Chapter 12 : My Dear

As Joon limped through the labyrinthine caves, a fierce red aura cloaked him, an ever-present reminder of the monumental battle that had just consumed part of his young life. It pulsed softly against the darkness of the cave, illuminating the rocky walls with intermittent flashes of crimson light. The spectral glow cast ghostly shadows that danced around him like the whispering spirits of the past, urging him forward.

Shifting visions accompanied him through this spectral walk—images of spring blossoms giving way to the burning sun of summer, the gentle decay of autumn leaves, and the merciless chill of winter. It was a cyclone of seasons, each echoing a phase of life, a cycle of growth and decay.

Dragging his feet, each step an effort and a triumph, Joon's thoughts turned inward, a simple stream of desires and determinations of an eleven-year-old thrust cruelly into a complex saga of revenge and power.

"I... I gotta get stronger. No way I'm gonna get beat anymore," Joon muttered to himself, his voice a gritty whisper that cut through the silence of the cave. The pain from his wounds had ebbed thanks to the mysterious healing powers bestowed by Xiahou Anara, but the ache in his soul burned fiercer than ever.

"I'll find a way to get tougher, use this demonic qi stuff better. Not like the regular cultivators with their celestial qi. Gonna make it mine, use it to crush those... those no good sect leaders who took my parents and Azazel…who took my puppies. And find Hana," he continued, his young face hardened by the trials he had endured, the resolve in his heart setting a fiery determination in his dark eyes. 

He paused for a moment, leaning against the cool cave wall, feeling its ancient solidity against his small, bruised body. His breaths, heavy and labored, filled the cavern with the sound of his solitary struggle.

"I'm gonna grow up, not just a kid anymore. I gotta be strong. For my revenge," he pushed on, his voice gaining a dark edge as echoes of future promises filled the cavern. "I'll kill them all," he added, the words hanging menacingly in the gloom.

In his mind's eye, Joon replayed that final, fateful confrontation with Xiahou Anara—the divine blood skills she'd commanded with such terrifying grace, skills that now pulsed within him, awaiting mastery. "Someday, I'll use her skills... I'll make them mine. I'll cultivate in demonic qi, Grow strong enough to destroy the Head and the Blood Sect," he planned out loud, his ideas simple yet loaded with a young boy's unwavering intent.

"Weary doesn't..mean weak," he reminded himself as he pushed off the wall, continuing his determined, limping trek through the dark tunnels. "Gonna grow strong... gonna use this power... gonna have my revenge."

The red aura around him seemed to pulse in agreement, lending him a spectral support as he ventured deeper into the cavern, each step a promise of the vengeance he would wreak.

Joon staggered into the heart of the cavern, the blood-red aura enveloping him pulsing rhythmically, syncing to the beat of his own heart. Suddenly, the sharp, mineral scent of iron filled the air—the expansive clearing ahead was thick with blood crystals, jagged and shimmering ominously under the faintest light. Their edges caught the gleam of his aura, casting dark ruby reflections across the cavern walls.

There, standing amidst the chaotic beauty of the blood crystals, was Vaelle, a leader of the Blood Sect. Her silhouette was defined by the stark, menacing edge of her blood sword, the only break in her otherwise emotionless and foreboding demeanor.

"It's you..!" Joon grinned softly as a relief.

"The Head sent me," her voice broke the silence, cold and distant as the cave around them. "He wanted me to test you, to see if you've gathered strength beyond what was anticipated. He suspects you might have, especially after your ordeal with Xiahou Anara. He's curious to know whether you survived by mere luck or... more."

"What do you mean?"

Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword; her stance was tense, prepared yet reluctant. "He has commanded me to try and kill you, to fight you to the death. To push you to your limits. If I die in the process, then it will only prove to him and to the whole sect that you are a threat that needs to be reckoned with."

"He's making you do this…but.."

"Ah, Joon. What happened to that talk of revenge? Of taking us down? What happened?"

"You helped me.."

A pause hung in the air as she seemed to weigh her next words. "But I don't want this—any of this. You are... precious, far more than you realize, Joon." The emotions flickered briefly across her face, the first real sign of humanity in her otherwise stoic expression.

'For a reason…'

Joon asked, "You've been nice to me…you act different from all the other members. Why?"

