Chapter 43: No Returns

Chapter 43: No ReturnsChapter 43

"What the hell happened here?"

A voice broke the silence as two men stood amidst the carnage—limbs torn apart, blood soaked into the cracked pavement. The remains unmistakably belonged to the gang members they were sent to capture.

"This... this isn’t something a normal human could do," said the second man, his tone calm but sharp. He knelt beside a severed arm, inspecting the twisted bone and scorched flesh. "They died in agony."

"You think the cursed serum handiwork?" the first man asked, his voice shaky. "What if one of those idiots pissed off someone who got their hands on it?"

The calm one scoffed. "Please. In this slum? Half the people here can’t even awaken a basic skill. And you’re saying someone used a serum to become this powerful? Sounds like a bad joke."

"Still," he continues, eyes scanning the shadows. "We’re Class B Heroes. Even if someone mutated, we can handle it."

Just then, a blur dashed past them. The fearless one reacted instantly—wind exploded from under his feet as he appeared in front of the moving figure. It was a boy. Maybe twelve. But his body... it wasn’t right.

Thick black veins crawled across his skin, pulsing with a sickly glow.

The man narrowed his eyes. "That’s the sign of a mutated human," he said. "Tell me, kid... did you do this?"

The boy—Sam—averted his gaze and tried to rush past. The man grabbed him, pinning him with ease.



"I asked you a question," he repeated, his voice stern.

Sam shoved his hand off and bolted again—but the man caught him mid-air and lifted him effortlessly.

"I won’t ask again," the man said, his voice now like ice. "Are you responsible for the massacre?"

Sam slowly raised his head. The black veins on his body thickened, spreading like wildfire. His skin darkened. His form began to shift.

The man’s grip loosened.

He felt it. That pressure. That unnatural weight in the air.

This wasn’t a boy anymore.

Sam’s voice came out gravelly, monstrous.

"I told you... leave me alone."

The air quaked.

"Sor—"

BAM.

BOOM.

Darkness.

---

Meanwhile, in Serenya...

The Tryst Guild had finally begun their operation.


Their mission? Eliminate every last trace of the cursed serum.

The hardest part—locating the source—was solved thanks to a rogue lab scientist who provided them with a specialized radar that could detect massive energy fluctuations. With it, they could track down the cursed vials more efficiently.

Just as Han planned, the guild split into squads. Only two worked alone.

First was Han himself. With his vast arsenal of combat and support skills, he needed no backup.

Second was Ronan—strong, silent, and deadly. Convincing him had been tough, but Han could sense a hidden motive behind his agreement. Still, with his fighting prowess and an A-rank blade from the Weapon Forging Armory, Ronan was more than capable.

Han’s voice echoed through the airship comms.

"Everyone, spread out. Every vial of cursed serum must be destroyed. No exceptions."

With the elite Serenyan airships, the teams reached their destinations within days. The mission had begun.

A Few Days Later

Eastern Continent — Unknown Location

Inside a dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts of the city, a group of suited men gathered around a table cluttered with documents and glowing vials. The air was thick with tension.

"So, you’re saying these will give us enough power to take down the Radiant Guild?" one of the men asked skeptically, narrowing his eyes.

The man across from him smirked, tapping one of the black swirling vials. "These aren’t just any enhancers. They’re top-tier serums—power boosters that will turn your weakest into walking powerhouse. Twenty vials for a mere hundred million yen. Honestly, you should be grateful, not questioning."

The client hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Deal."

But before the handshake could seal it, the warehouse doors exploded inward with a deafening crash. Bodies were hurled inside—unconscious Awakeners, their own men. Shock spread like wildfire.

From the settling dust stepped a blond young man, hands in his pockets, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips.

"Hope I’m not interrupting," he said casually. "Now, tell me... where did you get those vials?"

The stunned criminals stared. "Who the hell are you?"

"Name’s Aiden Vire," he said, pointing at the vials. "A Hero."



The room went still.

"A Vire playing Hero?" one of the men scoffed. "Tell me, what’s your price for pretending? I’ll pay you triple."

Aiden, still smiling faintly, shook his head. Foolish. After everything he’d done, some people still reacted like this. But these weren’t just people—they were criminals.

He exhaled slowly, then locked eyes with the man.

He lifted his gaze. "You want my price?"

The man nodded, almost mockingly.

"My price... is your imprisonment."

"You brat!" the buyer barked, snapping his fingers.

One of his underlings dropped to all fours, his body twisting as claws and fangs emerged. He roared, charging like a wild beast.

Fast.

Fierce.

But not fast enough.

With a blur and a boom, Aiden delivered a single kick. The man slammed into the far wall, knocked out cold.

The room fell silent.

"You idiot!" one of the suited men shouted at his comrade. "He just took out our best fighter!"

"Relax," said another, calmly pulling out his phone. "We wait for backup. He won’t last long."

"Oh, backup?" Aiden raised a brow, casually inspecting his nails. "Yeah... about that."

Aiden had around a hundred guild members with him, and they weren’t just standing still.

The man’s phone buzzed. He answered—and his face turned from calm to horror in seconds.

Headquarters. Raided.

All their strongholds. Compromised.

Their men. Captured.

One by one, the others received the same news. Pale faces. Quaking hands. Fear set in.

"There’s only one option left!" the dealer cried, grabbing a vial. "This... will give us a fighting chance!"

He injected it. Others followed.

Their bodies contorted, skin tearing, bones shifting. Inhuman howls filled the air as they transformed into grotesque monsters—fangs, horns, scales, madness.

In moments, the warehouse was a warzone. Twenty-plus mutated beings surrounded Aiden.

Aiden let out a loud sigh, clearly fed up. Do none of them have brain cells? he thought, watching their bodies twist into monstrous forms. Once they mutated, there was almost no turning back—yet they still chose this route.

I wonder how Han’s holding up on his side, Aiden mused, briefly distracted.

That moment of thought was cut short as a few monsters closed the distance and swung their fists toward his head.

"Oops. My bad," Aiden said, his expression calm. "Guess I should end this quickly."

"Morph."

---

Meanwhile — Western Continent

Han sat cross-legged on the cold floor of a ruined cathedral, his fingers pressed against his temple. His head throbbed.

This headache... he thought, eyes furrowed.



In front of him stood dozens of creatures—monstrous figures that had once been human.

They had turned the moment he arrived. He hadn’t even spoken. The second they saw his distinctive white-black hair, they panicked, pulled out vials, and injected themselves without hesitation.

Now, all that remained were beasts.

Han’s expression was calm—but beneath it, guilt simmered.

Most of them were lied to, he thought. Told they’d gain power. That they could revert back after. But once they mutate... there’s no going back. Only one outcome remains.

Death.

"Rest in peace," Han murmured to the horde, his voice barely above a whisper.

The creatures snarled and lunged.

Han stood up and look at the charging hordes.His eyes glowed faintly.

"Let’s end this."

Ifrit – Merged

To be continued...