Caine and the stranger left The Forest behind them. Oliver walked ahead of him but stopped the moment Caine stopped following him and turned to face him. He walked over to the child and squatted down in front of him.
“I know it’s difficult to be back here, you don’t need to do anything right now.” He said, patting him on the head.
Caine stood more completely still. Having left The Forest forced him to confront the truth he had spent the last few hours avoiding: he was truly alone now.
His parents died because of him, that was the only thought that went through his mind, on a constant loop.
Despite numerous attempts, he could not move, his eyes were fixed forward, looking towards Arzamac, and yet they focused on nothing. So many thoughts ran through his mind, that he couldn’t make sense of even one, and then one image appeared in his mind, as vivid as when he lived it.
He saw his parents’ bodies rolling on the ground in front of him as Sir Saintsworth laughed maniacally, he relived that moment again, completely immersed in it, hearing the exact sound they made as they hit the ground, the feeling of their blood on his skin, the nauseating smell of their lifeless corpses, it became all he could focus on.
His chest tightened, and his breathing became more and more shallow, struggling to take in enough air; he could feel all of his muscles tremble uncontrollably, and suddenly felt lightheaded, making him drop to the ground as all energy escaped him.
He fell, and held onto his chest, as an endless stream of tears began flowing, as the world closed in on with overwhelming force.
Oliver rushed to his side, instantly appearing beside him, and held him, picking him up and going back to the tree line, leaning him against a tree.
“Breathe, Caine.” He said repeatedly, despite the boy not being able to hear anything.
Oliver remained near him, rubbing his back as he used a small amount of healing magic, despite knowing that it would do nothing for the boy.
After more than fifteen minutes, his breathing became slightly more controlled, and soon he managed to breathe somewhat normally. Oliver used his hand to rub the sweat off his face, but it was still visible through his clothes.
“What happened to me?” Caine asked him, his voice full of fear.
“It was a panic attack.” He replied. “It’s completely normal, you have gone through things no child should ever go through. Your body thinks you’re in danger, even if you aren’t.”
Caine looked at the sky. The night ended, and it was a new day, and all he could do now was laugh. Caine laughed, almost maniacally, he laughed loudly, while Oliver just looked at him with an understanding expression.
“It’s funny, you know.” Caine told him. “Yesterday, my dad... he said I would become strong one day but look at me: literally scared of nothing.”
Oliver listened quietly as Caine looked at him, waiting for an answer; Caine was fixed on his eyes, wondering about the emotions hidden behind them, wondering about what he had told him.
‘Pain made him strong.’
‘If pain can make someone strong, I must be the strongest,’ Caine thought to himself.
“My little brother,” Oliver interrupted Caine’s thoughts, “he went through something horrible, someone we loved hurt him really badly, and he started having those panic attacks.”
A gentle summer breeze suddenly caressed them, and Oliver showed him a faint smile, but Caine could see it as clear as day the nearly insurmountable sadness in his eyes. Witnessing that was almost unbearable for Caine, seeing the man in so much pain brought forth so much pain to Caine himself that he could hardly think straight.
“My brother, Stefan, wanted revenge, he wanted to kill that man, but in the end, he couldn’t and instead he was the one who died.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Caine asked him.
“He had those panic attacks, and he thought they made him weak, but what he went through... and the way he decided to continue living, I wish I told him that he was really strong, not many could have carried on the way he did. I was the weak one, I couldn’t do anything for him, but I can do something for you: you are strong, Caine. Just like my brother.”
The breeze stopped suddenly, the quiet rustling in the trees behind them stopped, the chirping of the birds stopped, and silence completely engulfed them. Caine could no longer look at him and just stared at the sky.
Listening to Oliver, he understood the truth.
He wanted to kill Sir Saintsworth, but he knew he was too weak to do anything about it, and he needed to grow stronger, incomparably stronger.
