“You’re late.”

An unrecognizable elderly man said. Damian felt disgusted seeing him.

“You can’t even look after your single family member, so how are you looking after the clan?”

This old man was the first elder, Yan Murad. With bruises and bandages covering his whole body, his fake sagely demeanor was gone, replaced by what gave the impression of a weak old man on his deathbed.

A week before, he could barely stand. He even had to skip a few study sessions. The healing abilities of this world could do wonders.

“Show me your homework.”

Murad blatantly ignored Damian’s accusations.

“Didn’t do shit.”

“You impudent…”

Murad wanted Damian to look good before his father for some reason. Damian had long caught on to it. At times, he would skip the homework, knowing full well that the elder would not report the matter to his father. But he never crossed the boundaries. Just once a week…

But for the past week, Damian had not completed a single assignment. He assumed that the elder had an argument with Mehmed and thus had been beaten to a bloody pulp. Who else but his father would dare do such a thing in the clan?

Therefore, to hell with homework. If anything, he would blame Murad for it. The only individual having absolute authority over him was his father. The elder knew this kid was wise beyond his age despite having close to no memories of his past life. He was always proud of the child’s potential, and little did he know that this would one day hit him like a boomerang.

“Do you think you can get away with it?”

“No, but who cares? The worst is getting a beating from my father. But I don’t think I will end up looking like you.”

Murad fumed with anger. He had gone to such lengths for Damian and even fought with the clan head over it. Yet this kid didn’t have an ounce of respect for him.

“You are carrying a heavy responsibility on your shoulders. Who is going to look after the clan once your father gets old? We are already losing our power despite being the strongest of the five clans in the past, by a large margin at that. As an elder, I do my utmost to pave a path for your future. Why can you not understand my sincerity?”

The elder tried to play on the kid’s emotions and guilt-trip him, but the kid was sensable for no reason.

“Father is a rank three seeker. He’ll live twice as long as you have. You’re presuming my brother is dead. You are also implying my sister is unfit for the role. And how are we losing power? Life in the clan is as good as it is now. Unless you want to wage war against other clans and repeat the past tragedies?”

Murad slammed the table with his fist in response to Damian’s remark, yet Damian didn’t blink an eye at it.

“You know nothing! The peaceful period is just a prelude to destruction! Those sly foxes are scared of Mehmed, but our authority, although not apparent from first glance, has been diminishing. There is no news from your brother, who has been stuck in the labyrinth for the past five years. Your sister is holed up in worthless experiments in Star City. All eyes are now on you. If you fail to represent our clan, our future will be doomed!”

Damian closed his eyes, deep in thought. Soon, he stood up and gave a deep bow.

“I apologize! I was wrong!”

He did not fully agree with the elder, yet he knew he had crossed the line. He would usually try not to provoke the elder. Despite their differing views on life, Murad had taught him a lot and was always patient with him. He was just on edge due to the matter with Fatma. After all, to him, she was like a sister.

“Hmph! A person who is fit to be a leader would never bow down to others! If you can’t back up your opinion, don't open your mouth in the first place.”

Murad said smugly, proud of winning an argument with a little kid.

‘Patience, patience…’

Although Damian did not respect Murad as a person or an elder, he still recognized him as an excellent teacher.

“So, who have you brought today?”

Instead of focusing on a single skill, the elder had been teaching him a multitude of things to build up a skillset. Murad would bring various alchemists, craftsmen, hunters, or even fishermen to teach him. At times, he would even take him to loiter around the outskirts of the clan to broaden his worldview.

“Listen carefully. What I will teach you today is simple yet of the utmost importance.”

Damian’s interest was piqued. The elder had never been this serious.

“What does a leader need the most?”

What an abstract question. Damian took some time to reflect on his short life. He had talked to numerous people of varying backgrounds and roamed through the clan's rich and poor venues. He had some memory fragments of his past life and knew how society functioned on Earth. If he had to choose a single thing, what would it be? Unity? Military? Compassion? Wisdom?

“I don’t know.”

Murad was slightly disappointed with the answer he got, yet he didn’t force it.

“It’s strength! No matter how vast your resources and army are, how slick your tongue, or how good your reputation is, it's all worthless if you don’t have the strength to back it up. Your father is a prime example of this. Only when you have strength can your words have an effect. Only when you have strength can you gain people’s trust.”

‘Oh, so that’s why he’s all beaten up.’

Damian nodded in understanding. The elder misunderstood but nonetheless continued.

“You need to start your soul cultivation journey. Your father was traumatized by your mother's death. I, as your mentor, can understand that you’re fully prepared for it. Age does not matter! In the beginning, all that matters is mental fortitude, which you already have. To have strength, you must build up a foundation. Do you understand?”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Yet again, Damian nodded in agreement. Was strength what mattered the most? He did not agree. However, he was also of the opinion that it was crucial.

“You know I have no power over it. The last time I asked my father, he beat the crap out of me.”

Damian tilted his head as he raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. The elder also knew this, so did he perhaps have a plan?

“I know. Right, he’s too stern. But you know your aunt will be arriving today, right?”

‘Wow, he needs another round of beating.’

Damian was taken aback. Despite the black eyes on the elder’s face, he had an unyielding tenacity.

“So you’re planning on bribing her?”

“Exactly! Not bribing, though, but bringing her to our side…”

He wondered whether this was possible. He only had a single memory of Hakan as an infant. Still, you never know. Nothing would be lost by trying.

They proceeded to discuss the plan until the end of the study session. After learning so much about nothing, Damian left the elder’s chamber and headed to the library.

The vast room was a stark contrast to the elder's cramped space, with towering shelves laden with books that told secrets of the forgotten. The scent of aged paper and leather enveloped him. He passed rows of meticulously arranged tomes, nodding at the familiar faces of fellow regulars attired in scholarly robes.

