes half open, mumbling the carved words:
"Strength… without… hesitation…"
"Obey… obey the Veins…"
"Silence… silence the weak…"
Rhaizen's stomach tightened.
His voice didn't sound normal.
It didn't sound human.
It was flat.
Empty.
Hollow.
Like a puppet.
Rhaizen stepped forward before he realized he had moved.
"Hey!" he called out.
The man didn't react.
Rhaizen approached slowly, not wanting to provoke anything. His steps were quiet. His breathing controlled.
He reached a hand toward the villager's shoulder.
"Wake up," he said. "It's me. I'm here to take you back."
The man's mumbling stopped.
Silence fell.
Then—
The villager turned his head violently, eyes wide and glassy, as if waking from a nightmare but not fully back.
He stared at Rhaizen.
For a moment, Rhaizen saw terror inside those eyes. A small spark of awareness. A flicker of the real person trapped inside.
Then the spark died.
The villager's expression went empty again.
His hand shot forward, grabbing Rhaizen's wrist with surprising strength.
Rhaizen stiffened.
"Let go," he warned.
The villager didn't.
Instead, he stood—too quickly, too stiffly—like a puppet being yanked upward. He pulled Rhaizen closer and threw a wild punch with his free hand.
Rhaizen barely dodged.
"What are you doing?!" he shouted.
The man didn't answer.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe normally.
His movements were jerky but strong.
Strong enough that Rhaizen had to take him seriously.
The villager charged again, swinging both fists like blunt weapons. Rhaizen blocked the first strike, pushed the arm aside, and jumped back.
But the villager followed.
Rhaizen tried to restrain him—one arm around the wrist, another pushing the shoulder—but the man fought like someone who felt no pain. His nails dug into Rhaizen's forearm, drawing blood.
The villager snarled, voice low and broken:
"Obey… the Veins…"
Rhaizen's heart sank.
"Damn it. They're controlling him."
He didn't want to hurt the man.
But he couldn't let him keep attacking.
Rhaizen stepped forward, pivoted, and hit the villager's stomach with a quick, clean strike—enough to wind him but not break anything.
The man staggered.
Then he collapsed to his knees, gasping.
Rhaizen moved behind him and grabbed his shoulders.
"Listen to me! You're being controlled!"
The villager's fingers twitched.
His eyes flicked rapidly, like he was fighting something inside.
Then, for a brief second, his voice returned.
"Y-you don't… understand…" he choked. "If we don't join… we die…"
Rhaizen froze.
"What do you mean? Who kills you? The Shadow Veins?"
But the villager didn't answer.
His eyes rolled faintly, and he slumped forward, unconscious.
Rhaizen lowered him gently to the ground and checked his pulse—steady, not dangerous.
He sighed in relief.
"Good… you'll live."
He stood and looked around the clearing again.
The planks.
The carvings.
The unnatural silence.
The twisted chants.
Everything here felt wrong.
Everything screamed of corruption.
Rhaizen stepped up to the nearest wooden slab.
His fingers hovered over the carvings.
Even without touching it, he felt the mental pressure again—soft but invasive. Like something trying to crawl into his mind.
He clenched his teeth.
"What the hell are these things…?"
He grabbed the plank with both hands.
The instant he did, a burst of pressure hit him, pushing into his mind like a cold wave.
Images flashed—blank faces repeating chants, people kneeling, robed figures standing above them, symbols glowing like veins spreading through the air.
Rhaizen growled, forcing the images out.
He tightened his grip and lifted the plank.
His flames surged to his hand.
Crimson Fist.
He slammed the plank against a rock and burned it.
Fire burst upward, loud and violent. The carvings twisted and blackened. The wood cracked into ash.
The moment the plank burned completely…
The air changed.
The forest dimmed.
The wind stopped.
The light seemed to vanish from above.
Rhaizen lifted his head.
Silence.
Too deep.
Too total.
Too unnatural.
Not the silence of an empty forest.
A silence that felt like something watching…
Something waiting…
Something angry.
He stepped back slowly, putting himself between the unconscious villager and the burning ruins.
The last flame died down.
Smoke rose.
The other planks around him began to tremble slightly, as if reacting.
Rhaizen's fists tightened, his Qi gathering instinctively.
"If destroying one carving already caused this…" he whispered,
"…what is the Shadow Veins really doing?"
The forest remained still.
The silence grew darker.
And Rhaizen knew—
This was only the beginning.