“Oliver.” Caine said, his voice full of newfound determination. “I want to bury my parents. But that man is probably still somewhere, can you take me there? If something happens, I don’t want you to fight him, can you just grab me and run away like you did before.”
Oliver stared at him, a gentle smile still on his face.
“Of course.” He replied. “Lead the way.”
“That’s funny,” Caine laughed, “you probably know the way as well as I do.”
With those words, Caine stood up and began walking, carefully walking outside the walls of Arzamac, just behind the treeline to ensure no one would see them.
Occasionally he would hear some people talk in the distance, a few times he stopped, trying to get closer to them to listen to what they were saying when he thought he heard them mention his parents’ name, but he never heard anything clearly.
They walked in silence and remained completely alert of their surroundings. While Caine tried to be strong, every trembling step he took felt heavy, and the internal turmoil he felt just grew stronger, a mix of emotions crashing into him like violent waves made it difficult to figure out how to feel.
Caine’s heart grew heavier with each step he took, and when he was mere minutes away from his home, he stopped in his tracks.
In the distance, he could see black smoke rising into the sky, and it was coming from the direction of his home; Caine held onto his necklace instinctively, and with newfound energy he ran towards his home, with Oliver following beside him, scouting the surrounding for dangers.
A crowd had gathered around his home, and Caine pushed his way into the crowd, trying to get to the front, similarly to what happened the day before, pushing into the crowd just to meet the knights.
Oliver was right behind him but had no need to push his way through the crowd, as they had all made way for him, feeling their bodies move by instinct under the pressure of his presence.
Caine could feel the warmth of flames as he saw what remained on his home engulfed in hellish flames, and at the sight in front of him, a burning rage grew within Caine, bringing forth an unsettling sense of calm.
“I guess we don’t have a healer anymore.”
“At least we don’t have to deal with them anymore.”
“Maybe the kid will leave too.”
The murmurs came to a sudden stop as the man accompanying Caine exerted slightly more pressure, making the crowd fall silent.
Caine’s mind was suddenly filled with pity; despite all the numbing emotions he felt, at that moment, he only felt pity for the people of Arzamac. For years, his mother had helped them, but they couldn’t see past their baseless hatred towards them; despite everything, they were slaves to their emotions.
Caine leaned into the unsettling calmness that overcame him, allowing himself to think as rationally as he could: at that moment, Caine hated Sir Saintsworth much more than the people of Arzamac hated his family, and he did not want to become like them.
Full of hatred, but still weak.
He needed to grow stronger, deep down he wanted to become as strong as Oliver, although he felt that was impossible, but he wanted to be strong enough to be able to survive fighting a Demigod.
Demigods.
His idea of them had completely changed, he could no longer see them as the noble and honourable heroes he was told they were; instead, he saw them as tyrants, monsters who believed themselves to be superior.
He clutched his necklace even harder as his expression hardened, and he felt continuous raindrops slowly descend from the sky, until there was a downpour that made the crowd scatter, trying to find shelter.
The flames died down slowly under the heavy weight of the rain until all that remained were the burnt remains of his home.
The place where he used to feel imprisoned, the place he wanted to leave behind, he realised it was the place where he had been happiest, and now became the place where he committed his greatest mistake that cost him everything.
Caine thought about his parents, remembering how strangely they had acted the day before, thinking about how they told him they loved him, and how he just left as quickly as he could. The regret of not saying it back to them was eating him alive, he felt the calmness waver, as intense pain overcame him.
He took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the pain, wishing for the numbness to return. He walked to the hut, standing in front of the burnt wooden door, a smile creeping up as he saw the hut still standing despite the strong fire, thinking about how well Bamel built his home.
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He gently pushed the door, but as soon as he touched it, it tipped over, a cloud of dust lifting off the ground. The calmness he felt deepened to his dismay, wondering in part how he managed to stay calm.
He entered the kitchen, with his saviour following closely behind, and stared at his parents’ bodies. They lay on the ground, the same place where he left them, their bodies completely charred and slowly turning into ashes. Their limbs were scattered around the kitchen, and now that there was enough light, he could see the entire floor covered in blood, now having grown much darker after the fire.
