"Hey, won't you tell me where we're going?"
The man asked with clear excitement in his voice, his words echoing through the quiet corridors. Just ahead of him, a woman around the same age, kept walking nonchalantly..
It was the third time he had asked. Still, no answer.
His curiosity only grew stronger with every step. The alleyways they passed were dark and looked sketchy, a perfect place for executing a crime, but he didn't feel the need to be on guard.
He trusted her.
She was his first love, afterall.
The woman he had worked so hard for. The reason and motivation behind all his achievements.
Step. Step.
"Hm?"
He suddenly noticed something. There were other footsteps now. Actually a lot of them, and they were getting closer.
The sound echoed in the narrow alley. He looked around but couldn't see much. It was too dark. Still, the feeling that something was wrong finally came to him.
This time, his tone changed. It wasn't playful anymore.
"Hey, stop. Tell me what's going on. You better have a good reason for this."
His voice was lower than before calm, but serious. The aggression in it was clear. He was no longer relaxed.
The woman suddenly stopped when she heard him speak. But even now, she didn't answer his questions. She just stood still, her back facing him, saying nothing.
He was starting to lose patience. Frustrated, he reached out and grabbed her arm to pull her toward him.
But then—
Stab! Stab!
His eyes widened in shock. A sharp pain hit him in the stomach. He looked down and saw the blade.
Even though the pain was spreading fast, he tried to stay awake and clear-headed. He only had one thought in his mind, to see her face clearly.
He hoped it wasn't her. He hoped maybe it was someone else.
But it was her.
His heart sank as he looked into her eyes.
"Why?" he asked in a shaky voice, struggling to breathe.
"I'm sorry," she said, her hands shaking. "This was the only way to stop you. You're not the same person I once loved. You've become a serial killer… a monster."
"I did all that for yo—"
"Enough!"
Before the man could finish his sentence, a loud voice echoed from the direction of the approaching footsteps.
Seconds later, they finally came into view.
There were five of them.
One of them wore the robes of a priest. While the other four shared same emblem on their chests. It wasn't hard to recognize. That symbol belonged to one of the top guilds—
The Wolfs.
"Was it really necessary for all of us to come? One stab and he's already on his deathbed."
That voice.
Even with his vision starting to blur, the man recognized it right away.
It was his best friend.
'So you betrayed me too, huh?'
That was his last thought before his eyes slowly shut.
But something didn't sit right.
"Wait," the priest said, stepping forward, his tone cautious. "Even with the formation activated, he shouldn't be this weak."
"Yeah," the said best friend added. "I thought something felt off about his presence too,"
"What do you mean, Camalon?" the woman asked as panic and anxiety took over her.
Before anyone could answer, the man's body suddenly collapsed to the ground. A strange smoke rose from it, thick and dark.
When the smoke cleared, what lay there wasn't the man.
It was a dried-up, lifeless corpse. Disfigured. Almost unrecognizable.
"This…?" Camalon gasped, eyes wide.
"The Peppertree… tsk! That bastard was controlling the corpse from the beginning," the priest muttered, as situation became clear to him. "He must've used some kind of artifact to mimic his presence and appearance."
"That means… he already knew about our plan?" the woman asked, her voice filled with desperation as she turned to the priest for an answer.
But the reply didn't come from him.
It came from the man she thought she had killed.
"Of course, my dear. How could a showman not know about his own show?"
"Huh?"
The voice echoed above them, and when they looked up, there he stood clad in a luxurious suit and pants that matched his character well, an arrogant grin tugged on his face.
He was walking high above them.
In the sky.
Well, it looked like the sky. In truth, he was stepping across invisible strings stretched out in the air by his stigma.
"Grayman!" Camalon shouted in shock.
But the woman couldn't hold her voice any longer. "How did you know about this?!"
"Of course a puppetmaster knows the play his puppets are in… right?"
"Puppets?"
"Yes,"
"Grayman, don't get ahead of yourself," the priest growled, teeth clenched. "There are six of us. Even if it's you, you can't take us all alone."
Grayman's smile didn't fade. His voice stayed calm, but his cocky tone got evn more evident.
"I don't need you to remind me. I know exactly what my doll can do. That's why I came fully prepared."
And then just as he hinted, many figures began to appear behind him.
Corpses.
Dozens of them, moving across the same invisible threads, scattered all around the area. Their lifeless eyes locked onto their targets below.
They were all types bodily disfigured, face disfigured but one stood out. A figure beside Grayman. Unlike the others, this corpse looked… well-kept. Its body was intact.
And Clean.
Grayman glanced at it and said coldly, "That woman, her body is valuable. I want her corpse clean and intact. You understand?"
"Yes, Master," the corpse replied.
Grayman raised his arms.
"Now then… let the show begin!"
.
..
...
The man's eyes were filled with tears as he let out a scream of pure agony.
The flashback had finally ended.
And in its place, the flood of information the system had promised slammed into his mind all at once, causing him to momentarily froze in a place. Followed by headache and nausea.
It took him nearly an hour to calm down.
Finally able to think clearly, he began to process the knowledge that had been forced into his brain.
Just as he had suspected, this wasn't Earth. Not a future version of it, not a simulation. It was an entirely different world.
They called it End Horizon.
As for the reason behind it, ididn't matter right now. What did matter was that End Horizon was divided into several continents.
The one where humans lived was known as the Mainland.
The Mainland was supposedly ruled by a Union Government. But with such a huge landmass, that idea was more illusion than truth. In reality, the ones who held true power were the top guilds, holding the most military strength and influence.
And, of course, the three surviving temples.
Then came the reason he had found himself lying among a pile of corpses.
Destiny.
Every human born in End Horizon had a pre-decided destiny. And There were three types:
1. Most common, destiny of human.
2. The destiny which is most sought-after, respected and admired the destiny of Hero.
3. And finally, the feared and most hated one, the destiny of Villain.
As a person grew, their destiny would eventually mature and manifest into a Stigma, a mark that granted its bearer unique powers.
These Stigmas could be anything, but their strength, type, and how fast they grew were heavily influenced by the kind of destiny they came from.
After processing his mind for a while, with all the information in his mind, one thing still didn't make sense.
How…
"How can someone that cunning, and powerful enough to take on four elite hunters from one of the top ten guilds, end up dying like a mob, buried under piles of corpses?"