From that day on, Isaac started training in earnest.
His progress surprised everyone.
As a low-rank species, he was bound to be weaker than the others.
Unless he awakened a high-rank Talent at eighteen, or somehow obtained a Bloodline Evolution Potion, there was no chance for him to surpass the other children of the orphanage in raw strength.
Despite that, Isaac was now second only to Catherine in skill.
He could fight and even defeat children from high-rank species, if he had enough time to prepare.
His change was clear to everyone.
No one felt jealous.
They were happy, but also worried.
"Isaac, is everything okay? You don’t even sleep much these days," Jack said one evening.
The tigerfolk boy had always been the loudest of the bunch.
He used to chase Isaac all over the yard whenever Isaac pulled one of his pranks.
But he also cared for him more than anyone would admit.
Seeing Isaac so quiet and distant made him uneasy.
"I’m fine," Isaac said, not looking up from the training dummy. His hands were steady, his eyes fixed. "Just need to practice more."
Jack frowned. "You’re pushing too hard, you know. Even Catherine said so."
Isaac stopped mid-swing. "Catherine said that?"
"Yeah. She’s worried about you," Jack replied, scratching the back of his head. "She said you barely talk to her now."
Isaac forced a smile and waved it off. "She doesn’t have to worry. I’m fine."
But he wasn’t.
Catherine had changed too.
She had started doting on him more, bringing him food, checking his wounds, smiling whenever their eyes met.
It should’ve made him happy.
But every time she showed kindness, something in him twisted.
On one hand, he wanted to stay away from her.
The thought that she might only care about him because he was a mission target felt like a knife in his chest.
On the other hand, he couldn’t bring himself to push her away.
He had known Catherine since he was born.
She was part of his world.
Living without her felt... wrong.
Logic told him to be cold.
His heart told him to trust her. That all those smiles couldn’t be fake. That there was no way all the affection she showed him was fake.
He wanted to believe that.
But doubt stayed, whispering every time he saw her eyes turn distant.
"Sigh, I could never decide what to do," he muttered to himself one afternoon as he walked through the market. "And now she’s leaving."
Everyone in the orphanage graduated at fifteen.
After that, they were sent away to unconquered cities, Lord Cities, monster tribes, frontlines, and explorer guilds.
Catherine was next in line.
She would leave soon.
And once she left, Isaac wouldn’t see her again.
He walked past the busy stalls with a heavy heart, searching for something he could give her.
"What gift should I bring her?" he thought.
He looked through the stalls—necklaces, charms, flowers, sweets—but none of it felt right.
Then, his eyes landed on a simple photo frame made of dark wood.
Every year, their orphanage took a group picture.
Catherine could keep their photo in it after she graduated.
Isaac picked it up and turned it in his hands.
"It’s a good gift," he whispered. "If she really cares about us, that is."
He smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it.
After buying the frame, he headed back to the orphanage.
The first thing that felt wrong was the silence.
Normally, the place would be bursting with laughter and noise.
Five of the older kids were supposed to graduate today.
There should’ve been singing, shouting, the smell of cake in the air.
But there was nothing.
No sound.
Not even the faint chatter of the younger ones.
Isaac slowed down, his body tensing.
Then he smelled it.
Blood.
It was thick, and heavy. The smell clung to the back of his throat.
His heart started to pound, but his training kicked in.
He reached into his clothes and pulled out a small dagger.
The wooden handle was worn smooth from constant use.
Holding his breath, he moved quietly through the corridor. Each step was measured.
He could hear faint dripping somewhere.
He followed it.
The sound grew louder as he reached the main hall, the place where the celebration was supposed to be held.
The door was closed.
Isaac pressed himself against the wall and pushed the door open just enough to peek inside.
The sight hit him like a punch to the chest.
The floor was red.
Blood covered everything.
The walls, the tables, even the ceiling.
Pieces of flesh clung to the decorations.
The cake lay splattered on the floor, soaked in blood.
He saw torn clothes mixed with organs, and the bodies of his siblings scattered across the room.
It looked like they had exploded from the inside.
Isaac’s stomach twisted.
He dropped the dagger and fell to his knees.
He tried to breathe but couldn’t.
The air felt thick, and suffocating.
The clothes were of his brothers and sisters.
Siblings he had eaten with, laughed with, trained with.
His chest hurt.
His hands shook violently.
He covered his mouth, but the bile still came up.
He retched, tears burning his eyes.
He wanted to run. He wanted to scream.
But his legs wouldn’t move.
Everything inside him screamed that this couldn’t be real.
Then his shoulder brushed against the door.
It creaked open.
The sound echoed in the silent hall.
Two figures turned toward him.