Tears streamed down his face as he knelt between them.
“I am sorry.” He whispered. “I wasn’t the son you deserved; I truly am sorry. I love you far more than I ever told you. Please rest.”
He stood back up and turned to the man who was just looking at him with eyes full of pity. Caine stared at him with empty eyes, and then turned back to his parents’ bodies and sat down, staring at the empty space, his mind having gone completely blank.
He did not want to think, he did not want to say anything or do anything, he just wanted to sit there, in complete silence, and that was exactly what he did.
***
Hours had passed since Caine went inside his home, and his figure now emerged out of the hut, staring at the suns in the sky with heavy, red eyes. Some kids near the village walls stared in his direction, but he ignored them.
The desire for acceptance he once felt had completely vanished now, he did not know what he was going to do, but he knew he was going to leave Arzamac behind.
He looked for Oliver, and saw him just beyond some trees, with some smoke rising in the blue sky, and ran over to him.
“Oliver.” He called out to him. “Thank you for your help.”
“Ah, Caine, just in time. Have some of this.”
Oliver handed him a rabbit’s leg that he had just been cooking with a hopeful smile on his face, and Caine gladly accepted it, biting into it. It was dry and bland, but Caine had been so hungry, he did not care for it.
He sat on the grass in front of a small campfire, silently eating. He’d glance at Oliver at times, waiting for some kind of reaction.
Caine knew nothing about him, but he trusted him more than he wanted. He had a completely different aura from Sir Saintsworth, and that made it significantly easier for Caine to trust him.
Despite Sir Saintsworth’s threat, Caine had surprisingly not been found by him, which he found both a relief and unsettling. He had been worried that he would be waiting near his home, but he was not and instead, he set his home on fire.
Caine grimaced at these questions, prompting his saviour, Oliver, to gently push him. Caine looked up at the man, no longer shirtless, but instead wearing a rather elegant silk black shirt, barely masking the dense and powerful muscles hidden underneath.
Looking at him, Caine couldn’t help but laugh, holding his stomach as he leaned forward. He had tears streaming down his face at the sight of his saviour, at the sight of the strongest he knew, wearing one clean, silk shirt and then just tattered clothes.
Oliver stared at him wearing a questioning look, looked down and then looked back at Caine, his face steadily reddening. He closed his eyes, and his shirt began glowing before vanishing into thin air, almost as if it had never been there.
“I only had that.” He explained, his face still red.
Caine laughed even harder, leaning back so much he actually fell.
“You know…” he said, in between fits of laughter, “for how strong you are, you’re too weird.”
The man smiled at him and helped him up, letting him sit down and eat some more rabbit meat. The man was shirtless again, and Caine now studied him, his body was lean and muscular, it looked like his skin was softly resting directly on his muscles.
Scars of all shapes and sizes adorned his body almost looking like a mosaic, and when Caine recalled the way the man fought those demonic beasts, he couldn’t help but ask himself one question: what sort of creature would be able to leave a scar on this man?
Throughout his life, Caine only saw three men that he could instantly recognise as being strong, Sir Saintsworth, Oliver, and… his father, Bamel.
His father may have been a humble man, but he was strong, his limbs were far larger than that of any other person in Arzamac, and his towering figure was enough to make anyone tremble in front of him.
Sir Saintsworth was also large, when Caine met him, he wore the heavy metal armour easily, carrying its weight gracefully, and his mere gaze emanated an aura of strength.
Oliver, instead, was far smaller than the other two, but he was incomparably stronger, without a shadow of a doubt. Caine could not say that he met many strong people, but he was completely certain that Oliver was the strongest among them.
He exerted an overwhelming pressure of absolute strength, the only reason Caine could even be in his presence was simply because Oliver did not direct any ill intent toward him, otherwise, he was certain he could not even breathe in his presence.
