Reborn with the SSS-Rank Creator System-Chapter 10: Death

"I promise you this," theos said softly, his red eyes burning with an unsettling intensity, "If you move even one step closer to her, you'll wish you'd never been born."

His Supreme Eyes locked unwaveringly on Luke, daring him to test his resolve.

After few seconds, Theos' crimson eyes burned with an unrelenting fury as they flicked past Luke and landed on the other two men in the clearing. Their bodies were bare from the waist down, their hands still fumbling with their clothes, but it was the sight of the girls—limp, naked, their eyes brimming with silent agony—that sent a wave of suffocating pressure through the air.

Dark, viscous energy erupted from Theos, swirling outward in jagged waves. The nearest trees groaned as if battered by an unseen wind, their leaves rattling like bones in the sudden stillness. It felt as though the very forest recoiled from his presence, the air thickening into a suffocating blanket of dread. The weight of his killing intent crushed the atmosphere, pressing against everyone present like an invisible hand gripping their throats. The temperature seemed to plunge, and a deathly silence engulfed the clearing.

Luke, the arrogant predator moments ago, suddenly found himself paralyzed in place. His breath hitched, a primal fear crawling up his spine, his muscles locking against his will. His instincts screamed at him—this was no ordinary child.

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Theos took a single step forward, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

GULP! GULP! GULP!

Luke whipped his head toward the sound, his pulse hammering wildly. One of his companions was writhing against a tree, Luke's sword impaled straight through his throat. His eyes bulged, hands clawing weakly at the steel embedded in his flesh, blood pouring in thick, choking gurgles.

Luke's breath caught as he looked down at his waist. His sword—his weapon—was missing. His fingers trembled as the horrific realization sank in.

"W-what the—"

His words died as Theos turned, his face devoid of emotion, his gaze empty of humanity. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword still lodged in the dying man's throat and, without a hint of hesitation, pulled it free. Blood sprayed onto the bark, the corpse crumpling to the ground like a discarded rag.

Theos barely spared the body a glance. It was already dead.

His form blurred again, vanishing from sight.

The remaining companion collapsed to his knees, his hands clasped together in trembling desperation. "P-please! Please, I beg you! I don't want to die!"

Theos didn't respond. He simply raised the blood-slicked blade and, in one smooth motion, severed the man's head from his shoulders. The air rang with the sickening crack of bone, the dull thud of a lifeless body hitting the ground, and the final twitching of severed nerves.

Theos exhaled slowly, turning toward the last one left.

Luke.

A rancid stench filled the air as Luke's body trembled violently, his pants darkening as warm liquid ran down his legs. His face was devoid of color, eyes wide with sheer, mind-breaking terror.

"M-monster..." he choked out.

Theos tilted his head slightly, as if considering the word. Then, he walked forward.

Luke reacted purely on instinct, drawing upon his cultivation, summoning every ounce of power he had left. He let out a desperate roar, his body erupting in muscle-forging energy as he launched himself forward, throwing a full-powered strike at Theos.

For a moment, his fist seemed to move fast, his energy flaring wildly.

Then—

A dull snap.

Luke screamed as his wrist shattered upon impact with Theos' forearm. The bones in his hand collapsed like brittle twigs under a boot. Before he could even process the pain, Theos' foot struck his stomach with an explosive force.

CRACK!

Luke's body was lifted off the ground, his ribs caving under the sheer impact. He coughed violently, blood and bile spilling from his lips, before he crashed onto the dirt, gasping like a fish out of water.

He tried to crawl away, clawing weakly at the earth, his mind spinning with frantic denial—No... this can't be happening... I can't die here. But Theos was already there, unstoppable as a living nightmare. He grabbed Luke's ankle and effortlessly dragged him back.

Luke sobbed. "P-please! Stop! I'll do anything!"

Theos crouched down, gripping Luke's throat, slowly applying pressure. The air wheezed out of Luke's lungs as he struggled, his arms flailing, his broken fingers grasping at nothing. He had no strength left. No defiance. Just pure, animalistic terror.

Theos leaned in, his voice chillingly soft. "Did they beg too? Did they cry? Did they plead?"

Luke's body trembled violently, his eyes darting to the girls who lay still, their fragile forms ruined by the monsters who once thought themselves untouchable.

"P-please..." he rasped again, his vision darkening, his mind unraveling at the edges.

Theos sighed—almost disappointed. With a final, crushing squeeze, he snapped Luke's neck, letting his body fall limp onto the cold ground.

He stood, turning away from the corpses without a second glance. The heavy scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the damp earth beneath him. His gaze landed on the girls—broken, weeping, trembling in silence.

