The Dread of Damned

It went on like that—moonlight casting its silver sheen over everything, illuminating the center of a hall drenched in ice, blood, and torn organs. The floor, slick with the lifeblood of the fallen, became a canvas of carnage. Amidst it all, his own white blood seeped into the mess, mixing in a ceaseless cycle of breaking and reforming. At the heart of the chaos, seated in eerie stillness, was Caelan Aeshterisin.

His eyes were closed. Moonlight swirled around him, shimmering like liquid silver, and fireflies flickered in the air, drawn to his presence. Then, slowly, his horns emerged—two curved pieces of flawless white jade forming atop his head. The moonlight surged toward them, and the jade absorbed it hungrily. Time crawled forward, the seconds stretching unbearably, until— crack.

A fracture split the pristine surface.

Once.Twice.Thrice.

Then the horns shattered completely. The shards of pure white jade exploded outward like brittle glass, scattering into the bloodstained ice. He screamed. A wretched, unholy sound—raw agony made manifest.

The second horn suffered the same fate. His cries only grew more excruciating, echoing through the desolate hall like the howling of an endless winter storm.

Then the essence gathered at the top of his head. Moonlight rushed to fill the void left behind, forcing its way into the gaps with agonizing slowness. Piece by piece, the transformation took hold. Painfully. Silver stumps pushed through where the jade once was, gleaming under the moon's gaze. It was a grueling process—one that stretched on, endless and merciless, until at last, where once there had been white jade, there were now silver, curved horns gleaming like liquid metal.

With that, the moonlight finally receded.

Caelan rose.

Essence rolled off him in crashing waves, as though he were the center of a raging storm. The ice beneath him fractured, splintering apart. The bodies strewn across the hall convulsed, their flesh turning into a grotesque, pulpy mass under the sheer force of his energy. What little remained of them was reduced to ruin, crushed again and again without mercy. Those unfortunate enough to still possess the will to reform found themselves trapped in an endless torment—one where even death itself seemed to delight in their suffering, refusing to grant release.

Lucian instinctively conjured an ice barrier, bracing himself as the waves of essence struck. Arion, ever the shadow, melted into the darkness once more.

Then, at last, Caelan opened his silver eyes.

The essence recoiled, retreating into him like a beast answering its master's call.

I awoke.

My gaze swept over my surroundings. The hall had become an even greater ruin than when I had begun my evolution— a hollow, decimated husk of what was once a luxurious mansion.

"Congratulations, Your Highness. You have evolved into a true Awakened and have finally begun your path to becoming a Supreme Being," Lucian intoned, stepping forward and bowing before me.

I focused inward. My body had stabilized. My organs—now pristine white. My bones—untouched, pure. And my heart… my blood… not white but silver, no longer diluted, no longer imperfect. Essence coursed through me like liquid mercury, thick with raw power.

Essence filled every cell of my being. Every breath. Every movement.

I moved— no, I vanished.

In a mere fraction of a second, I was across the room. The world blurred. The moment I stopped, ice and shattered fleshdetonated behind me, launching into the air like the aftershock of an explosion. The marble floor beneath me caved inward, cracked by the sheer force of my presence.

I flexed my fingers. No blade formed in my grasp, yet when I swung my hand, a pure silver arc of energy slashed through the air, its edge more refined, more stable— more deadly. It tore through space, faster than thought, and collided with the center of the room.

The explosion that followed sent shattered ice and chunks of mushed flesh raining from above, leaving only a crater behind.

The change was… astonishing.

Even if I faced Gunnar, evolved or not, he would have been nothing before me now.

But he was not the only one I had left to break.

A slow smile curled my lips, the blood and gore clinging to my face making it all the more sinister. Red and white blood dripped from my chin. Chunks of flesh clung to my skin. But amidst the filth, only my silver fangs and pristine white teeth gleamed, shining in the dim light.

Then, something caught my eye.

The golden wine.

It had been spilled when I unleashed my attack, yet it remained— untouched by the freezing cold.

I appeared beside it in the next instant, controlling my speed to not obliterate everything in my past, crouching down to inspect it.

"This does not seem like normal wine," I murmured.

Lucian stepped beside me. "The peculiar color makes me suspicious. There is a strange aura to it… I am glad you did not drink it before."

I let out a short laugh. "Only a fool drinks what an enemy offers."

"Preserve it. We'll find out what it is later."

Lucian nodded, and a layer of ice formed around the golden liquid—not freezing it, but slowly gathering it into an enclosed vessel of ice. Arion materialized beside him, taking the frozen vase before vanishing once more into the shadows.

I rose to my feet.

"Shall we have some more fun?" I asked, striding toward the exit, Lucian following in silence.

Our figures disappeared into the night, cloaked in the veil of the moon itself.

Soon, we arrived at an unfamiliar palace— situated dangerously close to the boundary. Just beyond lay the Forest of Everdying, the final divide between the inner and outer circles.

The mansion before us was similar in design to the one I had just ruined, though smaller in scale. Guards patrolled the perimeter, their presence more numerous, their movements tense.

I stepped from the shadows with Lucian at my side.

A guard at the main gate raised a hand to stop me, his posture stiff with arrogance.

"Who goes there?" he barked.

Then his gaze swept over me— the blood, the flesh, the gore.@@novelbin@@

His lip curled in disgust. "Do you not know where you stand? This is Mansion Llewellyn. How dare a filthy creature like you approach?"

I did not blame him. Even monsters have standards.

But such insolence could not go unpunished.

His breath faltered. His body slowed.

His heart froze.

His eyes widened in horror as ice slithered through his veins, turning his very essence into frostbitten death. Then, with a wet, sickening crack— jagged spikes of ice burst from within him, impaling him from the inside out. His chest ruptured, sending fragments of frozen heart and entrails spilling onto the ground. Blood— thick, dark, and frozen— poured onto my boots.

The other guard staggered back, horror dawning in his gaze.

Lucian turned to him, his voice calm. "Inform Finnian Llewellyn that His Highness, the Prince, is here to see him."

Recognition flickered in the guard's eyes.

He understood.

He understood why the corpse at my feet had met such an end.

And so, without another word, he ran inside.