Love’s power cannot be measured with words but actions. A child will give up their soul to gain their parents’ acceptance. A lover would kill and die to protect their soulmate. Love maximizes our potential for both good and evil.

~Aine, Goddess of Love and Vengeance

Cia stood in the darkness of her cell. Fully alert for the first time in months. Her black eyes stared upward and to the north as if waiting for something.

The guards had seen her standing that way for almost an entire day and felt she appeared to be more of a ghost than a woman. It wasn’t wrong to say they feared her more now than ever. The woman unnerved almost everyone but had Death Murmured anyone in months or shown signs of aggression. It was her aura that suppressed them.

Besnik was the only one that entered the cell without fear, but they had sent him away a few months ago. So it forced the other guards to take turns bringing her meals. As long as no one did anything to her, they only felt marginally safe.

“You’re up, kid. Bring her the meal.” A burly guard that was more fat than muscle slapped a young, new guard on the shoulder. The kid didn’t know any better anyway, so he shrugged, grabbed the tray, and entered the cell. Never realizing their way of hazing newbies.

Placing the tray on the small table, he courteously set the table and poured a glass of water. He didn’t know who this woman was but knew that everyone treated her cautiously, so he did as his mother had taught him when serving others.

Cia’s head lowered and turned to look at the kid setting the table. Only when he stepped back did he feel a finger touch the back of his neck. The boy slowly turned and shivered when he saw the black eyes boring into his. It felt like she was digging out his soul.

“Leave this sect before you lose your purity,” Cia murmured. “Seven days… at most seven days to decide.”

“W-what does that mean?” The boy backed away until his shoulders hit the wall of the cell.

“My husband is near…” Cia’s voice was nearly inaudible, but the kid heard it all the same and froze. While he may not have known why this woman was here, he had heard of her husband. The man who was slaughtering all the Blood Ember branch sects. “Go while you still can.”

Cia sat and ate all her food before returning to her standing position and staring upward.

***

Conall’s axes reaped souls as he chopped the weaklings apart. Every person he killed created more tension. His slaughter was meeting little to no opposition, which made him wary. The Blood Pit was where most of the elite warriors of the Blood Ember sect trained, and they should have heard the commotion by now.

The most dangerous part of the Blood Pit was the Beast Corridor. Conall had done his research and knew that this hallway had hundreds of doors that would open when there was an emergency. Behind each door was a beast, and they were trained to kill everything within the prison if certain conditions were met.

As long as he was careful, he shouldn’t trigger—

“Shit.”

Conall rushed toward the doors as they opened, chopping the beasts in half before they had a chance to respond. Had this been eight years ago, before he re-entered the tower, this trap would have been enough to destroy him. While he wasn’t Gideon’s equal yet, he was sure to catch up to him soon. Stealing away his wife had awakened a sleeping demon inside him.

Beasts swarmed him and covered the corridor like a carpet., but Slaughter and Mayem hewed through them like reeds. The beasts came toward him, begging to be broken, and he obliged. Conall never gave off a murderous aura of slaughter. Instead, his opponents felt bliss as if he was salvation, and they were basking in his saintly aura.

The prisoners that hung above the corridor watched in awe. It looked like beasts and guards died happy, which was scarier than their screams of terror and pain. Those who witnessed the scene would remember until the day they died. But couldn’t really explain what they saw.

As he reached a hanging cell, he brought the cage down and broke it open. Never once caring who or what was inside, nor if the prisoner escaped. The corpses of the guards he kicked into the pit, not realizing he was creating a disturbance in the blood lake below.

“S-sire, I am Elric. How would you command us?” A brave soul among the released prisoners asked as he approached Conall. Most of the others fled, but a dozen stayed behind.

“Where are the elite warriors?”

“Gone, sir. We don’t know why, but they were all sent away a month or two ago.”

“Is there a woman down here?” Conall asked and proceeded to describe his wife.

“Yes-yes. Follow me, sir.” Elric’s emaciated body was held together by his skin. Even his greasy hair was plastered to what looked like the skull of a skeleton—hell, even Elric’s nose was missing. If it wasn’t for the glowing orbs inside his sunken eye sockets, Conall would have assumed the man was dead.

Conall followed the ex-prisoner and soon arrived at a specialized part of the prison. They’d reached the central part of the Blood Pit, and a wide stone bridge spanned from one side to a stone pillar in the center of the blood lake. Around this pillar, the larger cages were set, but unlike the other prison cells, each had a small bridge leading up to the door.

On the bridge were at least thirty warriors, and among them were some powerful Shields. Conall knew this wasn’t the real trap because these weren’t the elites under Gideon’s control. These were the normal jailers who were probably no better than criminals.

