Where steel meets bone and the earth drinks deep.A journey forged in crimson.Written in the ichor of the fallen.No mercy, only the cold resonance of the blade.

A pale boy with red eyes and black hair lay staring at the ceiling. He was no longer a noble—he was a slave. His clothes were tattered and moth-eaten, and his hands and feet were bound by heavy iron chains to ensure he couldn't escape. As he lay there in the dark, he began to mutter to himself...

"Whenever I try to sleep, those dreams never stop. I can't even call them nightmares; they are simply the memories of what I suffered at the hands of those around me. Once, I was happy. But it all ended on that rainy day when my father, Duke Wyatt Dragonior, was sent by the King to fight the monster wave.

Before he left, he looked at me and said..."

"Son, in case I don't return, take care of the family. Be strong and brave so you can uphold our name in this country."

"I thought my father was one of the strongest men on the continent. I didn't think anything could happen to him, so I didn't pay much attention to his warnings. I simply made a promise: 'I will protect my mother and sister.'"

"Those were the worst words I ever spoke, because I couldn't uphold them. After days of long, grueling battle, my father's sword returned, but he did not. Those who went to stop the wave had betrayed him. Those bastards ran away and let my father die alone. Then, they had the nerve to tell me..."

"Your father fought like a brave warrior, true to his name."

"But those two-faced cowards didn't stop there. In the Emperor's court, they claimed that my father tried to backstab them, and that his 'treachery' was the reason the mission failed. In reality, they never cared about my father's life or the country; they only cared about their own skins and the benefits they'd reap from the death of a Duke."

"I stood alone in the court, clutching my father's sword, shaking with rage. Then I heard the words that sealed our fate:"

"THE DRAGONIOR FAMILY MUST BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR THE LOSS OF KNIGHTS AND RESOURCES!"

"I tried to shout over them, yelling that my father's supposed betrayal had nothing to do with my family. Then, King Mida S. Tyrannos spoke..."

"You little brat. You have no manners. Does the son of a traitor truly have the nerve to speak without my permission?"

"After the King spoke, I didn't dare say another word. I wasn't just angry at them; I was angry at myself for how powerless I was. I stood there, forced to listen to their shameless statements as they decided the fate of my family. For the second time, the King spoke..."

"Vivian Dragonior, the knights of your house shall no longer serve you. You are stripped of your title. You are no longer a noble."

"Those few words were enough to signal to the world that we were prey. Then, the counts and dukes who had been on the mission with my father made a request. They demanded that my family pay three times the wealth lost during the mission as 'restitution' for my father's betrayal. I hoped the King would refuse, but when I looked up, his face wore a smile—not of justice, but of pure, unchecked greed."

"The King granted their request, allowing them to seize all property and territory belonging to my family. As I stood there, a cold voice echoed in my head..."

"Do you want to kill them all? I can help you..."

"I couldn't find the words to reply, and the voice went silent. I looked around, confused, when Duke Roderick Blackwood approached me. He leaned in and whispered:"

"Kid, it's not that we hate your family. It's just that we can't stand the look of your proud faces. If your father had been a coward, you wouldn't have to suffer like this. This is the price of your family's pride and honesty. Hahaha!"

"In my eyes, they were no longer human—they were blood-sucking demons. I prayed for that voice to return, to make the offer again. I would have sacrificed my soul to the devil just to kill them all right then. But the voice didn't come. My last ray of hope vanished."

"As I walked through the halls of the royal palace, the rumors followed me like a foul wind. The maids chattered as I passed:"

"Isn't that the son of Duke Wyatt Dragonior?"

"Ugh, haven't you heard? They aren't nobles anymore. Banished."

"Why?"

"They say his father betrayed the country..."

"Really? Stay away from him, he's staring at us!"

"My rage burned, but I was helpless. I punched the stone wall until my knuckles bled, then walked away."

"When I reached home, I found the King's personal knights surrounding the estate. Inside were the brothers Count Judas and Count Brutus Slytherin, along with the eldest son of Duke Blackwood, Count Uxoricide. Uxoricide was supposed to marry my sister; for a moment, I felt a flicker of relief to see him—until he pressed his sword against my sister Ella's neck."

"Oh, my dear brother-in-law," he sneered. "Look who's here to collect his due."

"He pressed the blade harder, drawing blood from Ella's neck. He laughed, moving the sword slightly.

'Ah, I almost killed my fiancée. Oh, sorry... my ex-fiancée.'"

"The Slytherin brothers laughed along with him. I couldn't understand why they were doing this. Was it really just because my father was a proud man? Because we were wealthy?"

"I saw my sister's blood and lost my mind. I drew my father's sword and rushed them. My mother Valora Dragonior (Leon), and Ella Dragonior screamed for me to stop, to not do anything foolish. But I didn't listen. Before I could reach Uxoricide, my father's personal knight—Sir Mordred Vilethorn—grabbed my arm and disarmed me."

