It’s strange. I’ve been travelling in a group for a while, not by choice, but by situation. But now, now that I’m alone again, the thoughts and doubts return.

Why am I doing it?

Is there a point to it?

But I continue walking, not me specifically, but if the horse under me dies I always have the legs attached to me. I started healing my lung, it’s faster than the last time I had to heal it, but it’ll still take a while.

At some point the terrain changed from sparse trees to an overgrown forest. I know this region has these strange weather swings, but it’s still hard to get used to. Desert, mountain, and forest are too close.

The “Frozen Titans” is not just a “monument” to those who took part in the war, but also to how far the war spread. From that point to the southernmost shore of the continent is where the most battles took place.

Divine War Battlefield.

And that whole area is littered with ancient artifacts and “legacies” of the war itself, traps, mines, damaged environments, and much, much more. Who would’ve thought that an inter-continental war would have direct consequences that would span millenniums.

…

The path from Mozzarel to South Dungeon is a straight road which for centuries was one of the safest there was, and everyone knows that. Because South Dungeon is also a huge port, with tons of good being exchanged daily, and the fact that Mozzarel is heavily dependent on those goods, made this into one of the most overused paths by traders. Both sides are too dependent on this trade and road to let it be unsafe.

But what the actual fuck.

The farther south I go the more bandits I meet, and the larger the group size is. And most of them are demi-humans. Actually I shouldn’t be surprised, the whole continent is crumbling, what does it matter if a single road is filled with bandits. Right?

There are many tales about battles that lasted for hours or days, opponents dancing around each other with flashes of spells and sword collisions. But tales are just tales. Real battles end within minutes, if not seconds. People never have equal strength or experience. There is always a stronger side. And even a tiny error can change the outcome of the battle. A missing leg and mobility drops to nearly zero, a missing arm and the same happens to your attack and defense capabilities. But even something minor could have an impact, a damaged foot or palm, and a person can’t run or hold a weapon. A single tendon, or muscle in a foot or a finger on the main hand of an Enforcer, and his steps become unsteady, his grip on a sword becomes weak. It takes even less for an inexperienced mage to lose concentration and have his spell backfire on him. A tiny thing on the global scale of the body, but it’s enough to tip the scales of a fight to a critical position.

And no real battles have the “we will fight equally” law.

There are no rules in a fight.

What the winner says is right.

…

Two girls in torn clothes, revealing their chests and legs, are running in my direction and screaming for help as a group of people are running after them, laughing.

“Help us!” they desperately scream.

As they get within a few meters of me I take action. Their bodies are split in half by a single strike. The pursuers halt in total confusion, but I don’t stop, with seconds I’m near them, my sword sends them to the same fate as the girls. I stand in silence as I clean my sword against their bodies. Some would’ve believed that those girls were in trouble, but stop and think for a second. Two girls being pursued by a “dangerous” group, and it just happens that they didn’t catch them, it just happens that you were in the right place in the right time, and it just so happens that you can help.

I go to the dead girls and flip their bodies over, which reveals daggers with a greenish tint under their bodies. Poison, how unoriginal. A trick I’ve seen too many times. There were groups whose specialty was down “noble” knights, and their kill count was over a hundred. Yes, knights, not villagers. Even full plate armour has a few gaps, usually at the rear side of armour, to decrease the weight. When you fight, you usually need thicker armour at the front.

Think for a second what you would do. Stand between the “victims” and their “pursuers”. You won’t see what they’re doing behind you. And suddenly a poisoned dagger slips into one of your armour’s gaps.

Scary, isn’t it.

Looking down on the failed schemers, I remember how many young Brothers I lost to these tricks. Can you blame them? They reenacted the heroes they read about. Trying to be as great and noble as those knights in the fairy tales. I may have been one of them, if not for that girl. I don’t even remember her name. I’m not sure if I even can call it betrayal, she never promised anything. I just believed that we were meant for one another. I was young and stupid. Like many others I fell in love, not with her, but rather the feeling. It happens when the first person shows you warmth, you believe them to be special. You believe that to be “it”.

Back then, I was just another nameless meat shield, not even a full-fledged Brother. She was a mage and I saved her life a few times, putting my life on the line. Meat shield. Wounds on me healed quickly compared to the others. So in a way, I was useful to her. You don’t throw away things that are useful to you. And that continued for some time.

