The first thing Zen felt when he heard Red's explanation of Will… was awe.
Pure awe.
It sounded less like an ability and more like a law itself—something absolute.
If one's will was strong enough, they could impose it upon others. Override them. Break them.
Even death… could be given.
But not so simply.
To grant death, one had to understand it—truly understand it. Its nature. Its meaning. Its inevitability.
Without that understanding… how could anyone possibly impose death onto another?
And yet, there was another way.
Cruder. Simpler.
Force your will upon them.
Crush their spirit until they no longer had the strength to resist.
Until hope itself shattered.
Until opposing you… felt meaningless.
Ho god but that wont be easy as you think would be. It would absolute no.
You have to be stronger to that for now only you can do is just crush them like paste thats all. If your weak than absolute death. But it would change when you face the being in the same level. That will would be nothing than just breze.
But this is all just assumption… I wouldn't know for sure unless I face them… or acquire the Will itself.
Only then can I experiment on it… understand what it truly is.
But I think my assumption is true… if you know the concept of what you're imposing, then yes.
He needed this skill. He wanted it in his collection of abilities.
Zen stood up from the ground and dusted himself off. There were more pressing matters now—something far worse.
A town was burning.
And he felt helpless.
He couldn't do anything. He couldn't even check what was happening.
He had to wait.
For all he knew, the ones who burned the town might still be there. Or they might already be gone.
So for now… he had to regroup with the others and stay patient.
So he waited.
He decided he would sneak out at midnight. He didn't want anyone to know he was going—who knew if they'd try to tag along?
But Zen wanted to check it alone.
So he moved through the night.
Zen ran under the dark sky, the only light guiding him coming from the moon above.
The air changed as he moved forward.
A burnt smell.
Ash.
The fire… was still burning.
Something felt… wrong.
Zen couldn't put it into words.
It was as if something unseen was gripping his heart, tightening with every step he took.
He didn't understand why.
There was no clear reason—no sign, no warning.
But if he had to guess…
It would be a massacre.
The thought surfaced without permission.
Innocent people.
Blood.
Destruction.
Zen clenched his jaw.
No…
He hoped—more than anything—that it wasn't something like that.
But poor Zen…
Nothing ever goes as planned in life, does it?
He was about to witness something—something that would change his life forever.
Whether it would be a good thing… or a bad thing…
Only time would tell.
The moment Zen reached the gate… the feeling intensified tenfold.
His breath hitched. He gasped for air—but it wouldn't go in.
It was as if his lungs had forgotten how to breathe.
The pressure… it was overwhelming.
He couldn't control it.
It spread through his body, drowning his thoughts, tightening around his chest.
For a moment, he wanted to run.
Run away from all of it.
Pretend he never came here.
Pretend none of this existed.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
Because a part of him—
Wanted to see it.
Wanted to know what had happened to these people.
The guards…
A blade had been driven straight through their hearts.
Parts of their bodies were burned—charred beyond recognition.
Zen stared for a few seconds… then forced himself to move.
Step by step.
The deeper he went, the worse it became.
Bodies…
More and more of them…
Piled up.
His throat tightened.
He couldn't quite name it—but something was wrong.
This wasn't just killing.
There were signs—clear ones.
The bodies had been dragged.
Hunted.
And executed.
He cursed inside his mind, trying to keep his composure—
But he couldn't.
Fuck…
This was the first time he had seen something like this.
He had seen people die before—yes.
A few.
Not… this.
This wasn't killing.
This was slaughter.
Brutal. Merciless.
They didn't spare anyone.
He knew… the day he reincarnated, something like this would happen eventually.
He had prepared himself for it.
Run through scenarios in his head. Imagined it. Accepted it.
But there was a clear difference—
Between preparing your mind…
And experiencing it firsthand.
Blood stained the walls—splattered, smeared, everywhere.
But the real question was… why?
Why did this happen?
No answer came.
And it wouldn't.
Zen kept moving.
But the deeper he went…
The crueler it became.
Whoever did this…
They enjoyed it.
You could tell just by looking at the bodies.
They didn't kill them quickly.
They played with them first.
There were cuts everywhere—deep, shallow, uneven—marking every inch of their bodies.
This wasn't a clean kill.
