Scene 1 — The Scream That Isn't Sound
(Yeon POV)
"What's wrong, Crow?"
I stopped behind him as the air shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. The kind of pressure you feel in your teeth before lightning strikes.
Crow's eyes changed.
They'd always held a strange heat—gold like flame trapped behind glass—but now they bled into burning red. Thin rings and sharp patterns rotated inside the color like a seal unlocking.
"There's fighting," he said.
Not worried.
Not rushed.
Certain.
Toyin stood beside him like a wall given breath, massive shoulders filling the tunnel. He didn't ask questions. He never did when Crow sounded like this.
Distant pulses thudded through the ground.
Shinsoo clashing.
More than one fight.
"Hang back," Crow said. "Me and Toyin will handle this."
I hesitated. "Will you be okay? It could be the Ten Families."
Crow shook his head once.
"It's most likely FUG," he said. "Collecting tribes is a game for the family heads. But FUG? They need soldiers they can burn without losing their real fighters."
I frowned. "So they brainwash an Irregular into being a weapon… and they don't even have foot soldiers?"
He exhaled.
"You'd be correct. Sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud."
He stepped out of the cave.
The tunnel opened into a grassland that shouldn't exist this deep in the Tower. Pale grass bent under stale wind, and a village sat at its center—old, layered, rebuilt too many times to count.
It was under attack.
E- and D-rank Regulars wearing FUG symbols clashed with Golden Crow warriors. The FUG attacks were wide and sloppy, meant to overwhelm. The tribe fought tighter, sharper—every movement deliberate.
Crow's voice carried across the field.
"Everyone. Focus Shinsoo into your ears."
My stomach dropped.
"It won't affect the tribe," he said. "Bloodline technique. But the rest of you will die being this close."
That wasn't advice.
It was a rule.
I pulled Shinsoo inward and sealed my hearing. The world dulled instantly, like my head had gone underwater.
Behind me, Khun, Akraptor, Ming, and the others followed suit without hesitation.
Toyin gave me a thumbs up.
Crow nodded once.
Then he stepped forward.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then something formed behind him.
Not an illusion.
Not a summon.
Pressure and heat braided together, taking shape like Shinsoo had decided it wanted a body.
At first it looked like a dragon twisting into a bird—scales snapping against feathers, two instincts fighting for dominance.
Then the shape chose.
The dragon compressed.
The bird sharpened.
A massive avian skull of shadow and heat hovered behind Crow like an ancestor that remembered old wars.
It opened its beak.
The scream wasn't sound.
Even with my ears sealed, I felt it in my bones—Shinsoo pressure shaped like a command, crashing directly into instinct and nerve.
The FUG Regulars froze mid-attack.
Then they collapsed.
Dozens.
Some dropped instantly. Others seized up, eyes wide, before falling like gravity had doubled just for them.
The battlefield ended in less than a second.
The bird phantom continued to scream, grass shivering beneath it, the air bowing under its weight.
Golden Crow warriors stood frozen.
Some stared in awe.
Some stared in horror.
Because this wasn't just power.
It felt like inheritance.
When the beak finally snapped shut, the field felt empty—like violence itself had been erased.
Crow's eyes cooled slightly.
"Done," he said.
Only then did I realize my hands were clenched so tightly my nails had cut into my palms.
Scene 2 — Aftermath and the Eclipse
Crow lifted his hand, signaling it was safe.
We lowered our Shinsoo ear seals slowly.
Sound rushed back—wind, groans, the crackle of dying techniques.
Most of the FUG Regulars were already dead.
A few crawled.
None stood.
The Golden Crow clan didn't chase survivors.
They stared at Crow.
At the fading shadow of the bird skull still pressed into the air behind him.
The younger warriors looked amazed.
The elders looked sick.
Not fear of death.
Fear of memory.
Something old stirred in their blood—dragon against bird, dominance against dominance.
Crow didn't linger on their reactions. He scanned the far side of the village where Shinsoo still flared.
"There's another clash," he said.
He looked at Toyin. "Toyin."
Toyin grinned and sprinted off like a boulder rolling downhill.
As he moved, I felt it.
A pressure spike that didn't belong to ordinary combat.
Black.
Dense.
Suffocating.
Karaka.
Even from here, his presence pressed like an eclipse choking the air.
A Golden Crow warrior at the edge of the field staggered under it.
"Don't kill him!" Crow called after Toyin. "Throw him out of the pathways so the dwarf elder has to leave too!"
Toyin didn't look back. He lifted a hand and kept charging.
The clan visibly relaxed as the ogre left.
They found Toyin easier to accept than Crow.
Because Toyin's violence was simple.
Crow's carried consequences.
Crow turned toward a small cluster of pale trees at the village edge.
"Patch the wounded," he ordered. "Clean up."
Then his voice lowered.
"I'm checking something."
He closed his eyes.
I felt his senses spread—Shinsoo probing like invisible fingers bouncing off stone, roots, and hidden seams.
"There," he murmured.
Beneath the trees, roots and old cloth concealed a sealed depression.
A hidden access point.
Crow knelt and touched it. The seal yielded.
Cold air breathed up from below.
Ancient.
And beneath it—faint and fading—
A life sign.
Crow stood and stepped into the darkness.
My feet moved before my thoughts could stop them.
I followed.
Scene 3 — The Choice
The underground chamber was carved, not broken.
Arched stone. Pillars. Faded murals of birds, suns, ash, and migration.
Voices echoed ahead.
"If the Golden Crows are fated to die out, then that is our fate," an elderly woman said calmly.
A younger voice snapped back. "Karaka already ordered the attack! If I stay too long—"
Crow stepped into the light.
The chamber tightened.
The elderly woman turned first. Her orange eyes were steady, almost gentle.
"That issue has been handled," she said.
Her gaze settled on Crow.
"Hasn't it… young Halfling?"
The younger woman spun.
Color drained from her face.
"Lord V," she whispered.
"I won't harm you," Crow said calmly. "But you'll choose."
He stepped closer—close enough to end her, far enough to leave the illusion of agency.
"Fake your death here and now," he said, "and disappear."
The room felt colder.
"Or," he continued, "I make the choice that ensures this place is safe."
The implication needed no explanation.
The woman's hands trembled.
"I need the Caretaker's acceptance," she said quickly. "I'll swear a Guide's oath—never return, never spread information."
Crow studied her for a long moment.
Then he nodded once and pointed to the exit.
"Go."
She bowed to the elder—more apology than respect—and fled.
When her footsteps faded, Crow sat across from the elderly woman.
No invitation.
No arrogance.
"You came," she said softly.
"For now," Crow replied.
And behind his calm, I could still feel it.
The scream-phantom wanted dominance.
The elders feared that more than death.
Because survival in the Tower always comes with a price.