Corrupted Throne

Hollowveil Village – Northern Gate

The mist thickened, curling low like smoke around the soldiers' boots.

Then—

A whistle.

Soft.

Drawn-out.

Like someone trying to mimic a lullaby… but forgetting the melody halfway through.

It slithered through the air, gentle but wrong.

Both gate guards stiffened.

The young woman gripped her spear tighter.

"A-Again… the whistling started," she whispered, her breath visible in the cold.

The male guard beside her squinted into the mist.

"Hey… hey, look—someone's out there."

Far beyond the main gate, barely visible through the fog -

A figure

Sitting.

Cross-legged.

Floating just above the ground.

Blue Energy rippled around him in slow, waving tendrils—like ink in water.

He wasn't moving. Not even breathing. Just… there.

"H-Huh? What is that?" the male guard muttered.

"A monk…?" said the woman, her voice barely a whisper.

But the whistling didn't stop.

It grew a little louder. A little clearer. As if coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Hey! What's happening over there?" Calen's voice called from the campfire, his silhouette barely visible through the fog.

The woman guard turned toward him.

"There's—there's someone here! Floating! I swear—!"

She turned back.

And froze.

"…He's gone," she whispered, a tremble in her throat. "H-He just disappeared…"

The male guard stepped forward, wide-eyed.

"This isn't right," he said, his voice now firm. "Stay on your toes. Something's… definitely wrong."

Back near the campfire, Calen's hands clenched around his spear.

He could feel it now too—like a cold breath on the back of his neck.

The fog no longer felt empty.

The whistling started again.

But this time… it was closer.

Much closer.

"H-Hey," the male guard stammered, eyes scanning the mist. "This time it's… it's clear. He's near us."

The female guard immediately raised her spear, breath shaky.

Mist swirled in front of them—slowly parting.

And there he was.

The monk.

Closer now.

Still floating. Still whistling.

Face bowed, limbs limp, that eerie energy still waving around him like shadowy smoke.

"H-HEY! Who are you?!" the male guard shouted, voice cracking under tension.

The monk didn't move.

Didn't stop.

Still whistling… slow… broken… haunting.

Sweat trickled down the female guard's cheek. She gripped her weapon harder, hands trembling.

"I'm going in," the male guard said, stepping forward with a lit fire stick in hand.

"D-Don't!" she gasped, reaching out, but he didn't listen.

He crept closer, boots crunching over gravel and dead leaves.

"HEY! I'm TALKING to you! WHO ARE YOU?!" he shouted again.

Back at the campfire, Calen turned toward them.

The female guard called out desperately, "S-Sir! He's going toward it!"

"What?! That idiot—! It could be dangerous!" Calen snapped.

"Crap. Keep eyes on him!"

The guard neared the floating figure. The flames from his stick flickered weakly in the fog.

"…Hey, basta—"

He froze.

The energy around the monk writhed—like tendrils of smoke trapped in water.

The guard slowly extended the fire stick… inching it closer to the figure's face.

The light revealed—

Torn pants.

A shredded monk's robe, soaked in dried blood.

Deep, rotting cuts along the arms.

And then—

The face.

His mouth was… gone.

Torn open, sealed with jagged white bandages. One strip flapped loosely as if stitched to silence.

His eyes—also wrapped—dripped slow trails of fresh blood beneath the cloth.

The firestick trembled in the guard's hand.

"T-That's… that's not human…"

The monk tilted his head slightly. The whistling never stopped.

The guard's breath caught.

"Uhh… uhhh… AHHHHHHHH!"

He turned and bolted—stumbling, screaming.

"HEY!! What happened?!" the female guard yelled.

"IT'S A GHOST! IT'S A GHO—"

SLASH.

The sound was quick. Wet.

A clean cut.

His head flew—blood arcing through the mist.

The female guard screamed as the severed head landed right at her feet, his body collapsing beside it.

Warm blood splattered across her face and uniform.

"AHHH!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

She shrieked, eyes wide in horror, falling to the ground—shaking uncontrollably.

From where the body lay…

The monk's whistling continued.

But now, it almost sounded like it was…

laughing.

"HEYYY!! What happened?!" Calen shouted, rushing forward through the fog.

Then he saw it—

The guard's severed head on the ground.

His body twitching nearby, blood soaking into the gravel.

"W-What the—?" Calen gasped, stumbling back in panic, face pale.

His heart thundered in his chest.

The female guard stood frozen… eyes wide… shaking.

Then she snapped her hand up, aiming it straight at the ghostly monk's form.

"Kendra Flow—Tempest Strike!" she screamed.

BLAST!

A surge of wind exploded from her palm, tearing through the mist.

The pressure cracked the air—

BANG!

The force slammed into the floating figure like a cannon

"Uff… hhaa…" the female guard breathed, barely able to stand.