One night I saw her with my superior, leaving and inn, together, hugging each other, kissing, laughing. I should be thankful to her. Her actions changed me, made me stronger. Made me someone, or something, that would survive.

And I survived.

I outlived them all.

I am the best.

Right?

I have to keep walking.

…

A few dozen bodies lying around and bleeding tell me that I’m close to the main camp of the bandits. No, I didn’t hunt them because I wanted to, but rather, they found me. And arrow came from behind, but I already expected it and moved out of it trajectory the moment it was fired.

You can’t hide your presence fully. And the one who will tell you about that is usually nature itself. If some sounds randomly stop, you know something is wrong. The sound of birds, insects, leaves rustling against each other, even the most minor thing. It was a single archer at the start, who dies quite quickly. But a few minutes later it was a group of four, then another of more than a dozen. But the last ones were prepared. Too many arrows and traps for simple bandits. Even worse, there was a fire mage, and he decided that it would be wise to cast a powerful wide-range fire spell.

As you have guessed correctly, the forest is on fire. It’s not a full blown inferno, yet. And I have neither the time nor a method to put it out. Great. Fire and smoke became the signal to let everyone know exactly where I am. Anyways, I need to finish this. I walk in the direction the last group came from. My horse was killed by a stray arrow from the first group. Their base should have a spare one, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind, after all, dead men need no horse.

Looking up I see dark rain clouds gathering. Oh, at least one problem is solved.

…

I severely underestimated the possible size of the group, there were at least two hundred, all demi-humans of different subspecies.

Were.

At the start they were all brave and cocky, casting spells, laughing as they taunted me with their limited vocabulary. Two hundred against one, the result should’ve been obvious. But there is one problem, I have plenty of experience fighting in forests, perhaps too much. Dark Churches like to hide in forests near big cities.

After I killed a few dozen, they started to be more cautious and organized. But when there was less than half left, my sword broke, again, and I had to start using my hands. After I ripped a few of their mages apart in front of them, they decided retreat was a much better decision. They’re like that, as long as they’re in a group they’re one of the bravest creatures in existence, but when you separate them, show them the reality, they become frightened rabbits.

Anyways, most ran away in whatever direction they could, only the “bravest” few remained. They circle around me and try to box me in. And the way out of a box is obvious, break through the weakest point. The person in leather armour didn’t get a chance to use his daggers as a small pebble, I quickly picked up and threw, collided with his ankle with an audible crack. No footing, no way to gather inertia. Easy kill. But before I’m able to do that I catch a glimpse of a strange round object flying in my direction. The hair on my back stood on end. Forgetting everything, I leap behind the closest tree, but I don’t make it in time.

The object hit the ground and bounced about a meter up and exploded with a sound close to a thunder strike. I felt my left leg go numb, but decided to ignore it. As soon as I land, I don’t wait for anything and try to stand up but fail and fall down. Looking at my left foot I find it filled with needles.

FUCK.

Where the fuck did they get a needle grenade!? Even more if my foot get numb, this mean that the needles should have been coated with an extremely powerful paralytic. I rip them out and lean on the tree to stand up. Peeking from behind the tree, I find the other side of the tree scorched black and littered with the same sharp, black needles, everything around meeting the same fate. No one’s making a sound. Looking around a bit more I find many lying on the ground, unmoving, paralyzed most likely. I should be happy that everyone is immobilized, but whoever threw the grenade may have more.

Sending mana to my left foot, I try to purge the poison, but it’ll take time, like anything else in this world. My foot starts to move but I still can’t feel it, for now it’ll suffice. Picking up a new sword near a dead body, I slowly start limping in the direction where the grenade came from, while ending the life of everyone who may still be alive. If the positions were reversed I wouldn’t have gotten a fate so easy.

About thirty meters from where the grenade exploded I find who threw the grenade. Or should I say, grenades. This explains why I heard several thunder strikes. A strange, scorched metal chest is open with placeholders for three spheres, and several more scorched bodies, lying on the still burning ground, near it. Looks like someone didn’t know how to use these dangerous toys, judging by the chest these “things” were being transported somewhere, but didn’t reach their destination. Bandits take what they can.

