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After nearly half a month of grueling labor, a massive pit was finally excavated in the icy wastelands of the northern frontier.

On this momentous day, both August and Esdeath brimmed with anticipation.

"Throw them in," Esdeath commanded, her tone cold and unyielding.

Her soldiers obeyed without hesitation, shoving the captured tribesmen into the enormous pit. The prisoners were too weak to resist, their spirits broken after weeks of hard labor under the unforgiving northern skies.

Despite starting with 400,000 captives, countless had perished during the excavation process. The biting cold, relentless toil, and starvation had taken a heavy toll. At the bottom of the pit lay a layer of frozen corpses—mute witnesses to the horrors wrought by their captors.

August stood at the edge of the pit, his expression unreadable. Waves of despair, anger, hatred, and fear emanated from the captives below, saturating the air. To August, these emotions were sustenance, feeding the dark forces within him.

His Gate of Sin stirred, devouring the negative energy with insatiable greed.

Crack.

A faint sound echoed within his body. The void-like energy that had bound his powers began to dissipate ever so slightly.

After a month and a half of stagnation, August's magic had finally begun to recover—albeit only a tiny fraction. Still, it was a start. A faint aura of black magic enveloped his form, making him appear as a demonic figure born from the shadows.

This aura, combined with the horrifying scene below, gave him an imposing presence that instilled dread in anyone who beheld him.

The pit became a cacophony of human suffering: cries of pain, desperate pleas, curses of hatred, and anguished wails.

To August, this spectacle was a feast. Though invisible to human eyes, streams of negative energy coalesced around him, seeping into his being.

Two hours later, the grim task was complete. The tribespeople who had once roamed the northern frontier were no more. Nearly 50,000 bodies now rested in what had become a vast graveyard—a silent testament to their annihilation.

"You've changed somehow," Esdeath remarked, narrowing her eyes as she observed August. Something about him felt different, though she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"Nothing major," August replied calmly. "Just regaining a sliver of my power."

Esdeath nodded, though a flicker of doubt lingered in her mind. She decided not to press further.

With the northern tribes effectively obliterated, the region would know peace for years to come. The scattered remnants of the tribes were too weak and disorganized to pose a threat.

Yet, Esdeath had no intention of wiping them out entirely. She preferred to leave behind seeds of hatred and vengeance, ensuring that a new enemy would rise for her to conquer in the future.

"August," she said, turning to him with a rare smile. "Why not return to the Imperial Capital with me? I can recommend you to the Prime Minister. In a year or two, you could become the Empire's third General."

"No, thank you," August replied with a faint smile. "I have no interest in serving under someone else. But I am curious about the capital. I'd like to see it for myself."

"Very well," Esdeath agreed, though she couldn't hide her disappointment. Still, his willingness to accompany her was a small victory in her eyes.

In the days that followed, Esdeath pondered how to bridge the gap between herself and August. As someone inexperienced in matters of the heart, she struggled to find a way to connect with him.

Meanwhile, August remained preoccupied with his own plans. On the journey back, he tested his abilities, summoning the Gate of Babylon with a faint ripple of golden light. A single weapon emerged: the cursed blade Murasame.

"Is that your Teigu?" Esdeath asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Something like that," August replied.

The cursed blade had undergone several transformations. It now carried three distinct curses:

The Instant Death Curse, the weapon's original and most infamous ability.

The Curse of the Ocean, which caused the sea to reject anyone struck by the blade.

The Venomous Curse, derived from a powerful dragon's poison, which corroded and destroyed all biological matter, including blood, bones, organs, and even the soul.

Each curse could be activated independently, giving the blade unparalleled versatility.

Although his magical reserves remained limited, August took solace in the fact that he was slowly regaining his strength. The Imperial Capital promised to be a treasure trove of negative energy, a perfect environment for him to grow even stronger.

After all, in a world as dark and corrupt as this one, there was no shortage of despair and sin to harvest. The capital, with its layers of deception and depravity, would undoubtedly be the most fertile ground for his ascent.

This was a world steeped in darkness, a place beyond redemption. And August would exploit it to its fullest.

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