"What? Half-dead? Transmigrator? This is too confusing…" Rayen said with a shocked expression.
I knew I was reincarnated here, but I didn't realize I was in a deep sleep for two years after he found me. So that's why I didn't regain consciousness until I turned three...
And I'm a cursed one? Then that elf woman I saw first—she must've been my mom.
So Grandpa tried to kill me? And he even thought I was a transmigrator? Damn… I seriously thought that pumpkin pie was tasty, but it was actually poison.
The old man looked down, his cane slightly trembling. "Sorry, Rayen. I tried to kill you. But now… your grandpa is going to protect you. Let's leave before they come."
He grabbed Rayen's arm and started walking away quickly.
Rayen lowered his head, his face darkened.
I thought he was celebrating me… but he
was poisoning me. That day—I was smiling like a fool… and it was all fake.
Rayen stopped in his tracks.
The old man turned back, his voice sharp, "What are you doing? We need to go before they catch up!"
But Rayen didn't move an inch. His body was frozen. Then suddenly, he collapsed onto the old man.
"Rayen? What happened?" the old man caught him, only to notice a dart stuck in his back.
His eyes widened. Poison?
He quickly looked around to spot where it came from—and then he saw it. They were surrounded.
On the trees, hidden under the ground, even in the air—IAR officers everywhere.
Tch. We're trapped…
The officers in front of him moved aside, creating a path. From the forest shadows, seven figures stepped forward.
The old man's eyes narrowed. White robes... plus-symbol masks… Elders?!
What are they doing here? Are they here... for me?
The long faced one in the middle spoke coldly, "Dattadri, the traitor. Let's get straight to the point—surrender, and we'll let the boy live. We'll exile him from the empire… but he'll live."
What...? Are they really letting Rayen go?
I'm an old man… I'll die in a few months or years anyway. But if Rayen can live—then it's fine. No, it's perfectly fine. He's old enough now to decide what he wants to do with his life.
But… are they telling the truth?
"Are you telling the truth?" the old man asked, his eyes scanning their body language for even the smallest hint of a lie. "Will you really let him live if I surrender?"
The long-faced elder replied calmly, "Yes. We're telling the truth. We promise—we'll leave your boy alive. Now, put him down and walk toward us. Hands up, no tricks."
His tone was steady. His body language showed no sign of deception.
The old man looked down at Rayen one last time.
"Rayen… I won't be there anymore. But you—you better live. No matter what."
He gently laid Rayen on the ground and took a few steps forward, slowly raising his hands and kneeling.
The highest-ranking IAR officer stepped forward. A man with a scar cutting across his cheek. His presence alone was overwhelming—High-Gold, or maybe even Low-Upper rank.
He walked behind the old man.
And then—
SLAM!
A heavy strike landed on the back of the old man's neck.
His vision blurred instantly.
...Sorry, Rayen...
And everything went black.
---
What happened...? I suddenly blacked out. Grandpa must be worried... I need to wake up...
Rayen slowly opened his eyes. His vision was still blurry. Everything around him was spinning. He blinked—once, twice, again and again—until the fog slowly faded from his sight.
Shapes began to form clearly. Trees. The cold night sky.
And then—
His heart skipped.
He was tied to a tree. Thick ropes dug into his skin. In front of him, sitting in a chair, was the old man.
Tied up.
His face was swollen, bruised from heavy punches. His hands were cut, skin torn, blood dried into patches. His clothes were ripped. There were bruises across his arms, shoulders—everywhere.
Rayen's breathing stopped for a moment.
Grandpa...?
Rayen started struggling violently against the ropes.
"Grandpa! Grandpa, are you okay?! What happened?! Who did this to you?!"
But the old man didn't respond. He remained silent—head hanging, face swollen and beaten beyond recognition.
Rayen's voice cracked. "Please… just say something… anything…"
Then suddenly—
His entire body twitched.
He froze.
A sickening sensation slithered through him—like something was crawling inside his veins. Writhing. Chewing. Breeding.
His breath grew sharp, uneven. "W-What is this…?"
Footsteps echoed.
Seven figures emerged from the darkness—walking slowly, confidently. The Elders. Dressed in white robes and masks marked with the plus symbol of humanity.
They stopped in front of him. One of them, standing beside the long-faced elder, sneered as he leaned forward.