"…It's only right. And for the pain I bear, I don't think I'll hold out."

In a swift, almost desperately sad move, she turned the blade towards herself, its sharp edge glinting with a deadly promise. But before the cold metal could meet her skin, Joon, propelled by a newfound swiftness granted by his demonic qi, crossed the distance between them in a blink of an eye.

"No!"

His hands grabbed the blade, halting its fatal trajectory. Blood welled from where the sharp edge bit into his skin, but he did not flinch, his expression set in a grim determination. This single, decisive act, stopping Vaelle from harming herself, echoed loudly in the silent cavern, a resonant affirmation of his burgeoning power and his unwillingness to let another tragedy unfold on his watch.

'He grabbed the blood sword with his bare hands…that's proof enough that he's garnered the power of Xiahou Anara..'

The scene held, a tableau of conflict and poignant reluctance, underlined by the blood dripping from Joon's hands and the shock and confusion that flickered across Vaelle's eyes. The air vibrated with unsaid words and unshed tears, the weight of their respective destinies pressing down upon them like the earth above.

'Joon, you really are just like him.'

As Vaelle's solitary tear glimmered momentarily before tracing a path down her cheek, the ominous echo of footsteps reverberated through the cave. The air tensed as a group of hooded figures led by Krakus, a high-ranking sect leader known for his unyielding loyalty to the Head, entered the clearing. His presence was foreboding, the air around him dense with unspoken threats.

"Haha! I knew it," Krakus's voice sliced through the thick atmosphere, carrying with it a biting certainty. "The Head suspected you might falter, Vaelle. He sent me to ensure his suspicions were confirmed. No hard feelings, dear."

"I warned you to stay away from him."

"Oh please. Our son is gone. You can't make a new one as long as you're here."

Vaelle steadied herself, her hand still held gingerly by Joon from her halted attempt. Facing Krakus, she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "The Head is corrupt," Vaelle stated with a tone that hovered between despair and defiance. "He made me sacrifice our own son to Xiahou Anara for his vile purposes and for what we've done. You know nothing of the weight of such orders. You sat there like a good wimp."

"Tch! You don't think I feel a certain way after that day?"

"Can't tell. You've done nothing but suck up to him ever since then, shunning me every time I was around like we did not have our son together, like love did not exist for us."

"Which was forbidden. And I love my life."

"Selfish bastard."

Her eyes flitted momentarily to Joon, a flicker of unvoiced emotion washing over her face. Joon, for his part, grappled silently with the surges of power and emotion coursing through him—Vaelle's story echoing his own dark and tangled past.

As the tension spiked, some of the Blood Sect members, interpreting Krakus's silent nod, lunged towards Joon with lethal intent. But in a display of raw power and speed—a flash of demonic energy—Joon vanished from sight, only to reappear moments later behind the attackers.

'He vanished that fast-?!' Krakus thought.

Without a sound but with all the terrible finality of a death knell, sharp, jagged bones, like those wrought of solidified blood, erupted from the ground. They speared through the bodies of the Blood Sect members with gruesome precision, leaving a tableau of horror and death in the once quiet cave. Their lifeless forms crumpled to the ground as Joon turned, his young face set in a mask of sinister resolve.

"You're next," he said coldly, his gaze locked onto Krakus.

Vaelle, her emotions a whirlwind of pain and resolve, stepped in front of Joon. Her hand, trembling but determined, rested on his shoulder. "Go, Joon. This is not your fight," she insisted, her voice cracked with emotion but imbued with an ironclad resolve. "I'll handle Krakus."

As Joon hesitated, the clash of their pasts and the brutal reality of their present hanging heavy between them, Vaelle wiped away another tear, a mixture of sadness for what she had lost and determination for what she must do. She faced Krakus squarely, her stance shifting into one of combat readiness—the blood sword in her grasp reflecting her steely intent.

Krakus, unmoving, simply watched her preparation, an enigmatic, dark amusement playing across his concealed features. The air around them crackled with the impending onslaught, the very stones of the cave seeming to brace for the impact of their confrontation.

"If this is what you want, after harboring years of anger, you're ready to take it out on me."

"Since I'm not strong enough for the Head, I'll be delighted to take you down first."

