Crimson: born as noble lived as phantom

CAUTION : THIS IS PART 2 OF KIRO'S BACKSTORY IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PART 1 YET THEN  I WILL HUMBLY ASK YOU  AS THE AUTHOR OF THIS NOVEL  TO GO BACK AND READ THAT ONE CHAPTER 

FUNNY FATE 2

Twelve Years Ago

It all happened in a chaotic, blinding instant. Looking back, I don't even know where the rot truly began. I followed Ruken blindly into the darkness, fiercely believing that every brutal thing he did was for the ultimate good of the realm. But now? Now I know nothing at all.

Ruken was initially branded as a simple runaway prisoner by the throne. But soon, his monstrous strength turned him into a beacon of hope for the thousands of peasants dissatisfied with the corrupt royal family. A catastrophic civil war erupted, and Ruken was the undisputed epicenter. The royal lineage fell. Ruken was chosen as the new Sovereign King, while I was appointed as the Grand Knight Commander of the army. Kenon served as my Vice-Commander.

But the power corrupted Ruken’s mind. He became entirely merciless, systematically slaughtering priests, executing sisters, and burning every holy sanctuary to ash. Only a single church was left completely untouched—the ruined orphanage where the three of us had grown up. The priests and sisters there were given a single, silent chance to flee the capital before the fire caught them.

I was completely confused, my mind exhausted by the endless bloodshed.

Sitting quietly on a stone bench in the lower district one afternoon, a sudden scuffle caught my attention. A young girl was sprinting through the alleyways, her tattered dress fluttering as a squad of rogue knights pursued her with drawn steel. She looked incredibly innocent. And breathtakingly beautiful.

Moving on pure instinct, I intercepted the squad, effortlessly knocking the knights unconscious and pulling the girl into the safety of the shadows.

Dammit... what the hell was I thinking? I cursed internally, sitting heavily on the ground as my adrenaline crashed. Interfering with a local patrol...

“Thank you... thank you so much for saving my life,” the girl panted, clutching her chest as she stared at me with wide, tearful eyes. “I am Urena. Urena Blood.”

My heart stopped. Blood.

“I am the youngest princess of the fallen royal lineage,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “That is why those executioners were chasing me.”

“Wait... so you mean you are a high royal, and you just openly verified your identity to a stranger?” I asked, staring at her in sheer disbelief.

“Yes,” she nodded quickly, backing away in a panic. “Now... I must take my leave.”

“Wait.”

I couldn't let this girl walk out into the streets. She was incredibly stupid—not only had she survival-blundered by revealing her royal name, but she possessed zero street smarts. She would be dead before midnight.

“Come with me,” I commanded, grabbing her wrist.

“No! Forgive me, sir, but I cannot accept your protection any longer. I will be perfectly fine on my own!”

“You won't,” I deadpanned, tightening my grip. “Now, move.”

I ruthlessly dragged her back to my private quarters within the military estate. “You will be staying inside this room from now on. I will forge a set of false registry papers, change your name, and grant you an official military transit letter proving you are not a member of the Blood lineage.”

“Why... Why are you doing this for me?” she cried out, her eyes darting toward the locked door. “Who exactly are you?!”

“I am the Grand Commander of the Tyrant’s Army,” I replied, unlatching my visor. “My name is Kiro. And I am doing this simply so I won't have to experience the regret of seeing your mangled corpse in a ditch tomorrow.”

“No!” She screamed, frantically trying to bolt for the window. “You're going to sell me out to the Blood Tyrant!”

Before she could shatter the glass, I delivered a swift, localized strike to her pressure points. Her eyes rolled back, and she passed out safely into my arms.

When I returned to my mansion late that night, my bones ached with immense physical exhaustion. I sat by the edge of my bed, looking down at the sleeping princess.

How long has it been since Ruken, Kenon, and I were laughing together in that dusty library?

The memories felt like a lifetime ago. Within a week, the false papers would be finalized. I would grant her a low-tier administrative job within the army supply lines, and she would finally be safe.