Another sound of thunder startles me, which I believed to be another grenade. Looking up I see another thunder strike. It’ll start raining soon. The sound of footsteps returns me to my current problem, several of them actually. I quickly hide behind the closest tree. These ones are a bit different, equipped far better. They stare at the destruction around in horror with their long swords unsheathed.

“Ancestors save us. You said he is alone!” the tallest one with cat ears said, who looked like the leader, turning to the smallest one.

“I swear! He was alone! Only him!” the smaller one replied fearfully.

“Liar. A single human can’t do this. There must be a-“

Before he could finish, my new sword had already cleaved half of the group apart. The rest tried to run and retaliate, but I was too close, and my weapon was already on the trajectory when they realized what happened. One of them had a bit better sword, with a fortification enchantment, so I decided to free him of his heavy burden.

Dead men need no burdens.

I turned in the direction the new group came from and continued walking.

…

I like the new sword. It doesn’t break as easily as the other ones. It’s not sharp at all, but with my way of fighting I don’t need it to be sharp. Any weapon in my hand just becomes a club. I already cleaved apart several dozens of Enforcers in plate mail, but they still don’t end. And each new group is accompanied by a Mage with the meat shields standing close. But thankfully, I arrived at their base. Peeking from behind trees, I see a totally desolated camp.

Not good.

My instincts scream and I follow their directions, leaping to the right as the tree explodes into clouds of splinters. Without missing a second I jump behind another tree and then another, but I can’t wait their next attack, I need to act. Another explosion turns several trees into splinters a few seconds later, close to the first explosion.

Moving quickly and silently, I circle around a bit and end up behind a group of two Mages and several Enforcers with big shields standing around them. They haven’t seen me yet, but it’s just a question of time. If I jump in they’ll attack instantly. The way the spell was cast, looks like it was already charged, and they’re just releasing it. I need to kill the Mages first, but the Enforcers will hold me just long enough for the Mages to release the spells.

Making the decision I pick up two pebbles and step out, throwing them at the mages, the first Mage’s head bursts open in an explosion of gore, the second connects with the second Mage’s face that was half turned to face me to release the spell but it was too late. The Enforcers stand stunned as both their Mages died and they weren’t able to protect them. As their formation is broken, now I can dictate the way the fight goes. Even a spoon is a weapon if you know who to use it.

One of them throws his sword and shield away and leaps at me on all fours, with his jaws wide open. Preparing my metal “club”, I swing the moment he comes close enough. With a yelp he slams against the tree, but I don’t give him a moment to realise what happened and crush his skull with my left foot. His body goes limp and stops moving with rare twitches. Looking back at the group, I find them already running away.

Mighty warriors….

They’re not a bandit group, that’s for sure. Too many, too well equipped for that. There must be something at their base to explain this.

Why am I doing it?

That isn’t my problem, I don’t need to do anything more.

[Finish what we started. This is what we have always done.]

Turning in the direction of the camp I start walking, thankfully feeling is returning to my foot again. Peeking into the camp again I find something different, something I did not expect. A lot of women and children are leaving tents and gathering something. I find the biggest tent and start circling the camp to “enter” from the rear. I jump over the wooden fence and softly walk to the tent to cut it.

Crouching is a bullshit story and doesn’t represent the truth. To be as quiet as possible you need the minimal amount of limb movement and a smooth transition of center of mass. Lifting the flap of the tent I crouch under it and enter inside.

[Someone said something about crouching?]

The huge tent is slightly illuminated by the open cut on top of the tent. The sound of a slap is followed by a deep voice.

“Suck better! Of I will break the remaining teeth you have.”

Walking towards something that looks like a throne, I see what I’ve seen countless times. A demi-human with bear ears is sitting in the throne with a glass bottle and a child barely in her teens with dirty blonde hair is on her knees with her head in his lap. As if finally noticing me he turns to me.

“Who the fu-“

He doesn’t get to finish as his head explodes and pieces of gore and brain matter fly in the direction I swung my sword.

Filth.

The child continues to pleasure the dead body as if nothing happened.

Enough.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

With my leg I shove the girl away. After which she starts to randomly crawl around and groan with a hoarse voice until she finds the torso and resumes her previous actions.

