The Flower Is Finished

Everyone in the corridor fell silent. Even I felt my lips go numb, as if the words we had just heard were crawling coldly along my spine.

Before us stood a massive door of dark iron. No windows, no gaps—yet the sound clearly came from behind it.

I took a deep breath.

Beside me, Farrel restrained the surge of his anger. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and saw his fists clenched tightly, veins standing out along his arms. The sword at his waist trembled faintly, as if it too sensed its master's fury.

"Wait," I whispered firmly. "If we act recklessly, we'll be the ones who die."

Farrel shot me a sharp look, his jaw tightening, but in the end he loosened his grip and suppressed his intent.

"Then what about them?" he asked, his voice low but heavy with pressure.

I stared at the door again. The sounds from inside were faint, yet clear enough to make my blood boil.

"If we go in now, we'll only become prey. We have to think."

My mind raced, weighing risks and possibilities. Then I signaled the troops to gather a short distance away. Farrel was about to protest, but I stopped him immediately.

"We'll create a disturbance," I said calmly but firmly. "Make them panic and come out. After that, you go in—save them."

Farrel studied me for a few seconds, then nodded.

"You're sure?"

"Trust me."

"Hide first," I continued.

"Wait for the signal."

Without another word, Farrel moved away, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

I turned to the troops.

"You'll act. Shout as loud as you can. Say, 'Xanders is coming.' Make it seem like absolute chaos."

One of the soldiers asked hesitantly, "So we run around shouting that Lord Xanders is coming?"

I nodded. "And make it sound like the entire fortress is about to collapse. Don't hesitate."

I stood in front of the door. From behind, I gave a signal with my eyes. They were ready.

"XANDERS IS COMINGGG…!"

I kicked the door open with force.

What I saw inside made my stomach churn. My eyes shut reflexively for a moment. The stench of stale air, suppressed cries, and an indecent scene made my blood surge violently.

One of the demons stopped what he was doing and glared at me with pure hatred.

"Damn it… you're interrupt—"

"XANDERS IS COMING!" I shouted, feigning panic. "Get out, now!"

Outside, the soldiers deliberately worsened the chaos. Running footsteps, frantic screams, and clamor merged into one deafening uproar.

"What?" "That bastard Xanders is here!" "Everyone, move!"

Several demons panicked. Some hastily pulled on their clothes, others fled without even bothering to tidy themselves.

"Don't waste time!" their leader barked.

I turned and ran, drawing them away from the room.

For a brief moment, I glanced back. Through the nearly closed door, Farrel appeared. He caught my signal and raised his thumb.

I led the demons to an old, unused warehouse—filthy, dark, and rarely passed through. The moment we entered, an unnatural silence fell.

"Captain, where is Xanders?" one of the demons asked suspiciously.

I smiled faintly.

"Is Farrel the same?" I asked softly.

Their expressions changed instantly.

"You tricked us?" one of them growled.

I chuckled quietly. "You're just too stupid."

The attack came without warning.

The cramped room turned into hell. Fists and claws struck mercilessly. Wood and iron clashed against human bodies. Blood stained the floor. Screams and curses blended into one.

I restrained myself—held back the power that wanted to burn everything.

Within seconds, only two of my soldiers remained standing.

"Sir… they're too strong," one of them said between ragged breaths.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my lips.

"We will defeat them."

I raised my sword.

The red necklace at my neck glowed. Energy surged forth, merging with the blade I had purified with my own blood. The sword turned a deep crimson—ready to devour lives.

"Fall back," I ordered.

Ten demons stood before me.

I lifted my sword toward the ceiling carved with ancient symbols, then brought it down. In an instant, I vanished.

The sword stopped trembling.

In the strange silence, the demons still laughed—heavy, hoarse laughter, convinced victory was theirs. None of them realized what had just happened.

Then a dull thud echoed.

One head fell first, rolling across the damp stone floor and stopping right at my feet. Its eyes were still open, frozen between laughter and shock.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

More heads followed, rolling in all directions. Some struck the walls, some collided with each other, leaving thick trails of blood flowing slowly across the floor. The bodies remained standing for a few seconds before collapsing one by one, blood gushing cleanly from their severed necks.

Their laughter turned into choking gargles—then vanished completely.

"You're… even weaker than I expected," I muttered coldly.

I stepped forward, blood sticking to my boots and the hem of my cloak. I kicked one of the heads out of my way, letting it roll into a corner.

Behind me, three soldiers remained.

Three—from a number that had once been far greater.

One knelt while pressing his torn abdomen, blood dripping through his fingers.

Another leaned against the wall, gasping, his shoulder shattered from an earlier blow.

The last still stood, though his knees trembled and his face was pale with shock.

"S-Sir…" the standing soldier's voice shook. "Are… are they all dead?"

I glanced around, making sure no body still moved.

"Yes," I answered shortly. "All of them are dead."

I flicked my sword, blood dripping from the blade and forming a small pool on the floor. The stench of iron filled the room.

"We have to go. Now," I continued. "Farrel is still inside."

I pointed to the two soldiers who were still conscious.

"You two, leave markers for the fallen. If anyone survives later, they must know the way out."

"Yes, Sir…" they replied in unison, their voices weak.

Without waiting any longer, I walked away, leaving the headless bodies behind.

Each step felt heavy—not from exhaustion, but from anger that had yet to fade.

Farrel was not safe.

And as long as he wasn't safe, this fortress was not done with me.

The situation was still chaotic. The remaining soldiers were unstable, clearly exhausted, but I had no other choice than to bring them with me.

"Yes, we keep moving. We continue searching for Farrel," I urged them, and they nodded.

"Send signals for those who have fallen," I ordered the two remaining soldiers, though they were badly injured.

"Can you still walk?" I asked without turning back.

"Y-Yes, Sir. We can," they answered shakily.

Hearing that, I said nothing more and moved forward toward Farrel.

When we arrived, Farrel was still inside the room. The captives seemed to be begging him for help, overwhelming him.

"Is it that serious?" I asked, reading the strain on his face.

"Yes. They won't let me go, and I can't carry them out one by one."

"Then we'll make a plan," I said, scanning the surroundings and searching for an air vent—perhaps a way for them to escape.

"You two, find a room with ventilation," I ordered the remaining soldiers.

They nodded and asked permission before leaving to search for a room with an air vent.