Weakling versus the Weakest Havoc.
Both stood in stance once more, ready to clash. This time, he was facing what was once the strongest in history,
now reduced to the weakest among the strongest.
From Riitharion's perspective, he saw only a young boy. At first, the boy had been terrified—afraid to confront his nightmares. Easy to manipulate.
An amateur. And yet… even at such a young age, the boy had tasted harsh experiences beyond his years. Still, Riitharion had not fully grasped who he truly was.
Riitharion grinned with anticipation, though something unsettled him. Around the boy, he sensed a presence—an energy faint yet expanding.
A vast potential.
Strange, he thought. In his mind,
I can see the glimpse fragments of his past… yet, I do not fully know him.
Still, there is potential.
His eyes narrowed with burning excitement, then widened with curiosity.
The young man had closed his eyes.
From Grassth's perspective, what stood before him was monstrous terrifying creature. Yet he closed his eyes, confronting not the creature, but like his own fear.
He inhaled deeply.
When he opened them again, he no longer saw a nightmare.
He saw himself.
He clenched his fists tighter, legs firm, breath steadying.
Riitharion smiled faintly and scoffed.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then Riitharion spoke.
"Still scared? Ha! Then I'll strike first."
Time seemed to slow.
Riitharion advanced, each heavy step trembling the ground beneath his massive weight.
Grassth inhaled again, though his arms trembled. Riitharion's left fist shot forward, aimed straight at his face.
Grassth's eyes widened. His breathing quickened. At such close range, panic flickered—but instinct answered.
He blinked, shifted, and barely dodged.
Riitharion followed with a jab, then a cross.
Grassth's amateur movements somehow succeeded—until Riitharion twisted into a left sway kick after a right punch.
The impact exploded against Grassth's stomach.
He was thrown back, pain tearing through him. Still, he forced himself upright, shaking, raising a guard. But Riitharion closed the distance too quickly.
A punch to the face then another, and another.
Rapid. Relentless.
Grassth failed to dodge.
He tried to keep his eyes open, tried to react but he was always a second too late.
Late.
Late.
Late.
Each strike connected.
A final gut punch sent him flying again. Blood spilled from his mouth. He gasped, legs trembling, arms barely lifting. His lips were split and bleeding.
Riitharion approached slowly.
"Hmm… look at you. A child trying to fight his own nightmares."
"You still need guidance from your parents. What are they? Dead? Or did you simply get lost? Perhaps… they are disappointed in you."
He grinned, palm open.
Grassth gasped for air. His body shook violently. He couldn't move. Once again, he had failed to overcome his fear.
"I said—don't talk! When you don't know me!" Tears streamed down his face.
"I may be young! But don't underestimate me...!"
"I'm nothing but talk! You're right… maybe I am. But if I recover—if I stand again—I'll show you—!"
He coughed, nose bleeding, wiping it away.
"I'll show you!"
Riitharion's voice turned cold.
"Show? You're not even progressing. Recover? Fool."
"You don't recover—you endure. Every day you fight something. Anything. Your world. Your surroundings. Even yourself."
His voice deepened.
"You move even at your lowest. No one saves you but yourself."
He rushed forward with a growl as Grassth forced himself to charge as well.
As they ran toward each other, Riitharion noticed something—the faint energy behind Grassth rising higher.
He smiled.
"I'll kill you now… then use your body to slaughter everyone you love."
"No, you won't!" Grassth shouted through tears.
They struck.
Of course
The amateur lost.
Riitharion's long arm extended. His claw pierced through Grassth's gut, tearing out through his back.
Yet even then—
Grassth looked up.
And threw a weak punch toward Riitharion's face.
Riitharion easily avoided it.
He ripped his claw free and kicked Grassth away. The boy flew across the ground, rolling until he finally came to a stop.
Grassth lay facing the sky, blood slipping from his mouth and dripping onto the ground beneath him. His body trembled, yet he could not move. His eyes felt heavy, exhausted, as if sleep were pulling them closed forever. Each breath came shallow and broken.
His heart beat slower.
And slower.
His thoughts began to wander.
What… what am I doing…?
Riitharion stepped closer, ready to finish him.
