Faint whispers cloaked the valley—like the murmurs of spirits unable to return home. The stench of sulfur and rotting flesh hung in the air, an old curse unwilling to fade. Overhead, vultures circled, as if waiting for the bloody performance to begin anew.
The sword dripped thick crimson from its latest swing—an undead creature collapsed to its knees, belly split open, spilling its entrails like a sack torn wide. But before the body hit the ground completely, something far more grotesque happened.
The maggots multiplied. Thousands—perhaps millions—spilled from the festering gut, writhing, merging. They clung to one another, twisted into knots, coiled like vines in bloom. Within moments of horror, the swarm reshaped itself into another body.
Zhen didn't move. He closed his eyes.
His steps were silent. His breath steady. He relied only on his hearing.
Only his sword spoke.
One swing.
Missed.
The blade sliced through the air.
The Army of the Undead attacked in chaotic formations, but they were not without instinct. Their movements were driven by a will far greater—something buried beneath this valley. For every one cut down, two more emerged.
"You are not mere creatures," he muttered, his brow tightening.
The Zud were "Children of the Forbidden Earth" born of a failed Soul Severance Rite centuries ago. Of course they wouldn't be easy to destroy.
Zhen remembered reading fractured carvings on the Western Gate wall, when he first entered the forbidden valley:
"What you strike shall not die, if the will it bears is not its own."
A faint smirk curved his lips. 'If the will is mine… then you will die.'
His blade moved like a shadow unbound from flesh. Every slash danced with the rhythm of the earth itself.
And when the maggots began forming another undead body, Zhen twisted mid-leap, plunging his sword straight into the heart-core of the Zud.
"You… sever… our path… home…"
The voice rasped—layered and cracked—as if spoken from hundreds of broken throats that never got to scream in life.
Zhen gave no reply—only gripped his sword tighter, letting his fingers speak instead.
The Undead began to march in unison, yet their movements were no longer hollow like puppets. Now, they had a will. Whose, or where it came from—none could say.
One of them twisted its neck a full 180 degrees with the crack of brittle wood, eyes locking onto Zhen—upside down.
"We… are not corpses. We… are fragments. We… are truth discarded beneath the earth."
They began to encircle him, their motions drawing a devil's ring upon the ground.
Then—Juehen no Kage slashed through the chest of an Undead without mercy. The blade cut without pause, relentless.
But… the maggots returned.
From their rotting flesh, from their mouths, their eye sockets, their gutted bellies—they rained down like a living storm. Wriggling wildly in the air, they poured upon Zhen's body.
He stood still. Yet tension rippled through his frame as the maggots slipped past his collar. Crawling up his back. Climbing his face.
One slithered into his ear.
Still, Zhen remained resolute. "My sword sees more than my eyes ever could."
An Undead leapt—claws bared, jaw grinning without lips.
Zhen's hearing warned him in time.
He spun once—his sword slicing a perfect circle.
The sound of steel striking bone was a melody beloved by Northern Hunters. The split of flesh sang to him. It made him smile.
[System Warning!]
[The Forbidden Valley is enraged—because you pierced the heart-core of Prince Zud.]
[You must flee—or die.]
Zhen heard it. But his face remained unreadable, as if the voice were no more than passing wind.
"Too bad. Juehen no Kage is thirsty for blood."
"So, I cannot flee either." A subtle grin tugged at his lips.
His blade danced with brutality, repeating the same arc over and over again.
But no matter how they fell, the Undead did not die. The maggots spilled endlessly from their carcasses, reforming flesh behind Zhen again and again.
And from within the circle, the risen dead began to chant the "Fractured Tongue"—their voices trembling like shattered bells:
"You do not belong to the world we chose…"
"But you shall become part of our earth…"
The maggots now began to bite. Burrowing into Zhen's skin, they drew blood—his crimson spraying like the petals of a cursed bloom.
They were not mere insects.
They were shards of a curse.
Each one carried a fragment of the First Death—the one sealed deep beneath this valley.
Yet Zhen smiled faintly.
With his own blood, he drew a single sigil upon the hilt of his sword.
'Inverted Pendulum'
A spell once belonging to the Northern entity that had possessed a Northern Hunter during a battle against a Hellborne Rift. That entity had been sealed, reserved for a moment such as this.
"Work for me now, O hell-bubble cursed and bound."
As he swung his sword, cutting through the endless swarm of Zud, something shifted in the strikes.
His blade no longer simply cleaved flesh...
It severed time itself—forcing the undead back to their original forms: maggots, mud, and wandering spirits.
The ground of the valley began to crack open. Zhen raised his head, ears catching a voice rising from deep within the earth.
"You were born a Cursed Hunter. Why awaken the system long left to rot in slumber? You are indeed... born of the Curse…"
Zhen paid no mind. He simply danced with his sword, basking in the euphoria of blood rain with every strike.
The voice from the valley's depths repeated itself, echoing again and again with each decapitation.
Zhen stood in the heart of the undead horde, his legs submerged in muck and rotting flesh, his body cloaked in the scent of iron and death.
One final head soared through the air, spinning before it struck a stone—cracking like a hollow shell.
One hundred heads.
One hundred souls of the wandering Zud, executed.
His sword—Juehen no Kage—now pulsed like a second heart. Blood dripped from its edge like ink, alive, as though satisfied to have rewritten the fate of the world.
Slowly, his fingers reached for the black cloth that had long covered his eyes. The fabric was soaked—with sweat, with blood.
He removed it.
The light from the Forbidden Valley greeted his gaze—the gaze of a true Executioner.
His eyes no longer belonged to an ordinary man.
Nor to an ordinary hunter.
They were the eyes that had once witnessed the fall of an entire region—and were destined to bear the remnants of its curse.
In that moment, Zhen saw his own fate.
"This world has been blind for far too long. Then let me be the eternal eye they buried in silence."
He froze, then slowly dropped to one knee, laughing at himself.
The system's voice cut through his laughter.
[Mission Complete]
[Rewards:]
• 1000 Goldi
• Three Pet Skulls (Sono, Dono, Mono)
"If I now have pets, I suppose I'll need to feed them too."
But the system interrupted again.
[Hell Hunt System Activated]
[Mission: Seal the Soul of an Official Blood Hunter]
[Target: Sohei, Central Hunter]
[Clan: Central (West+Central hybrid)]
[Class: Blood Rager]
[Skills: 1 Primary Skill | 1 Variant Skill]
[Threat Level: A]
[Location: Tolin (Western Coast)]
[Reward:]
• 50,000 Goldi
• Blood Rager Bracelet
'Sealing a human, huh…'
Zhen pulled up his hood, preparing to head toward the Western Coast.
He glanced around—at the stillness that came when something ends… so that something else might begin.
Raindrops began to fall. He inhaled deeply—letting it all settle in his mind like the scar of a wound that was never meant to be forgotten.
Zhen sheathed his blade across his back and set off with his hood drawn.
"Satisfied?" he whispered to the sword.
But only the wind replied.
The Northern Hunter walked away.
He did not look back at the valley.
He offered no prayer for the dead.
Because he knew—the dead did not need pity… only certainty.
And with every step he took toward the Western Coast, the System began to whisper again—reciting names destined for the blade.
"Can't you shut up for once?"
Zhen no longer listened. He simply followed the path laid out on the system's map.
No one knew.
That a pair of eyes had been watching him in silence, breath held, footsteps swallowed by the wind—and the faint, satisfied hum of a sword just done with killing.
The eyes… had not stopped watching the back of the Northern Hunter.
A whisper left their lips like falling ash.
"So this is… what he truly is?"