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Chains of Fate
Chapter 2 - Fate encounter (1)

Chapter 2 - Fate encounter (1)

The man in shining armour looked down on Caine, his expression hidden behind his silver helmet, and yet his bright blue eyes stood out as they glowed, contrasting his silver armour.

Behind the helmet, he wore a curious look, as if he was staring at some puppy. Caine grew nervous, his heart was racing uncontrollably, each heartbeat feeling like it wanted to escape his chest.

The crowd had grown silent, every single one of the villagers constantly looked between the knight and Caine; even the children did not say anything, the silence was deafening, and Caine found it suffocating.

The man carefully removed his helmet, revealing his slicked-back, blonde hair, with a few strands falling onto his face. He was a rather handsome man, the previous silence had been broken by a couple of women squealing at his appearance; he turned to them and waved, and the screaming slightly intensified, followed by loud whispers.

The man held his helmet in one hand, placed on his hip, while the other was placed on the hilt of his sword, holding it gently, the same way a child would gently hold his precious toy. But Caine knew better than to think that a sword was a toy, especially in hand.

Caine had never met a knight before, but he was certain that he was strong. The size of the man, the way he carried himself, and the confidence he exuded were things Caine had never seen before, not in anyone.

The man emanated an aura of strength, he was incomparably stronger than any of the people in that village.

This was the first time Caine had seen someone as large as his father, he towered over everyone. The armour rested gracefully over his shoulders, it was heavy and yet he bore its weight effortlessly. He knelt down, matching Caine’s eye level, and just his gaze made him sweat.

“Are you hurt, boy?” He asked, his voice filled with concern, and yet sounding commanding.

“Y-yes... I mean no, no, I’m not hurt, Sir, thank you, Sir.” Caine stammered as his mind was overrun with a thousand thoughts.

‘This is a knight. How am I meant to act?’

No matter how hard he thought about it, he did not know. He was just a commoner, he barely knew how to read and write, his mother had taught him the basics, but he was just a commoner.

“That’s good, you looked so scared, I thought you got hurt really bad.” He replied, following with a hearty laugh, shattering all the tension Caine felt, and overshadowing the murmurs of the crowd.

The knight stood back up, extending his hand, offering to help Caine to his feet; he hesitantly accepted it, feeling the rough leather of the gloves as he pulled him up with surprising gentleness. Caine looked at the knight, at his cheerful smile as he maintained his gaze on him,

Caine found his gaze intimidating yet refreshing. He seemed friendly, the way he would smile at him, the way he would occasionally smile at the girls in the crowd, the way he looked at him as if he mattered; it was something Caine had never expected, and he released the breath he was subconsciously holding.

“I’m well, thank you, Sir.” Caine replied, bowing; as he looked down, he noticed mud spluttered on the knight’s leg; he looked at the rest of his armour being completely spotless, and Caine’s expression completely dropped.

“Please forgive me, Sir.” Caine’s voice was unwillingly raised by the panic as his chest tightened once more.

The man seemed confused and looked down, and then smiled at the boy again. “Oh, don’t worry about this old thing.” He said, brushing the dirt away. “It’s bound to get dirty; it is armour after all.”

With every sentence he uttered, Caine felt himself grow calmer, the intimidating aura the knight exuded no longer intimidated him; instead, a rapidly growing sense of admiration arose within him with each passing second.

“Thank you for understanding, Sir. It is a pleasure meeting you, my name is Caine.” He said, thinking this was a good opportunity to introduce himself.

“...”

The man said nothing and instead stared at the child patiently for a few seconds before his expression changed, almost as if he realised something.

“Sorry.” He chuckled to himself. “I am from the capital, and I tend to be surrounded by nobles, I was waiting for a family name, but I forgot that commoners don’t have those.”

He continued laughing to himself, the laugh itself sounded commanding.

“Caine, lad? That’s a good name, your parents chose well.” He spoke. “My name is Ranork, Sir Ranork Saintsworth, and the pleasure is mine.”

A smile creeped upon Caine’s face; he could not remember the last time he had been treated so kindly by someone who was not related to him.

Being treated like this by this man, especially this man, it created a desire within Caine to become more like him. To become strong, but kind. A real knight.