“Elric, take your friends and leave. Assume there is another trap on the outside.”

“But—”

“No. Go, or you won’t be able to leave here alive. Trust me,” Conall commanded in a way that brooked no argument. Elric knew Conall was right but still felt fighting alongside his savior was a good death. However, he obeyed and led the others away.

Conall walked to the foot of the bridge, and the horde of guards was thirty meters in front of him. They all had their weapons drawn, but he only smiled at them disdainfully. He chose to raid the main sect and Blood Pit prison precisesly because the only person who could stop him was away. In fact, Gideon was foolish enough to take all his elite warriors with him, but Conall couldn’t tell if that was calculated or not.

“Butcher!” The captain of the guards growled. Conall smirked as he placed his axes together, and his Shield lit up. The hafts of both weapons combined and caused the now single handle to grow thicker and longer. With a single move, Mayhem and Slaughter turned into a double-bladed war ax called Gan’Anam—Soulless. This was the weapon’s true form, but Conall liked dual-wielding axes.

Wielding the weapon one-handed, Conall beat his chest with the other. It looked like he was antagonizing his enemies. In reality, he was activating a self-made technique that he called the Ravager. It wasn’t one he often used because he couldn’t maintain it long and sapped his mana greatly. However, they grouped together like wheat ready to be reaped.

Tattoos blazed under his skin as his muscles bulged and expanded. Conall’s body grew a half-meter in height, causing his shirt to burst at the seams. Roaring at his enemies, he poured power into his legs as he leaped forward. His body soared over forty meters putting him in the center of the crowd of guards, two of which died instantly as his body smashed down on them and turned them into broken dolls. Two-handed, he spun his ax in a semi-circle while arms, legs, and heads were lobbed off. All his actions were smooth as if slaughtering was something he was born to do, and once more, that saintly aura could be felt. In death, his enemies only felt bliss. Their souls vaporized, but it was unknown if they were destroyed or not. Not even Conall knew for sure because upgrading to an Ice Shield required him to go through the Chaos Soul Trial, and his aura also upgraded.

Before long, all that was left was the sound of Conall’s panting and the blood dripping from his ax.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

Conall’s body shrunk down, but his shirt was unsalvageable. His pants weren’t much better, but at least they still hid his nether regions. Blood covered him from head to toe, but it stopped bothering him long ago.

Splat.

One step forward, and his barefoot slapped into a puddle of blood. More and more blood poured into the Blood Pit below. Even limbs and bodies were sliding off into the red viscous liquid. Before he could reach his destination, the blood lake below bubbled, and a crimson mist filled the area, dropping visibility down to nothing.

Conall didn’t stop. Even with the mist, he knew where his wife was and kept walking forward. Even if the heat from the boiling blood could harm him, it would never stop him. Those prisoners he hadn’t yet released were boiled alive, making him speed up, afraid his wife would get injured. There was only one reason he was here—his wife.

Once he approached the door of the cage, his hand on the lock, ready to crush it when he hesitated. All these years, to save his wife, he never once stopped nor hesitated, but now that she was here, he hesitated, knowing his wife was on the other side of the door. Today was the first time he paused. The first time he felt fear. The first time he felt angst and worried.

A white, ghost-like hand reached through the bars and gripped Conall’s shaking fist. That perfect porcelain-white skin turned crimson once it held his hand. In Conall’s eyes, it wasn’t just the blood of the people he’d slain today but the blood of all those he killed to rescue his wife. He felt tainted. Dirty. Unworthy of this woman.

“You are the only man that’s worthy, lover,” Cia’s voice was soft and alluring, filled with warmth and love. It was the voice of a woman that expected nothing less of her man.

“S-sorry, I’m late,” Conall’s husky voice was filled with emotion. White streaks appeared on his cheeks as his tears washed away the blood and dirt.

“Boy, will your tears bring your wife back?” Cia mocked him playfully. Repeating back the words he said to his then four-year-old son, and Conall chuckled evilly.

Crushing the lock in his hand, he tore open the door and rushed in to scoop up his wife. She didn’t care about the blood and gore and responded by kissing him longingly and deeply. He didn’t want to think about how frail his woman was because it didn’t matter. He had her, this woman, his everything—was once more in his arms. She was the source of his devotion and motivation. Without her, there was no him. This was not something he knew how to tell her, so he showed her by pressing her body to his as if he could meld the two of them together.

“Lover, we need to go,” Cia murmured softly. “You obviously knew this was a trap, you foolish man. Let’s see if you really have what it takes to save me from this place.”

“You doubt me?” Conall growled, but a smile adorned his face. If his enemies saw it, they’d piss their pants in fear, but Cia knew it as a doting smile meant just for her. “Let’s go. We’ll see who dares stop me.”