Roy waited in the darkness of the alley beside the auction house, the cold night air clinging to his skin like a warning. His heartbeat was steady—too steady. That scared him more than anything. A part of him knew what he was about to do wasn't heroic or noble. It was survival. It was necessity. And somewhere deep inside… something darker was waking up.
He leaned against the wall, hood raised, watching people spill out of the large marble doors one group at a time. Nobles. Merchants. Guards. All laughing, all satisfied—everyone except one person.
Marcus Valinor.
Kate's brother.
Roy clenched his fists.
"Enjoy your victory while it lasts," he muttered.
He didn't have to wait long.
Marcus finally exited the building with three of his elite guards. They walked like they owned the night, laughing arrogantly at some joke Marcus made—probably about how he outbid his own sister just to spite her.
Roy pushed off the wall and began to follow silently.
He stayed in the shadows, stepping lightly, careful not to draw attention. Marcus took the road leading away from the center of the city, toward a quieter district filled with large estates and empty streets. Perfect.
After a few minutes, the group reached a narrow path behind an abandoned courtyard. No people. No guards. No witnesses.
Roy exhaled slowly.
This was it.
He stepped out of the shadow, appearing directly in front of them with calm, deliberate steps.
Marcus froze mid-laugh.
His guards immediately reached for their weapons.
Roy stopped a few feet away, looking Marcus straight in the eyes.
"Hand over the piece of the Temporal Essence you bought," Roy said calmly. "Give it to me, and we walk away without trouble."
The guards exchanged glances—then burst into laughter.
Marcus smirked arrogantly.
"And who the hell do you think you are?" he scoffed. "My sister's pet? You dare make demands of me?"
Roy sighed.
"Last chance."
Marcus raised a hand lazily. "Kill him."
The guards charged.
Roy didn't move.
The first guard reached him in two strides, swinging a blade at Roy's neck. Roy ducked under it smoothly, pivoted, and slammed his elbow into the guard's ribs. The man grunted but didn't fall.
The second guard swung a spear toward Roy's back—Roy twisted, grabbed the shaft mid-swing, and yanked it forward, pulling the guard off balance.
The third guard flanked him, daggers glinting under the moonlight.
Three directions. Three weapons. Three killing intents.
Roy's heartbeat finally spiked—and a strange thrill shivered down his spine.
"Alright…" he murmured. "That was the warm-up."
His vision shifted—blue light flickered in his irises.
Eternal Eyes: Illusion of Origin and End.
He looked directly at the first guard.
The man froze mid-attack, eyes widening in horror as the illusion wrapped around his mind. His weapon clattered to the ground. A strangled scream escaped his throat as he collapsed to his knees, crippled by the weight of a universe being born and destroyed before him.
Roy moved before the others could even process what happened.
The second guard lunged.
Roy raised his hand.
Time Domain – Localized Stop.
A small sphere of shimmering distortion appeared around the guard's torso—no bigger than a blanket—and the man froze in place completely. Only this one guard. Any bigger, it would've drained Roy dry.
Roy stepped forward, drew his Spirit Weapon from thin air—a short, deadly blade shaped by his will—and slashed.
The guard didn't even bleed until Roy released the domain. Then time snapped back, and the man fell in two lifeless halves.
The third guard screamed and charged desperately.
Roy's Spirit Weapon shifted in his grip. The metal rippled like liquid—stretching, lengthening—
Until a wicked long scythe rested in Roy's hand.
Roy spun once, the blade whistling through the air.
SHHHHK.
The third guard dropped, throat open, eyes wide in shock.
Silence.
Roy stood still, chest rising and falling slowly. The battlefield's quiet felt wrong… too quiet. His stomach twisted sharply. A wave of nausea hit him, and he pressed his hand against a wall to steady himself.
His first time killing humans.
His hands trembled.
"…Don't…" he whispered to himself. "Don't throw up. Not now…"
After a few breaths, he swallowed the bile burning his throat.
He stood straight again.
And then… he looked at Marcus.
Marcus Valinor—the proud prince—was trembling violently, back pressed against a stone wall, face pale as death.
"You… you monster," Marcus stuttered. "S-stay back!"
Roy walked toward him slowly, steps measured, graceful… like an executioner wearing the robes of an angel.
Every step made Marcus shrink further.
Roy stopped right in front of him.
"I'll ask one last time," Roy said softly. "Give me the Temporal Essence."
Marcus nearly tripped over himself as he frantically reached into his coat and pulled out the dark crystalline fragment. His hand shook wildly as he extended it.
"H-here! Take it! Take it and leave me alone!"
Roy stretched out his hand—
A voice cut through the tension.
"Roy, stop."
Roy froze.
Kate stood behind him, breathing slightly heavy, emerald eyes wide—not with fear, but something more complicated.
She looked at her brother with bitter disappointment.
And then at Roy… with concern.
"Don't kill him," she said firmly. "You'll bring trouble far bigger than you can imagine. Let me handle this. I'll speak to the Emperor. I'll smooth everything over."
Roy didn't look at Marcus. He kept his eyes on Kate.
After a tense second, he dropped his arm slightly.
"…Fine," he said. "But if he gets in my way again… I won't care if the Emperor himself stands beside him."
Marcus whimpered, sliding down the wall.
Roy turned away, walked past Kate, and didn't look back.
A strange heaviness settled in his chest—not guilt, not exactly—but the awareness that something inside him had shifted.
Something old. Something sharp. Something dangerous.
He leapt onto a nearby wall, climbing effortlessly until he reached the rooftops.
The city stretched before him, bathed in moonlight.
He touched the piece of the Temporal Essence in his hand.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"At last… the second fragment."
He didn't know where this path would lead him—salvation or ruin—but tonight, he had taken a step he could never undo.
And a seed had sprouted inside him…
A seed that whispered:
More.
He doesn't even know how he fought in such a skillful way, Maybe because of his fight with the silver-tusked lion or something else, It doesn't matter as long as he gets to his endeavor,
Maybe he took the command of revenge a little too far, Maybe he doesn't avenge his ancestors, Maybe he wants to vent the anger of his family's death in this revenge
He vanished into the night.