Rage emerged from deep within

Thy spares none; no kin

carnal flames of hatred

do not disappear into nothingness

ignite the deepest beasts

once begone, ashes stay

which cannot bloom 

yet again

In shattered trust, love's demise,
A betrayal sears with burning lies.
Through storms of doubt and bitter tears,
Two hearts entwined, now torn with fears.

'Taehyung betrayed him'

The uncomprehensive thoughts, hatred, agony and  can destroy the mightiest of beings, they can make you go feral, insane and a bloody demon. 

Jeongguk never considered anyone  powerful enough to make him feel defeated, but nonetheless, There was a certain amber eyed fellow. The deepest and darkest emotions of his uncovered when he thought about all of their interactions.

Taehyung knew who i was, yet kept silent. Why?

Jeongguk moved swiftly through the shadows, his senses heightened by the urgency of the situation. General Yoongi, his most trusted ally, had been poisoned, and time was of the essence. The rain poured down, obscuring his vision, but he relied on his instincts to guide him.

As he entered the dimly lit chamber where Yoongi was held captive, he saw the frail figure of his general, his once vibrant spirit now reduced to a mere flicker. Jeongguk's heart clenched with anguish at the sight, but he pushed his emotions aside, focusing on the task at hand.

With precise movements, Jeongguk swiftly administered an antidote, his hands steady despite the chaos raging within him. He watched as Yoongi's pale complexion regained color, his breath returning in shallow gasps. Relief washed over Jeongguk, but his attention was soon drawn to another presence in the room.

Taehyung stood in the corner, his green eyes filled with confusion and hurt. Jeongguk's heart ached at the sight, but he knew he couldn't allow himself to be distracted.

Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, a myriad of emotions passed between them. Taehyung's lips quivered, as if on the verge of speaking, but he remained silent.

In that moment, Jeongguk felt like laughing at his pathetic heart, he still wishes to call that boy and ask what he did to deserve his betrayal.

As he walked out into the rain-soaked night, Jeongguk couldn't shake the feeling of destruction from his mind.

As the rain poured down relentlessly, Jeongguk and his loyal soldiers made their escape from Xilan. The cover of darkness and the chaos caused by the storm worked in their favor. They moved swiftly, navigating through the treacherous terrain as they headed towards the border.

Jeongguk's mind was filled with a mix of emotions—anger, betrayal, and a burning desire for revenge.

The clash of swords and the shouts of combat reverberated through the stormy night.

Jeongguk's sword, Muèrte, blazed with an eerie light, cutting through the darkness like a beacon of hope. He moved with fluid grace, his every strike precise and deadly. His training and experience as the crown prince of Pedishah were evident as he deftly parried and counterattacked, dispatching his enemies with a lethal efficiency.

The mud-slicked ground made footing treacherous, but Jeongguk's reflexes were honed, allowing him to navigate the forests with ease. His men fought alongside him, their loyalty unyielding as they formed a protective wall around their prince.

The Xilanese soldiers, caught off guard by the suddenness of the attack, struggled to regroup. But they were fierce warriors, determined to defend their homeland. They rallied, launching their own counterattacks with a ferocity that matched the storm raging overhead.

Jeongguk's senses were heightened, every sound and movement registering in his mind. He anticipated his opponents' strikes, sidestepping their blades with lightning-fast agility. He spun, his sword sweeping in a deadly arc, slashing through the Xilanese ranks.

His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of adrenaline and determination coursing through his veins. The rain washed away the sweat and blood that dripped down his brow. Jeongguk fought with a ruthlessness that sent shivers down the spines of his enemies. As the battle raged on, a dark and primal energy surged within him, fueling his every strike. The rain poured down, a fitting backdrop to the storm brewing within the prince.

His eyes burned with a ferocious intensity, their dark depths reflecting the turmoil within his soul. The rainwater mixed with blood, forming rivulets that ran down his face, accentuating the aura of danger that surrounded him. He was no longer the composed and controlled crown prince but a force of nature unleashed upon the battlefield, his eyes changing to a fierce crimson.

Muerte, his cursed sword, seemed to thirst for blood, its malevolent power seeping into Jeongguk's very being. As he swung the blade, each strike carried the weight of centuries of pain and suffering. The once noble weapon had become a conduit for his vengeance, amplifying his strength and unlocking his bloodlust.

His movements became more frenzied, his sword a blur of black ivory as he cut through his enemies with an almost supernatural speed. The Xilanese soldiers could only watch in horror as their comrades fell, their bodies rent apart by Jeongguk's unyielding onslaught.

The Blade of Pedishah, a title bestowed upon him by the emperor himself, was not given without reason. It was a testament to Jeongguk's mastery of the sword and his unwavering dedication to his kingdom. But it was also a warning—a warning of the darkness that lurked within him, a darkness that consumed all in its path.

With each swing of his sword, Jeongguk's bloodlust grew, pushing him further into a state of savage frenzy. The rain washed away the evidence of his brutality, but it could not wash away the stains on his soul. He fought with a primal instinct, his every move driven by the desire for retribution.

The Xilanese soldiers, already disheartened by the loss of their comrades, trembled at the sight of the prince.

They could feel the aura of death that surrounded him, the sheer power of his presence.

Fear gripped their hearts as they realized they were facing a force beyond their comprehension.

Jeongguk's strikes were precise and devastating. He moved with a predatory grace, his sword finding its mark with unerring accuracy. He showed no mercy, no hesitation, as he cut down his foes one by one. The once harmonious dance of swordplay became a symphony of destruction, a symphony conducted by the blade of Pedishah.

His soldiers, loyal to the core, fought alongside their prince, their own blades singing in harmony with his.

They witnessed the transformation of their leader, the embodiment of their nation's wrath. They had heard the tales of Jeongguk's curse, but seeing it firsthand was a chilling reminder of his true nature.

As the battle raged on, the Xilanese soldiers found themselves overwhelmed by the sheer force of Jeongguk's rage. They had no answer to his relentless assault, their numbers dwindling with each passing moment. He fought not just with the strength of his sword arm but with the weight of his people's suffering over decade,the isolation they faced by the hands of Xilan.

When the last of the Xilanese soldiers fell, the battlefield fell silent, save for the sound of raindrops hitting the blood-soaked ground. Jeongguk stood amidst the fallen, his chest heaving with exhaustion. The rain washed away the evidence of his fury, leaving behind a tableau of destruction.

He looked down at his bloodied hands, his breath ragged. The storm within him began to subside, leaving behind a sense of emptiness and weariness. He had unleashed the full force of his wrath, but at what cost?

The title of the Blade of Pedishah had been earned, but it came with a heavy burden. Jeongguk knew that his bloodlust threatened to consume him, to turn him into a monster.

The storm within him may have subsided for now, but he knew that it would always be a part of him—a reminder of the power that lay dormant, waiting to be unleashed once more.

He took a moment to honor the fallen, to pay tribute to his comrades who had fought alongside him. Their sacrifice would not be forgotten. With a heavy heart, he wiped the blood from his face and turned his gaze toward the path that led to his home, his country.

The journey was far from over, but with each passing moment, Jeongguk grew more resolved. He would not rest until Pedishah overtook Xilan, until those responsible for his pain and suffering faced justice. The storm may have tested their mettle, but it could not extinguish the fire burning within Jeongguk's heart.

With renewed determination, Jeongguk and his remaining soldiers pressed forward, forging their path through the rain-soaked battlefield.

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It's been a long time!

Happy 800 reads!

Thankyou for reading<3

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