Inside the shattered landscape of his own mind, the commander was being pulled in opposite directions by two familiar identities. One demanded he face a painful truth; the other offered the comfort of everything he had lost. Both fought for absolute control, but to pursue the truth now felt entirely pointless.
Who had dragged him to this precipice? Was it a lifetime of his own choices? The people who surrounded him? The sheer cruelty of his circumstances? Or was it simply the dark, primal emotions buried beneath human skin?
He could choose to accept both paths, or he could choose none. It was his right. Yet the fundamental problem remained: no one truly knows what the truth is. Up until this moment, he had hidden his doubts in his heart and quietly accepted his fate. But now, the question had been forced upon him.
What did truth even mean? Was it about abandoning the past to forge ahead? Was it proving he could grow because of his scars? Or was it cutting away both past and present entirely, moving forward under the assumption that life was just a hollow vacuum?
It was all meaningless. No matter how much a human suffers, they cannot shake their past. It hunts them down until death. If that is the case, why ask a mortal to choose a side? Is death the only absolute truth? If so, why was he trapped in a position where even death felt like a lie?
What a tragedy. Humans suffer because of their own guilt, their own inadequacy, and their own self-imposed liabilities. He had locked himself in a cage, yet he still dreamed of freedom. But true freedom was impossible without tearing down both truth and falsehood, because both, in the end, only offered a different illusion of life.
Outside, however, his body had already begun to change.
His movements became stiff and unnatural, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled by an unseen hand. His eyes slowly turned crimson, and dark-red energy began leaking from his skin like smoke escaping from cracks in a burning furnace.
For a brief moment, it seemed as though he would awaken from the illusion.
But he did not awaken; instead, he was getting devoured by it. Now, his thoughts became his prison, and his desires became his chains, and the lie he willingly embraced became his reality.
Suddenly, the combined voices of countless soldiers echoed across the working grounds.
"That mad monkey bastard became a ghost!"
"Run!"
"Everyone, run!"
The terrified cries spread like wildfire through the valley. The commander slowly turned his head. The moment he heard those voices, confusion briefly flashed across his face.
Then the red figure standing beside his consciousness smiled.
"See?"
"They are running from their duty."
"What kind of soldiers are they?"
Its voice was calm and persuasive.
"A true soldier faces reality. A true soldier does not run. They saw the truth and chose fear. They are abandoning their duty."
The red figure pointed toward the fleeing soldiers.
"Go."
"Chase them. Destroy them. They are merely being swayed by the illusion of fear. A soldier should fear nothing."
Suddenly, another weak and distant voice echoed from somewhere deep inside the commander's mind. "Stop..."
"Don't listen to him.
"Look at the situation first."
"They are right."
For a moment, the commander's body froze, but then his face twisted violently. He roared in disgust, "How is it alive?"
The red figure immediately answered, "Because you were too weak to destroy him." Its voice became colder. "But if you eliminate those who abandoned their duty… You can regain your honor. Defeat him and you can return to Indira."
A faint smile appeared on the commander's face.
The red figure leaned closer.
"Go. Do not be swayed by illusions. Indira is waiting for you. She is waiting in the hut." Then the red figure turned toward the fading voice of truth and laughed.
"Always remember one thing. If truth and emotion stand against each other… Emotion always wins."
Its smile widened.
"Even gods have fallen to demons because of this simple trick."
As the battle inside the commander's mind continued, a horrifying scene unfolded in reality. Far below, within the slave working grounds, a crimson light suddenly erupted toward the heavens. The entire valley was dyed blood-red.
Small mountains, tents, walls, faces of soldiers—everything became submerged beneath that terrifying glow. The severed head that had fallen earlier suddenly rose into the air once more. Its eyes ignited like burning lanterns. It floated higher and higher until everyone could see it.
The fleeing soldiers panicked by seeing this terror; some ran toward the cliffs, some toward the tents, and some simply ran wherever their feet carried them.
A manic laugh burst from the lips of the severed head, piercing the silence as it grinned up at the group.
"Hahahaha!"
"Weren't you all talking about killing me?"
"Weren't you all boasting just moments ago?"
Its eyes swept across the crowd.
"But look at yourselves now."
"Full of fear."
"Full of maggots."
"Hahaha!"
"You suck the lives of others just to survive."
"How could creatures like you ever understand the profundity of life?"
Its smile widened.
"If understanding life were easy..."
"People would live forever."
It paused.
Then shook its head.
"Ah..."
"Who am I even talking to?"
"Forget it."
"Speaking with fools is truly a waste of time."
"Just die."
The soldiers felt their hearts freeze. Some could barely breathe or even stand. Yet unexpectedly, the floating head drifted closer and spoke in a softer tone.
"Don't be afraid."
"Don't be afraid."
"I am not going to kill you."
