"Interesting. That was my first ever kill, yet I do not feel anything about it."
Looking at my blood-stained hand, I never thought I would find this even a little satisfying. These hands saved countless lives in my previous life; now, they have turned into a murder weapon.
Should I hate myself for this?
I don't know. I feel a strange sense of achievement—the kind of excitement that comes from doing something grand. I wonder if I have truly changed into one of these lunatics.
...
Blood and gore were splattered everywhere. Grass and trees were painted red from the carnage that had just taken place.
Amidst the gore stood a woman with a wicked grin. She was tall, with snow-white hair, porcelein-white skin and a seductive curvy body. A purplish sword gripped tightly in her right hand, which reeked of the slaughter.
Her grin was so wide it could only be described as creepy. A fitting role for a lunatic in a horror movie. Yet, looking closely, there was a faint hint of sorrow in her blood-red eyes.
"Brother Ran, I have avenged you."
...
In another corner of the forest...
The sound of clashing blades was louder than anything else. Two men were locked in an intense death match, while weaker beasts were caught in the crossfire. It was a large-scale battle; its echoes likely carried throughout the entire forest.
"ROWAN!!"
A young man with the beginnings of a beard let out a deafening roar as he slammed his blade against his opponent's.
"Pathetic. Is this all I can expect from my uncle's most precious son? You disappoint me, Paul," Rowan said, disappointment glinting in his eyes.
Paul was provoked even further. His anger flared as his battle aura grew more violent.
"Insolence! A mere bastard dares to talk..."
"I don't think you get it, Paul. Those things don't matter here. Has a lifetime of family privilege fried your brain?" Rowan asked, tapping his own temple to goad the young man. Paul's fury peaked, while Rowan remained eerily silent and nonchalant.
"Heh, you're just a muscle-headed brute after all. Even that trash with Mana Drain could easily kill you."
Paul instantly vanished, reappearing before Rowan to drive his blade home with a "Flashing Strike." But it was blocked with Rowan's sword.
"Wh-!?"
He was so sure the blow would land. How could a mere bastard, a mere family asset, hope to block him? He was the almighty Paul; he had been undefeated his entire life.
Shadowy silhouettes emerged violently from Paul's back out of rage. Preoccupied with the frontal strike, Rowan should have died right then and there.
But...
"I think I should tell you..." Rowan slashed through the shadows in the blink of an eye. Paul's eyes widened in terror at how easily his sneak attack had been neutralized. How did a bastard learn to counter the 5th Bloodrune technique? "...the true difference between someone who has just entered Tier 2 and someone who is about to leave it."
Rowan swung his sword. In a panic, Paul tried to block the impact, but he hadn't expected such overwhelming strength. With a single power swing, Paul was ragdolled through several trees, skidding across the ground, fatally wounded.
His sword was broken in half, the wound on his chest was deep; there was no way to stop the bleeding. Even with mana infusion, the damage was beyond his ability to heal.
Vomiting blood, he looked up at the handsome young man before him—the one with red hair and blood-red eyes who was about to end him.
"Do you have any final words?" Rowan asked, his voice calm as he raised his sword to confirm the kill.
"Even if you win the game, you are nothing special. You hear me?"
"Huh?" Rowan frowned, a rare glint of emotion appearing on his face.
"You think you're going to be some special officer leading the family? Heh! ambitious but truly naive. Since I'm going to die anyway, I'll tell you a classified information. The information only the legitimate children are allowed to know."
The next words out of Paul's mouth shattered Rowan's composure. Reaching his breaking point, Rowan flew into a rage, utterly slashing Paul's body bit by bit, his sword tearing through organs in a blind fury.
...
"Wow. The sound of that battle finally ended."
It has been three days since I reincarnated here, and I think four days since the game began. That means only three days remain before the end of this despicable test. By now, almost half of my siblings must be dead.
Well, I don't care.
For now, survival and minimizing bloodshed are my priorities. But most of all, not dying is at the top of the list. Not only is it terrifying, but I'd have to endure all those trials again if I failed.
I still seem to have "Mana Drain," as I never quite feel "full" in a strange way. If that makes sense. However, this sword is surely substituting my need for mana with Abyssal Energy—and it's pretty powerful, not going to lie.
I have encountered three more people since I killed that damn Karl, but I've actively avoided fighting and fled instead. I'm not afraid to be called a coward. I just have a gut feeling that I might lose my mind if I keep killing. For now, I just need to survive, wait for the final person, and kill them.
Until then, I just have to stay alive.
"It's not cowardice; it's a strategic retreat," I muttered to calm myself down.
"Brother Ran?"
I heard a feminine voice from behind. I spun around instantly, throwing my guard up. I could sense that this person was bad news.
My eyes met the figure behind me. She was a beautiful young woman with snow-white hair, porcelain skin, and a seductive curvy figure.
She would be called a top beauty if not for terrifying smile curving her cheeks that was pained red with dried blood.
But was was the the main problem here. She was the last person I wanted to meet. My cousin the adopted child of uncle Vladimir who strangely too liking to her. This terrifying woman is obsessed with me.
After all, I had an important role in her life.