"Haha... you are Wyatt's son after all," Mordred mocked. "But you're just a naive fifteen-year-old boy. You should have listened to your mommy."

"He snapped my right arm. I screamed in agony as four other knights pinned me to the ground. I thrashed against them, howling:

'I WILL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!'"

"My mother couldn't bear to see me in pain. She ran toward me, reaching for my hand, but Count Judas stepped in. That cunning bastard chopped off my mother's arm right in front of my eyes. She didn't scream at first—she tried to stay strong for us—but Judas pinned her to the ground and began crushing the stump of her arm until she shrieked in pain. Those monsters just smiled."

"I struggled like a wild animal.

'You bastards! I'll make you pay! I'll make you pay for this!'"

"Brutus Slytherin walked over and kicked me repeatedly in the face until the world went black."

"I woke up in a dungeon, chained to a chair. They had stuffed an iron ball in my mouth so I couldn't speak. When those three fuckers heard I was awake, they returned, dragging my mother and Ella with them."

"Vivian Dragonior," Judas said, "if you sign this contract, we will let your mother and sister go. If you don't, you'll watch them die. Choose."

"They left me no choice. I wanted to cry, to scream, but I had no voice and no tears left. They removed the iron ball. I bit my tongue to keep from cursing them and asked,

'What is this contract?''

"Uxoricide leaned in, whispering in my ear. 'Don't be scared, my little ex-brother-in-law. It's just a Slave Contract.'"

"I stared at him, realizing their plan. They never intended for me to be free. I signed the paper, thinking nothing could be worse than what I had already seen. I made one final request:

'According to this, I will be your slave for three years, and I can see my family every two months. Do I have your word you won't harm them?'"

"Uxoricide chuckled. 'Don't worry about them. We've prepared a place for them in the slums. They'll live out the rest of their lives there.'"

"I wanted to kill him. I wanted to tear his throat out. But I couldn't. And that was how I, Vivian Dragonior, became a slave."

 TO BE CONTINUED

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[The Life of the Noble Slave]

The Dragonior family was an ancient line with a legacy spanning a thousand years. Every head of the house had been the bravest and strongest of their era. And then there was me: Vivian Dragonior, the 13th head of the family, celebrating my birthday with nothing but heavy iron chains on my hands and feet.

Today is June 1st, 1507. A crimson moon hangs in the sky, and I watched it through the narrow slit of my dungeon—or rather, their dungeon. I lay there wondering what they truly planned for me, and what had become of my mother and sister. Fear gnawed at my stomach.

"Sigh... What was I thinking?" I whispered to the cold stone. "I was supposed to protect them. I want to..."

The sound of footsteps cut me off. I froze, staring at the heavy iron door. It creaked open, but for a moment, I saw no one.

"Who's there?" I demanded, my voice cracking.

There was no response. Just as I felt my heart begin to calm, a heavy metal object was tossed through the shadows, clattering against my feet. It was a slave collar. A man stepped into the torchlight.

"Do you like your birthday present, my Lord?" he sneered. "I had it specially made for you."

In the dim light, I recognized the voice immediately. It was the man who had first betrayed my father: Sir Mordred Vilethorn.

"You—" I started, but he cut me off with a snarl.

"My Lord, it is your birthday. You don't have to say a word. If you want something, just name it, and I'll have it ready. But... if you dare speak another word without permission, I will cut out your tongue like butter."

He lunged forward, grabbing my jaw with a gauntleted hand, trying to force his fingers into my mouth. Before he could do more, another voice echoed from the hall.

"We need him to be able to speak, Sir Knight. You cannot cut out his tongue."

Mordred immediately released me and dropped to one knee.

"Lord Roderick! Why have you come to such a filthy place? I can handle this boy easily."

Duke Roderick Blackwood stepped into the cell, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"You don't need to know why I'm here. Now, put that collar on his neck. I want to see what a Dragonior looks like when he's dressed like a dog."

I struggled, but with my broken arm and the chains, I was helpless. Mordred forced the cold iron collar around my throat and snapped it shut. The moment the lock clicked, Roderick burst into a manic laughter that echoed off the damp walls.

"Hahahaha! Did you see that, Wyatt? I have your son in a dog's collar!"

Rage surged through me—a heat so intense I thought I might catch fire. I tried to lung at him, but Roderick simply released his aura. The pressure was like a mountain collapsing on my chest. The aura triggered the enchantments in the collar; shockwaves of agony ripped through my nervous system. My body began to convulse, and the air left my lungs.

Roderick grabbed me by the hair, hoisting my head up so I had to look at him.