Mother stood in the center, smiling faintly, her face calm. Too calm.
In front of her, on her knees, was Catherine.
Her hands were clutching the torn clothes of their youngest sibling.
Her face was streaked with tears, and there was a gaping wound in her stomach.
Blood dripped down her side, pooling beneath her.
She was mumbling something, her voice barely a whisper.
"I’m sorry... I’m sorry, everyone..."
Isaac froze.
Mother turned her head, her eyes soft and almost kind.
Catherine’s eyes widened when she saw him.
"No! Isaac, run!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "Run!"
Isaac stumbled backward, his mind blank.
He wanted to move, but his body refused.
Then a strange pressure filled the air.
His balance tilted.
He fell forward, and the world spun.
For a moment, he didn’t understand what had happened.
Then he saw it.
His lower body, still standing a few feet away.
His upper half hit the floor with a dull thud.
The sound echoed in his ears, distant and muffled, like it came from underwater.
Pain didn’t even come. Only shock.
He could see his blood spreading out beneath him, pooling and crawling slowly across the floor.
His fingers twitched weakly.
His mind tried to understand what had happened, but nothing made sense.
Then he heard Catherine’s voice.
"Is–Isaac!"
Her voice cracked with terror.
Her face was pale, her hands were trembling, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
She tried to crawl toward him, dragging herself across the blood-stained floor.
Mother turned away from Isaac, and her eyes fell back on Catherine.
Her expression was calm, and gentle.
"Isn’t this enough, my dear daughter? Or do we need to continue?" Mother said softly.
Catherine didn’t to be able to hear her.
She kept crawling towards Isaac.
Mother smiled faintly and raised her foot.
Her heel came down lightly on Catherine’s foot.
There was a sharp, wet crack.
Catherine screamed.
The sound was so raw it made Isaac’s chest tighten.
Her leg was crushed, flattened like it was made of mud.
"My dear daughter," Mother said again, her tone still calm. "Why are you doing this to me? I was so happy when I found out you were a dormant Conqueror Candidate. I even gave you a mental shock to awaken you. So why are you not awakening?"
Catherine’s face twisted in pain, tears pouring down uncontrollably.
Still, she was trying to crawl towards Isaac who was dying.
Her voice was gone, replaced by small, broken sobs.
"Isaac..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please... don’t die... not you too..."
She dragged herself forward again, pulling with her arms, her crushed leg leaving a trail of blood behind.
Mother sighed softly, like she was disappointed.
"Do you enjoy the suffering of others, my dear daughter? The death of one loved one should be enough to awaken you. Yet even after all this, you still fail to awaken."
Then she lifted her foot again and stomped on Catherine’s other leg.
The sound was worse this time.
Catherine’s scream tore through the hall, echoing off the bloodied walls.
Isaac’s vision blurred. His chest felt heavy. His fingers dug weakly into the floor as he tried to reach for her.
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t do anything.
His body refused to move, his strength fading with each passing second.
But his mind was still awake.
He could still see her crying, still see the pain in her eyes as she tried to reach him.
"Please... do-don’t die..."
’Catherine...’ he thought weakly.
Her face was drenched in tears, her eyes hazy and unfocused.
Still, she crawled.
Her hands slipped in the blood, but she didn’t stop.
Every movement looked painful, but she didn’t care.
She just wanted to reach him.
Isaac’s lips moved again. He didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the warmth of tears on his cheek.
He regretted everything.
He regretted all the times he avoided her. All the times he doubted her.
He had thought she was only close to him because of orders. That she was pretending. Watching him like some kind of duty.
But deep down, a part of him had always known she cared.
He just never said it aloud.
Now, watching her crawl through her own blood to reach him, he understood how wrong he’d been.
Tears kept slipping from his eyes, mixing with the blood beneath his face.
He wanted to laugh at how stupid he’d been.
He wanted to tell her that he was sorry.
Sorry for pushing her away. Sorry for doubting her. Sorry for not saying the things he should’ve said when there was still time.
If he could move his hand just a little, he’d wipe her tears.
If he could speak louder, he’d tell her not to cry.
But he couldn’t do either.
"You..."
His voice was weak, breaking apart as he forced the words out.
He didn’t understand why Mother was doing this.
Why she had killed everyone.
But he did understand one thing: it wasn’t Catherine’s fault.
Catherine’s eyes widened when she heard the faint sound.
She looked at him with trembling lips.
"Not... fault..."
Pain had consumed him.
He tried to force the words out through his dry throat, and fading breath.
But he couldn’t.
He wanted to tell her to not blame herself.
He wanted to spend more time with her.
There was a lot he wanted to do.
Yet, darkness covered his vision.
Hot tears spilled from his eyes.
And his body went cold.