With the decisive clash imminent, Joon gave Vaelle a last, long look—a mix of gratitude and unresolved anger swirling in his dark eyes—before turning and disappearing into the darker recesses of the labyrinth, leaving the sounds of the beginning battle echoing ominously behind him.

The scene closed on Vaelle and Krakus as they lunged at each other, their movements a blur of deadly grace and fury that marked the beginning of a formidable duel—a battle that would undoubtedly reshape the very foundations of the Blood Sect.

Joon retreated from the clearing, walking away, the clash of metal and the guttural grunts of combat echoing ominously behind him. Each step he took resonated through the cavernous labyrinth, mixing with the sounds of the brutal duel unfolding between Vaelle and Krakus. He could hear the deadly dance of their weapons—the slicing air, the thunderous impacts. And as he walked, his mind whirled with thoughts on the nature of fear.

Vaelle, with her glitch-speed movements, seemed to stutter through time and space, her form blurring and then snapping back into focus like a visual echo. She wielded her blood sword with deadly precision, slicing through the air to launch crescent-shaped blood slashes towards Krakus. Each slice sent a spray of crimson arcs hurtling through the damp cave air, splattering the crystal-studded walls with fresh gore.

Krakus countered with the monstrous weight of his wrecking ball, changing its mass at will. The ball swelled and shrank, its chain rattling like the bones of the earth as he swung it around with devastating effect. Each impact with the ground sent shockwaves through the chamber, accompanied by violent explosions of blood and stone.

Meanwhile, Joon's thoughts spiraled around fear. Words from his parents he began to remember: "Fear," he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper against the cacophony of the battle behind. "It's not just an obstacle; it's a guide. Pushing you, pushing me to the edge, where survival and annihilation blur." He realized gradually, almost reluctantly, that embracing fear was not about succumbing to it but enduring its fiercest storms to emerge transformed.

Back in the clearing, the fight turned uglier, more intense. Vaelle executed a high-speed maneuver, flickering near-invisible, then reappearing abruptly to thrust her sword towards Krakus. The tip of the blade grazed his side, and from the gash, she manipulated the blood, summoning a grotesque forest of blood swords from the ground beneath them, skewering the space where Krakus had stood seconds before.

"You could've done something! We could've both stopped him!" Vaelle cried.

"That's suicide! And you know it!"

"You didn't even stand up for me! After all the promises you told me.."

"I…"

"You were scared.."

"As were you!"

Krakus, grimacing from the near miss, retaliated by enlarging his wrecking ball dramatically, swinging it with such force that it broke the sound barrier, causing a concussive blast that threw Vaelle off her feet. As she skidded across the rough ground, her own blood mingled with the rubble.

Despite the brutality of their combat, Joon's voice continued his soliloquy on fear, his words now barely audible over Krakus's explosive rage and Vaelle's desperate counterattacks. "Fear... it shapes us, molds us into something new, something... formidable."

Krakus, seizing an advantage, brought the gigantic wrecking ball crashing down upon Vaelle, pinning her under its crushing weight. Her breaths were ragged, blood seeping into the crevices of the blood-crusted earth, her strength waning yet her spirit unyielding.

"AGHHHHHH!" She screamed.

With Herculean effort, Vaelle summoned her last reserves of strength, her body screaming in protest as she shifted the enormous weight. Bloodied but unbowed, she managed a defiant push, freeing herself from the wrecking ball's oppressive hold. Rising, her movements were now driven by a raw, visceral desperation.

She looked up at Krakus, her eyes a storm of pain and rage. "You were there, Krakus!" she hissed, her voice echoing loudly in the cavern. "You watched as I sacrificed our son. And for what? The Head's plans led nowhere—his promises were lies dressed as destiny!"

Krakus, his face twisted in a mix of confusion and realization, stumbled backward as Vaelle advanced. She struck him with a flurry of vicious, rapid slashes—each one a memory, each one a scream of her soul reliving that horrific day.

Her final blow was both brutal and intimate, driving her sword through Krakus's heart with a resounding crunch of bone and squelch of tissue. As he fell, his lifeblood gushing onto the cold, blood-soaked ground, Vaelle stood over him, her breath heavy, her body and soul battered but not broken.