"You have a strong will, kid. That's the Dragonior blood for you," he whispered. "Do you know why I made you a slave? I've always wanted to break that will with my own hands. It's a pity your father died so early, but you will take his place. I will torture you until there is nothing left of you. Hahaha!"

The pain from the collar was so great that my vision blurred. Tears of blood began to leak from my eyes, staining my cheeks. Now, it wasn't just the moon—the whole world looked crimson.

After Roderick and Mordred left, Roderick's second son, Shou Blackwood, sauntered in.

"Aww... look how pitiful you are,"

Shou mocked, poking at my side with his boot.

"I can hardly stand to see you suffer. But you should know, this is only the beginning."

My hatred for the Blackwood name grew ten-fold, but I couldn't move an inch. Shou continued to yap, enjoying my silence.

"Did you know you're the first noble slave in the history of Eldoria? Welcome to the life of a slave, Mr. Dragonior."

They left me there on the cold floor. I didn't sleep that night. I spent the hours memorizing every face, every name, and every insult, carving them into my mind so I would never forget who I had to kill.

Suddenly, screams began to echo through the dungeon. They were distant, but so full of agony that my skin began to itch. Then, I heard heavy, thumping footsteps. When the door opened, the creature that entered was barely human.

He was massive, his body bloated with fat and muscle, scars covering half his face while the other half was a map of burn tissue. He looked like a demon crawled out of a hole. Saliva dripped from his jagged teeth as he roared.

"Yahahaha! Duke Roderick gave me a new toy to play with!"

Earlier that day, on June 2nd...

A secret meeting was held at the King's personal tea table. Present were all those who had conspired to destroy the Dragonior family.

"Duke Roderick, Count Judas, Count Brutus," King Mida S. Tyrannos said smoothly,

"I am pleased with your company and the work you have done."

Roderick smirked.

"It is my pleasure, Your Highness. It was an honor to complete the task you personally ordered."

The King stood up, his eyes turning cold.

"If I remember correctly, Roderick, I wanted you to bring me two things. I have yet to hear about them."

Roderick's smirk vanished. The atmosphere turned heavy.

"My King... I searched the entire Dragonior estate. I even forced Wyatt's personal butler to speak, but he knew nothing. I—"

"I don't need excuses," the King interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"I want results. I don't care if you have to cut off that boy's limbs or torture him to death—I want those things by any means necessary."

Roderick bowed his head, sweating.

"Your Highness, do not worry. I will make the boy give up what you seek."

The King smiled, a look of pure, unchecked greed.

"Hahaha! That's what I wanted to hear. But remember... if a single word of this conversation leaves this room, I will have all your heads on the floor."

The King's killing intent was so overwhelming that the Duke and the Counts trembled, unable to even meet his gaze. They had one mission: find the "two things."

Back in the dungeon, the Beast approached me, licking his lips.

"Oye, kido... what do you taste like? I want to eat you alive!"

I was terrified. I realized the screams from earlier had come from his victims.

"What... what do you want?"

I stammered.

Judas Slytherin entered the cell, followed by a cloaked figure.

"He doesn't want anything. We want something from you. Don't worry, it's not your life... yet. You're worth more to us alive."

I vowed right then that whatever they wanted, I would never give it to them.

"Start the show," Judas ordered the Beast. "We have a special guest."

The cloaked figure stepped forward and spoke with a familiar, melodic voice.

"Oh, Judas, you flatter me. I'm not nearly as special as our precious little toy, Vivian."

My heart stopped. I knew that voice. It belonged to Roseliane, my own caretaker—the woman I had trusted most in the world after my mother.

"Roseliane?" I gasped. "Why are you with these bastards? Were you with them all along?"

She leaned down, her eyes cold.

"Oh, my Lord! You're too smart for your own good. Is that the Dragonior blood talking?"

At Judas's signal, the Beast moved. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head into the stone floor. He lifted me up and smashed me against the wall again and again until I was a broken, bloody mess. The Beast began to lick my blood off the floor.

Judas looked on with disgust.

"Enough of that, you dog. I want to hear him scream, just like his butler did."

"What... what did you do to Butler Jose?"

I wheezed through the pain. Jose had been like a second father to me.

The Beast laughed, his mouth stained with my blood.

"Lisk... what do you think? Didn't you hear those screams earlier? Hnnn..."

The world turned cold. Jose had been with my mother and sister. If they had him... where were they?

Judas sighed. "Don't think too much, kid. What happened to him is about to happen to you."

The Beast grabbed my chains and began dragging me down the hall.

"Time to change your room, Mr. Noble..."

He dragged me into a chamber that looked like a nightmare. Racks, iron maidens, boiling vats of lead, and jagged blades lined the walls. The Beast hoisted my chains and hung me from the ceiling, letting me dangle over the blood-stained floor.

He leaned in close, his breath smelling of rot.