Ever since entering The Forest and sensing mana, Caine now felt its presence, although faintly, everywhere around him, he could sense the mana surrounding everything, constantly moving, being absorbed and repelled by all living beings, but more than anything it was aggressively moving towards Oliver.
Caine could almost feel it trying to escape, it would tremble in its attempt to move away from his saviour before being helplessly dragged to him and absorbed.
Caine thought about asking him about his strength but decided against it: while Oliver had helped him, he stayed vague about himself, revealing only the bare minimum; and so the man and the child sat together, eating rabbit meat in silence under the light of the suns.
***
The suns now stood at their highest peak, raining down an oppressive heat on Arzamac. All the inhabitants of the small village were sweating heavily, trying to find cover in the shadows while gossiping about the deaths of the two outsiders in the fire.
Among all the people of Arzamac, a small boy was digging two holes in the ground; he had found a large branch, which the man behind him had strengthened it with mana, and let the boy dig in silence.
The two stood in the sunlight, bearing its full weight head-on, with the boy focused on the task at hand. The holes, or more specifically the graves were not shallow, they were deep enough that the boy had to enter the holes and were as deep as he was tall.
After nearly two hours of digging, they boy was finally done, and after climbing out of the grave, he looked at the man behind him with a proud smile contrasting the empty look in his dark eyes.
“You know, I could have done this in like two minutes.” Oliver told him as he patted him on the shoulder.
“I know, but it’s something I had to do.” Caine told him, catching his breath.
The boy walked back to the remains of his hut, stopping before what used to be the door, and hesitantly walked in.
The emptiness in his eyes grew tenfold as he looked at the charred remains of his parents, whereas his chest grew heavier with a burning rage. He took a deep breath and kneeled down.
Oliver kneeled beside him, staying near Caine. As Caine went to try and lift his mother’s corpse, it slowly crumbled, turning to ash at his touch. Her shoulder was disappearing, and Caine tried to hold onto it, but it just made the body crumble even faster.
He groaned in pain as Oliver pushed him back, and placed his hands over the remains of the boy’s parents, and the crumbling halted, some of the ashes that were falling stopped mid-air looking as if time had frozen.
“Caine.” Oliver called out to him. “We can’t bury them. They’ll… crumble before we can move them.”
“...”
Caine stayed quiet, staring at the sky through the holes the fire made on the roof, and then he laughed. It was faint at first, but grew louder and louder, sounding almost maniacal, and let himself drop on the ground.
Caine felt Oliver’s gaze on him, but he did not care, and just continued laughing, until minutes later when it slowly grew quieter.
“Say, Oliver, why don’t I feel sad? These are my parents, I love them and here I am just laughing. Why can’t I feel sad?”
“People respond to traumatic events differently. So much has happened, that you can’t wrap your mind around it, and that’s normal. This does not mean you did not love them.”
The two sat in silence for a few eternal moments, while Caine fought the apathy in his mind, trying to make himself feel the pain he should be feeling, the pain he believed he deserved to be feeling.
“I can’t leave them here.” Caine muttered to himself.
The boy stood up, shaking off the stiffness in his legs, and walked back and forth, trying to come up with some idea on what to do while Oliver stared at him intently.
“Here.” The man said, holding his hand out as a pouch materialized out of thin air.
Caine hesitantly grabbed it, trying to figure out what the man planned.
“In my homeland, some people burn the remains and hold the ashes close to them.”
The boy thought about what the man told him, thinking about what part of the world would burn their loved ones; while his knowledge of the world was limited, he had never heard of such a ritual, and for a moment he completely forgot about his parents, before the crushing memory of it came onto him.
“Do it.” He said as he realized he could keep them close to him wherever he went.
Caine opened the leather pouch, staring at the intricate design adorning it showing a sun and what seemed to be eight other planets orbiting around it.
The corpses of his parents began glowing as Oliver held out his hands above them; a ray of light shot out of his hand reaching their glowing bodies and making them turn into ashes that lifted off the ground and danced in the air as they weaved onto the pouch Caine held, filling it quickly.
