When Eran's eyes finally fluttered open, a searing pain greeted him — a reminder that he was still clinging to life. His lower body was fully healed, but the wounds above his stomach were still knitting together, raw and aching.
He lay on a battered wooden cot inside a small, dim room, where thin shafts of sunlight pierced through broken ventilators, scattering dust like falling stars.
For a moment, Eran couldn't move, couldn't think — he existed only in pain and silence.
Then the door creaked open.
His heart raced. Instinctively, he tensed, eyes wide with fear and confusion.
A tall figure stepped inside, shadowed against the light. His voice was casual, almost amused.
"Well, well... you survived. I didn't think you would."
Eran's throat was dry, but he forced out the words,
"Who are you?"
The man crossed the room slowly, arms folded.
"Name's Haruki. One of the last few who escaped the demons' massacre. You should be grateful — I dragged your broken body out of that hellhole, kid."
Eran's eyes hardened.
"Stop calling me 'kid.' I'm Eran, of the Vermilion Clan. I didn't ask for your help."
He sat up with effort, glaring.
"The man... the one fighting the demons... where is he?"
Haruki let out a breath, his face unreadable.
"When I got there, only you were left — barely breathing. If anyone else was there, they're long dead."
At those words, something inside Eran shattered. His vision blurred with rage. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. His eyes blazed a furious red as he snarled,
"Demons! Demons! I'm sick of hearing about them! I'll slaughter every last one!"
Haruki chuckled, a dry, mocking sound.
"You think it's that easy, kid? You're still dreaming."
Without warning, Eran lunged. His hand, fueled by blind fury, rammed through Haruki's chest. Blood splattered across the floor.
With a voice that dripped venom, Eran growled,
"It is that easy."
But Haruki only smirked.
Before Eran could react, Haruki's left arm morphed — a blade of razor-sharp paper slicing through the air — and severed Eran's arm at the wrist. Blood sprayed. Eran stumbled back, gasping.
The wound in Haruki's chest shivered — and then, to Eran's horror, the skin began to stitch itself shut, paper swirling and folding like a living thing.
Haruki straightened, brushing invisible dust from his coat, and looked at Eran with cold, pitiless eyes.
"You've got rage, I'll give you that," he said softly, almost kindly.
"But rage without control will only get you killed."
Just then, a woman entered the room, her voice sharp and commanding.
"Haruki, what are you doing? Leave him alone. He won't heal properly if you keep provoking him," she said, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Eran.
But as her gaze fell fully on him, a flicker of shock crossed her face.
Eran was standing on the cot, swaying slightly — and his severed hand, where Haruki had sliced him moments ago, was regenerating rapidly.
Muscles twisted unnaturally, wrapping themselves around splintered bone, knitting together with a force that defied reason.
"This... this is strange," the woman muttered, her voice tight with disbelief. "How is he healing so fast? And what's happening to his body?"
Haruki chuckled lowly and said, "Don't be so surprised, sweetheart. He's one of yours too."
He turned to Eran, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"His name is Eran. Eran, meet my wife, Yuki. She's from the Vermilion Clan... just like you."
Haruki let out a dry laugh and said to Yuki, "Every time I meet someone from the Vermilion Clan, it still shocks me. You must be used to these surprises by now."
Yuki's eyes narrowed, her voice sharp. "My clan is no less strange than yours, Haruki. Don't forget — it was your people too who cast us out. It wasn't just the Vermilion Clan's doing."
Haruki smirked, a glint of old bitterness flashing in his eyes. "Tch. Don't you dare start blaming the Origami Clan alone.and anyway, where did this talk of expelling me from the clan come from,
Yuki's expression hardened. "Enough, Haruki. Don't cross that line."
Before their argument could spiral further, Eran, still confused and tense, shouted, "Wait! Both of you — what's going on here?!"
Haruki waved him off with a lazy hand, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You stay out of it, kid. The grown-ups are settling old debts today."
But the tension crackled hotter.
In the next instant, Yuki's eyes darkened, shifting from black to a deep, burning red. She fixed Haruki with a chilling glare that made the room feel smaller, heavier.
Haruki immediately threw up his hands in surrender, chuckling nervously. "Alright, alright — sorry, sweetheart. you are right