Sensing she would be starving upon her awakening, I quietly set a tray on her bedside table. It contained a steaming bowl of traditional herbal root soup, toasted rice biscuits, and a simple handwritten note: Stay as long as you desire.

Turning on my heel, I left the master suite to sleep in the adjacent guest quarters.

“Wake up! Lazybones, wake up!”

I forced my heavy eyelids open, sitting up violently as the morning sun blinded my vision. Standing over my cot was Urena. She had tied a white cotton apron over her traveling clothes, her cheeks lightly flushed as she glared down at me.

“What exactly are you doing here?” I rubbed my eyes, my voice groggy.

“Breakfast is officially ready!” she declared, folding her arms. “Until what hour do you intend to sleep, Commander?”

“Why the hell did you cook breakfast?”

“Because you graciously provided my dinner last night,” she reasoned, a bright smile breaking her stubborn expression. “Now, dress up and come to the table immediately.”

“Yes, my Lady,” I muttered, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through my chest core.

I dressed in my standard uniform and walked into the dining hall. The table was beautifully arranged with plates of seasoned local venison, roasted cloud-tubers, and hot berry tea.

“Is it to your liking?” she asked nervously, watching me take the first bite.

“Yes,” I replied, looking her straight in the eyes. “It is absolutely delicious.”

“Then... I have a massive favor to ask of you, Kiro,” she spoke softly, her eyes turning dead serious. “Please... show me the new capital created by the Blood Tyrant.”

“Huh?”

“I want to see what has changed since he took the throne,” Urena pressed, leaning over the table. “The high nobles claimed he reduced the country to a burning wasteland, but the commoners outside say the capital has changed drastically. I need to see it with my own eyes.”

“I see,” I murmured, tracking the psychological variables. “Fine. I will take you into the central districts today.”

To ensure her safety, I covered her delicate features behind a heavy travel hat, dark goggles, and a thick cloth mask, replicating the exact same disguise for myself.

“What about your official knight duties today, Commander?” she asked as we stepped out of the back gates.

“I will fabricate a brilliant excuse to my captains tomorrow morning,” I chuckled, adjusting my cloak.

We spent the entire day walking side-by-side through the vibrant, bustling streets of the capital. For the first time in twelve years, I wasn't a commander tracking a war—I was just a young man walking with a girl. We tasted sweet honey-pastries from the street vendors, watched a troupe of traveling bards perform in the central plaza, and shared quiet, hushed laughter beneath the shade of the grand oak trees.

Suddenly, a sharp, violent gust of wind sliced through the market alleyway. Urena’s travel hat was thunderously blown off her head, and in her frantic struggle to catch it, her goggles and cloth mask slipped, clattering onto the cobblestones. Her radiant royal face and shimmering hair were completely exposed to the elements.

Moving with explosive  reflexes, I caught the hat mid-air, scooped up the mask, and seamlessly re-secured the disguise over her face before anyone in the crowded square could even register her features. I rapidly scanned the perimeter. No one saw us.

We spent the next three spectacular, beautiful days repeating the exact same routine. We walked through the secret gardens, mapped the high reservoirs, and watched the stars align from the eastern cliffs. The darkness that had weighed heavily on my soul since the war began was entirely, utterly erased by her presence.

“Urena,” I spoke softly as the fourth night approached.

“Yes, Kiro?”

“I want to show you a very special place tonight,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. “The ancient, ruined church where the Blood Tyrant, Kenon, and I grew up together.”

Urena’s eyes softened, a deep, emotional warmth spreading across her features. “I would absolutely love to see it.”

I was going to confess my love to her. I was going to ask her to be my wife in the exact same sacred sanctuary where I had met the people I loved most in this world. My hand drifted to my pocket, my fingers gently tracing the cold, smooth metal of the silver ring I had secretly purchased that morning. I wasn't afraid anymore. I could finally be happy.

The ancient church was completely silent, exactly as I remembered it. Urena wandered beautifully through the aisles, her fingers tracing the ivy-covered stone pillars.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the center of the altar. I pulled the silver ring from my pocket, dropped heavily onto one knee, and bowed my head flat.

“Urena Blood... will you marry me?” I forced the words out in a single, breathless gasp, closing my eyes tight against the overwhelming panic of rejection.