The soldiers stared blankly.
Then the head slowly smiled.
"Instead..."
"Look behind you."
Confused, they turned around and their eyes immediately lit up. The commander stood there. Seeing him, a relief flooded their hearts.
One soldier even shouted,
"Commander!"
"You're here!"
"He was trying to scare us!"
"He wanted us to run!"
"But we didn't flee!"
The soldiers forced nervous smiles. Some even laughed. But then, the commander's cold, emotionless, and loud voice spoke, "But you considered fleeing."
The smiles froze across the soldiers' faces as the commander slowly raised his sword and cased this remark: "How can the hearts of soldiers be so weak?"
Several soldiers immediately lowered their heads. As a chill spread through the crowd, they all said in an apologetic tone, "We are sorry, Commander. It won't happen again. We swear it."
The commander stared at them. But suddenly a stranger's laughter came out from his mouth; the soldiers awkwardly laughed as well, just to ease the tension. It was just like practice to them for every day; when the commander laughed, they just tried to convince themselves everything was normal and nothing happened.
But this time is different because as they laughed, something warm splattered onto their faces. Their laughter stopped in the middle, and they, in confusion, slowly looked at each other. Blood splattered across their faces as a severed head flew past them, thudding to the ground with a grotesque, laughing grin. Even in his death, he laughed. In that pin-drop silence zone, only the sound of flesh clashing with soil echoed.
The head bounced twice, thudding to a stop right at their feet. Everyone froze by this unexpected situation; a smiling human head stared back at them. Several soldiers instantly recognized that the head was none other than their comrade. Before anyone could react, the commander's voice echoed again, "If anyone runs from the battlefield… I will personally cut them down. It is my vow."
Moonlight reflected off his blade, and it gleamed with fresh blood. Then he pointed toward the floating head. "Stay here, fight him, and die like heroes, not like cowards. Go, move your sorry asses."
Rooted to the spot, the soldiers stared in horror; it was as if fear had severed the connection between their panicked minds and their frozen bodies. Meanwhile, the commander slowly turned his gaze toward those who had already fled into the darkness.
His crimson eyes narrowed towards the distance, and without another word, he disappeared.
The soldiers who had escaped continued running desperately, without looking back, without caring who was behind them anymore. All they wanted was to survive, but for a brief moment, a cold gaze brushed against their backs, and every hair on their bodies stood up as if they got shocked by static electricity. Their legs almost stopped moving when they saw it.
A crimson blur whipped past so fast their brains couldn't register it. Then, a nearby soldier simply tipped over like a felled tree, leaving the rest staring in utterly blank confusion.
The realization struck when they saw something was missing, like a round shape that should have been resting atop his shoulders... but now it was gone and the body was falling slowly.
Their eyes widened, but what they saw next paralyzed them completely. Standing before the corpse was the commander himself. Covered in blood, he lifted the severed head over his own, bathing in the macabre shower and swallowing the lifeblood as it streamed into his mouth.
His hands were stained crimson, and from his mouth dripped fresh blood; humanity, hesitation, or truths were no longer contained in his eyes anymore.
From the distance, the floating head spoke again, its voice carrying an indescribable mixture of sorrow, pity, and disappointment. "Alas, human... alas." Its glowing eyes swept across the terrified soldiers. "Why do you all fail to understand? There is no greater enemy than your mind, and there is no better friend than your mind."
The head slowly shook from side to side. "What a shame... what a shame." Its lamenting voice echoed throughout the valley. Alas, human. You cannot conquer even this simple thing." A strange sadness appeared in its expression. "Some are born and conquer it effortlessly. They awaken and see through illusion as easily as opening their eyes. But look at all of you." The head laughed softly. "You live for years. You experience countless joys and sorrows, sufferings, and struggles, and you still chase the happiness of your entire life, and in the end, what do you do? You cling to objects. You cling to people. You cling to memories. You embrace anything that gives you even a fragment of comfort."
The floating head stared at the commander. "If you cannot conquer your mind, then why fight it? Leave it alone. It will pass. But if you truly wish to master it..." Its voice became heavier, "...then there is only one path. Conquer it."
"Make it completely yours."
"Only then will you see freedom."
"Only then will you understand happiness."
"Only then will you glimpse enlightenment beyond this endless illusion."
The head sighed deeply. "What a shame. What a terrible shame."
Meanwhile, the commander stood motionless.
Then suddenly, he burst into laughter. "Ahhh… What a sweet smell."
His voice sounded intoxicated and yet almost blissful. He slowly licked the blood staining his lips once.
Then his crimson eyes shone with madness and a smile stretched across his face. He stared at the surrounding soldiers, and obviously the soldiers stared back, but nobody dared to move and speak. Then the commander asked cheerfully, "Do you want to try it?"