“Sir Saintsworth, if I may, what brings you here to Arzamac?”

“The Forest.” He replied nonchalantly. “My party and I are tasked with a mission to hunt down some demonic beasts that are rumoured to have reached the outer edges of those woods, and there is a path through this village. We’re here to kill the bastards.”

Caine stood in awe of the knight. Everyone had always stayed away from that place, but Sir Saintsworth was the first man Caine ever knew to actually go in and fight the demons.

“Sir, I know of demonic beasts, but part of me always believed them to be mere stories. Have you ever been afraid of them?” Caine asked, being so focused on the knight’s reply that he couldn’t hear the gasps within the crowd.

“Not really, no.” Sir Saintsworth replied confidently. “In my veins flows the blood of the Gods. I am a Demigod, a protector of this realm. The protector does not feel fear, the protector is the bravest of them all.”

He boastfully laughed, and Caine seemed entranced by him, not being able to find any faults in the knight; he found everything about him to be noble, his every movement was purposeful and commanding, even the way he would occasionally smile when he locked eyes with someone, it was all so charming.

“Aye, Caine, want to become a knight when you grow up?” He asked. “I see you glancing at my sword.”

“I’d like to become a knight, but I’ve never wielded a sword, and I don’t know magic. I’m nobody.” Caine’s voice was nearly a whisper as he became dejected.

“Oh, come on, that’s not true, you are somebody; you don’t know the impact you will have on those around you. And you are special, you’re standing in front of me like it’s nothing, when most kids would tremble.”

Caine looked around, trying to find any other children, but was surprised to find not even one. He thought about it, Sir Saintsworth did emit a certain energy, and it did feel heavy, but would that be something kids fear?

He couldn’t help but ask himself.

“And there’s still time to develop a mana core, it takes time. When you get one, and if you’re near the capital, Arman, I’ll recommend you for the Academy.”

Caine’s face flushed with heat, and looked at the ground, hiding his grin from the knight. Just the thought of actually attending the Academy made him extremely happy, despite knowing deep down that it was nothing but an empty dream.

He would only be able to leave this village when he was an adult. This much he knew.

“Come on, Caine, no need to get embarrassed. Here, take this.” Si Saintsworth said, grabbing Caine’s hand forcefully and placing a silver coin in it.

That was the most money Caine had ever seen in his entire life. With just that coin, his family could be fed for months, they would never have to starve. He tightly held it, carefully inspecting his pocket before putting it there, ensuring that there were no holes in it.

“Thank you, Sir.” Caine nearly shouted from the excitement. “How can I ever repay you for your kindness.”

He laughed once again. “Don’t worry about it, lad. But if you really want to thank me, you can always wish us luck tomorrow.” He said with a huge smile on his face.

“Sir Saintsworth, I live in a hut just outside the walls, really close to The Forest.” Caine told him happily. “My home is near the path to reach those woods, and I’ll be there to wish you luck and pray to the Gods for your success and safety.”

There was a subtle shift on Sir Saintsworth’s face, his wide smile turned into something sinister, but Caine was far too lost in his admiration to notice.

Despite not noticing the change, a shiver ran down Caine’s spine, and his gaze fell upon Sir Saintsworth’s companions standing behind him.

There were three knights, all of them wearing armour, lighter than the one Sir Saintsworth was wearing, but just as brilliant, and in different colours – red, blue, and yellow – representing the colours of the Arman Kingdom, one of the Seven Kingdoms in the world.

Two of the knights carried swords, whereas the one behind them all carried a large staff adorned with a bright crimson gem, worth thousands of silver coins. Though they were all different, they all wore the same expression, staring at Caine with pity, but avoiding his gaze as soon as their eyes met.

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere, the knights were slowly backing away, and Caine could not figure out what was happening; he looked towards Sir Saintsworth, waiting for him to say something, but he just stared back at him, rather than looking at him, he was looking at something beyond.

Caine grew confused as his heart pounded uncontrollably and something heavy rested on his chest, but he simply couldn't understand what was happening, and he looked at the crowd.

