Liven slowly raised the knife in his hand. His fingers did not tremble. This act no longer felt strange—it was almost natural. Inside him, a dark satisfaction began to bloom, cold and precise.
"Now…" he said, his eyes flashing a crimson glow. "You two… we will play a game. Whoever survives, I will allow to live."
The men panicked. One trembled with fear, the other sank to the ground, lips quivering:
"Cursed child… please… don't…"
Liven laughed, a low, dark sound.
"Silence. Obey me."
With his newfound power of obedience, the men became like puppets. He placed the knife in one of their hands.
"Begin."
The trembling man glanced at his friend.
"Don't… please don't…"
But the command was absolute. The knife sank slowly into the other man's shoulder. The second man screamed. Blood spilled onto the ground.
Liven's eyes widened, a cruel delight spreading across his face.
"Continue," he said. "This is only the beginning."
When the first man collapsed to the ground, Liven approached him.
"Do not beg. Today… I am playing justice."
He pressed the knife to the second man's throat.
"Now… will you obey me?"
The man nodded quickly, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Liven felt a surge of power, intoxicating and terrible. It was as though the dark energy within him had found its first vessel, a new way to assert control over the world—a taste of absolute authority and vengeance.
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