Not a single slash to end it.
It was slow.
Deliberate.
Cruel
Zen kept moving, eyes fixed on the bodies as he walked deeper inside.
Then suddenly—
He stumbled.
His foot caught on something, and he fell hard to the ground.
Wet.
Cold.
His hands pressed into something soft—
Blood… and crushed remains.
Pieces of a body.
It stuck to him.
Clung to his skin.
Zen froze.
Zen couldn't take it anymore.
His hands were shaking.
His breathing turned ragged… uneven.
Something clenched tight in his throat.
Too much.
All of it—
The blood, the bodies, the smell…
It broke through whatever control he had left.
Zen dropped to his knees and vomited.
He cursed in his mind.
Shit… I should've never come here to check. Just my luck, dude.
He wiped his mouth and slowly pushed himself back to his feet.
Then he heard it.
A sound—from one of the rooms ahead.
Zen froze.
Slowly, he drew his sword.
Step by step, he approached the door.
His hand tightened around the hilt.
He exhaled once… steadying himself.
Then he opened it.
But the moment he saw the scene in front of him—
He stopped.
Zen couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Women lay scattered across the room.
Their hands and legs were bound.
Signs of struggle were everywhere—broken furniture, torn fabric, bloodstains smeared across the floor.
Their bodies bore the aftermath of something cruel and inhuman.
Some were trembling uncontrollably. Others stared blankly, as if their minds had already shut down to survive what had happened.
Zen stood frozen in the doorway.
His grip tightened on his sword until his hands shook.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
There were bruises all over them, their bodies twisted and deformed from the abuse they had endured. Their legs were forced apart in unnatural positions, joints strained and damaged to the point they could no longer close them properly.
Scratch marks covered their skin. Blood stained their faces, as if they had been repeatedly struck. Some were barely recognizable, their features destroyed beyond repair.
The aftermath of violence was still visible everywhere—clear signs of prolonged, inhuman cruelty.
Several had broken jaws, others unable to even hold their heads straight.
The entire scene spoke of one truth.
They hadn't just been attacked.
They had been violated and destroyed.
Zen couldn't hold himself anymore. The emotions inside him were bubbling like a volcano, ready to erupt.
He had never felt anger like this before. Never felt this kind of helpless, suffocating rage mixed with grief.
How could they be so cruel?
Why did they have to be so cruel?
Why…
His breathing turned uneven. His hands trembled violently as his grip tightened around the sword.
"Why… piece of shit… why… damn it… WHY?"
The last word broke out of him like a crack in his mind.
Zen had always held a deep respect for women. He didn't know why—it wasn't something he had learned. It was just… there. Part of him.
And this—
This shattered something inside him.
The anger burned so violently he didn't know what to do with it.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a sound.
Faint.
Broken.
Zen moved slowly, crouching down to listen more carefully.
One of the women was whispering.
Over and over again—like a broken record.
"Kill me… kill me…"
Zen shut his eyes.
He couldn't bear to look at them.
Couldn't bear their suffering.
And worse—
He didn't know what to do.
Should he… end it for them?
Or was there something else he could do?
But even if they lived… what then?
Where would they go?
What would be left for them?
Did they even have the will to live anymore…?
Zen didn't know.
Zen felt like his heart was bleeding.
What can I do…?
Goddammit… what can I do…?
The question echoed in his mind, over and over, with no answer.
Desperate, he called out—
"Red… what should I do?"
There was a brief silence.
Then Red's voice came, calm… steady.
"Whatever you choose… I will believe in you."
A pause.
"I am only your guide."
"The decision… is yours."
A single tear slipped from Zen's eyes.
He shut them tightly—forcing back the rest.
No more.
Silence stretched around him as his thoughts settled.
Then…
Zen made his decision.
Whether it was right or wrong—
It wouldn't change anything now.
If there was sin in it…
Then he would bear it.
Alone.
Slowly, he exhaled.
…I'll give them what they want.
Peace.
Zen slowly raised his blade.
His hands trembled… but he didn't stop.
He closed his eyes for a brief second—
Then brought it down.
Not with strength…
But with resolve.
For now, he shut everything off.
No anger.
No grief.
No hesitation.
Only silence.