They stood frozen, but their whispers seemed strangely loud to him and yet he could not understand what they were saying as all the sounds were mumbled together.

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“Ah, little Caine, I think it’s time for us to retire. To wake early tomorrow, we need to get drunk now.” Sir Saintsworth laughed, his demeanour completely returning to what it was, and yet Caine could not shake off the feeling that something was different.

“I-I understand, Sir.” Caine replied, trying to ignore the creeping fear growing in his mind. “Thank you for talking to me. I wish you luck for your subjugation.”

Caine bowed, alongside the crowd, and they began dispersing. Sir Saintsworth continued staring at Caine’s back as he walked away, his smile growing ever larger before vanishing.

He let go of the hilt of his sword and wiped the dirt off his legs, with a disgusted look on his face.

***

“Hey, guys. Can I play too?” Caine asked the other kids at the playground.

“No! Go away!” a kid snapped, his voice dripping with palpable disgust. The other children laughed and ran away, escaping from the playground.

Once again, he was alone.

He had gotten used to the other children excluding him, but it would always sting, nevertheless.

‘Well, it could’ve gone worse.’ He thought to himself as he let out a chuckle. Caine would usually laugh in these situations to mask the loneliness he felt, and to convince himself that everything was well, but today he was genuinely happy.

For a long time, he couldn’t understand why people treated him like he was nothing; he had not done anything wrong, but the others would look at him with so much disdain, and he felt trapped in Arzamac, wanting nothing more than their respect.

But it was different now. He no longer wanted to be recognised by those people, he wanted others to acknowledge him, strong people just like Sir Saintsworth.

Caine wished to leave, to move to a place far away from Arzamac, now more than ever. It was no longer a desire he had because of the loneliness he felt, but rather due a burning desire to meet new people, to find people who will accept him, to grow stronger.

Despite this wish, he knew that for the time being it was nothing more than a pipe dream; whenever he used to suggest moving away to his parents, they would always tell him that they belonged there, that destiny brought them there and they should not leave.

Whilst leaving now was impossible, Caine was more determined than ever to leave Azamac, to become a brave knight like Sir Saintsworth, and to find others like him.

Caine looked around, checking if anyone else was around him, but he was alone; he shrugged and walked over to the giant tree in the middle of the playground, its large branches supporting a couple of swings; he, however, ignored the swings altogether and sat down leaning against its trunk.

He stared at the bright yellow flowers, reminding him of the berries he grabbed at the outer edges of The Forest; he closed his eyes, imagining all the adventures he would have if he had developed a mana core, and before he realised he fell asleep.

***

Caine woke up, his back still resting on the now uncomfortable tree and clutching the necklace his father gifted him. He felt dizzy as he attempted to recall what he had just dreamt; he could only recall being on an island and remembered what he dreamt that same morning.

The suns began to set, and Caine realised he slept for far longer than he expected. He started walking home, almost running as he thought of excuses to tell his parents, already dreading the scoldings he was going to receive.

He walked on the narrow streets of Arzamac, ignoring their looks of contempt, no longer bothered by them. the sky was a bright crimson red, although its colour was getting duller with each passing minute; it was a scary reminder for Caine of how angry his parents would be.

He reached the inns and bars, the people there grew louder and louder; despite trying to ignore their drunk gazes, Caine still found them uncomfortable, especially when they would suddenly start shouting at him, incoherent words at best, but full of disdain, nevertheless.

The streets were loud and bright, Caine wished he had chosen a different path, but there was a shortcut through this area, and considering how late it had gotten, he figured it was better to walk through here and get home as soon as possible.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed Caine’s shoulder, forcefully pulling him back. Caine turned around and saw a man in shining armour. He recognised him as the mage in Sir Saintsworth party, he was holding his staff, using it to balance himself. His face was flushed and sweaty, a stark contrast to the pale expression he wore earlier, and as soon as he locked eyes with the child, he knelt, nearly throwing himself to the ground and grabbing Caine’s shoulders with surprising force.

His mouth trembled, seemingly lost for words; the pungent smell of alcohol on his breath hit Caine’s face as he heaved for air, making him disgusted. Caine grabbed his hand, trying to move it off his shoulder, but his grip was too strong and a burning pain radiated from his shoulder, spreading across his torso.