"I thought so," he said coldly. "You are nothing but a useless worm. Humans like you are trivial in this world. The world cleans away the weak so the filthy strong may thrive. Hmph… it doesn't matter. Now die."
He grinned wickedly.
Grassth, barely conscious, clutched his wound with trembling hands. Riitharion raised his palm and aimed it toward him.
"Don't worry," Riitharion chuckled. "You will remain alive… though I will now be in full control of your body."
A beam of deep red light began forming in Riitharion's palm.
It grew brighter, pulsing violently, as if he were forcing his very essence forward trying to insert himself fully into Grassth.
He laughed.
But then—
Riitharion's eyes widened.
"You are not strong enough to reject me… Yet… pure determination…" His expression shifted.
"I see. Nor should I care—"
Before he could finish, Grassth's voice echoed from within.
"If you ever slip up… just know… you'll regret it."
"Fool," Riitharion replied coldly.
He continued forcing more of himself forward fear, nightmare, despair wrapping around Grassth like suffocating darkness.
But something had changed. Grassth was resisting. Not physically but with his mind… and his heart.
The darkness pressed harder.
And harder.
Yet it did not consume him fully.
Before everything faded into complete blackness, Riitharion's voice echoed once more, intrigued… almost amused.
"I see…"
Then—
Darkness.
Days passed.
Grassth slowly regained consciousness. Defeated. Broken. But alive.
His eyes opened slightly.
Noise surrounded him.
He tried to move but he couldn't. His hands wouldn't budge. His feet were bound. Light pierced through his vision, blinding at first. Everything was blurry.
Green.
All around him is green.
As his sight sharpened, he saw them.
Goblins.
Shrieking. Screaming. Their faces twisted and ugly green skin, sharp teeth, narrow glowing eyes, pointed ears. Wide mouths snapping and shouting in harsh, chaotic voices. Some were taller, others small and thin,
but all of them circled him like predators.
He realized he was tied with thick rope, suspended against a tree trunk.
"W–what… what's happening?!" he stammered.
The goblins screeched louder at his voice. Their cries grew sharper, mocking. Suddenly, small but heavy stones were hurled at him.
Thud.
One struck his shoulder.
Another hit his ribs.
Then one smashed against his forehead, splitting the skin. Blood trickled down.
Grassth clenched his jaw.
Speaking was useless. Even if he shouted, none of them would understand him. He was aware of that.
Still—
"Stop!!!" he yelled.
The goblins froze for a brief second.
Then they screamed even louder, as if amused, and resumed throwing stones.
Pain throbbed through his body.
Ugh… what should I do? I'm tied here…
His breathing steadied despite the chaos.
No… I won't let him help me. I won't let him take control.
Grassth knew Riitharion was watching silently from within.
Waiting.
Observing.
Perhaps even enjoying it.
Grassth lowered his gaze slightly, thinking carefully despite the noise and pain.
The rope dug tightly into his wrists and torso. He tested it subtly small movements, nothing obvious.
Think…
He examined the way he was tied, the angle of the tree, the distance of the goblins. He needed time. An opening. A mistake.
But more than anything,
He needed to endure.
And he refused to let Riitharion be the one to save him.
Inside, he could feel it the silent presence. Watching. Smiling.
Grassth inhaled slowly, ignoring the rocks striking his body.
I'll get out of this… myself.
And Riitharion remained quiet.
Night fell.
Grassth slowly twisted his wrists against the rope binding them. Careful. Patient.
He stopped every time one of the goblins glanced in his direction. When they looked away, he continued.
The rope felt old.
Dry.
Fragile.
It scratched against his skin as he tested its fibers, inch by inch. It was thin — weaker than it appeared.
If he forced it now, it would snap. But snapping it too early meant death.
So he waited.
He studied the camp.
The positions.
The distance between guards.
The direction of the forest.
He predicted what would happen if one of them noticed.
Where would he run?
Which goblin would react first?
How many seconds would he have?
He calculated everything.
Time passed.
Eventually, only one goblin remained watching him. The others drifted back toward their own nests and shadows.
This was it.
Grassth shifted slightly, making sure the guard wasn't staring. Slowly… slowly…
The rope gave way with a faint snap.
He dropped from the tree silently, but the goblin in front of him turned at the movement. Its eyes widened.
Too slow.
