Crimson: born as noble lived as phantom

The rain was pouring down from the heavens, drenching the broken earth. The Blood Tyrant stood completely still. In front of him stood a lone boy wearing a tattered crimson mask.

But it was no longer the boy who was speaking.

“HEHEHEHEHE...”

A low, chilling laugh echoed out from behind the mask. It vibrated with a terrifying, ancient power that made the air feel thin.

“Have you finally lost your mind, Crimson Card?” the Blood Tyrant sneered, raising his massive blade.

Suddenly, a wave of dark, absolute mana blasted out from the Crimson Card's body.

The raw pressure was so extreme that for a few seconds, the falling raindrops completely froze, floating silently in mid-air instead of hitting the ground. The Blood Tyrant instantly realized something was horribly wrong. He didn't say a word, his body stiffening as the suffocating density of the terrifying mana took over the entire area.

“I won’t be needing these,” Erik's body spoke, controlled entirely by the devil inside.

With a casual flick of his wrists, the possessed body slid both of the black twin swords straight back into their sheaths.

“Have you decided to surrender and beg for mercy?” Ruken asked, though his voice held a trace of hesitation now.

The devil ignored the question completely, tilting his head. “Tell me... where is the Angel?”

The Blood Tyrant’s eyes widened in pure shock. “How do you know about the Angel?”

“I can identify that disgusting mana anywhere in the world,” the entity replied, his voice echoing with a dark, dual resonance. “That Angel gave you a demonic contract, didn’t it?”

“Even Kiro  and Kenon didn’t know about that...” Ruken growled, his face twisting into a mask of pure fury. “Who the hell told you?!”

Driven by a sudden panic, the Tyrant pointed his giant blade and rushed forward at full speed to slice the anomaly in half.

Slash!

His massive broadsword abruptly ground to a dead stop just an inch away from the crimson mask. He hadn't stopped because he wanted to—he stopped because his weapon hit an invisible, solid wall of air that he could not pierce through no matter how hard he pushed.

“What... what is this?!” Ruken gasped, straining against the air.

“My mana,” the entity answered calmly.

“But that shouldn't be possible! Even with my massive reservoir of power, I couldn't have created something like this!”

“Let me give you a small piece of advice, King,” the devil purred, looking at him like a bug. “It does not matter how much raw mana you possess. What matters is how strong your control is to forge things such as this wall.”

The Blood Tyrant lost all control, striking the barrier again with a furious roar.

Thud!

This time, the sheer weight of his demonic mana managed to crack a small opening in the invisible wall. But before he could even lift his sword to swing it through the gap, a fist landed heavily straight into his guts.

BOOM!

The kinetic impact launched the Tyrant's massive, mountain-sized frame through the air. He flew across the courtyard, crashing directly into a nearby stone building and smashing straight into the fifth floor by breaking the thick concrete wall.

Upon landing inside the debris, the Blood Tyrant violently vomited a thick spray of dark blood.

Without using a single spell, the Crimson Card drifted up and entered the fifth floor through the exact same broken path the Tyrant had just flown through.

Realizing he was cornered, the Blood Tyrant desperately tried to launch another point-blank mana strike to blast his opponent away. But before he could even release the energy, the upper half of his giant steel blade cleanly snapped, falling to the floor with a loud clatter.

He stared in disbelief as he looked at the opponent's hands. The Crimson Card wasn't holding his swords. He was simply holding two spectral cards from the deck. These aren’t normal cards... What the hell are they made of?

“You must be wondering what these cards are,” the entity whispered, spinning the dark edges between his fingers. “They are made out of the true, unsuppressed Black Flames of Hell.”

The Blood Tyrant’s eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t believe that a move which could previously only put a minor scratch on his armor could now effortlessly bisect his blade.

Before his brain could process the shock, a kick landed cleanly against his neck, launching him completely out of the building.

How... how is he able to do such things with those deep wounds? Ruken thought as he crashed into the mud outside. Wait... where are his injuries?

The Crimson Card stepped back out into the rain, his torso completely intact. The deep stab wounds from earlier were entirely gone, healed in an instant.

The Blood Tyrant looked up in utter disbelief. “So... you can regenerate as well?”

The devil didn't bother to answer the foolish question. The Blood Tyrant went completely berserk, attacking again and again with desperate, multi-directional strikes. But the possessed youth dodged every single trajectory effortlessly, moving his body as if he could see every piece of the future before it happened.

Slash!

Watching the Tyrant's balance crumble, the entity swung his hand, striking the Blood Tyrant directly across his torso with the edge of the demonic card. The black fire immediately caught his skin, and the invincible king fell heavily onto his knees, gasping for air.