"I stayed because I was afraid," she confessed as Krakus's light dimmed, her words ringing with the weight of unbearable truths. "I was afraid of him, of this merciless path. But no more. I've almost succumbed to my fear of him, which led me to not feel anything at all. Walking around…emotionless…I was scared of the Head. No matter what happens, I'll fully succumb to my fear once I confront the Head. Then I can be at peace."

Krakus smirked, "Then I guess it's my fault then..but you won't blame yourself..you fell in love with me too."

"…Those days are no more. And I regret them."

As Krakus breathed his last, Vaelle turned away, her shoulders sagging with the exhaustion of her ordeal. The sounds of her battle slowly faded from Joon's consciousness as he continued onwards, his thoughts on fear now imbued with a new, personal understanding of its power and its price. The labyrinth around him felt quieter, the shadows less menacing, as if the echoes of Vaelle's victory and revelation had cleansed it, if only for a moment.

As Vaelle collapsed to her knees, her victory bitter and hollow, tears streamed down her face, mingling with the dirt and blood that marked her skin. Her breaths were ragged, heavy with sorrow, her eyes distant as the cave around her seemed to fade into the background. She was no longer in the present but was hurled mercilessly back into the darkest day of her past—the day that had forever scarred her soul.

The memory enveloped her in shadows, and she found herself standing again in the dimly lit chamber of horror, surrounded by the high-ranking members of the Blood Sect. The air was thick with the scent of incense and iron—the kind of smell that permeates deep into one's bones, the kind that foretells of coming darkness. There stood The Head, his eyes gleaming with a cold fervor, and there too, was Krakus, his features twisted in a torment he dared not express.

Vaelle's heart ached anew as she saw herself, younger yet unmistakably devastated, her plea echoing in the hollow silence before the grim proceedings. "Krakus, please, we can't do this. This isn't right!" Her voice had been a desperate wail, a plea for mercy, for rebellion. But her cry had faltered against the stone walls, against the assembled faces devoid of compassion. "Help me.."

Krakus, his own face a battlefield of emotion, had looked at her with a tumultuous storm raging in his eyes. Pain, fear, love—a love that they were never supposed to cultivate. Their union had been a secret, their affection a violation of the sect's strictures against personal attachments, against anything that could precede loyalty to the sect's macabre goals. And yet, they had fallen, deeply, irrevocably.

"I... I can't, Vaelle. You know I can't defy him, defy all of them," Krakus had muttered, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes shifting away, unable to hold her gaze. It was the moment that had shattered her, the moment her heart had cracked open and the last slivers of hope had bled out.

The memory swirled, tormentingly vivid, as Vaelle remembered standing there, powerless, as The Head spoke of blessings from Xiahou Anara, of blood gifts and powers untold that would come from the sacrifice. It was a foul, dark magic they were dabbling in—sacrificing someone dear to gain favor with a deity of blood and secrets. But none of it, none of their promised powers, had come to fruition. It had all been for naught—a gruesome tribute that had yielded only pain and loss.

In the present, the echo of her heartbreak seemed to fade as she slowly rose and approached Krakus's lifeless body. His face, now calm in death, seemed almost innocent, free from the torment that had plagued him in life. Vaelle knelt beside him, her fingers gently closing his eyes as if granting him the peace he'd never found while alive.

Tears flowed freely as she traced the contours of his face, remembering every moment, every shared secret, every stolen touch. "You were too afraid to stand by me, to save what was ours," she whispered through her sobs, her voice soft yet laced with an aching sorrow. "But I know you loved me, despite it all. I know it tore you apart."

She leaned forward, her forehead resting against his, the coldness of his skin stark against her warmth. "I am so sorry, my love, for this bitter end. Sorry that it had to be this way," her voice broke, barely audible. "Sleep, dear husband..." Her words trailed off as she held him, her body wracked with sobs, her heart shattering anew in the cavernous, echoing silence of the cave. The shadows around seemed to absorb her grief, the darkness a fitting shroud for the tragedy of their forbidden love.

The silence in the cavern was abruptly shattered by a slow, deliberate applause. Each clap echoed ominously through the vastness, a chilling prelude to the arrival of The Head. Vaelle, still knelt beside Krakus's lifeless body, looked up, her tear-streaked face hardening into an expression of cold resolve as she saw the shadowed figure approaching.

