Zen stepped out of the ruined camp, the moonlight catching on his bloodstained blade like a whisper of judgment.
Before he could vanish into the night, Red's voice echoed in his head.
Red: "Zen, check Kael's body. There might be something — maybe a clue about where the treasure is. We can't search blindly. And with all that noise you made, the bandits will be here soon."
Zen exhaled, low and sharp.
Zen: "Fine. Better than wandering without direction."
He knelt beside Kael's corpse. His hands moved with precision, but his body screamed from the fight. A sudden jolt of pain stabbed through his chest.
Zen: "Tch… damn it, my heart again."
Red (teasing): "If you're hurt, it's supposed to hurt."
Zen: "Fuck you."
Red (laughing): "Alright, alright. Check the loot — maybe there's a potion."
Zen summoned his system space. The cold blue interface flickered to life, casting a ghostly glow on his face. His eyes locked onto a small crimson vial.
Zen: "This one?"
Red: "Yes. Healing potion — restores health and a bit of mana."
Zen: "And you didn't tell me earlier because…?"
Red: "You didn't ask."
Zen stared at the screen.
Zen: "What kind of logic is that…?"
He uncorked the bottle and drank.
Gulp… gulp…
Warmth spread through his chest, dulling the pain. His mana rippled back, slow and steady, like moonlight settling on water.
He tossed the empty vial aside.
Zen: "Alright. Any idea where the treasure might be? Should I use my shadow ability?"
Red: "No. You'll need mana if someone attacks. Save it. Check the rooms first."
Zen gave Kael's body one last glance, then rose and moved on.
Room after room passed in silence — until one door stood locked. Zen slid the key into place.
Click.
The lock turned. The door creaked open.
Inside, gold shimmered beneath the torchlight — a hoard larger than Jorik's. Jewels, coins, relics. The prize he'd bled for.
No time to admire it.
Zen swept everything into his storage space, the glow vanishing into digital mist. He stepped outside.
The night held its breath. Smoke curled from dying fires. Blood soaked the earth.
He checked his arm — wounds half-healed, scars etched like memory.
Zen: "Red, why isn't it healing completely?"
Red: "Because it's a low-tier potion. There are three types — low, mid, and high. The one you drank is the weakest. Mid-tier heals instantly. High-tier? Practically divine. You're lucky you even found that one."
Zen gave a dry chuckle.
Zen: "Yeah, lucky."
He walked through the ruins. The chaos had faded, but the scent of death lingered.
A guard spotted him.
Guard: "Hey! Did you get the thief?"
The man frowned — confused. He didn't recognize Zen. But before he could speak, a scream tore through the camp.
Voice: "Kael is dead! Someone killed him!"
The guard froze. His eyes snapped back to Zen, who kept walking.
Guard: "Stop right there, you thief!"
Zen didn't turn.
Guard (shouting): "You murderer! I'll skin you alive!"
Zen stopped.
Slowly, he turned his head. His eyes glowed faintly beneath the moonlight. The guard's breath caught.
The air thickened. Zen's aura spread — a shadowed wave.
Dark energy gathered at his hand, forming a blade. The moon tattoo on his neck flared, casting a ghostly blue hue across his skin. His white hair drifted in the wind.
For a moment, the world paused.
Zen took his stance — calm, focused, unshakable.
Zen (whispering): "Moonblade — Starfall."
Tiny blue sparks fell from the sky — stars descending in silence.
The guard didn't blink. His vision blurred — then nothing.
Zen's blade cleaved through him. The man's head hit the ground a breath later.
By the time others looked, Zen was gone — leaving only falling embers and the faint glow of starlight.
Those who saw it would speak of that night for years — of the shadow under the moon who slew a man with beauty and terror alike.
And so, the name Moonslayer began to spread.
Far away, Zen stood among the trees, watching the chaos below — fires, screams, the scent of blood thick in the wind.
Red: "Was that really necessary?"
Zen smirked faintly.
Zen: "Maybe not. But I wanted to leave with some style. You know — a proper MC exit."
His blade dripped red before dissolving into mist. He stared at the moon, his eyes calm.
Red (quietly): "You don't need to feel guilty."
Zen (interrupting): "I'm not. It's just... the first time I've killed someone. Takes a moment to get used to it. But guilt? No. I was ready. Either I kill… or I die."
Red: "...I see. Then that's good."
The wind blew gently. The forest was peaceful again — too peaceful. Zen's body ached, but a small smile formed on his lips.
Zen: "One hell of a day."
He clenched his hand, flexing his fingers.
Zen: "Got what I came for. Let's head to town."
Red: "You earned a rest."
Zen sprinted through the moonlit forest, shadows swirling beneath his feet.
When Zen reached the town, the sight made him pause.
Lanterns lined the streets. Music echoed. People danced around a bonfire. Children laughed and chased one another.
He stood at the edge of it all, watching.
For a moment, he imagined stepping in — joining the rhythm, the laughter, the warmth.
But his body ached, his clothes were torn, and blood still clung to his skin.
Zen (quietly): "Not tonight…"
He turned away, slipping into the shadows.
Red said nothing.
Zen remembered festivals from his past life — always watching from a hospital window, too weak to stand, too distant to belong.
This was no different.
He walked toward the inn, the music fading behind him.
Inside, it was quiet — no one at the counter, no dinner waiting.
He climbed the stairs to his room, stripped off his battle-worn clothes, and glanced at his reflection. The wounds had mostly healed, leaving faint scars as reminders.
He tossed his clothes aside and stepped into the shower.
Warm water cascaded down, washing away the blood, the dirt, the night.
When he finally slipped into the tub, he closed his eyes.
Zen (softly): "Perfect."
Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out, wrapped in a towel, his silver hair damp and shining under the lamplight.
He looked into the mirror — the same calm, cold eyes looked back.
Then, without another thought, Zen fell onto his bed.
Zen (murmuring): "I'll check the loot tomorrow…"
Sleep took him instantly.
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