"Hooo... Welcome to my paradise, Mr. Noble."

 TO BE CONTINUED

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[The Paradise of the Beast]

The dungeon was filled with instruments designed for one purpose: to break a person until they revealed the truth. Though Vivian had mentally prepared himself, the sight of the torture chamber made his spirit waver. Somewhere deep within his soul, a voice screamed a single word: RUN!

The Beast grabbed Vivian's shackles and hoisted him into the air, hanging him by his chains.

As he prepared for the onslaught, the Beast roared—but his tone was unexpected.

"Oye, kido! I beg you, please don't make me do this. I don't want to torture you or anyone!"

Vivian blinked, stunned. The Beast was weeping. But as Vivian looked closer, a chill ran down his spine. While the Beast's eyes were filled with tears, his face was twisted into a predatory snarl, as if he wanted to tear Vivian apart and devour him. Vivian gathered his dwindling courage.

"Even if you kill me, I won't say a word," Vivian spat. "And besides, I don't even know what they're looking for. Even if I did, I would never give it to them."

The Beast laughed—a grating, hideous sound.

"Ohahaha! Kid, you're the first one to speak with such courage after seeing this place."

For a reason he couldn't explain, Vivian felt a strange sense of relief, though the Beast's face felt hauntingly familiar, even though they had never met.

Meanwhile, at the royal palace, the conspirators gathered. Except for the King, everyone was on edge, failing to locate the "two things" the King demanded. The King sat on his throne, radiating fury.

"I am beginning to think you lot are blind," the King growled. "You cannot find them after all this time?"

Before the Duke or the Counts could stutter an excuse, the Crown Prince, Uriah S. Tyrannos, entered the hall.

"Father, I care nothing for what you want from the Dragonior family, but I want this."

He held up a blade. The room went dead silent. It was the sword of the Dragonior family—the symbol of their lineage. The King's rage vanished, replaced instantly by visceral, trembling fear.

"You bastard!" the King gasped, his voice cracking. "Why do you have that? Put it away from me!"

"Father, why are you scared?" the Prince asked, bewildered. "It is just an ordinary sword."

The King stood, his hands shaking.

"You fool! Do you think I would pass up a treasure like this? This is a cursed blade. Anyone who touches it without the Dragonior bloodline loses their life in a single day."

Judas, who had been eyeing the sword for himself, immediately stepped back.

"There is nothing more important than one's own life. I advise the Crown Prince to discard it."

Uriah's face flushed with anger.

"Fairy tales! Why should I believe this?"

Then, an evil, calculating smile spread across his face.

"Father, I have an idea. Why don't we give this sword to the Fourth Prince, Avon? I think he would love it, wouldn't he?"

The King's expression darkened. The Fourth Prince was the son he had with Queen Elliana Leon, the woman he loved above all others. The King slammed his hand on the armrest, his aura cracking the floor.

"How dare you suggest that for your own brother! If not for your mother's promise, your head would be rolling on this floor."

Uriah didn't back down.

"Father, I am doing this for his own good. We all know he has a damaged heart and only months to live. Why not test if the curse is real?"

The King's anger abruptly shifted into a cold, terrifying laugh. The aura of an Archmage flooded the room, making everyone tremble. After a long moment, the King leveled his gaze at Uriah.

"Your logic is sound, Uriah. Let us give the sword to the Fourth Prince."

The room gasped. Avon was summoned. When the boy entered, the King looked at him with an uncharacteristic, heavy guilt.

"My son, Avon," the King said, his voice unusually soft. "How is your health?"

Avon was shocked by the rare sympathy.

"Father, by your grace, I am recovering well. Thank you for asking."

"Avon," the Crown Prince stepped forward, feigning kindness. "Brother Uriah and I have a gift for you."

"I shall accept anything from Father and Brother with all my heart," Avon replied.

Uriah handed him the sword.

 "This is one of the best blades on the continent. Father and I want you to have it."

Avon, despite his illness, was no fool.

"Brother, I am a second-circle mage. This sword suits you, a fourth-grade aura user, far better than me."

"Are you ignoring Father's gift?" Uriah snapped.

Avon had no choice. He took the hilt. As he touched the cold metal, he felt a sudden, violent illusion—his soul seemed to be ripped from his body. His heart pounded like a war drum until the sword clattered to the floor.

He looked at the blade, and it felt as if the sword itself were staring back.

"So, this is the legendary sword of the Dragonior family," Avon whispered. "The SCALESLICER."

Avon knew that drawing this blade would likely be his death sentence. But as a scholar and a mage, his hunger for knowledge outweighed his fear of death. He was excited.

"I will be the one," he murmured to himself, "who solves the mystery of the Dragonior family—and the secret of the Scaleslicer."

TO BE CONTINUED

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[ The Cursed sword SCALESLICER ]