At his secluded table in the farthest corner, a lone girl was absorbed in a massive book. The cover was lustrous and quite appealing. Damian guessed that this was the reason Fatma chose to read it. She would always read whatever looked the coolest. The pages were edged in gold, though much of it was worn away, revealing the slightly yellowed paper beneath.

“Where is…”

Damian wanted to inquire about the food as he was starving. He usually had lunch waiting for him on the study table. Well, never mind. Today was her birthday, and he would have a banquet waiting for him in the evening. As he approached closer, he caught a glimpse of the book’s title.

‘Keepsake of a Herald: Death and Life of Liu Xing and Yan Yakup’

“What are you reading?”

He asked with a hint of curiosity. Did she choose this book randomly? What an interesting title. However, Damian did not intend to read it.

“You are also from Earth, right?”

To Fatma’s inquiry, Damian nodded in affirmation. Fatma turned another page while simultaneously taking some glances at Damian with piqued interest. This book was an autobiography of the elder Yan Yakup, a former earthling, written by one of his disciples.

“I’ve heard from my uncle that my great grandfather was a herald, one of the greatest in our clan's history. He also came from Earth. Yan Yakup was one of the only elders who could become a rank three seeker. I’ve heard of his legendary explorations, but reading about them just gives another feel.”

Damian narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the book.

“Where did you find this?”

“My uncle gave it to me yesterday.”

‘Yeah, who else but that old fuck.’

Damian knew of his intentions, yet as the saying goes, play dumb to catch wise. He let them underestimate him - tell not all you now, nor judge all you see if you would live in peace.

“This planet is so fun! It’s like fantasy. Flying ships, robots, the internet… I can hardly understand anything, but… it’s so much fun. There are no wars, keepers, or other intelligent species besides humans - it’s a paradise!”

“Do you like it that much?”

“Of course! I’m sure when you get some of your memories back, you’ll also think so. They don’t have to spend their lives on the battlefield. I don’t want to go to the military! My parents died at the hands of the keepers. The labyrinth is simply unconquerable. Maybe our world is not much different from Earth. We’ll never know. We will never get off this island…”

Initially excited, her voice slowly faltered, her enthusiasm dampened by dark memories. Heart Isle was a whole world to her. She, they were trapped here. What was the world outside like? So many questions but no answers. Damian, on the other hand, had other worries.

“What’s wrong? You look bland.”

Fatma's eyebrows knit together as she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. Damian didn’t act before Fatma. She was the only person he could be completely open with in this life.

“Do you have fears?”

Fatma's forehead creased with lines of confusion as she stared blankly at him, her lips parted slightly as she was about to speak.

“Eh… keepers, darkness, spiders, snakes, heights… loneliness, failure, death, future… Anyway, there are lots of bad things. I think what I fear the most is death, though. What about you?”

Damian blankly stared up. He smiled lightly. This long list of things was what he would expect from Fatma; no, he thought the list would have been longer.

Suddenly, his smile froze. Damian's jade eyes, usually sharp and alert, transformed drastically. They were hollow, almost abyssal. The pupils dilated, swallowing the irises, creating an unsettling, vacant stare that seemed to penetrate beyond the ceiling.

“I fear myself. I don’t want to remember it. I don’t want to remember him. Whoever that monster is.”

The voice tinged with fear and despair. Damian shifted his gaze and looked at Fatma. He was expressionless, emotionless. Fatma felt something was off. How to put it? It was as if the eyes carried no liveliness. She wanted to speak, but no words came.

He lowered his eyes further and looked at the title of the book. Soon, his eyes widened and were filled with an indescribable sense of sorrow - terror.

His lips, tight and pale, seemed to curl with a mix of disdain and dark amusement, transforming his usual stoic expression into something chilling and unrecognizable. Fatma felt chills run down her spine as she shivered, looking at the blonde boy, who was now unrecognizable. She was scared.

“I love my father despite his arrogance, the clanspeople despite their ignorance, the teacher despite his rashness, and you despite your foolishness. I am grateful to my mother for the hardships she has gone through to ensure my safety and the life she has bestowed upon me, so her, too, I love. In the future, to repay the debt and protect the people I treasure, I must become strong.

But…”

Damian's voice wavered as a single tear traced down his cheek. He was still Damian. Hellion would not cry, grieve, or lament.

“I fear the other me. He is stronger, far stronger than me. He is ruthless, callous, and evil. I keep running away, delaying the inevitable. But for how long? I am scared, scared that he will devour me.”

Damian further lowered his gaze, looking at his hands. They were shaking. His only vivid memories were the conversation with the devil. He was reminded of the devil’s parting words.

‘Don’t run.’

That was what he had said before casting Hellion back into the darkness again. At the time, Hellion was bewildered. Run from what? In his life, he had never fled from anything. Damian now understood those words were directed at him, not Hellion.

He thought it didn’t matter whether he was Hellion or Damian. But this was simply a form of denial. As the time to see the truth was approaching, reality dawned upon him. He came to understand that he did not want to see the past.

While enamored with dread, he did not sense the presence approaching him. Fatma lifted Damian and wrapped the boy in her embrace.

“Everything will be okay.”

Despite her efforts to sound composed, Damian knew she was weeping. Fatma gently patted Damian’s back, holding him close. She was as bad at comforting as Damian was.

‘Look at her trying to act like a grown-up.’

He closed his eyes as he was reminded of his mother. She gave him a name - Damian. This name was not to live a secluded or runaway life, but to fight. Fight to protect whatever he held dear. Even if he had to prevail against Hellion.

Damian swore to himself that he would never give up on his humanity.