The Deadman had a nice dream, it was a dream of endless happiness. He thought of them as a dream, for he knew that he couldn’t have such nice things. However, even those who walked the bleak could found an oasis in their travels. All he felt was pain and heartache. It could be said that being attached to the child of the Elior’s was a blessing to the Deadman.

He was happy to be on the sideline. He was happy to give all of what he knew to nurture the child of the Elior. Around them were things that warms the heart. The fifteen years that he spent living inside the child was undoubtedly the happiest times of his life. The memories of the Eliors and those who were around him had made the Deadman feel like he was finally going to have his peace.

When he lost his home and was thrown into a world that was in the process of being shadowed. He was desperate. Desperate enough that he’d fought with all his heart and dedicated it to the person that didn’t want him in the first place.

He was a poor fool who was trying to make a place he can call home. He was a lost child who wished that he would find something in the world that he was foreign to. Instead, he was thrown into battle and was forced to wander in hopes to defeat an Evil he couldn’t understand.

He braved through timelines in hopes of doing the same thing over and over again. It was nothing short but the insanity that had taken him. All he could do was moved forward. He had been trained to move forward and turning back was no longer an option. The moment he got the sigil of the bleak walker. He was unable to turn back. That’s why these fifteen years were worth it for him. The Deadman thought that find peace in attending to Einar Elior. He had only one wish and that was to protect him. To cherish the child of Elior until his soul crumbles into pieces.

But dreams are supposed to be wakened from. He had fought for weeks in hopes of dealing with the bandits. His soul was unstable and he was giving parts of his soul to nurture Einar. That’s why as he slumbers in the chamber of Einar’s body. He felt the sudden tug that prevents the Deadman from possessing the body of Einar. This alone shook him awake, and as he tries to get away from the vessel. The vessel grabbed hold of the Deadman. He tried to escape but the laws governing the soul had forced him to fit inside the vessel. His soul was like the water that filled the empty vessel that was left behind. The Deadman tried to look for the soul that would help him get away. To his dismay, there was nothing but remnants of a destroyed soul. Scatters dusks that were left behind. There was no trace of this soul and it wouldn’t even enter the cycle of reincarnation.

“Ah!” He opened his eyes in agony. He saw the sky and as he sat down. He saw the chaos that was surrounding him. He tried to recall Einar’s voice or soul. No one would reply to him. The Deadman realized that the soul, the child, no, the son he cherished was gone.

“Who did it?” He said with tears flowing down on his cheeks.”Who murdered my boy!?”

He released a blood-curling stream. He glared at his surroundings and saw the being clad in an astral cloak.

“Was it you!?”

His flesh suddenly molted into another. With his soul in full control, the body that belonged to Einar became molded into the image of the Deadman when he was a young adult. The process the same as having his skin and bones ripped out and molded like clay.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you where you stand!”

He clenched both of his hard enough for it to bleed.

“Kaiser, I call upon your soul, grant me the body of a dragon!”

His eyes became hazy as his body was hardened by the soul that he devoured.

“I call upon the obsidian blood that gathers upon my soul! Stir my blood and bring forth the devil of the Obsidian Flower!”

Obsidian dragon scales manifested on top of his skin. His face covered with an obsidian skull. His eyes resembled that of a wolf. The sclera of his eyes turning blood red.

“You old Revenant! Grant me the wraiths that you devoured! Hear me! For do what thou will is my law!”

A shadowy aura rose from his body like steam. Then, like a predator that found its prey. The Deadman, in rage, and fury that burned madly, leaped at the being who was clad in an astral cloak. The being didn’t know and before it could react. The being was grabbed by the head. Not letting the being act, the Deadman lifted the being up in the air and smashed the being’s head on the ground, forming a crater. The Deadman circled behind the being, and wrapped his arms around the being, intending to break it. However, the being smashed the Deadman’s back. It tried to grab the Deadman’s arm only for the Deadman to wrap his legs around the arm of the being, twisting it. The Deadman then transformed his right arm into a blade and cleaved at the being’s head. The being parried his blade with its backhand. The being tried to rush him. The Deadman conjured black spikes on his chest.

The being slapped the sharp ends of the spikes and pulled him closer. Before the being could grab him. The Deadman slapped those hands away, he grabbed the side of the being’s head, pulled his body back, and smashed his forehead on the being’s head with enough force to break a dragon’s skull. The being didn’t reel back and instead clashed its head against the Deadman. Their blood-red eyes meeting as the masks they hide themselves broke. None of them was willing to back off at the sight of those eyes.

"How dare you murder my son! I'll kill you! I'll kill you even it means damning my soul!"