He walked toward them, his killing intent slowly receding, his expression softening just a fraction. He kneeled beside Lila, who flinched violently as he reached out.

"You're safe now," he murmured, his voice quieter, less harsh.

She looked at him, tears streaming down her face, her lips trembling. For a moment, she seemed lost, unsure if this boy—this harbinger of death—was truly any different from the monsters he had slain.

Then, after a long silence, she collapsed forward, sobbing into his chest, the weight of her pain finally breaking free.

Theos did not move. He simply let her cry, his crimson eyes staring into the darkened forest, knowing that, after tonight, he had stepped into a world he could never turn away from.

Once the girls had calmed enough to stand, Theos watched as they slowly picked themselves up, their bodies trembling, their gazes filled with exhaustion and something else—perhaps disbelief. They knew their way back—he did not need to guide them.

Lila, still shaken, turned toward him. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but hesitated. Her hands trembled as she clutched at the torn remnants of her robe, holding it tightly around her shoulders. "We... we know our way home," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, raw from sobbing.

The other girls stood silently beside her, their expressions wavering between gratitude and fear. One of them, a red-haired girl with a gash on her cheek, looked at Theos with an unreadable expression. "Why... why did you save us?" she asked, her voice hesitant, as if she couldn't believe someone had stepped in for them.

Theos didn't answer right away. He glanced at the blood on his hands, then at the bodies strewn across the clearing. His expression remained unreadable. "Because they deserved worse than death," he finally said, his voice void of emotion. "Now go."

Lila took a shaky breath and nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, her gaze lingering on him as if trying to etch his image into her memory.

With unsteady steps, they turned and vanished into the shadows, their feet uncertain but moving away nonetheless. Theos stood still, listening as their footsteps faded into the distance.

As the last of their figures disappeared, he exhaled slowly, his breath measured, controlled. Yet, a strange feeling crept into his mind—an emptiness, a question clawing at the edge of his consciousness. He knew he would have fought them no matter what, but why had he killed them in such a merciless manner? He had never hesitated, never even considered letting them live. He had not simply ended them—he had erased them with the cruelest efficiency.

His fingers curled slightly, his knuckles tightening until his fingers trembled, warm blood still dripping between them, every motion a sharp reminder of the violence. Even now, standing among the blood and corpses, he wasn't sure if he could do it again. Something had clicked in his mind back then, a switch that had turned off all hesitation. It had felt... right.

Why?

The thought gnawed at him, burrowing deep into the recesses of his soul. Had he always been like this? Or had something inside him awakened tonight? He looked down at his hands, slick with crimson, and for the first time, he wasn't sure whether they belonged to him or someone else.

Theos closed his eyes, pushing the thoughts aside for now. There was no answer to be found in this blood-soaked clearing. With a final glance at the carnage he had wrought, he turned to leave.

But before he could take a step, a strange sensation prickled the back of his neck. His Supreme Eyes caught something—an anomaly in the dark sky. He turned his gaze upward, his breath slowing as he focused.

Two figures floated in the night sky, suspended as if standing on invisible ground. One was an older man with long black hair, his expression unreadable, his robes fluttering in the windless air. The other was a child, perhaps Theos' age, but there was something unnatural about him.

Theos' eyes sharpened as he took in the details. The boy had a weapon in his grip, his fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt, his posture tense as if he were ready to strike at a moment's notice. But what caught Theos' attention the most was the blindfold covering both of the boy's eyes.

For a long moment, neither side moved. Then, as if signaled by something unseen, the two figures suddenly dropped, plummeting like freefalling stones. Yet, before touching the ground, they halted at precisely ten feet, their descent unnaturally controlled.

Theos' body tensed, his instincts screaming at him. His Supreme Eyes assessed them instantly, and his breath caught in his throat. The older man—there was no way he could win against him. Not now. Not ever. He was beyond anything Theos had ever faced. The intangible force radiating from him pressed on Theos's lungs, making it feel as though his breath had been stolen. Even standing still, the older man's presence bent the atmosphere, a silent declaration of overwhelming power.

But even so, Theos took a step forward, lowering his stance into a fighting position. He remembered his promise to his parents: if faced with an unbeatable foe, he would run. Yet as his heart slammed against his ribs, he knew escape was impossible—no distance could protect him from an enemy this powerful. To turn away now would mean betraying not only that resolve but everything he had fought for tonight. His bloodstained fingers trembled against his palms, yet he forced them still. With a harsh breath, he steadied himself, crimson eyes locking onto the newcomers, burning with a fierce challenge that defied all reason.