VOID PRIME, Eclipse Of The Lunaris Pack

CHAPTER 12: The Executioner’s Mark at Black Reef Post

The metallic tang of fresh blood hung heavy in the freezing air, clashing with the scent of pine and falling snow.

It took less than twenty seconds. That was all the time Aroan needed to erase the remaining two Lunaris border guards from existence. There was no grand duel, no clash of honor. It was simply an execution. 

The pockmarked guard didn't even have the chance to fully draw his silver broadsword. Before his blade could leave its scabbard, Aroan had already closed the five-meter gap. The *Shadow Step* technique was not just a movement skill; it was a manipulation of spatial presence. To the guard’s eyes, Aroan didn't run—he simply flickered out of reality and reappeared right in front of him.

SHLUCK.

Aroan didn't use his hands this time. From beneath his tattered black cloak, a pitch-black, blunt obsidian blade thrust forward. The Eclipse Blade. It had no edge, no sharpened point, yet it pierced through the guard’s silver-plated chest armor as if it were made of wet parchment. 

The guard’s eyes bulged, blood bubbling from his lips. He expected the agonizing pain of a punctured lung or a shattered ribcage. Instead, he felt an absolute, freezing emptiness. The blade didn't just cut flesh; it severed the very tether of his soul.

Aroan ripped the blade out with a wet tearing sound. The guard dropped to his knees, his eyes rolling back as his life force was completely snuffed out.

The last guard—a lanky man with a spear—shrieked in pure terror. He dropped his weapon, turned on his heels, and sprinted into the snowy woods. 

Aroan didn’t chase him. He simply stood still, calmly flicking the nonexistent blood off his blunt sword. He glanced at his shoulder. 

"Nyx. Your turn. Don't play with your food."

The tiny black pup on his shoulder let out a sound that was half-yawn, half-growl. In a blur of purple-black smoke, the pup vanished. 

A hundred meters away, the fleeing guard was suddenly engulfed in a shadow that dropped from the canopy above. A monstrous, guttural crunch echoed through the silent forest, followed by a sickening sound of bones being crushed. Silence immediately reclaimed the woods. A few seconds later, Nyx trotted back through the snow, licking a streak of crimson off his small fangs before casually hopping back onto Aroan's shoulder.

[Ding!]

[2x Lunaris Guard (Rank-D) Killed.]

[Soul Damage Critical! Host gains +60 VP.]

[Total VP: 2,250.]

Aroan exhaled, his breath a white mist in the cold air. The energy from the Void System cascaded through his meridians, nourishing the Dark Iron Bones that now served as the foundation of his body. The lingering pain in his severed Achilles tendons—stitched together by pure shadow fibers—dulled significantly. 

He knelt beside the corpse of the pockmarked guard. With practiced efficiency, he rummaged through the dead man’s leather pouches. His fingers brushed against cold metal. Aroan pulled out a small, intricately carved silver badge depicting a howling wolf under a crescent moon. The military insignia of the Lunaris Pack. 

Aroan slipped it into his pocket. This would serve as the perfect entry ticket.

He stood up and finally turned his attention to the old man.

The elderly scavenger was still huddled on the snow, his hands clutching his ragged coat. He was shaking so violently that his teeth chattered like castanets. He stared at the pale youth in the black cloak with a mixture of profound gratitude and absolute, unfiltered terror. This boy—'Vane', as he called himself—had just slaughtered three state-sanctioned knights as easily as one might swat mosquitoes.

"M-mercy, My Lord... please, I beg of you, don't kill me," the old man stammered, pressing his forehead into the bloody snow. "Take all the crystals! Take my cart! Just please let me live so I can return to my sick daughter..."

Aroan stared down at him. The purple glow in his eyes was devoid of warmth. 

Three years ago, Prince Aroan of the Lunaris Pack would have knelt beside the old man. He would have offered his own healing potions, given the man a pouch of gold coins, and delivered a righteous speech about how the pack should protect its weakest members. He used to believe that light and benevolence were the ultimate truths.

But the surface world had killed that naive prince. Valerius's blade, his father's cold stare, and Elina's treacherous smile had buried him deep in the abyss. 

There was no prince left. Only the Abyssal Sovereign remained.

Aroan turned his back on the old man without uttering a single word. He didn't spare the scavenger because of pity or a sudden resurgence of morality. He spared him simply because the old man was incredibly weak; killing him wouldn't even yield a single Void Point. He was beneath the System's notice, and therefore, beneath Aroan's.

