The night was heavy… silent, as if time itself had stopped breathing.
The wind slowly slipped between the rocks that looked like severed mountain edges, whispering faintly through the cracks as if stone spirits were trying to speak.
On one of the smooth rocks sat Ashen in complete silence, his back resting against a cold boulder, his crimson eyes staring into nothing — not at something, but into an immeasurable vastness.
The quiet around him was strange… rare… strange enough to frighten even him.
When was the last time he felt peace?
When was the last time he heard nothing but the sound of blood in his ears?
When was the last time he escaped his past — or was it his past chasing him?
The sky above was black, like a reflection of himself, and the hanging moon poured its silver light onto his red hair, making it look as if fire had submitted to light for the first time.
His breaths were cold, deep, sometimes uneven — as if his body was reminding him that he still needed to live… at least a little.
He raised his hand before his face, looking at his cracked, battle-worn palm, at the dried blood near his fingertips, then whispered quietly, as if speaking to his old self:
"How much blood have I spilled? How many faces have I forgotten?"
The questions crawled into his mind like worms into dead flesh.
Who am I?
Was I ever a child?
Did anyone ever call my name when I cried?
Or was I born in the middle of hell, a creature shaped by suffering itself?
His face tensed slightly, as if a distant memory tried to surface from the darkness but faded before it could form.
He stretched out on the rock, eyes to the sky, his red hair spilling like a bloody curtain over the gray stone, while the sounds of the night grew around him…
The chirping of insects, the whisper of wind, and that metallic scent that filled the stone forest — the smell of ancient rocks soaked in the blood of ages.
It was a rare moment.
A moment of real calm in a life that never knew calm.
Only nature — which neither thinks nor questions — had given him what humans never did: silence.
But… as always, peace never lasts long in a life cursed by blood.
His muscles stiffened suddenly.
The sound wasn't loud, but clear — footsteps.
Human footsteps. Steady. Heavy.
The sound of metal brushing the dirt… armor?
He opened his eyes slowly — that emotionless look, as if nothing could surprise him anymore.
Between the stone trees emerged a group of men wearing dark metal armor engraved with a strange symbol — a blood-red scorpion.
There were about twenty of them. Their faces were sharp like unsharpened blades. Some carried long spears, others curved swords.
At their front was an old man whose face showed wisdom mixed with fatigue. His gray hair was tied back, and his face was carved with the marks of experience.
Behind him stood a boy and a girl, not older than twenty, their faces glowing with the arrogance of youth that hadn't yet met fire.
The group stopped at the entrance of the stone forest.
Their eyes met Ashen's in heavy silence.
One moment was enough for everyone to feel a strange chill in the air.
It was as if the shadows themselves bowed before that unknown boy lying on the rock.
The old man was the first to break the silence.
He stepped forward carefully, placed his hand on his chest in a respectful gesture rare in these lands, and said softly but steadily:
"Peace be upon you, young man. We are just travelers seeking shelter for the night… may we stay here?"
Ashen didn't move.
He showed no reaction, as if the words weren't spoken to him at all.
Several long seconds passed before he replied, his voice cold, lifeless:
"Do as you wish."
The old man nodded quietly and signaled for his group to move.
They advanced carefully to the other side of the forest, set up simple tents, and lit a small fire, gathering around it in a cautious circle.
Even from afar, none of them stopped looking at Ashen.
It was as if they couldn't turn their eyes away from that mysterious being.
He was still sitting in the same position — not moving, not speaking, nothing about him seemed alive… except his eyes, which flickered red whenever the distant firelight touched them.
The boy approached the old man, sat beside him, and asked in a low voice:
"Grandfather… why were you so polite to that man? Is he a noble?"
The old man looked at the fire for a moment, then replied without turning his head:
"Not a noble, no… something else."
The girl spoke with curiosity:
"But his appearance… it's ragged. His clothes are torn, his hair messy, like a wanderer."
The old man smiled, but it was a strange, unreadable smile.
"That's exactly why we should be cautious. Anyone traveling alone in this continent is never ordinary. Either he's strong enough to face the world alone… or a fool waiting to die."
One of the soldiers lifted his head from behind them and said softly:
"Sir, did you feel it too? That strange energy from him… cold like death, but exploding inside."
The old man nodded slowly.
"Yes. I didn't need my spiritual senses to notice it. Yet when I tested him with them… I almost suffocated. He's at the peak of the Blood Trainee rank."
The boy and girl's eyes widened.
The girl gasped:
"Peak Blood Trainee? At that age?!"
"Exactly," the old man said, exhaling slowly. "That means he's been fighting since he was a child. No one reaches that peak without walking over hundreds of corpses."
The boy's face shifted from shock to envy.
He clenched his fist and said:
"But grandfather, even so… you're a skilled spell master. There's no need to be this careful. You could crush him in an instant if you wanted."
The old man fell silent for a moment, then looked at him — a gaze that made the boy lower his head immediately.
He spoke in a low but weighty tone:
"I may be stronger in visible power… but eyes don't lie, boy. When I looked into his eyes, I felt the blood in my veins freeze. I saw something you only see in beasts that survived hell."
Silence fell over the group.
No one dared speak.
Even the fire that had been dancing seemed to dim a little, as if sharing their fear.
The girl whispered, staring into the darkness toward Ashen:
"Could he be one of those who follow the Blood Refining Path? I heard most who do never survive it."
The old man closed his eyes and replied:
"Maybe. In fact, I'm almost certain. The Blood Refining Path isn't one meant for humans, but for those who have abandoned their humanity. Those who drink their suffering and live among the dead without dying."
He paused for a moment, then continued:
"But what's most terrifying about that path is their power. Even though walking it is like dancing on the edge of death, every breakthrough within it grants strength that defies reason. I might be able to kill a Blood Trainee… but anyone who has advanced even one rank beyond that could slaughter hundreds like me."
The girl went quiet for a moment, then asked softly:
"Have you ever met someone like them?"
The old man opened his eyes again, his gaze drifting into the distance.
"Only once, thirty years ago. A man from a clan whose name I'd rather not speak. When he looked at me, I felt as if my body no longer belonged to me. That same night, three villages were wiped out. They said he was searching for something in their blood… something special."
The girl shivered.
The boy tried to hide his unease with a fake smile:
"Those who train in the Blood Path are just demons wearing human skin. If any of them tried to touch me, I'd tear them apart myself!"
Some soldiers laughed, but the old man didn't.
He just looked at him coldly and said:
"When you grow up, you'll learn that the most terrifying demons are the ones you see when you look in the mirror."
At that moment, Ashen moved.
Slowly, he sat up on the rock and turned his head toward them.
The firelight reflected in his eyes like twin embers.
Silence fell again — the air itself seemed frozen.
The men exchanged glances.
Even the old man lifted his head to meet his gaze.
But Ashen said nothing.
He simply looked back at the moon, as if they were nothing more than fleeting shadows in his dream.
After a long moment, the old man spoke in a barely audible voice:
"You don't feel it, do you? That aura… it's not just the aura of a Blood Trainee. It's… something else, something far more terrifying."
The girl turned to him quickly:
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know…" he said, staring into the darkness. "But if my instincts are right… that boy is no longer fully human."