"Oh? You're awake. That's good." His voice was cold, mocking. "Are you feeling it? That crawling feeling inside your body? That's not your imagination."
He grinned cruelly.
"We planted three SkinWorms inside you. Tiny little creatures, but very hungry. They'll feed on your flesh from the inside—slowly. And once they've eaten enough, they'll lay eggs. And when those hatch…"
He leaned closer, almost whispering now.
"…their babies will tear out through your skin. One by one. From your arms, your back, your stomach—whatever they like most."
The other elders chuckled, dark amusement in their voices. Laughter that felt colder than the night wind.
Rayen's eyes widened in horror.
They're not human… none of them…They are monsters!
The movement under Rayen's skin intensified. It wasn't just a crawl anymore—it was a violent squirming. His veins bulged. His muscles twitched unnaturally. His entire body looked like it was rejecting itself.
The Elders watched in silence, their smirks widening.
"Looks like the worms are getting impatient," one of them muttered with cruel amusement. "Let them out."
Rayen screamed.
The pain hit all at once—blinding, unbearable. His skin stretched grotesquely as the creatures inside clawed toward the surface. Blood seeped through his pores.
Then—
Tear.
His skin burst open.
Worms erupted from the corner of his eyes, wriggling out with blood trailing behind them. More tore through his mouth, and worse—through his stomach, splitting muscle and flesh. One even forced its way out from between his legs, making his entire body jerk in agony.
Rayen couldn't even scream anymore. His throat burned raw. His vision was red. The pain… was beyond death itself.
He slumped forward, barely breathing, his body twitching uncontrollably. Blood poured down his limbs. The worms slithered around him, some still crawling free from the open wounds.
The Elders looked down at him with sick satisfaction.
"Now this," said the long-faced one coldly, "is the fate of those born cursed."
Rayen's body twitched as the worms squirmed out, but something began to happen. His torn skin started closing. Blood stopped flowing. The open wounds sealed up, and even the burst veins retreated beneath healed flesh. Within seconds, his body was nearly restored.
The Elders froze.
"…He's healing?" one muttered in disbelief.
Then they all burst into laughter.
"This cursed one is a strange one indeed," said one elder, shaking his head. "Looks like he can heal even from this. That just means we can experiment a bit longer."
"You… won't…" a weak, cracked voice echoed behind them.
The Elders turned.
It was the old man.
He was barely conscious, face swollen, blood dripping from his cracked lips. But he still managed to glare at them with burning eyes.
"You… promised," he growled, "you said… you wouldn't kill Rayen… only throw him out of the empire… Why are you—doing this… you bastards…"
The long-faced elder turned toward him slowly. With a grin, he removed his mask.
Rayen, still tied to the tree, couldn't see the man's face from behind—but he could feel the shift in the air.
The elder smirked. "Yes, I promised," he said.
"But did I ever say I keep promises to traitors?"
He laughed darkly, stepping toward the old man. "You betrayed humanity by protecting a cursed one. You thought I'd honor my word to you?"
He leaned closer, sneering. "Foolish to the very end."
The rest of the Elders chuckled, as if enjoying a private joke.
Rayen stared at the old man, his fists clenched, heart racing. His mind screamed in pain and rage.
The long-faced elder slowly slid the white mask with the plus symbol back onto his face, hiding the twisted smirk beneath it.
He turned to the other elders, voice filled with anticipation.
"Forget about torturing the cursed one for now," he ordered, his tone low and commanding.
He stepped forward, arms spread, eyes reflecting the silver moonlight.
"The full moon still shines bright... the sky is clear… it's perfect."
The other elders nodded, their expressions solemn now.
"This is the moment we've prepared for. The moment we'll take everything that Dattadri once held. His secrets. His strength. His legacy. Tonight… we will claim the limitless potential that only he possessed."
He raised his hand toward the heaven, the moonlight swirling unnaturally around it. The silver glow twisted like smoke, coiling in the air and slowly descending upon the ritual circle surrounding Rayen and the old man.
"Let us begin!" he declared.
"Cherish the moment! For tonight… we carve our names into the core of human evolution!"
The ground beneath Rayen pulsed with eerie symbols—ancient, cursed glyphs that glowed with violet and red light. The forest itself went silent. No wind. No insects. Nothing but the hum of unnatural energy and the rising, twisted excitement of the elders.
The ritual had begun.