Some of the demi-humans make human kids into toys. They gouge out their eyes and rip out their tongue, and through pain and torture change into something less than animals. My thoughts of releasing her from her fate are stopped short by the appearance of a new group from the tent’s main entrance.

“My Lord!”

“What have you done savage!? We-“

I don’t let them finish as I rip them apart. Looking back at the throne I regret my action, I shouldn’t have killed him so fast. Walking away from the bleeding body parts lying around, I return to the girl. Taking a small dagger lying on the ground I hug the girl from behind and lift her away from the body as she starts to groan and stir again. Sliding the dagger into her chest, her body stops breathing and her limbs slowly fall down.

Why?

I place the body softly on the ground as tears start streaming down my face.

Walking outside, I end the lives of anyone who attacks, some half-way through fall to their knees and beg for mercy.

Mercy? So you deserve mercy?

Walking around I find many cages filled with “broken” women and children, abused and underfed, but alive. I don’t know where the keys are so I just break the locks and rip out the cage’s metal doors. As people pour out and fill the camp, and because of the sheer amount of women and children, and by the fact that nearly everyone who wasn’t in cages was a demi-human, I finally realise it. This is a “rebel” town, or as some would call it, a city of invaders.

Paletia clans always wanted to take a foothold on the Salazar continent. And what better time, than when a war starts. I’m returned to reality by whispers, a single word being exchanged.

“Te-Zeron.”

Some fall to their knees and start to pray. A group of women come from behind rattling something, most of them with chocolate coloured skin and deep green eyes.

“Do you have any idea how long we have waited? I will tell my uncle to hang you all for-“ she stops as if petrified and starts trembling. After which she takes a few steps back and falls on her butt. Still looking at me, she starts whimpering and slowly crawling away in horror. I look down and curse, at some point the rags fell apart and I stand with a bare chest. The symbol on my chest is an issue. A circle and a triangle, inside of each other and intersecting, the symbol of the Blood Brotherhood.

Te-Zeron can translated from Patu as “Zeron Demon”. Another name we earned in the Paletia continent, when we were “cleaning” there.

[What did you expect?]

[Nothing will ever change.]

It’s time to move. As I start searching for a horse, I find a small cage covered by a big, dirty cloth. Did I miss a cage? I break open the door and continue until I find the stables. Preparing the horse I hear the sound of river, I’m covered in the caked blood and internal organ parts of those who died today. A bath wouldn’t be bad.

I take a shirt hanging near the horse, walk towards the river. Stepping into the freezing river I submerge into the water, images of the day’s events flash across my vision overlapping with similar events that happened in the past. Life repeats itself. A spiral, it makes a full circle and returns to the same position, slightly different, but essentially the same. And it looks the endless cycle won’t stop. I’m not sure how long I spent under water, it feels as if hours passed.

Enough. I must end it.

Walking out I start walking back to the stables, but the stables are empty. There were at least a dozen horses, but none are left. I should’ve taken the horse with me. I need one. Someone must’ve taken them. They must still be here. Going back to the center of the camp I find it totally deserted again.

No one at all.

I was away for no more than five minutes. How could they all disappear? A strange shuffling comes from the cage with the cloth over it, notify me that there may still be someone left. Coming closer I notice that it’s the cage I opened last, in the exact same state I left it in. Both the cage door and cloth haven’t been moved. Throwing off the cloth I find a single child inside, far thinner than any of the others I saw in the camp. About five or six, with black and grey hair, covered in filth.

Looking around I still fail to hear or see anyone else. Maybe she knows something. Opening the door I enter, to which the child reacts with a start and crawls away. Flashbacks of hundreds of similar situations come unexpectedly. Different faces, ages, and places, but still children, terrified of everything in this world.

Hundreds that I tried, but failed to save.

Those that fill my nightmares every day.

The sound of a thunder strike brings me back.

Looking back at the child, I notice that there is something wrong with her legs. Her foot tendons were cut. She can’t walk. She bundles herself into the corner and starts mumbling something without even looking at me. Standing there for half a minute waiting for someone else to come, but I still fail to find anyone else.

Why was she left?

They forgot her?

Or just abandoned her?

Why was she in the cage alone?