"T-That had to do it… the whistling stopped…"

Calen caught up behind her, gripping his spear.

"Sir… I think that was a clean hit," she said, panting, voice trembling.

"T-That was a clean strike," Calen echoed, eyes locked on the smoke.

Silence.

They held their breath.

Then—

Whistling.

Again.

But now slower.

Mocking.

Unstoppable.

"W-What?!" the female guard gasped. "I—I hit him! That was a clean hit!"

She turned and ran toward Calen, eyes full of terror.

"S-Sir! Help me! I—I don't want to die I—AHHHHH!"

SLASH.

A black shape blurred past—too fast to see.

Blood sprayed into the air. Her body lurched mid-run.

A massive gash opened across her back—

She dropped like a rag doll, gasping, twitching—

Then went still.

Calen stopped dead, spear trembling in his hands.

He had just watched her die… right in front of him.

Her body collapsed near the gate, her final scream still echoing in the mist.

The whistle played on.

Louder now.

Almost joyful.

Meanwhile… At the Lullaby House

CREEEAAAK.

The wooden door groaned open.

Fen and Rhett both froze.

A woman stood there, holding a baby swaddled in pale cloth. Her hair draped over one side of her face.

She smiled calmly, eyes wide… too wide.

"Ahhh… what do you want, sir?" she asked sweetly, her voice sing-song and soft.

Fen cleared his throat. "We… uh, heard some noises. Just wanted to check if everything's alright now."

"Ohhh… hahaha… why don't we get something to eat for you, sir?" the woman cooed, rocking the baby slowly.

"N-No, no, we're good," Fen said quickly, waving his hand.

Behind him, Rhett stood stiffly, eyes narrowed.

"Sorry to bother you," Fen added, stepping back.

"Alright, sir~" she said softly—

SLAM!

The door shut hard, shaking the frame.

Fen turned and started walking toward the campfire. "See? I told you—just a mother and child. Everything's fine."

But Rhett didn't move.

He was pale.

Dead silent.

"Hey… Fen," he said slowly. "This is fucked up."

Fen stopped, turning back. "What? What do you mean?"

Rhett stared at the house, voice hushed and cold.

"That woman… she said the exact same words to me. Three days ago. Same tone. Same baby. Same smile. I knocked on that door alone—she said the same thing."

Fen frowned. "You're sure?"

And then—

The lullaby began again.

Soft.

Slow.

Melodic… but deeply wrong.

"Sleep, my child, the night is near,

Fog will hush what you may hear…

Eyes like stars, so wide and bright…

Close them now… no need for fright…"

Rhett's hand moved to his sword.

"Crap. Fen… let's see if she says it again."

He stormed up to the door.

SLAM SLAM SLAM!

The door creaked open again—

The same woman stood there.

Same smile.

Same rocking motion.

Same pale baby.

"Ahhh… what do you want, sir?" she said, tilting her head. "Ohhh… hahaha… why don't we get something to eat for you, sir?"

Fen's mouth went dry. His face turned white.

"Alright sir ."

SLAM!

The door shut again.

"I… told you," Rhett muttered behind him. "She's not normal."

"A-Ah… s-sir…" Fen whispered suddenly.

Rhett turned to him.

"…What?"

Fen was swaying slightly. His eyes unfocused. His hand moved to his chest slowly… trembling.

And then—

He staggered.

Collapsed forward.

Rhett rushed to catch him—only then realizing…

There was already a knife in Fen's chest.

Buried deep. Almost… carefully.

No sound. No scream.

It had been there the whole time.

Blood seeped from the wound, soaking through Fen's uniform in widening circles.

"FEN—?! No, no—stay with me!" Rhett shouted, lowering him to the ground, eyes wide with panic.

Fen's breathing was shallow.

"Sir… i-it… hurts…" he whispered, a faint trail of blood at his lip.

Then—

Nothing.

His eyes went still.

Rhett clenched his fists around Fen's tunic, voice breaking.

"No… NO! You weren't even supposed to come out here…"

He laid him down gently.

Then he stood—face pale, jaw clenched, fury rising.

He faced the house again.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" he roared.

"I SWEAR I'LL RIP YOU APART!"

He slammed a fist against the frame. But—

A scream echoed behind him.

"AHHHHHHHHH!!"

Rhett froze.

That was the gate.

Another scream followed—sharper, higher.

A girl.

Rhett turned back to Fen's still form, hesitating—

"I'll come back for you…"

Then he tore off into the fog, sprinting toward the gate with sword drawn, blood roaring in his ears.

Hollowveil Village – Blood in the Fog

Rhett tore through the mist, boots hammering the gravel road, lungs burning.

But then—

Footsteps.

Not just his.

Soft. Light. Fast.