He clutched his burning torso, his face turning pale. It hurts... it hurts so bad! Why the hell am I not regenerating?!

“These black flames will only die out when your very core is completely destroyed,” the devil whispered, standing over him like a god of death. “And since your body is immortal... that simply means you will be burned alive and experience this agonizing pain until the end of eternity.”

Suddenly, the three-minute possession timer hit zero.

The endless pit of darkness snapped shut, and Ikalgo's consciousness vanished back into the void. Erik's eyes violently snapped open. He was back in control of his physical body, standing in the exact same spot in the rain. Directly in front of him was the struggling, burning Blood Tyrant—screaming in agony, but ready to launch an absolute counter-attack the exact millisecond those hellish flames died out.

______________________________________________________________________

15 years ago

Kenon was completely passed out on the ground from the severe damage he had taken during the defense. Right beside him, Kiro was also losing consciousness, his body rapidly growing cold from extensive bleeding. The situation was entirely hopeless.

Ruken was the only one left standing. He was completely surrounded by fifty heavily armed royal guards, their steel spears and drawn blades pointing straight at his chest.

We are going to die, Ruken thought to himself, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps.

He looked down at his two dying brothers, and a sudden, fierce rage ignited inside his chest. But we will not die today.

With a desperate roar, he rushed forward toward the deadly mob of guards.

But right before the first spear could pierce his flesh, the entire world violently ground to a dead stop. The roaring wind fell silent. The pouring rain froze mid-air, the droplets hanging motionless in the sky.

Through the frozen crowd of royal guards, a mysterious being calmly walked toward Ruken. The creature had shimmering white hair and deep blue eyes, with its entire body wrapped under a heavy, flowing cloak.

“Do you desire the power to save those two?” the white-haired entity asked, its voice echoing with an unnatural resonance. “I can hand it to you. But there will be a strict condition.”

Ruken did not hesitate for a single millisecond. He didn't care about safety. “I don't give a damn about who you are or what you are! If you can give me the strength to save my brothers, I will gladly give you my entire soul!”

“The specific thing I want from you is not your soul,” the entity replied calmly, its blue eyes glowing in the frozen light. “It is the Sacred Soul Church. I want you to completely destroy them and scatter the very devils they are worshipping.”

A dark, cold grin spread across Ruken's face. “Even if you didn't make that a condition... I would have still spent the rest of my life doing it.”

“Then it is a deal,” the creature whispered, raising a pale hand toward him. “From this moment onward,I ANGEL declares you the Blood Tyrant, the Fourth Ruler of Heaven.”

In a sudden flash of light, the white-haired creature disappeared. The invisible chains of time broke, and the world began moving again. The mob of fifty royal guards ran forward with lethal speed, screaming as they lunged toward Ruken, who was still standing completely lost in his own thoughts.

Suddenly, Ruken tapped his foot heavily against the ground.

BOOM!!!

A massive surge of demonic mana violently blasted outward. In a fraction of a second, an entire forest of sharp, blood-red trees aggressively erupted from the concrete ground, their thick trunks and thorny branches skewering and instantly killing all fifty royal guards before they could even scream.

Ruken looked at the massive pile of corpses and the crimson-soaked trees.

If my path ahead is destined to be as painful as the deep red colour in these trees... I will gladly walk on it until the very end, he swore to himself.

Just then, Kiro slowly woke up, groaning in pain as he clutched his bleeding torso. Ruken quickly sliced his own newly mutated arm and gave it to Kiro to save his life.

“Kiro,” Ruken spoke, his expression turning cold and resolute as the last of the royal guards' blood soaked into the earth. “From now on, the world will know me as the Blood Tyrant.”

Deep within the dark pit of the consciousness, the primordial devil's voice echoed one last time before vanishing.

“Listen, boy... the man who is currently trapped in the black fire knows something critical about the Angel. He must know exactly where it is.”

“But wait, Ikalgo! What the hell just happened?!” Erik demanded, his voice echoing into the void.

“You will find out soon enough, once you regain control... Fufufufufu!”

With a sudden gasp, Erik’s vision violently spun and his eyes snapped open back in the present day. He was standing directly in the rain-soaked courtyard once again. In front of him, the Blood Tyrant was slowly rising from the dirt, the pitch-black hellfire finally beginning to flicker out.

Suddenly, Erik felt a strange, terrifying sensation inside his chest. A massive, highly destructive energy was violently pulsing through his internal channels. It was Ikalgo’s mana. The underworld devil had intentionally left a dense fragment of his own power locked inside Erik's physical body.

