Single for Eternity

Far away, perched atop a towering sand dune, a beastly figure observed the carnage below. Its form was a grotesque fusion of lion and man—a predator in both body and mind. Two glistening golden eyes gleamed beneath its matted mane, carved with malicious intent.

A wicked, toothy grin spread across its monstrous face as it watched the duo below—Einar, the frenzied butcher, and Laura, the trembling observer.

"Interesting…"

Its twisted voice rasped through the air, though no one could hear it. It observed the madness unfurling beneath it—the unrestrained carnage inflicted by a mere human.

Whoosh!

Without a sound, it unfurled massive bat-like wings, the gust of air from their movement kicking up a storm of sand. With a single push, it launched itself skyward, vanishing into the clouds.

Its destination was clear.

This anomaly was worth reporting.

...

Meanwhile, beneath the burning desert sun, the bloodbath continued.

Einar moved like a man unshackled from mortality. His arms—brutal, precise—tore through creatures as if they were made of brittle parchment.

A sand-dweller lunged from beneath his feet, its massive jaws snapping shut around his ankle—

CRACK!

—Einar leaped, grabbing a diving vulture mid-air, and ripped its wings off with his bare hands. The agonized screech of the beast didn't even faze him as he descended, driving the still-twitching vulture into the sand-dweller's skull.

Laura, standing a mere five meters away, clenched her dagger, her knuckles turning white.

"…Why aren't they attacking me?" she muttered, her voice cracking.

The creatures completely ignored her. They swarmed past her like she didn't exist, as if their very being was fixated solely on Einar.

"…He did something to them," she whispered. "He's the target."

Her throat ran dry.

Normally, a lone human standing defenseless in the middle of a beast rampage would have been devoured in seconds. But the creatures—blind with rage—seemed only interested in Einar.

As if they were compelled to destroy him.

"Why…?"

She dared not move, fearing the moment she did, she might draw their attention. Instead, she watched.

And what she saw horrified her.

...

Einar's movements were inhuman.

His raw strength shouldn't have been possible. His agility, his speed, his precision—they surpassed the limitations of a mortal body.

A vulture screeched from above, diving toward him.

Without even glancing, Einar spun, caught it mid-air, and tore its beak off. Blood splattered across his face, his crimson eyes glinting without emotion.

Another creature—a serpent—slithered toward his blind spot.

Einar pivoted instantly.

His arm blurred—grabbing the serpent's throat, his fingers sank into its flesh. The creature squirmed in agony, but he didn't hesitate. With a sickening crunch, he ripped out its venom glands and discarded the twitching corpse.

Laura's heart pounded painfully.

"…He's fighting like a beast himself," she gasped.

No hesitation. No unnecessary movement. Every action was meant to kill.

But there was something more terrifying.

Einar wasn't consciously targeting weak points. His movements were pure instinct, formed through countless encounters with these creatures.

"…He's done this before."

Her stomach churned at the thought.

A scorpion lunged from the sands, its tail striking for Einar's chest—

WHAM!

Einar's bare fist cracked the exoskeleton. Green blood gushed, but the beast didn't die immediately. The scorpion retaliated, sinking its pincers into his waist

—SLASH!

A serpent's tail lashed across Einar's back, tearing open a deep, horrifying wound.

"Einar—!"

Laura jolted forward, her body moving on instinct.

But he didn't even flinch.

Blood gushed from his back, the flesh clearly mortal—and yet Einar didn't register pain. His face remained void of emotion, his red eyes fixed on the serpent.

He turned.

BAM!

His fist collided with the serpent's skull—bursting it like a melon.

Laura fell to her knees.

"…What the hell?"

Her breath quickened.

This was beyond human. Even the strongest warrior couldn't perform feat at the top of Mortal level strength.

He was still a mortal.

Wasn't he?

...

Then she noticed it.

The wound on his back.

The deep, grotesque gash was closing.

"…What?"

Slowly, the torn flesh knitted itself back together. His skin, once ripped open, was now restoring itself unnaturally.

"No, no, no, no…" Laura muttered, clutching her head. That wasn't possible.

Einar hadn't awakened. There was no way he could possess regeneration of this caliber.

Yet—

Before her very eyes, every wound on his body began to heal.

"…He's awakened. He's definitely awakened," she whispered, horrified.

But something didn't add up. Even an awakened couldn't exhibit such monstrous durability and regeneration without a high-tier affinity and deep rigorous training for years.

"He… lied."

A dark realization crept into her mind.

Einar had awakened long ago—and he hid it.

"…But why?"

Her stomach churned. The implications were dire.

...

The battle continued.

Einar's face never wavered. He simply butchered.

A serpent lunged—he ripped out its spine.

A sand dweller emerged—he crushed its skull underfoot.

A vulture screeched—he grabbed its throat and ripped off its head.

He never stopped.

Laura's hands trembled.

"…I need to leave."

Her mind screamed danger. Not from the creatures—but from Einar himself.

He was too strong. Too inhuman. His raw power far exceeded any awakened she had seen—and his regeneration defied logic.

But the most disturbing thing?

He was still mortal.

His flesh, his bones, his everything—were still human. He shouldn't be able to do this. Yet his wounds closed. His strength was monstrous. His eyes—void of mercy.

"…I need to get out of here," she whimpered.

But her legs refused to move. She was paralyzed by dread.

"…If he notices that I know… he'll kill me."

Then, like clockwork—

Einar's head suddenly snapped toward her.

Their eyes locked.

His crimson irises bore into her, and for a moment—nothing human remained in his gaze.

"…Laura?"

Her blood froze.