In the dark, a blonde young woman slowly opened her eyes.

"Where am I, Ugh!..." she attempted to shift her head, surveying the surroundings. Yet, even with a slight movement, every fiber of her body screamed in agony.

Her body lay numb yet with pain, the young woman slightly regained the feeling of her limbs. She couldn't see, but she could sense that her arms were extended widely, and her legs were bound with ropes.

"What happened? Is Aron alright? Freya and Raum too?"

As her senses adjusted to the darkness, she became aware of the cold damp environment around her. The air was thick, and a rusty odor hung in the atmosphere, a scent Pethra knew all too well.

Blood.

Struggling against the restraints, she attempted to liberate herself, urgency fueled by concern for her companions. The knots were tight, and her palms began to experience a sensation like burning.

"Huh?" Then, unexpectedly…

A light.

A dim glow pierced the darkness at a distance. Without hesitation, Pethra called out to it.

"Hello? Anyone there? Can you help me?"

Yet the light remained unresponsive. Just standing there like a tiny spark in a dark vast ocean.

Fear began to nest in Pethra's heart when the light ignored her plea. Her mind raced with the possibility of the light's owner being the one accountable for her predicament...Then a movement.

The light shifted to the left and slightly downward, expanding with each passing moment. This light was no ordinary light, as Pethra discerned its nature when she observed its enlargement.

'A Fireball…Then… there is a mage here

The fireball moved slowly, colliding with something flammable. In an instant, violet flames propagated in a straight line toward her. The flames reached a turning point to the right, then ascended again, illuminating the area.

Upon the first reveal on the left wall, Pethra's heart skipped a beat.

Heads.

Goblin heads nailed on the wall, their lifeless eyes gazing into nothingness. Beneath them, a colossal pot brimming with their blood.

The crude display sent shivers down Pethra's spine, and involuntarily, her eyes shifted to the wall on her right. What she witnessed plunged her heart further into despair.

Human heads are nailed just like the goblins. Pethra's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the gruesome scene. She recognized two of them.

Two young girls who enlisted in the mercenary guild on the same day as her. She recalled them because they were twins.

A revelation dawned on her; the goblin quest had casualties. Fifteen mercenaries had fallen, and now Pethra could discern fifteen human heads.

'The quest was a trap!'

Instantly, one person occupied her thoughts, and anger began to surge within her. However, when the violet flames unveiled the last sections of the wall, Pethra froze.

"FREYA!"

The cry echoed in the grim chamber as Pethra's eyes widened in horror. Freya was among them.

"No... no, this can't be," Pethra whispered, her voice choked with grief and disbelief.

Freya was nailed to the wall, but unlike the others, her entire body was impaled. Her arms were wrenched out and nailed slightly above her shoulders. Her legs suffered the same fate, torn and nailed beneath her, leaving the remainder of her body affixed as a whole using two large steel nails, one in the middle of her chest and the other in her abdomen.

The gruesome sight of Freya's mangled body struck Pethra like a physical blow. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Cough. Cough.

A dry, raspy cough echoed in the cold chamber. Pethra, with teary eyes, turned to the source.

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"You sick monster! I'll make you pay for this!" Pethra's voice quivered with a mix of sorrow and rage.

"I'll kill you! A thousand times isn't ENOUGH!" The overwhelming grief didn't paralyze Pethra; instead, it fueled an intense rage.

Standing at the entrance, using a wooden cane for support, a sick elderly man with a hunched back and white hair.

"Cough…Good, now you feel my pain," Elder Darion approached the wall.

His gaze lingered for a moment on Frey's dismembered body before turning to Pethra.

"The loss of a loved one is a terrible feeling, and I had to endure it for three F-Fucking YEARS!" His voice resonated with deep hatred.

"You sick BASTAR–"

"SHUT UP!" Darion's interruption echoed through the chamber, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and bitterness.

"I'll sacrifice the whole world just to get my son back," then he began walking to the center of the room.

A bed was there, covered with black curtains. Stopping inches away from the bed, Darion's expression softened for a moment, and he reached for the curtains. However, he stopped in mid-air and retrieved his hand.

The softened expression shifted to one of anger and determination. "I'm so close; all the ingredients are prepared. Hang in there, my son, just for a few more hours…at midnight, the ritual will be completed."

"What ritual?!" Pethra yelled, seeking answers.

Elder Darion raised his head, angered by her interruption; he snapped his fingers.

"AHHH!" Pethra felt a searing pain in her palms. She had been so shocked by everything she had seen so far that she forgot to check on herself.