The mage simply knelt there, unmoving, his gaze stuck on Caine, wearing a myriad of emotions on his face, constantly changing.

“It’s not your fault.” He spoke, solemnly. “There’s nothing you coulda done, nothin’. Don’t blame yourself, it’s not your fault.”

His voice grew louder and louder, and with each word his grip tightened digging into his flesh, making Caine’s face contort in pain.

“Listen to me!” He shouted, gathering the attention of people around them. “It’s not your fault!”

Caine was scared and confused, the happiness he felt today beginning to feel like a distant dream. The mage just shouted incoherent words at him, not letting him go regardless of how much he struggled.

Perhaps, after seeing the fear in the child’s eyes, the mage let go of him, making Caine drop to the ground. The mage tried to touch him, to help him to his feet, but Caine threw himself backwards, trying to get away from him.

Standing up, he ran away, stumbling as he did, too frightened for his body to move properly. He forced himself to look behind to see if the mage was chasing him, but fell to the ground again, rolling forward; blood flowed slowly but steadily from his face as a long cut appeared on his forehead, slowly dripping onto his left eye, making it difficult for him to see from it.

Once again, he stood up and ran again, past the wooden walls of Arzamac and followed the path to his home; the only wish he had in his heart at that moment was to just get back to his parents, to feel their embrace, to feel safe.

He carried on running, knowing that he was getting closer to them, and finally saw the run down hut. Caine stopped running as he felt a shiver run down his spine. He was less than a minute away from his home, but it seemed eerie now to him.

The suns had nearly completely set, the stars and the moon shone a dim light around him, but the inside of his home was completely empty.

Candles should have been lit by now.

Lisa had always hated the dark, and always made it a point to have at least one source of light at all times, and Caine knew this.

But there was no light. He should have been able to see some lights through the windows.

Caine dragged his feet to his hut, forcing himself to move; the closer he got, the more unsettled he became, the place was strangely quiet, and he instinctively grabbed his necklace, feeling a small surge of energy return to him.

He opened the front door, ignoring the creaking of the hinges, and nearly threw up at the smell coming from inside, a smell similar to a rotting carcass.

His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark hut, but he saw the silhouette of a person sitting in the kitchen.

“Dad?” he whispered.

Caine stepped onto something wet, as he walked into the kitchen, but felt too scared to even notice.

“Mom?”

His heart was racing, each heartbeat harder than the previous, as a chill surrounded him.

Despite the Long Summer’s heat, the air felt cold and Caine’s small body trembled and felt powerless. The foul stench made it difficult to breathe, and his every moment began to feel excruciatingly frightening.

Caine approached the silhouette, despite his every cell shouting at him not to. The dark figure raised its arm and a small, yet incredibly brilliant light was conjured from his index finger.

Ranork Saintsworth sat in the kitchen with his legs propped over the table Bamel had built. Caine instantly froze, his body no longer trembled as sheer terror overcame him.

The knight sat there, the flame revealing the same sinister grin Caine had not noticed earlier. He now looked entirely different, the nobility and honour he displayed was nowhere in sight.

'Why is he here? Where are mother and father? What is happening’

Caine’s mind raced with countless thoughts, all happening at the same time, not letting him make sense of even one. He thought of the mage he encountered on his way home, and the fear he felt grew even deeper.

Sir Saintsworth did not spare the scared boy a single glance, but rather stared at the empty space above him, half laughing to himself, his eyes privy of any emotion.

The knight used his thumb to crack his knuckles, with each crack a few candles would be lit until Caine could see the entire room.

The entire floor was covered was now covered in a dark red puddle and Caine stood in the middle of it. Everything was dyed red, the floor, the table, the chairs, the walls, and Caine’s eyes darted around the kitchen, wanting to find something familiar.

His own home seemed now foreign to him.

Beside Sir Saintsworth, on the floor, was a hand. a severed hand, still bleeding out.

At the sight of it, Caine’s knees buckled, and he fell with both of his hands in the puddle of blood as he violently threw up.

His hands trembled as he felt the blood on them, and averted his gaze to the side, but a severed foot came into sight; he fell ill once more and threw up as tears continued to stream down his face.