"We head to the Black Reef Post," Aroan murmured to Nyx, pulling his hood deeper over his face. "We need to understand how large Valerius's military has grown since I was thrown into the pit."

Nyx let out a soft huff, nestled into the crook of Aroan's neck, and closed his eyes.

***

An hour of silent trekking brought Aroan to the edge of civilization. 

Before him stood a massive, heavily fortified wooden gate, at least twenty feet high, reinforced with black iron spikes. The wood was rotting at the base, covered in moss and dried blood. 

Black Reef Post.

It was the outermost district of the Lunaris Pack’s territory. It wasn’t a town of noble wolves or pristine marble architecture like Silver Peak. This was a quarantine zone, a dumping ground. It was a sprawling slum filled with mercenaries, disgraced shifters, black-market peddlers, whores, and fugitives who sought refuge on the very edge of monster-infested territories. Here, the Alpha's laws were treated merely as suggestions. The only true law was the law of the strong.

For Aroan, it was the perfect place to begin his infiltration.

He stepped through the gates. The pristine white snow of the forest was quickly replaced by streets churning with freezing mud, horse dung, and melted slush. The stench of cheap ale, unwashed bodies, and roasting mystery meat assaulted his senses. 

Various shifter races roamed the narrow alleys. There were massive bear shifters carrying battleaxes, sly fox beastmen peddling illegal potions from beneath their coats, and scarred wolf shifters who had been banished from their respective packs. Their eyes were sharp, constantly darting around, assessing everyone as either a predator or prey.

Aroan’s presence—a medium-built youth wearing a tattered black cloak that concealed his features—drew almost no attention. In a place like Black Reef, suspicious strangers were the main demographic. Thanks to Sargon’s *Seal of the Void Sovereign*, his monstrous Abyssal aura was completely suppressed, leaving him feeling like an unremarkable Rank-D drifter.

His objective was straightforward: The Mercenary Guild. 

If he wanted to move freely between the lower districts and eventually make his way up to the capital of Silver Peak without triggering military checkpoints, he needed an official mercenary tag. 

Aroan navigated the winding, filthy streets until he reached the largest building in the center of the post. It was a massive, three-story tavern constructed from blackened timber. A crude wooden sign hung above the door, depicting a severed monster’s head with a dagger through it. 

He pushed the heavy oak doors open. 

A wave of noise and heat washed over him. The tavern doubled as the guild's registration hall. It was packed to the brim. Men and women in dented armor were shouting, drinking from oversized wooden tankards, and slamming their fists on tables as they gambled away their bounties. In one corner, two mercenaries were currently engaged in a brutal fistfight while a crowd cheered them on, tossing copper coins onto the blood-stained floor.

Aroan ignored the chaos and walked straight toward the long bar counter at the back of the room. 

The bartender was an imposing figure—a bald, scarred Bear Beastman whose left eye had been violently gouged out, leaving three thick claw marks across his face. He was wiping down a dirty mug with a rag that looked just as filthy. He didn't even look up as Aroan approached.

"You looking to drink, or are you looking to die?" the bartender grunted, his voice like gravel grinding together.

"Mercenary registration," Aroan replied, his voice calm, cutting through the ambient noise of the tavern.

"Oh? Fresh meat." The bartender stopped wiping and finally looked up, his one good eye scanning Aroan’s slender, cloaked frame. He snorted in derision. "Registration f*e is ten silver coins. And you need to provide a proof of bounty. A monster core, a bandit's ear, something to prove you ain't gonna die in five minutes out there."

Aroan didn’t flinch. He reached into his pocket and casually tossed the item onto the sticky wooden counter.

Clink.

The silver badge spun briefly before coming to a halt. The howling wolf crest gleamed under the dim tavern lights. 

The immediate vicinity of the bar went dead silent. The sudden absence of noise rippled outward, and within seconds, the entire tavern fell into a tense, suffocating hush. The two men fighting in the corner stopped mid-punch. Every eye in the room locked onto the silver badge.

Taking a Lunaris patrol badge meant only one thing: this scrawny kid had just murdered an official state knight. That wasn't a bounty; that was an act of high treason.

"Are you out of your damn mind?!" the bartender hissed, his scarred face paling slightly. He quickly slammed a large hand over the badge, hiding it from view. "You trying to bring the Royal Guard down on my tavern, boy?!"