The emptiness he felt slowly chipped away as tears streamed down his face and sadness creeped into his heart, its weight almost fully masked by the rage he felt.
He tied a knot on the pouch and held it close to his chest before walking outside, with Oliver following right behind. He looked at the sky, and his mouth slightly trembles as he tried to find some words.
“I swear on the Gods, New and Old, that I will Ranork Saintsworth. I will make him suffer as he deserves, and I will not rest until I do this.” He said, his voice stoic and composed.
He turned to Oliver and walked past him back into the hut, and began rummaging through the ruins, trying to find anything that may have survived the fire. To his surprise, he found a shoulder bag, the one his father would wear when he worked, and threw the strap over his shoulder, adjusting its length.
He smiled softly as he looked at the bag, larger than he was, and put his hand in it, finding only a book. Bamel would spend any afternoons writing in his book, Caine recalled seeing him put it away whenever he entered the room, and the curiosity he felt increased tenfold whenever he saw that scene.
He hesitantly opened the book, curious to see what his father wrote down, but decided against it; something weighed heavily on him, he did not understand why, but it felt… wrong.
He closed the book, staring at it longingly, and put it back in his father’s old bag before leaving the hut behind him and joining back with Oliver.
“Caine, what you said… vengeance. Are you sure?” Oliver asked him.
“Yes.” He replied. “Maybe it’s like you said, at some point, the pain of losing them will hit me at once, but all I feel now is anger, and if there’s one thing I know is that Ranork Saintsworth will die.”
Caine walked towards Arzamac, wanting to leave that place behind. While he did not know what he was going to do, he knew he wanted to leave that place behind. As he walked inside the walls of the village, he noticed the glances the villagers would throw his way and ignored them.
He didn’t feel any anger towards them, he did not feel the desire to be accepted by these people, all he felt was pity, realising that before the strong, they - Caine included - were all equally weak.
And Caine was not going to be weak. Not anymore.
The two walked in complete silence, until they left the village, following the unknown path Caine had always wished to explore, but never had the opportunity to, although it felt bittersweet now.
“Oliver,” the boy called out to him. “What plans do you have now?”
“I’m not really sure. I want to go somewhere quiet, maybe a small village somewhere near a mountain, and spend the few years I have left there.”
Caine was stunned at his honesty; he had not expected such a clear answer. Oliver now stared at him differently, his eyes carried a deep sharp emotion, one of… acceptance as he smiled gently at him.
What Caine was most confused about, however, was his wording.
‘The few years I have left.’
Oliver seemed young, and given how strong he was, he must have been healthy; his complexion was good, and everything about him was strong. If he had enemies, Caine couldn’t imagine them being anywhere near strong enough for him to even think they could kill him.
“What do you mean, Oliver.” He asked, after failing to come up with a reasonable answer.
“I am likely to be alive for seven more years, at most. I have an illness, my body works fine for now, but I will be losing control of it, I won’t be able to eat, drink, and at one point even breathe, and then I’ll die.”
Caine was speechless; the man had told him his fate, the exact way he would die, but he did it so calmly, so frighteningly calmly. How could someone be so relaxed when knowing they will die?
“Even if I die soon,” he continued, “I am happy with it. I spent so much time fighting just to survive, and I am tired. Death is not something I fear, it is something that will free me. Ah, sorry, what am I even saying to a kid.” He gently ruffled his hair and laughed softly.
The two continued walking through the path, occasionally glancing at the surrounding trees, with Caine’s heart beating slightly faster whenever he’d hear an animal, recalling the nightmare of The Forest.
Occasionally he would glance at Oliver, who would be glancing at him before looking away; his mouth slightly trembled at times, almost as if he wanted to try to say something, and then he stopped, making Caine stop himself and stare at the man.
“Say, Caine, I know you don’t know me, but do you want to come with me?”