But no answer came. The commander tilted his head. "Anyone?" His smile widened. "You wanted it… you… you.
He pointed at every present soldier, and he bent down and picked up that severed head from the ground. He was caressing it with uttermost care, like a precious treasure.
The remaining soldiers felt cold sweat running down their backs. The commander jerked the severed neck once and checked that some blood was still remaining in it. A disappointed expression appeared on his face, but as his eyes landed on the nearest soldier, a devilish smile emerged.
He walked toward him like a predator approaching prey and ordered, "Open your mouth."
The soldier froze in fear, and seeing no response came. The commander's smile turned cold. Are you rebelling against my order?"
Before the soldier could react, the commander grabbed his jaw and forced his mouth open. The soldier struggled desperately to get freedom, but it was useless before the commander's overwhelming strength. He pressed the severed neck above the soldier's face.
The remaining blood with different bloody parts started to drip into the man's mouth. The soldier's entire body shook from disgust and terror. He even started to cry from the terror and pain, but as he could not swallow it, the commander pushed more towards his mouth. The blood simply pooled inside his mouth before spilling down his chin.
The commander watched curiously and laughed, "Why are you crying? Doesn't it feel good? It tastes wonderful." Seeing his tearful face, his eyes gleamed. "Fine. You can go."
Then he pointed toward another soldier. "No… You come."
But before he could continue, he noticed something. The severed head had finally stopped bleeding. The last drops had fallen onto the ground. The commander stared at it sadly. "What a waste."
He sighed, "I dislike good things becoming waste very much, and also..." He suddenly stopped speaking, and without any talk, he landed his foot on that soldier's leg. The soldier screamed in pain as the commander grabbed his head.
A horrifying whirring 'crack' sound echoed through the valley. The body collapsed, but the head remained in the commander's hand in an inverted position. The commander slowly raised it and stared into its lifeless eyes.
At that moment, he no longer looked like a human, like a devil had been born into his body; the surrounding soldiers wanted to run, and some already began to step backward.
Then the commander laughed again.
"Hehehe..." "Hahaha!" "Cowards."
His laughter echoed through the darkness.
"Cowards are running away."
He raised the inverted severed head. "Didn't you hear what the hermit said?" His voice suddenly changed, mimicking another tone. "My mind is the truth of freedom. I am enjoying it. Come here. Come back."
Then his voice became furious: "COME BACK WHILE YOU STILL CAN!"
Or else…
"Hehehe..."
The commander grinned. "This hangman will come for you."
The soldiers stopped, not because they wanted to, but because they understood that running was pointless and death would find them regardless. Whether they fled or remained, the commander had already chosen them, and once a hunter chose its prey, escape became impossible.
Many soldiers slowly closed their eyes. Some prayed, some cried, and some simply accepted their fate. The commander approached another trembling soldier.
His smile returned with a gentle, almost kind tone. "Open your mouth, please."
The soldier obeyed instantly. The commander poured the blood into his mouth like a priest administering holy water. The soldier nearly vomited. The commander looked offended. "Why are you not feeling good? This is wonderful."
His eyes widened fanatically. "It is holy." He then turned toward another soldier. His gaze pierced straight through the man's trembling soul. "Come here."
The soldier immediately understood that the moment he stepped forward, he would die. His instincts screamed with all his body, but his legs refused to move.
The commander reached him first, cold fingers wrapped around his hair.
Then with a 'CRACK' sound, the head separated from the body, and in this way he called all of them and added those heads into his collection.
The pile continued growing with screams and silence and again screams, like waves crashing against a shore.
The commander continued walking, smiling, drinking, and collecting. Until eventually, ten heads hung from his grasp, but he did not stop.
For the first time, the red phantom that had remained unseen upon his shoulder revealed itself. The soldiers who still lived could finally see it. A crimson distortion. An unnatural figure rose on the commander's back, and its body seemed woven from blood, hatred, and temptation.
The phantom stretched out its claw-like fingers, and symbols began appearing across each severed head. Then those heads slowly connected together; veins of red energy stitched them into a single chain and made a garland of severed heads.
The phantom carefully lifted it and placed it around the commander's neck.
For a moment, the commander stood silently, but in the next moment, he laughed with overflowing pride, madness, and victory.
He spread his arms, and the garland swayed around his neck. The severed heads bounced gently against one another. With it, the commander began dancing a mad victory dance beneath the crimson sky. The glowing heads pulsed in rhythm with his laughter. Their crimson light spread through the darkness. Long shadows stretched across the valley floor.
In the middle of this terror, the monkey man's severed head suddenly shouted toward the soldiers whose legs were trembling at the sight of their frenzied commander.
"Fearing death... just by seeing it, you've already become this terrified? Huh... you are so frightened that you've practically pissed yourselves."
The head laughed loudly.