"That is my proof of bounty," Aroan stated coldly. He slowly raised his head, letting the dim light catch the lower half of his face and the terrifying, empty purple glow of his eyes. "Give me my copper mercenary tag. Now."

Before the bartender could process the sheer audacity of the demand, a booming, mocking laugh erupted from a table directly behind Aroan.

"BWAHAHA! Look at this arrogant little pup!"

The heavy wooden chair scraped against the floor as a massive figure stood up. It was a Black Bear Shifter, standing well over two meters tall. His arms were thicker than tree trunks, bulging with grotesque, veiny muscles. He wore no armor on his upper body, showing off a chest covered in coarse black hair and scars. He was a Rank-D+ elite in this slum.

He grabbed a massive, double-bladed battleaxe that was leaning against his table—the blades caked in dried, dark blood—and took heavy, thudding steps toward Aroan.

"Hey, runt," the bear shifter growled, towering over Aroan, his breath reeking of cheap booze and rotting meat. "We have rules in Black Reef. You don't just walk in here demanding things. If you want to be a mercenary in my territory, you get down on your knees and lick my boots as a sign of respect. Maybe then I won't crush your skull and turn you in for the bounty on that badge."

The crowd murmured in anticipation. The bear shifter was notorious for breaking rookies in half. 

But Aroan didn’t turn around. He didn't even shift his stance. 

His eyes were entirely focused on something else. Something far more important than the noisy sack of meat behind him.

There, carved deeply into the thick wooden pillar supporting the bar counter, just below a stain of dried ale, was a small, precise mark. 

A circle, imperfectly drawn, with exactly one-third of its interior shaded pitch black. 

The Eclipse Symbol.

Aroan’s breath caught slightly. His pupils constricted. 

Sargon.

The giant, iron-masked man who had tortured and trained him in Velmora had left the abyss before him. Sargon had intentionally carved this mark here. It wasn't a coincidence. Sargon wanted Aroan to be in this exact tavern. He was leaving breadcrumbs, guiding his 'vessel' from the shadows of the surface world.

*Why here? What are you trying to show me, you masked bastard?* Aroan’s mind raced.

"HEY! Are you deaf, you little shit?!" 

The bear shifter, humiliated by being completely ignored in front of the entire guild, turned purple with rage. He dropped his axe to the floor with a heavy thud. His massive, bear-clawed hand reached out, aiming to grab Aroan by the back of his neck and smash his face into the wooden counter. "I'll teach you some manners, you pathetic little—"

The moment the giant's fingers brushed the fabric of Aroan's cloak...

Swish. THUK.

No one saw Aroan draw a weapon. No one even saw his body pivot. 

The entire tavern only saw the aftermath.

Aroan was still facing the bar, but his right arm was bent backward at an impossible angle. The blunt, pitch-black Eclipse Blade was currently protruding from the center of the bear shifter's chest. Aroan had thrust the sword backward without even looking. 

The blunt blade had punched through the bear shifter’s thick Rank-D+ muscle density and reinforced sternum as easily as a hot knife slicing through butter, perfectly obliterating his heart and shredding his soul core.

The bear shifter’s eyes widened to comical proportions. He looked down at the black blade jutting from his chest, his brain unable to comprehend the fatal injury. He didn't feel pain—he only felt an absolute, terrifying void swallowing his consciousness.

Aroan yanked the blade forward in a smooth, fluid motion. 

The giant bear shifter swayed for a split second before collapsing backward. *BOOM.* His massive body hit the floorboards, dead before the dust could even settle around him.

[Ding!]

[1x Black Bear Shifter (Rank-D+) Killed.]

[Host gains +80 VP.]

The silence that followed was absolute. It was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. The hardened mercenaries, killers, and thugs stared at the dead body of their strongest brawler, then slowly shifted their terrified gazes to the scrawny youth.

Aroan calmly twirled the black sword, shaking off non-existent blood, and slid it back beneath his cloak as if he had merely swatted an annoying fly.

He turned back to the bartender. The scarred beastman was now 

 so violently he looked like a leaf caught in a hurricane. Sweat poured down his face, washing over his scars. 

Aroan leaned in slightly, his glowing purple eyes piercing into the bartender's soul.

"My name is Vane," Aroan said softly, his voice smooth as silk but laced with the venom of the abyss. "Give me my mercenary tag. And while you're at it... give me the most dangerous, highest-paying mission you have on your board. I have a lot of killing to catch up on."