Erik felt stronger—infinitely stronger than he had ever been since the day his parents died.

The last of the black flames died out completely. Ruken’s massive body was deeply burned and charred, but his flesh was already hissing as his monstrous regeneration started knitting the skin back together at a terrifying speed. Erik quickly drew his twin swords, the steel humming with the new energy.

Across the mud, the Blood Tyrant picked up the remaining broken half of his gigantic broadsword. He took a heavy stance, preparing to launch the exact same catastrophic attack he had used for mass destruction earlier. But this time, his mana was vastly stronger and denser than before.

Erik realized the horrific truth in a flash. The law of the dark had just applied to the Tyrant as well. When Ruken’s mind was in total concentration while his body was actively exposed to Ikalgo’s supreme devil mana, his internal power evolved to forcibly close the gap. He had just gone through a massive breakthrough.

If that was the case, things were about to get incredibly bad.

Without a single moment of hesitation, Erik drew the raw, destructive mana left behind by Ikalgo and flooded it straight into his fated sword. The steel turned pitch-black, vibrating with an unmatched pressure. The Blood Tyrant unleashed his evolved, final attack, and both warriors rushed toward each other at a velocity that completely tore the sound barrier apart.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

A catastrophic, earth-shattering explosion violently ripped through the western outskirts. The sheer, unbridled kinetic shockwave completely wiped the entire sector, vaporizing the remaining warehouses and turning the battlefield into a massive, hollow crater.

As the dense, white smoke slowly cleared, Erik was left standing tall in the center of the ruin, his crimson suit singed but intact. Directly in front of his boots, the Blood Tyrant had finally fallen, his massive frame collapsing heavily into the mud, completely defeated.

“Stop right there!” a sharp voice suddenly echoed from the edge of the crater.

Erik pivoted his mask. Running down the ridge was Princess Quina, still wearing her travel concealment mask, accompanied closely by his older sister, Erina. Both girls had just rushed into the crater, their eyes wide with absolute horror as they took in the scale of the absolute destruction.

“Erik... what the hell are you doing?!” Erina shouted, her eyes locking onto his tattered crimson mask.

Erik remained completely silent. Seeing that his sister still hadn't given up on her absolute suspicion that the Crimson Card was her younger brother, he chose not to say a single word. Shifting his weight effortlessly, his body dissolved into a flash of black mist, disappearing completely into the capital shadows.

Erina stared at the empty space where he had just been standing, her teeth grinding in frustration.

“Erina, let’s go back right now or we will be in deep trouble,” Quina whispered urgently, her voice shaking as she pulled on her sleeve. After taking one final, terrified look at the fallen, unconscious Tyrant, both girls rapidly turned around and headed straight back toward the safety of the royal palace sector.

A few minutes later, the courtyard fell completely silent except for the sound of the falling rain.

“Are you still there, Kiro...?” the Blood Tyrant groaned, slowly opening his heavy eyelids as his  eyes stared blankly up at the dark storm clouds.

“Yes... I am right here,” Kiro’s deep voice replied from the mud beside him.

“I actually lost, huh...?” Ruken muttered, a hollow, breathless chuckle escaping his chest.

“It certainly looks that way,” Kiro answered softly.

Both childhood brothers lay completely flat on their backs on the shattered, wet ground, their massive, mutated bodies exhausted and broken from the war.

“I honestly don't know what to do anymore...” Ruken whispered, his tone completely drained of his usual bloodlust. “About the Sacred Soul Church... about the global blockade... about everything we built.”

Kiro closed his eyes, the rain washing the dark fluid from his grey, scarred face. “Once, a very close friend told me that if you don't know what to do... then it is best to do absolutely nothing at all. He was the very first friend I ever made in that orphanage.”

Ruken let out a low, tired laugh. “He was smart.”

“Yes, he was incredibly smart,” Kiro agreed, his voice softening with over a decade of hidden affection. “But he was also a total idiot. Ruken... let’s do everything we possibly can from now on to make things right. Let's change this world without killing people unnecessarily.”

Ruken stared at his own regenerated hand, his expression turning solemn in the dark. “It is already far too late for that”

“It’s never late. A certain person told me that once before.”

“Was that... the masked boy with the crimson eyes?” Ruken asked, shifting his head slightly.

“Yes,” Kiro  whispered. “It was him.”

And there, lying side-by-side in the absolute ruins of their empire's grand weapon facility, both old friends began to laugh quietly into the howling wind. But this time, they were no longer laughing at their own miserable fate.

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