He still felt the blood dripping from the wound on his forehead, his own blood mixing with the blood on the floor, lightly shining.

Sir Saintsworth, still not having acknowledged the crying child carried on laughing to himself; a sinister and inexplicable laugh that frightened the boy down to his very core.

Caine managed to look up to him despite every single cell in his body screaming at him not to, and Sir Saintsworth finally looked at him, locking eyes with the boy, with palpable disgust directed towards him.

Sir Saintsworth stood up, his menacing figure staring down at Caine. His maniacal smile drained whatever energy Caine had left, who no longer had the strength to even try to stand. The knight walked behind the table and grabbed something.

Caine sobbed painfully.

Bamel and Lisa’s bodies were held in his hands by their hair, and he threw them at him.

The knight’s laughter grew louder, it was nearly a scream, but all Caine could hear was a buzzing noise that grew louder with each passing second. His chest grew hot, his heart was beating too fast, and time seemed to slow down as he saw their bodies hit the ground, a few steps away from him.

Regardless of how hard he tried to look away, his eyes remained fixed on them; blood covered their faces, there were deep slashes across their throats, and they were missing all their limbs.

Their eyes were pointed straight at him, seemingly empty, but Caine could tell they were full of fear.

‘It’s my fault.’

This one single thought replayed in his mind, over and over again.

The knight’s laughter slowed down, giving Caine a moment to focus. He somehow took his eyes off his parent’s corpses, and looked up to him, his trembling eyes fixed on him.

He was still wearing his armour, no longer spotless, and like everything in that room, smeared in blood. He had one hand resting on his hip, while the other carried a large glass bottle; he brought it to his mouth and drank until it was empty before he smashed it on the floor, some splatters of blood and shards of glass stabbed Caine.

“Little Caine.” Sir Saintsworth said to himself, before chuckling to himself again.

“Let’s play a game.” He continued. “I’ll take a piss, and when I see you again, I’ll kill you like I killed those two worthless creatures. “

Caine’s entire body trembled, he was still on his knees looking up at him, hardly believing that this was the same knight he met hours ago.

“Well... you’ve got some time, if you run, you can earn yourself a few minutes.”

Caine felt genuine fear for the first time in his life, he couldn’t even feel the pain that came from his wound, his eyes continued darting from the knight to his parents, and he grabbed his necklace.

“W-w-why?” He managed to find the strength to mumble this one question with tears streaming down his face, mixing with the blood.

“Oh, yes, that. Well, you bumped into me, and as an elder of yours, it is my duty to make sure you learn that was rude. You need to understand that what you did was wrong.”

“It was an accident.” He managed to reply in between sobs. “They didn’t do anything to you.”

“That doesn’t matter. Your actions have consequences. I am the fucking consequence!” He shouted while pointing at himself.

“Look... Little Caine. I am not a simple knight. In my veins flows the blood of a God, I am a Demigod, I can do what I want. You, your parents, the other peasants in this village, you’re nothing but a bunch of filthy monkeys that don’t matter. You. Don’t. Matter.”

Demigods, the ones who inherited the blood of Gods after the Conflict. Caine heard stories of them, they were supposed to be noble and honourable warriors sworn to protect all humans.

However, the Demigod standing before Caine was nothing like that.

“I don’t like repeating myself, so, just stand there, or hide, or run away, I don’t care, just make this fun for me.” The Demigod walked out, whistling a happy tune, while his steps were wobbly, seemingly drunk.

Caine remained there, still on his knees, now just staring at what remained of his parents, and then it suddenly hit him: he left.

He did not want to leave his parents there, but he didn’t want to die either. He wanted to leave and to do that, he needed to leave them there and run away.

He held onto his necklace even harder, the rusty chain now digging painfully into his hand, and felt a light surge of energy.

“Sorry mom, sorry dad. I’m so sorry.” He whispered before finding the strength to turn around and run out of the hut. He ran aimlessly, the only thing on his mind was to put as much distance as possible between him and that monster.

He ran as fast as he could, not even thinking about where he was going, and then he found himself surrounded by trees.

He entered The Forest.