When I opened them, Urena was already standing directly in front of me. She was holding both of my trembling hands, her face completely crimson as she blushed, a radiant smile illuminating the dark sanctuary.

“Yes, Kiro... I will marry you,” she whispered, tears of joy welling in her eyes. “I love you so much.”

With shaking fingers, I slid the silver ring onto her ring finger, my chest swelling with a profound, unadulterated happiness. I felt completely invincible.

SHING!

Before the smile could fully frame my lips, a sharp, flashing blade violently cut through the dark air from behind.

The cold steel of a broadsword cleanly, ruthlessly pierced straight through the center of Urena's chest, the tip emerging from her front torso. A fountain of hot, metallic blood erupted from her lips, splashing directly across my face and uniform.

My brain entirely ceased to function. The universe ground to a dead, suffocating stop.

Within a microsecond, a strange, corrupt surge of demonic magic violently burst outward from the blade, and right before my unblinking eyes, Urena’s beautiful body rapidly decayed, melting into a pile of smoking, grey ash before she could even utter a final scream.

The broadsword slid back into its sheath. Standing over the pile of ash was Ruken.

His eyes were entirely wide, filled with a hollow, monstrously detached expression. “Open your eyes, Kiro. She was using her royal bloodline to manipulate your loyalty. She was a threat to our state.”

The only thing my soul wanted to do was weep. I wanted to scream, to tear out my hair, to shed oceans of tears.

But no tears came out of my throat. My eyes just burned with a hollow, empty ache. In place of grief, a suddenwave of absolute madness snapped my psyche.

A dark, booming roar of manic laughter erupted from my throat. I laughed. I laughed as my world shattered into a million pieces. I laughed so hard that thick, dark blood began to violently pour from my eyes, from my nose, and from my ears.

The blood draining from my body was being instantaneously replaced by a heavy, parasitic dark energy. My right shoulder violently convulsed, and the eaten arm of the Blood Tyrant—the limb I had consumed raw fifteen years ago—abruptly swelled, bursting into a massive, writhing cluster of black tendrils and razor-sharp claws.

I stopped laughing. I looked down at the silver ring sitting empty in the pile of ash at my feet.

Everything I had ever loved was dead. The innocent Ruken and the loyal Kenon had died the exact night Ruken slaughtered those fifty guards in the courtyard. And now, Urena is gone. I had absolutely zero reason to remain on this earth.

“Listen to me, Kiro—” Ruken started.

“Keep your mouth shut,” I whispered, my voice echoing with a terrifying dual resonance. “And tell me how it feels, Blood Tyrant.”

BOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

A catastrophic mana explosion violently erupted from my core. The sheer weight of my sudden, parasitic magic completely pulverized the remaining walls of the church, tearing the architecture to pieces.

I lunged forward, launching a savage, multi-directional flurry of strikes against Ruken.

To my utter madness, Ruken didn't even fight back. He took my heavy hits again, and again, and again. He didn't raise his sword, he didn't parry, and he didn't dodge. He simply stood there, letting my black claws tear through his armor, his eyes holding nothing but a hollow, solemn regret.

The raw mana radiating from my mutated arm grew so severe that it completely rivaled the absolute authority of the Blood Tyrant himself. Realizing the parasitic flesh was finally showing its full, unbridled effect, Ruken tried to forcefully deploy his constraints to capture me.

But I didn't want to be captured. I didn't want to fight. I wanted to die.

I broke away from his guard, vanishing into the night shadows. For the next twelve years, I tried to execute myself again, and again, and again. I ruthlessly chopped my own head off with my steel blades—only for the black tendrils to stitch my neck back together within seconds. I drenched my body in oil and burned myself to ash—only for my flesh to completely regenerate from the bone. I jumped off a hundred-meter-tall royal watchtower—only to get back up on my feet, feeling every single agonizing bone snap into place with perfect, torturous clarity.

I am completely immortal. Trapped inside a decaying body that cannot die, forced to carry the eternal, suffocating pain of my broken mind.

That was my ultimate, funny fate.

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