I come a bit closer and finally notice that she has cat ears, ripped, but still there. Wait. Listening to the mumbling I recognize a few words from the Qing kingdom’s language. The puzzle solved itself. She’s not a Paletian demi-human, she’s Ojari, the cursed natives of the Qing kingdom.

The Ojari lived there before even the humans came to the continent. They should’ve been extinct. Massacred just because people, especially the previous Qing Empress, believed them to bring evil and bad luck. How did she end up here? No human will take her, nor will any demi-human.

Finally, rain starts to fall. Heavy, and thick, the rhythmic sound blocking everything else.

No one will come for her.

What do I do?

[Leave her here, what else?]

[Don’t delude yourself. We can’t save lives. Only takes them.]

[Enough of this bullshit. There’s nothing you can do.]

No.

Words spoken by Yorgan still fresh in my mind, even after nearly a decade.

“We do not seek fame or recognition. If you desire that, you came to the wrong place. Our names will never be spoken, our achievements never written, our sacrifices unknown. We do not bleed because we desire something.”

Enough self-pity, enough Nihilism, enough hate and despair. Change will never come out of nothing. I must continue walking as I have always done. I walk to her and slowly pick her up. She stiffens to my touch, looking at me in utter confusion with her sky blue eyes.

As if…

As if it’s the first time someone touched her.

With her in my arms I walk back to the river. Entering the cold water she stiffens and starts trembling, but still doesn’t dare touch me. Washing her properly, her black and grey hair returns to the colour they should’ve been. Moon white and velvet black. Walking out of the river I cover her shivering body with the new shirt I found. The water may have been too cold for her. Standing near the river shore with a child in my arms, I review the situation. Naked and alone with a child in the middle of a forest.

What do I do now?

…

I found neither clean clothes nor food in the camp. Everything disappeared with the people. But I found a lot of footsteps, being washed away by the rain, going deeper into the forest. I cut pieces of the big tent and use it as a cloak for me and the child. After that I returned to the forest where the battle took place and gathered whatever I found on the dead bodies. As soon as I gathered enough from the dead I returned to my dead horse and butchered the body into meat. After cooking some I ate it together with the child. At the start she looked at the meat in confusion as if she didn’t know what to do with it. “Eat.” I said in Yungi, the main language used in Qing. Her eyes opened wide and she slowly started nibbling the meat. I resumed travel, using the main road.

…

Usually time files, a day is worth nothing. But with a child somehow, it slowed down. Every sound startled her, every action took time, everything was new to her, every tree, flower, bird, and animal. She has been quiet the whole time. Only looking at my face and new things. She has been eating better, but still too little for a growing child. She continues looking at me, a look of confusion and curiosity. Then she looks down at her hair, taking it into her hands and looking at it from all sides. Then she looks at me again and stretches her hand to my hair and touches them, looking at them with the same curiously.

“Daddy?”

What?

As she starts crying she continues “I prayed to the ancestors, hoping that daddy would come and save me. That daddy would take me with him, that the pain would stop. Mommy didn’t lie! I prayed every day.” Hugging me she squeezes “And daddy came.”

No.

No, you’re wrong. I want to say it but I can’t. I hug the child and tears stream from my eyes. The words I dreamed to hear, but I buried that unfulfillable dream a long time ago.

It happened after the catastrophic expedition to the “Old” continent, Lazaar, when the rupture was opened. More than half of my Brothers died, many were cursed, and that was when I got my scar. Healing the cursed was hard, but possible. The scar was a totally different story. No one could heal it. Even the Archbishop’s purification didn’t work. That was also the time when some started talking about killing all the cursed, including me, and all those who went on the expedition.

If the Archbishop couldn’t heal it, maybe some old scriptures could help. Because of my achievements in the expedition and my history, they made an exception. In search I went to the classified Library of the Ancients, also known as the “Library of the Damned”, and I found a lot, perhaps too much. It’s called the “Library of the Damned” for a reason, knowledge so crushing that the mere reading of a few books would make a person incapable of living in any society.

Damned for life.

Truth is hard.

