I once believed life a simple equation: the wealthy thrive, the impoverished endure, the unburdened soar. Yet, even the freest of birds find their wings clipped by unseen cages. In this world, no station offers sanctuary; suffering, an inescapable shadow, finds all. And in its grim embrace, all paths converge upon death.

This is not a chronicle of fleeting hope.
This is not a legend whispered of redemption.

This is the harrowing saga of a man twice shattered by the cruel hand of fate.... crushed, betrayed, mutilated. A soul condemned to an endless cycle of reincarnation, dragged back to a world that refuses to release its grip, only to fall, again and again. Each return a fresh descent into the abyss.

But will he forever kneel, a puppet to his torment? Will he remain the naive fool who clung to the illusion of kindness? Or will the fractured remnants of his being coalesce into a force the world has never witnessed? A mastermind forged in the crucible of despair. A monster destined to unravel all, even himself.

This is the tale of Veythor: the man who defied the quietude of death.
And perhaps… the man who will shatter fate itself.

The footsteps grew louder, more distinct, echoing through the night like drumbeats of inevitability. Each strike against the wooden ground carried a strange weight, pressing against the silence as if the air itself was recoiling. Veythor's crimson gaze sharpened, his pupils narrowing to sharp slits as he focused on the shapes emerging from the mist.


The bare-chested masked man stepped forward, each movement slow, deliberate, and precise. Every inch he advanced seemed measured, as if the world itself bent around his steps. Shimi and Raika stiffened, their bodies frozen, hearts hammering in panicked rhythm at the sight of him.


Yet it wasn't the man alone that drew Veythor's attention. Beside him moved a teenage girl. Veythor's eyes narrowed further, a flicker of intrigue lighting the sharp angles of his gaze.


Chapter 29 - Inside the tribe