Like Freya, she too was nailed to the wall; however, all her limbs were intact. What held her on the wall was two nails in her palms.

"The sacrifice has no right to speak," Darion's voice was emotionless and cold.

"Yet, I'm feeling generous, so I will give you an explanation."

He turned to the goblin wall. "To revive someone, two ingredients are needed."

"The blood of foes and the blood of kin, correlating with the age of the deceased."

He shifted his gaze to the bed. "My son was sixteen, so I needed the blood of sixteen goblins and sixteen humans."

"What kind of madness is this? The dead cannot be revived," Pethra exclaimed, her voice a mixture of disbelief and horror. The pain in her palms intensified, a constant reminder of her dire situation.

Elder Darion chuckled darkly, his eyes reflecting the insanity that gripped him. "Madness? No, my dear, this is desperation. When you lose someone you love, reason becomes a fleeting luxury. I'll do whatever it takes to see my son again…and I did."

"I summoned a demon and made a deal with him; he will revive my son in exchange for all the souls in the village."

Pethra's eyes widened in shock. "You will sacrifice the lives of your own people?"

Elder Darion's twisted laughter echoed through the grim chamber. "An easy price to pay."

"This is beyond madness… This… This…"

"Enough talking," Darion cut her off. "You should save your energy for later, young lady." He turned around toward the exit. "Excuse me, I have preparations to make."

With a wave of his hand, Darion extinguished the violet flames, gradually dimming their glow.

"WAIT!" Pethra screamed, but her plea fell on deaf ears as the heavy wooden door creaked closed, leaving Pethra alone in the dark.

Tears flowed like a fountain as fear and helplessness enveloped her, facing an unknown fate. Pethra called for her saving light.

"Aron!"

…

"Tsk…Tsk…Tsk…Disappointing."

"Shut up!" Aron retorted, fixing his gaze on the figure before him.

Seated in an empty void, surrounded by a sea of darkness within his mind, Aron faced the Beast of shadow and flame—his alter ego.

The Beast had assumed a humanoid form this time, though his features remained obscured. Casually crossing his legs, the Beast observed Aron for an extended silence before breaking it.

"You know what's your problem, my other self?"

"What?" Aron asked, crossing his arms and reclining in the chair.

"You're not greedy enough."

"Greedy?" Aron arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, you aspire to reclaim our memories, yet you harbor fear of them and resist their return."

"You seek greater strength yet lack that overwhelming desire for it."

"You want to collect treasures, yet you lack the obsession to hold them closer to you."

Aron was perplexed. "HEY! That's not how greed works?"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" The creature exclaimed, unleashing waves of energy in all directions.

"..."

"We are the Dragon Of Wrath, Pride, and Greed; common sense doesn't apply to us."

"Everything you undertake must align with these Three; the rest can go to hell."

Aron fell into silence, pondering the Beast's words. Somehow, he grasped the meaning behind the statement.

Suddenly, the Beast lifted his head, and his flaming crimson eyes intensified for a moment.

"You need to awaken now."

"Why?" Aron inquired.

"Our Werewolf is dying."

"!!!" Aron, propelled by a surge of urgency, rose from his seat. Untamed rage erupted within him.

The Beast displayed a broad smile. "Yes! That's it, don't hold back anymore." He rose from his seat and approached Aron, placing both hands on his shoulders.

"This is the last time I'll assist you." A red energy emanated from the Beast's chest, coursing through his arms.

"With this, you'll possess everything that defines our nature." The red energy flowed into Aron, accumulating inside his chest.

"What will happen to you?" Aron asked, observing the Beast slowly fading.

"Nothing. I'll merely go to sleep and begin the process of fusing our souls into one again."

"I see… Well, good luck, and thank you for the help again."

"HAHAHA~.... It's still strange to thank myself, but it's not that bad." The Beast shook his head in amusement.

"Indeed"

"Oh! Before I depart, I want you to infuse our blood into our treasures and family. It will enhance their strength; dragon blood is the finest elixir out there." The energy transformation concluded, and the Beast stepped back as his lower half faded into the darkness.

"That's good."

"Yeah, now go… Oh! please strike that demon bastard in the face for me. It was annoying seeing him hopping around like that."

Aron's lips curved into a sadistic grin. "No need to tell; I'm planning to do it anyway."

The Beast nodded; only his head remained visible. "Good. Now wake and bring death and destruction to those who dared to cross the dragon's path."

With that, Aron's vision faded as he regained consciousness in the real world, opening his eyes slowly and reading a system message.

[Unique Skill detected]

[Skill: Greed]