He wasn't alone.

He skidded to a halt. Instinct screamed.

SHINK!

A blade flashed from the mist.

Rhett raised his sword—CLANG!—steel sparked against steel.

Another blur—behind him!

He twisted—barely dodged as a second sword sliced the air near his spine.

Two figures emerged from the fog.

Dressed in full black.

Faces covered by smooth masks.

Swords drawn.

Silent.

Predatory.

Rhett stood tall, gripping his blade tight.

"...Figures," he muttered. "Two against one."

One of them dashed forward—CLANG! Rhett parried hard, muscles straining.

The second rushed in from behind—Rhett spun and slammed a back kick, sending him staggering.

With a roar, Rhett pushed the first attacker back with sheer brute force.

"Tch… this ain't gonna be easy," he muttered, sweat stinging his eyes.

The masked assassins came again—fast, coordinated.

One slashed low, the other high.

CLANG—SCRATCH—CLANG!

Rhett blocked one strike, but the second blade ripped across his back.

"AHHH!" he growled, stumbling forward.

Another slash—this one across his ribs.

Rhett hit the ground hard, blood dripping from both wounds.

"Uff… dammit…"

He struggled to rise, eyes burning with pain.

If this keeps going… I'm dead.

The assassins stepped in, preparing to finish him.

Rhett sucked in a breath.

Then—calm.

His feet pulsed with dark blue Kendra light.

"…Try this, bastards."

He leapt into the air—KRAKK!

His boots slammed into the earth.

BOOOOM!!

A shockwave exploded outward—gravel shattered, the mist ripped apart in a ring, the whole ground trembling like an earthquake.

Both masked attackers were thrown off their feet, rolling through the dirt.

Rhett stood in the center of the quake crater, panting.

"Legendary jump," he muttered. "Still got it…"

He stalked toward the nearest masked man, blade ready to finish it.

But—

SLASH!

"AGHH—!!"

Pain tore through his arm. Blood sprayed.

His hand was gone.

Rhett staggered back, gasping, clutching the stump.

"What…?!"

A shadow fell over him.

He turned—

And looked up.

Perched on the roof of a nearby house—

The monk.

Still whistling

Still floating.

Bathed in moonlight…

Holding Calen's severed head by the hair, limp and dripping.

Rhett's blood froze.

The whistle carried through the air again—

Soft. Mocking. Unstoppable.

"You BASTARDS!!" Rhett roared, eyes blazing with fury.

Blood poured from his severed wrist, but with his remaining hand, he charged his Kendra energy—green light surging up his arm like lightning crawling over his veins.

He took a step forward.

CRREEEAAK—THUD—THUD—THUD

Suddenly—

Every door in the village swung open.

The silence shattered.

Footsteps. Dozens of them.

From every crooked home, from the shadows, from behind shutters—the villagers emerged.

Men.

Women.

Even children.

Faces blank. Pale. Eyes hollow with sleep-like obedience.

All of them walked toward the center of the square, forming a loose circle around Rhett.

"Master… Master…" they chanted softly, their voices hushed.

and devout.

"Save us, Master… from the devils…"

"Kill him too."

"Cleanse the outsider…"

Rhett's eyes darted around in disbelief.

His mouth went dry.

**There—**in the crowd—

The woman. The same one who smiled through Fen's death.

She stood silently, cradling the baby… still smiling.

"No… no," Rhett breathed, heart pounding. "What the hell's going on?"

He turned, backing away, eyes wild.

"They're… brainwashed? No—possessed."

"You…" he growled, glaring at the monk still perched above.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?!"

The monk didn't answer.

He just whistled again.

But this time—

The tone changed.

Deeper. Slower. Almost… reverent.

And as the melody shifted—

All the villagers bowed.

Some dropped to their knees. Others began moving silently, mechanically—

Cleaning.

Washing blood from the dirt.

Lifting severed bodies.

Gathering weapons into piles.

As if they'd done this before.

Rhett raised his sword again, trembling, Kendra energy flaring around his blade—

"I'LL KILL YOU FIRST!!"

But then—

SLASH.

Too fast to see.

A long, silent gash opened across Rhett's chest. The Slash had already passed.

Blood sprayed into the cold night air.

Rhett gasped—

Staggered—

Dropped to one knee, coughing blood.

"Ughh… b-bastard…"

His sword clattered to the ground.

Above him, the monk hovered calmly. Silent now.

The whistle had stopped.

He raised his bandaged face to the moonlight, the torn fabric around his mouth fluttering softly in the wind.

Around them—

The village returned to peace.

The villagers continued cleaning.

Sweeping blood.

Dragging bodies.

Burning clothes.

Like obedient servants…

To a god of silence.

To be continue....

The Hollowveil's Whistle arc begins.