Raven regained consciousness to the smell of damp earth and cold smoke. The ceiling above him was low, made of crude, poorly maintained wood. A shack.
His body felt heavy, as if crushed by something invisible. Every movement pulled at his muscles, feeling as though something inside him had been torn out… then rebuilt. He no longer felt pain the way he used to.
It was different now. Distant. Colder. He turned his head slightly. A woman sat beside the bed, cleaning a blade.
A man, leaning against the wall, stared at him in silence. An unnatural silence.
— He's awake.
The woman's voice was dry. The man approached slowly.
— You're lucky we found you.
Raven didn't answer.
He watched them. He analyzed. Their breathing. Their posture. Their eyes. Every minute detail. Everything moved faster in his mind now. Much faster.
— You were thrown all the way here, the man continued. We picked you up in the field. We took care of you. A smile appeared on his face.
A fake one. Raven blinked. He understood.
Not their words.
Their intent.
— Thank you.
His voice was calm. Hollow.
—
Night fell over the cabin. Raven lay there with his eyes closed, perfectly still. Yet, his mind never stopped. Every second, he reconstructed events, evaluated probabilities, and anticipated every possible outcome. The door creaked slightly. Too slightly. Someone entered. Slow steps. Held breath. A blade. Aimed at his throat. Raven opened his eyes. And moved.
His motion was immediate, precise, without hesitation. One hand seized the man's wrist while the other shattered his trajectory. The blade veered… then plunged directly into the assailant's throat. A muffled sound. Blood spurted. The man collapsed. The woman screamed.
Raven stood up instantly. He grabbed a chair and hurled it with violence. She tried to retreat, but the wood smashed into her skull. She crumpled to the floor, still conscious, crawling, panicking.
— Wait… wait… we just wanted to
— Raven looked at her without expression.
— Kill me in my sleep.
Silence.
— Poor decision.
He approached slowly, knelt before her, and looked her straight in the eyes. — You should have done it faster. Then he slit her throat. Clean. Emotionless.
—
Silence returned. Total.
—
Raven remained motionless for a few seconds, listening. Nothing.
—
He stood up and searched the house methodically. Money. Clothes. A bag. Then, a map. He unfolded it slowly. His eyes scanned the roads, the symbols, the distances. He understood immediately. The 6th Continent. A smile slowly curled his lips.
—
He sat down. Looked at his hands, still covered in blood.
—
And he thought.
—
I understand everything. Faster than anyone. Every movement. Every mistake. Every lie.
—
I can solve any riddle. Manipulate anyone.
—
I am above them.
—
He looked up, his gaze vacant.
—
I feel nothing. No regret. No anger. Just a direction.
—
The 6th Continent. I will disappear. Until everything settles down.
—
Silence.
—
And then, I will return.
—
His smile widened. Cold. Inhuman.
—
I will annihilate them all. I will pay them back a hundredfold.
—
A soft breath.
—
This world of sons of bitches is going to regret leaving me alive.
—
He stood up. And left.
—
The night was pitch black. The horse behind the cabin offered no resistance. Raven mounted it and vanished into the darkness.
—
The journey lasted several days. No pauses. No hesitation.
—
On the road, he found a man. Alone. Asleep. He noted the man was a mercenary. Raven observed his equipment. His badge. His identity. Then he killed him silently in his sleep and took his place. He realized that on this continent, stealing a mercenary's identity was easy; they kept to themselves, and no one knew their true faces for security reasons.
—
When he arrived at the 6th Continent, the world changed instantly. Screams. Blood. Empty stares. Here, no one asked who you were. Only how long you were going to survive.
—
Raven entered a black market. Weapons. Artifacts. Sellers. Liars.
—
— What are you looking for?
The voice came from a woman behind a counter. Dark hair. Piercing eyes.
— A weapon. She studied him at length.
— You don't look like a swordsman.
— I'm not one anymore. Silence.
Then a slight smile.
— Marie.
— Raven.
he placed two weapons on the table. Pistols.
— Nobody uses these here, she said. Too weak.
Raven picked them up. Observed them.
— Perfect.
Marie raised an eyebrow.
— Seriously?
— Nobody expects them.
— What do you plan to do with those?
Raven looked up slightly.
— Make them useful. She smiled.
— I'd like to see that.
—
Later, in a tavern, a man was waiting for him.
— You're the new guy?
— Yes.
— I have a mission. Raven sat down.
— Speak.
— A sacred convoy from the continent of Azerion is transporting an ancient sword.
— And?
— You retrieve it. Silence.
— A thousand gold pieces. Raven answered immediately:
— I accept.
—
The following night, in a simple room, Raven entered and closed the door. Then he stopped. He observed the handle, the frame, the floor. Then he set a discreet device. A mine.
— No one will take me by surprise.
He lay down.
Closed his eyes.
And fell asleep.
Calm.
Silent.
Ready.