I Guard The Book That Slays Gods

"Whether you get bought depends entirely on you, Raven. Only if you prove your strength." Snow turned left and walked toward a door in the center of the plain white room. The pristine white door seemed completely at odds with the rest of the chaos base.

"You could become a lieutenant like Anya, a captain, or perhaps a negotiator." She stopped before the door and opened a small window in it, then gestured for Raiden to look through.

Raiden reluctantly walked over and peered inside. Four corrupt crest bearers sat there, their every movement visible under the harsh lanterns against the white walls. Their eyes darted frantically across the floor, flickering and lost in a daze. The frantic speed of their movements and the slight twisting of their faces revealed their terror. Raiden couldn't see their emotions, but it was obvious enough.

Their hands scratched desperately at their skin, trying to tear it away. One on the right raked his fingernails across his flesh, but the wound instantly became smoke and sealed itself.

Raiden gulped, wondering if this would be the fate of his servants, Soul and Speed.

"Why are you showing me this?"

Raiden turned to Snow, who stood with her hands on her waist.

Snow blinked several times, her expression unreadable. "When you go berserk, your aura turns dark."

Raiden's eyes widened and began to flicker, unease coursing through his entire body. His hand flew to his crest. "What do you mean? I haven't taken the devil milk."

Snow was quiet for a moment. "You know what? You remind me of someone very dear to me…" Her expression softened into a smile. "Don't worry, he's not dead."

Raiden's eyes narrowed a little. "What does that have to do with my aura turning dark?"

Snow sighed. "Your situation is rare. I've only seen it once before, with the person I mentioned."

Raiden didn't have to say a word, his expression told Snow what she needed to do.

"Each corrupt crest bearer, one way or another, reaches the point where their blood becomes too toxic for them to handle." She began walking toward the door once more. "The blood boils, and the heat intensifies with every passing second."

She turned to Raiden. "And worse, the only ability this intoxication grants is insane regeneration."

"So they can't die?"

Snow shook her head. "Their blood keeps getting hotter until it burns them alive from within."

Raiden began rubbing his hands together. "Is that going to happen to me?"

She smirked. "That's exactly why we're here. This white door will give us our answer."

Raiden took a step back. He didn't know why, but this time he was genuinely scared. He wanted to control his berserk mode, not die before his time.

"What happens if I become like that?"

"You have a white dragon, right?" Raiden nodded firmly. "When you summon it, do your blue flames turn dark?"

Raiden clenched his fist, the memory crystal clear. It had been unusual to everyone in the palace, including Aeris. The moment the flames turned dark, their intensity deepened—too intense for even him to handle.

"Well, your expression says enough." The instant Snow spoke, she teleported directly before Raiden. His face twisted in confusion just as her fist drove into his gut, launching him backward and slamming him into the floor.

The blow appeared gentle, yet it was easily the most powerful strike Raiden had ever endured. He suppressed the urge to cough blood as his mind shifted from agony to confusion.

"Don't fight back. You want to control your berserk mode, don't you?"

Before Raiden could rise, Snow's leg whipped into his cheek, spinning him through the air until he slammed into the wall.

"The best way to control this version of you is by defeating it."

She was right, Raiden realized. He had no memory of his berserk episodes; he became a completely different person. Understanding it was the key, but how could he manage that?

Snow hammered him with relentless strikes. His regeneration countered the damage, but the pain was so intense he barely kept himself from fighting back, his face growing numb under the assault.

"Keep your mind calm and allow it to take over," Snow murmured, her strikes landing with pinpoint accuracy. Her fists dripped blood while Raiden's face was a mess of cuts and gore, his nose bent at an unnatural angle.

"Stop treating it like another version of yourself. Think of it as an ability."

Understanding dawned in Raiden's eyes as he absorbed the punishment, his head throbbing with agony. Still, Snow's words offered strange comfort. He had never treated his berserk state like his other powers—no experimentation with limits, no attempts to weaponize it strategically. Perhaps he'd lacked the knowledge before, but now he saw a path forward.

His clenched fists uncurled as the impulse to retaliate faded. He let his entire body go slack while Snow's blows continued their savage assault.

He understood this wasn't an ability he could call upon whenever needed, since berserk mode only triggered at the brink of death. But at minimum, he could stay aware and maintain control when it occurred.

The strikes soon became imperceptible to Raiden. His senses retreated into numbness, his eyes losing focus as everything around him blurred into haze.

Raiden struggled to maintain consciousness as everything slipped away. He clung to his purpose: I needed to get back home, for Jobe. If anything could sustain him through this darkness, it was his love for his deceased twin and the vengeance he had vowed to achieve.

Yet even that wasn't sufficient. His mind drifted into darkness while his body ceased functioning. The instant Raiden's breath left him, his azure aura transformed into something sinister.

His hair transformed to pure white, bright as starlight. Wild yet somehow peaceful, the fluffy locks flowed freely and spiked in every direction, floating weightlessly above the ground.

Glowing dark tattoos spread across his hands, trailing down his knuckles and spiraling around his wrists. The markings on his fingers appeared smoother, like coursing energy, while circular designs emerged on his neck, curving from his jawline to his collar and beyond.

When the dark sigil materialized on his forehead, his eyes snapped open and he intercepted Snow's strike mid-swing, a malevolent grin spreading across his face.