"Then why did you enter the profession of soldiers in the first place? He already became a demon by his own choice. Go fight him. Isn't that a soldier's first duty? Fighting and killing demons? Then go. Fight him!"
Its eyes rolled wildly as its laughter echoed through the valley. "You already know you can die at any moment. Don't be cowards. This land belongs only to the brave. If cowards like you became soldiers only for money, then go back and spend your lives chasing whores instead. You would be far more useful there than here. At least then you wouldn't pretend to be warriors while selling your wives, children, and parents for a handful of coins. Hahaha!"
The soldiers who had mocked others so confidently not long ago had completely forgotten how to mock; fear already swallowed every other emotion.
Their eyes darted between the frenzied commander and the floating head. One was a blood-soaked monster wearing the face of a man they trusted. The other was a severed head speaking truths sharp enough to pierce the soul.
Some soldiers shut their eyes, refusing to look.
Some circulated their energy, desperately trying to suppress the fear clawing at their hearts.
But how long could they resist?
The atmosphere itself seemed alive, with silent laughter, silent crying, silent screams, and vomiting. Several soldiers collapsed onto their knees.
"Why...? Why did this happen? We were living peacefully… "Why does something terrible always happen whenever life starts getting better?"
Their trembling gazes moved back and forth with fear. Then they saw their commander staring at them like a starving tiger watching trapped prey. Blood dripped from his mouth like saliva.
For many of them, it felt as if time itself had stopped.
Then the commander laughed.
The severed head laughed as well.
Both laughed together, yet somehow they sounded equally insane.
Suddenly a soldier screamed, and they started to ask questions about their beliefs, "How is this possible?! How are you still alive? Are you a ghost or a human? Who are you really? What happened to our commander?!"
The floating head burst into another fit of laughter. "Ah-ha! Morons. "Complete morons." Its eyes swept across them mockingly. "Can't you see it? Your so-called great commander can't even distinguish truth from lies anymore. His mind isn't ruled by his own judgment. It is ruled by his weakness."
The head laughed again. "What nonsense was he preaching earlier? Courage. Discipline. Strength. Hah!"
"Now look at him. A man who can't control his own mind. A man who can't distinguish right from wrong. A man murdering his own soldiers because his emotions have consumed him."
Several soldiers wanted to defend their commander by shouting back, but fear choked every word before it could leave their throats.
Only one managed to speak in a trembling voice, "You... you did something to our commander. You really did."
Immediately others began shouting the same accusation.
"You cursed him! You controlled him! You made him like this!"
The floating head stared at them for several moments, and then it sighed dramatically, "Is your brain made of cow dung?"
He paused abruptly, catching himself mid-sentence. "No. No, even dung has value. I shouldn't insult the dirt by comparing it to you."
Several soldiers clenched their fists, and the head continued mercilessly, "Are you all still unable to understand? If a rotten mango sits inside a basket, eventually the entire basket rots. Just moments ago you were standing at death's door, and still now you are at death's door. Yet now you're worrying about the commander who is actively slaughtering your friends."
The head laughed once more. "As for your question… Did I do something to your commander?" Its grin widened. "Sure. Let's say I did. What exactly are you going to do about it, weaklings?"
The soldiers fell silent as the truth hurt too much. Some wanted revenge, some wanted answers. But no one could say anything against him. But one soldier suddenly raised his spear. "He's the one who did this! We should kill him again!"
Several others nodded desperately, as if trying to convince themselves.
The head's laughter immediately grew louder. "Kill me? Again?"
"Hahaha!"
The sound was almost pitiful.
"Do you even know what you're saying? Do you really want to see what happens if I completely remove the restraints on your commander? Do you want to witness that?"
The soldiers again froze, and one of them gathered enough courage to ask another question, "But how? What kind of power is this? How are you manipulating him?"
Another soldier suddenly shouted.
"The eyes! It happened after that eye contact! Don't look directly at him! Use your senses instead!"
The floating head stared at him, then it shook its head slowly. "Listen to yourselves. When death approaches, wisdom suddenly abandons you. Is this your way of comforting yourselves? Your excuse? Your convenient answer?"
The head's expression became strangely calm. "You are all wrong. I didn't force anything. I didn't command him." "I didn't break his mind," its voice echoed across the valley. "I merely gave him a choice." The head continued, "I showed him two paths. Right and wrong. Now, he chose a path, not me."
The laughter disappeared entirely from its voice.
"And now you are witnessing the consequences of that choice."
The floating head slowly turned toward the commander, who was still wearing the garland of severed heads and dancing beneath the crimson glow.
Then it spoke one final sentence.
"Remember this well. Every choice creates consequences. Every path has an end, and now...your commander comes for you like a demon born from his own heart. Either face it and conquer it or be cut down by it."
TBC…