Grassth lunged forward and grabbed the spear before the creature could react.
The goblin opened its mouth to scream—
Grassth shoved his arm into its mouth.
Teeth sank into his flesh.
Pain exploded through him.
He bit back a sound and drove the spear forward with his other hand, piercing through the goblin's back and out through its chest.
The creature spasmed once… then went limp.
Grassth yanked the spear free, blood warm against his skin.
He didn't hesitate.
He ran.
Branches clawed at him as he forced his way through the forest. He didn't look back.
Didn't think. Just ran until his lungs burned and his vision blurred.
When he couldn't run anymore, he walked fast.
When he couldn't walk fast, he staggered forward.
He didn't stop.
Then the trees ended.
A cliff.
He stepped to the edge, chest heaving. The night wind howled below.
Behind him—
A snap of a branch.
They found him.
Grassth didn't turn around.
He knew what he was doing.
He stepped forward.
And jumped.
Grassth fell from the cliff, eyes shut tight.
His body twisted through the air, then slammed into the ground with a bone-shaking impact.
Blood poured from his nose, ears, and mouth. Vision blurred, pain screamed through him, but he ignored it, crawling forward without stopping.
One hand scraped against the dirt as he reached a nearby tree. His broken body pressed against it.
He stabbed the spear into the ground, trying to leverage himself upright. Pain lanced through every fiber of his body. He grunted. He tried again. But he couldn't.
Finally, he slumped back against the tree, exhausted. Darkness claimed him.
A voice pierced his mind.
"Hmph… desperate to live?" Riitharion scoffed.
Grassth's eyes snapped open. His pupils glowed, half red and half orange.
Bones snapped back into place. Deep wounds stitched closed. Pain retreated. His body healed automatically.
"Yet again, I was able to control you, weakling," Riitharion laughed, sniffing the air and exhaling sharply.
"All right… let me sense around, now that I've consumed a complete soul."
His eyes closed. Energy radiated from him in waves, sweeping over solid ground, water, and debris. His senses expanded outward, stretching farther and farther…
until he,
detected it.
A sound. Movement. Life.
Humans.
Riitharion chuckled, low and menacing.
"So, it seems we are not the only humans here."
"What a surprise... oops I'm no human, i forgot... oh well."
He cracked his neck, opening his eyes, and strode toward them.
Riitharion walked through the forest, humming softly. The humans were still far, but he could feel them, faint pulses of life drifting through the air.
"How large could this island be?"
he muttered.
"How long have I wandered here, forgotten…"
A roaring sound cut his thoughts short.
A wide river blocked his path, currents rushing violently over stone.
He narrowed his eyes, scanning both directions.
"A river… no bridge. No shortcut."
His lips curved into a grin.
"Then I shall make one."
He stepped toward a massive boulder resting near the bank. With one hand, he lifted it effortlessly, as though it weighed nothing.
"You will suffice."
He tossed it into the air. As it descended, he leapt — a single punch shattering it into large fragments that crashed into the river below, forming a scattered crossing.
"A crude path… but adequate."
He walked across without looking down.
Time passed.
The closer he drew to the humans, the wider his grin became.
"Another pure soul…" he whispered. "I will let you witness a massacre, Grassth."
He burst forward.
But when he arrived—
He stopped.
Bodies.
Strangled, pierced, nailed into a massive wooden cross.
Blood darkened the ground beneath them.
Riitharion's expression shifted.
"What is this…?"
He extended his senses.
The souls were fading.
Not consumed by him.
Erased.
A faint voice echoed.
"Don't… you… ever… underestimate me… Riitharion."
The forest darkened.
The bodies dissolved.
The world cracked like fractured glass.
Riitharion closed his eyes.
"I see…"
When he opened them, the scenery had changed.
He stood once more before Grassth's broken body — the moment of defeat replaying like a frozen memory. His hand was still extended, pouring essence into him.
But something was wrong.
The flow had stopped.
Grassth's consciousness was fighting back.
"You… still resist?"
Riitharion's smile twisted, half amused, half irritated. "Even shattered, your mind claws at me?"
The darkness trembled.
"Fine," he said coldly.
"Struggle."
He raised his hand and clenched his fist.
The mental space fractured further.
"I will allow you to persist… for now."
The darkness swallowed everything.