The Head, cloaked in his usual dark robe that seemed to absorb the meager light around, stopped a few paces away, his face partially obscured but his smirk unmistakable. "Vaelle," he began, his voice smooth and venomous, "You failed to do as I instructed. You did not confront Joon, nor did you offer yourself up in sacrifice as directed. You shall be punished."

Vaelle's response was immediate and fiery. Pain and loss gave way to fury as she lunged at him, her blood sword in hand, flashing dangerously under the dim light. But The Head was quicker, more prepared. With a mere flick of his wrist and a pointed finger, he unleashed his power.

"Insolent," he muttered casually as Vaelle's attack was cut short. The ground beneath her cracked open with a horrific roar, revealing a gaping maw of a dark pit from which a thick, blood-like substance oozed. Before she could react, an invisible force pushed her backwards, and she fell, her scream echoing as she descended into the abyss.

She plummeted through darkness, the chill of the void closing around her like the jaws of some monstrous beast. Finally, with a thunderous splash, she landed hard in a vast, shadowy realm that resembled a nightmarish prison. The impact was brutal but not fatal, her body cushioned somewhat by the viscous, blood-like pool she found herself in.

As she staggered to her feet, the true horror of her new surroundings slowly dawned on her. The place was a grotesque arena, where the air was thick with the stench of decay and blood. All around her were the forms of monstrous creatures—beasts and humanoids twisted by blood magic, their forms grotesque and horrifying. Some bore the remnants of the sect's garb, hinting at their origins as former warriors or sacrificial victims of the Blood Sect.

Vaelle's heart pounded as the reality of The Head's words sank in. This was her punishment: an eternal battle, a fight to survive against the endless swarms of corrupted beings in this dark void prison—for a whole year, if not longer. The notion was daunting, almost impossible, yet her resolve hardened. She would not fall here, not without a fight.

"The rules are simple," The Head's voice boomed around her, disembodied, cold as the void itself. "Survive for a year in this eternal darkness, fighting these abominations. Fail, and you become one of them. Succeed, and perhaps I will consider your redemption."

As the first of the blood monsters lunged towards her, Vaelle swung her blood sword with a skilled, lethal grace. She moved fluidly, her blade cutting through the air and beast with equal finesse. The creature buckled under her strike, collapsing into a pool of dark fluid before another took its place, its eyes glowing with hunger and malice.

Vaelle positioned herself back-to-back with a large rock, her senses heightened, her body tensed for the next wave. There was no fatigue in her pose, only determination, as one by one, shadows materialized into tangible threats.

As the first creature surged towards her, Vaelle met it head-on, her sword singing through the air, cleaving through the monstrous form with a spray of black blood. Another beast followed, and another, each falling to her relentless, desperate defense. Her battle cry echoed in the void, a defiant sound that resonated with the fury and pain of her heart.

The scene ended with Vaelle standing amidst the fallen creatures, her blade dripping with dark ichor, her breaths heavy but unyielding, her eyes blazing with an unspoken vow to survive, to return, to avenge. The dark void around her seemed almost to pulse with the beat of her heart, the endless night alive with the sounds of her defiance and the monstrous roars of the next wave of attackers, with more blood figures coming towards her, and she fought.

….

Outside of the labyrinth, Joon was walking out, and he saw none other than Elara, Caelan, Torin, Zephyr, Hyun, Mina, and Kai, and dozens upon dozens of other blood sect assassin prospects. They all were bloody, dirty, wounded, and hurt.

Everyone looked at Joon, and gasped.

Elara slightly smiled, "J-Joon…?"

Joon grinned, "Elara…"

'She managed to survive…' Joon thought as his cheeks flustered.

Caelan scoffed, "The hell did you get into…brat?"

Walking behind Joon, was The Head, putting his arm on Joon's shoulder, saying quietly, "Alrighttt then! Now that's done, me and you have a lot to discuss. Don't worry, I won't rush this opportunity. You'll grow and develop your qi so you can use Xiahou Anara's power. But you will still train as an assassin with the others, there are still things that have to be done."

Joon smiled, "Okay!"

'Okay…haha. Damn you. I'll kill you when I grow up. You, the sect leaders, Azazel, and I'll destroy the Luminous Vanguard…if I ever run into them. I'll blend in, play the part as if I'm on the Head's side. I'll train my demonic qi and my body as an assassin with the blood sect. I won't fail you, Anara.'