The whole world seemed surreal, unreal, as though Malakai was struggling to accept reality.

For years, he had trained hard every single day. He had never given up, always pushing himself forward regardless of the situation. However, now, it was as though it all came crashing down on him.

He was going to die.

"FUCKKK!"

Malakai roared, slamming his hand down on the hard ground. The force of the impact sent cracks snaking outward, but that wasn't all. A loud cracking sound echoed from his arms. They were broken.

Regardless…

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Despite his broken arms, Malakai continually slammed them on the ground, a pool of crimson blood forming beneath him, splashing across the room.

Right now, the pain meant nothing to him.

All his hard work.

All the years spent biding his time, swallowing his pride, tolerating their scorn.

All the sleepless nights, the endless training, the countless beatings he had to take.

He had waited. Endured. Hoped. For what? To fall here? To be sent to his death before he could even take the first step toward getting revenge for his parents?

His hand struck the ground once more, harder this time, his fingers trembling with pain. Blood smeared against the floor, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.

Tears streaked down his face, coming out in uncontrollable fury.

Nyx watched all of this happen silently. Both her hands were clenched tightly, and she felt an overwhelming amount of anger and sadness.

In all the years she had been with Malakai, this was the first time she had seen him break down like this.

But there was nothing she could do. It was an order directly from the Blood Sovereign himself. No one could refuse it.

The loud thuds soon stopped as Malakai's strength gave in. He slumped back against his bed, his breath ragged as his lost gaze stared at the ceiling.

"Leave."

Nyx hesitated, but Malakai's roar snapped her out of it.

"Leave!"

She bowed before stepping out of the room. Her gaze caught sight of the two other maids of the manor scurrying away. They had obviously been listening in, but she paid them no mind.

Her entire thoughts were filled with the boy going through so much inside the room. She didn't leave. Instead, she stood by the door as though she were a guard.

The room was quiet, but Nyx's senses were far too sharp to miss the little sobs sounding from inside.

'You have to stay strong.' Those were the words she wanted nothing more than to say to Malakai, but she didn't. Instead, she shut her eyes and allowed her sadness to envelop her.

'He's just like him...'

Her mind replayed scenes from her past. Malakai reminded her so much of someone she had treasured more than anything.

Hours passed, and eventually, Malakai stopped crying. He stared at the ceiling with a lost gaze, not caring about the pool of blood beneath him.

'What now?'

With his thoughts now in order, he pondered his next move.

'Run away? Refuse the order?'

Every solution he could think of ended with him dying a brutal death.

If he ran, he would be caught and killed within minutes. As for the second option, he couldn't even refuse the order in the first place. He was powerless, he would be beaten, bound, and thrown into the pits if that was what it took.

Malakai closed his eyes, taking a deep exhale. He steadied his breathing. Then, he sang the Creed in his head.

It never failed to calm him down, including now.

'It's do or die at this point.'

Malakai's gaze hardened. He had no other option. He just had to try his very best to survive, if it was at all possible.

…

One day.

That was all that had been given to Malakai to prepare for his mission.

At this point, word had spread throughout the Sanguine clan. They were finally going to rid themselves of the useless 9th Vein.

The emotions felt ranged from happiness to cold indifference. But there were still those who showed pity.

Khana's reaction had been in the former spectrum. She was thoroughly excited that the Sovereign was sending Malakai to his death.

Regardless, no one made any move to stop the death mission.

It was spring, yet the morning air was unnaturally colder than any winter Malakai had ever experienced before.

He gazed calmly at his reflection in the mirror, taking in the sight of his body. He took in the scars, proof of everything he had gone through. All the hardships, the pain.

Malakai closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he turned sharply and began wearing his clothes.

A few seconds later, he was done. The clothing of the new world was battle-oriented.

He was clad in a shirt made from durable fabric and a jacket layered over it for additional protection, littered with multiple pockets.

His trousers had reinforced knees and seams with integrated armor plates for protection.

And around his waist was a utility belt equipped with many essential items, but one that stuck out was the large handgun on his side.

He finished the look with a pair of fingerless gloves with reinforced palms and knuckles.

Done, Malakai walked to the corner of the room and picked up his weapon. It wasn't the hammer he had used before, no. Malakai had always been an odd one, and his choice of weapons reflected that.

Somehow, from a young age, he had chosen the scythe as his weapon.

He grabbed its grip, wrapped in a material that molded perfectly to his hands. And with practiced ease, he spun the scythe once, the air hissing as the blade sliced through it.

Then, smoothly, he slung it over his back, locking it into a custom holder strapped diagonally across his coat. A perfect fit.

Malakai's eyes were leveled as he made his way out of his room.

Just outside the manor, an ensemble of armored men stood, lined up in two parallel rows with a carriage at the far end.

Standing just in front of this carriage was a man with an angular face and narrowed eyes, Varek Sanguine.

He was the same man who had been tasked with taking Malakai on the Sovereign's deadly missions, much to his dismay.

However, now, he had a wide smile on his face.