That’s where I learned about spirits, how they work, how they see. And their desire for a perfect vessel, something like me. I was alive this long just because the spirits didn’t know of my existence. How can you know about something that you can neither feel nor see? It also explained a lot of what exactly happened on the expedition. It must be logical, something anyone should know and understand, common knowledge of sorts, that all affinities are passed by blood, from parent to child.

Absence of any affinity is passed too.

I had night mares for some time as my children and the children of my children would become hunted, bred for the sole purpose of becoming vessels to spirits. I vowed to never have children, to never doom anyone to that fate. Those nightmares soon stopped, they were replaced by old ones that I was used to, but now there was a new presence.

It was as if he felt the change in fate, he started tempting, posing as a friend.

I also learned why.

The scar is a soul-bound curse, it doesn’t matter what you do with your body, the curse from the soul will leak into the body. And the soul-bound curse is also passed by soul creating, or blood as some would call it. He ensured that any child I would have would be a perfect vessel for him. He wanted to lay low and await while the number of vessels increased, but my decision shattered his plans.

So what was left? Focus on the remaining vessel. He started pumping his energy into the curse, slowly and steadily. The only way to stop it was to disrupt the flow, which can only be done on magnetic poles.

[You got what you wanted, didn’t you?]

Looking down at the small child I ask “What’s your name?”

“Forgot…. no name……. called cursed….. called trash.” She replied poorly, as if sorry for her existence.

Even slaves have names….

Looking at the moons I decide.

“My name is Alan.”

“I will call you Luna.”

…

After that night I started to walk with her on my shoulders, constantly scanning the terrain in search of danger. When we rescued the children there were always skilled Blood Seers who could see anything coming from kilometers away. When you’re alone it’s just you, if anything happens you just run. But now there’s someone who’s fully dependent on me. Maybe I became a bit too paranoid. I always made fun of Yorgan for his over-protective tendencies to children, but look at me.

Ironic, isn’t it, Yorgan?

…

South Dungeon is several kilometers away. The city with an active volcano on one side, and one of the biggest ports on the continent on the other side. A strange city. It’s a city, but at the same time it’s a country. Funny thing is, it’s not actually the “South” Dungeon. It’s located somewhere around the equator. But back them when the demi-human continent Paletia hadn’t even been discovered, it was believed to be the southernmost dungeon.

And the name stuck, somehow, even millenniums after.

I see dozens of ships going to and fro from the port, big and small, old ones, fancy looking ones. Many ships make a stop here before going to Qing. A city of trade, adventurers, and movement. I get into the queue to enter the city, and slowly but steadily moved forward. As soon as it was my turn I came before at least three dozen Enforcers and at least the same number of archers on the wall. The asked the usual stuff, where from, purpose of your arrival in the city.

They told me that I’m lucky to get here from Mozzarel alive, and that I shouldn’t travel through the forest when I got back, as they have an issue with bandits, which they will solve soon.

Too late. Too late.

He saw Luna and asked if I had her slave documents. Well, nothing a few coins can’t solve. After paying the “fee” for entering the city, we went through the gates and entered the city. The thing is that here, there are only three types of demi-humans. Merchants with a special seal from the King, slaves from Paletia, brought here to be sold, and any other demi-human is open for hunting.

On the lands of the Desert Alliance demi-humans were tolerated, only money counted there. In the Sun Empire any non-human is believed to be an abomination, by nearly all religions. In the Sarshi Caliphate as long as you zealously believe, and I mean very zealously, in their four gods your race doesn’t matter as much.

But here, here there were millenniums of battles against the demi-humans, things are more on the aggressive side. There isn’t a single human on this side of the continent who hasn’t had a friend or family member killed by demi-humans. As I walk by the main road with Luna in my arms, I try to find an inn. Maybe tomorrow I’ll try and find an orphanage or home. In the southern region of the Paletia continent a member of a rare race would be welcomed with open arms, if they have decent wealth to back it of course. With the amount of gold I have left, sending her there, or organizing a caravan there wouldn’t be a problem.

I’m not sure what else I can do for her.

As I walk deeper into the city one thing is talked about a lot. Summoned heroes from the Empire came into the city and closed the volcano, claiming there’s an ancient evil under the dungeon and is about to wake up.

What the fuck do you mean by “closed the volcano’.

You can’t close an active volcano.

Unless they just….

No, that’s impossible…

They can’t be that dumb…