The Last Witch Hunter: Blood Oath

The tattoo on Rin's hand burned intensely, while Eclipse, sealed within his pendant, pulsed as if trying to pull him back into the forest. But Rin had already sensed them—warlocks lurking within the trees, their shadows shifting in the darkness.

There were at least fifteen. Watching. Waiting.

But Rin felt no fear.

Like the one he had just slain, they were weak—mere foot soldiers, relying on speed and brute force, nothing more.

The man beside him remained oblivious to the danger. "That warlock back there… was he one of the strongest in this Witch Society?"

Rin chuckled. "Not even close. Ten of him wouldn't equal the power of the one directly above him."

The man's face paled. "So, we're living in a world far more dangerous than I ever knew."

Rin gave a slight nod. "Don't worry. They don't go on mindless killing sprees—at least, not usually."

The man hesitated before asking, "What about the government? Do they know about this?"

"I don't know," Rin said, his gaze shifting. Then his tone sharpened. "You should drive away the moment we reach your car."

The man frowned. "Why?"

Rin didn't look at him. His eyes remained on the trees. "Because we have company."

The moment they reached the car, the man unlocked the door, throwing Rin a nervous glance. "You sure you don't need a ride?"

"I'll find my own way home," Rin replied.

The man didn't argue. The car roared to life, tires screeching as he sped away, leaving Rin alone on the dark road.

Then, from the shadows, they emerged.

A mix of warlocks and witches, their eyes gleaming under the moonlight, their smirks full of malice. They surrounded him, cutting off any escape.

One stepped forward, arms crossed. "Are you the one who killed one of ours?"

Rin met his gaze without hesitation. "Yes. But tell me… how many of mine have you slaughtered? How many have you tortured for sport?"

The warlock sneered before breaking into laughter. The others soon followed, their laughter echoing through the night.

Rin chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "It's funny to you, huh?" His voice dropped, taking on a dangerous edge. "You make people fear stepping outside their homes just because you have power. You take lives as you please. But let me snap you back to reality…"

His gaze swept over them, cold and unwavering.

"I am a Witch Hunter. And I will put an end to you."

One of the witches scoffed. "Killing us… isn't that the same as what we do? Doesn't that make you just like us? You think you're playing the hero?"

Rin let out a short laugh. "I'll tell you the same thing I told the last one. Some might see me as a hero. Others, a killer." His fingers curled around his pendant. "But I walk my own path."

Since the warlocks appeared, Eclipse had been reacting violently. The pendant pulsed in his grip, heat radiating from it.

The dagger materialized in his hand.

The embedded eye snapped open, its pupil twisting unnaturally before shifting into a deep crimson.

The warlocks and witches tensed.

Rin exhaled. A thick mist billowed out, creeping across the ground and swallowing the air around them.

The moment it touched them, the warlocks and witches hesitated. Their instincts screamed at them—something was wrong.

Then they charged.

And Rin welcomed them with open arms.

With his Mist Domain fully activated, Rin could sense every enemy around him.

They thought they had surrounded him.

But in reality…

They were already trapped.

The mist thickened, swallowing their vision entirely. Then, as if by magic, each warlock and witch saw the same thing—Rin standing right in front of them.

Fifteen versions of him.

Each one perfectly real in their eyes.

A moment of hesitation. Then, chaos.

They lunged, fists flying, attacks tearing through the illusions—except they weren't just hitting empty air.

They were hitting each other.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the fog. Grunts of pain. The sickening crunch of bones breaking. One warlock let out a snarl as he punched what he thought was Rin, only to hear a strangled cry from his own ally.

Another struck out wildly, his claws slashing through the mist, then freezing as he felt warm blood splatter across his face.

His hands trembled. Wait… whose blood is this?

It was then that one of them—quicker than the rest—realized the truth.

"STOP!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the confusion.

The others hesitated, their breathing ragged.

He turned in circles, his eyes darting between the scattered figures. "How is it possible that every single one of us is fighting the same person at the same time?" His voice shook with dawning horror. "Are you all complete idiots? We've been attacking each other this whole time!"

Silence fell over the battlefield.

Then another voice, lower and more cautious, spoke up. "But… the Witch Hunter had a dagger. Why would he fight us barehanded?"

Murmurs spread through the group.

"And only special weapons can kill us…" someone whispered.

Realization crashed down on them like a wave.

"The mist is too thick—I can't even see any of you!" one of them said, panic rising.

"Wait! I'll jump up and get a better view!" Another warlock crouched low before launching himself high into the air, above the mist.

Seconds passed.

The others waited.

Nothing.

A frown formed on one witch's face. "Hey, what do you see up there?"

No response.

Then, from above them, a voice whispered through the mist, colder than death.

"What do you expect him to say?"

Their blood ran cold.

Their heads snapped up.

High in the trees, red eyes gleamed in the darkness. The voice—low, measured, predatory—sent a shiver through their spines.

"It's as if you witches are new to this."

They couldn't see him. But they felt him. Everywhere.

"This is my domain," Rin continued, his voice echoing through the mist. "Anyone who tries to leave… dies."

Fear gripped them. This wasn't just a battle. This was a slaughter.

One of them, trying to shake off the terror, clenched his fists. "He's in the tree! If we rush him together, we can kill him!"

Desperation turned into reckless courage.

They surged forward, but as they neared the tree, the mist in the center thinned slightly—just enough for them to see each other clearly for the first time.

And then they saw it.

A vast army of Rin, shifting within the fog, their glowing red eyes staring them down.

Some of the witches hesitated, their instincts screaming at them to stop.

The warlock at the front sneered. "Are you seriously telling me you're afraid of a little mist—"

Behind him, the army of Rin began closing in.

But he didn't notice.

He turned to his companions, scoffing. "Don't tell me you're scared of some high school-looking kid—"

Slash.

A clean cut.

His head slid from his shoulders, eyes still frozen in shock.

A second later, his body turned to dust.

Silence.

The witches stared at the empty space where he once stood.

Then, from within the mist, a whisper.

"One down."

And the hunt continued.