Aiven's grip tightened and shoved Simos away from him. The blonde didn't buck and laid sprawled on the floor. His eyes were dazed while staring at the cave's ceiling.

Then with a thud, Aiven sat beneath his feet, the gleam of unpolished metal striked his eyes.

Irritated, he shook off the blade and in disgust, thrown it farther. Even if there was no malice in his actions, the truth the he attempted and almost succeeded in killing Simos left a bad taste on his mouth.

He watched his friend's heavy breathing, Simos' armor bulked from every breathe and when it finally settled to an even beat, Simos laughed. His hand roughly raked his hair as his voice grew louder and overlapped with the echoing of their small cave.

"I did everything, didn't I, Aiven?"

Silence

"I did everything he asked! And he still--"

"I lied." It wasn't your fault.

Simos glanced at Aiven, "I know, I know." Then a moment before his voice wavered, "I almost hurt her."

"You're a good kid."

"Pfft, hearing that from you? hah!"

Simos closed his eyes and the tension on his mana and muscles faded to a more normal rhythm.

"I don't understand," Delica gingerly went near them when she had recovered, Maou-chan close to her side.

"Father used us," Simos answered. " I did everything he asked just so he won't lay his hands on you, but then, this was expected, right? Tell me, what did he promised you?"

"No you're wrong! He didn't used you. He wouldn't. He couldn't. You were always free and smiling and goofing off. And you are better that way."

Simos silenced made her more panick-stricken as she stumbled for words. "Y-you are lying. Father said--"

"Delica," he repeated in a defeated voice, "what did father promised?"

"He p-promised he'll let you go."

"And he promised he won't touch you." the boy laughed again, more to himself than anyone else, "we really are of one blood."

Delica clambered closer to her brother, visibly shaken, and pressed Simos' hands to her forehead, willing her tears not to shed, "how many? How many did you--"

"...murdered? Why would I count? Did you count the bodies parading in your quarters? WIll you be that harsh as to debase their life as nothing but numbers you have to keep? I know their faces and that is enough," his hand moved on its own and lingered on Delica's face, "But it's alright now. I'm fine. Y-you are somewhat fine. Haaahh, your brother failed to protect you, I am no more angry to you than myself."

A rustle was heard when Aiven suddenly raised to his feet and hand over a helmet to Simos.

He couldn't understand the vagueness of the conversation which the two seemed to be having, or maybe his brain doesn't wanted to.

Too many questions, too many misconceptions he could derive from the few exchange of words. But Aiven will not force these two to tell him their story if they don't want to, but damn it. To be so close to them and yet not know their sufferings.

Simos was confused as he tried to straighten his composure, the helmet clumped in his hands.

And with a clear voice, Aiven said, "We...are going to meet your father."

----------------------------------------

Aiven have been brooding over things. His gloomy thoughts permeates through the surface that his face had darkened by many folds.

The scenes still played on his head and as the way things were, he needed to be stronger if he wanted to protect anyone.

Deep on those thoughts, he was startled when he felt someone bashed his head. He was so off-guard he wasn't able to sense the incoming blow, "If you continue feeling pity for us, I'll burn you for good!" Simos glowered over him.

"I'm not—"

"Yah, yah. Then what is it? Your conscience? Pah, keep your sense of responsibilities elsewhere. We don't need it." Simos went on sitting at the corner of the carriage, but a noticeable smile can be seen on his face, the satisfied look on his face was still the same irritating smugness.

Now that I can talk, can you at least let me finish my sentences?

He wanted to retort but instead, he nodded a sign of understanding towards Simos.

If his mind hadn't wandered, Simos would have never had a chance to hit him. This kind of mindset was not good. If they want to survive, he should put aside these unnecessary regrets that cannot be changed.

"Ai-neechan, apple!" demanded the little girl who was sitting in his lap.

He sighed. He had been sighing for a while now.

Curse be damned. The moment the little girl remarked on how his essence closely resembles the Yuusha, she started giving him that weird nickname. Even without her presence, that hero still had a way of making him miserable. No amount of persuading could change Maou-chan's habit.

Go on universe, do your worst.

Drained, he took the red fruit she's been pressing on him and peeled it slowly. The carriage lulled in the familiar rhythm and he went to silently stare at the red bracelet dangling on the girl's wrist.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Awright, how urr ye daein' back thare, lass?" the brawny man behind the reins shouted at them. His name was Cirque of Borderland. He doesn't look like a merchant as he claimed to be, but more like a pirate. His brownish beard extends to his collarbone and the edges were rough that only a cutting knife could ram it down to keep it in check.

They're inside a merchant's carriage that was en route to Cessine.

Three adventurers riding their steed at the side were following the carriage that already ballooned to the point of spillage.

"We're fine," Simos replied, taking good care to make his voice thicker.

They cannot go back to their inn to get their horses or even their belongings, afraid that they might get tracked. Going on foot would take too long and would put their bodies in a bad condition to slip past the Sila-ir stronghold.

Following that, with the last images of the soul from Delica, it was inevitable that the ones targetting them already know their plans and so the need for disguises. Simos was fully equipped with a bodysuit armor. Maou-chan, now Ma Chan, had a white magician's robe that fit the size of the wearer.

But the merchant was not looking at Simos, his eyes were scrutinizing the dainty cloaked figure at the opposite side of the boy. She hasn't said a word, and whenever she peeked behind the shadow of her bangs, she would hastily duck and hid. The mysterious aura only added by the foreign features of the lass, dark black hair, and the same blackness of her eyes. The only words she told the merchants and the adventurers guarding the cargo was her name, other than that, they have never heard her voice ever again.

Fact. Aiven could not equip any armor, helmets, gauntlets, etc. Even some robes are rejecting him.

Fact. Covering his face with bandages would only cause unwanted attention. Also, checkpoints do not let anyone who was suspicious to pass through without proper inspection. He needs to show wounds. [He motioned to get his face skinned but was rejected. Healing does not remove scars. He'll only get his face disfigured which Delica passionately opposed.]

Fact. Aiven cannot use [ Illusion ], an advanced level confusion magic. He could, however, manipulate the air in front of the eyes of one person. Manipulating it to the point he could avert light particles passing through that single slide of condensed air creating an image. A clump of atoms acts as pixels and anyone who knows the projector can guess the process. Manipulating matter on an atomic level is hard. Doing so on more than one person would cause his brain to short circuit.

Fact. He was still at that age where humans still retain an androgynous appearance. Aiven's build, More so.

Fact. The enemy was looking for Aiven. A boy of twelve.

Aiven sighed again, smoothing the skirt Delica made him wear awhile ago and tucked the makeshift robe tighter.

"Ainee Chan? Is there something wrong?" big round eyes peered beneath his cloak, Maou-chan slide closer as she noticed ridges forming from the innocent apple making ugly dents.

Aiven sighed once more, loosening his fist on the poor fruit. He finished the task, cut it, and handed a piece to the child.

"Sloppy as ever. Can't you even peel a fruit properly?" A high-pitched voice came from the inventory bracelet Maou-chan was wearing. It was Delica, encased inside the ornament. She stands out too much with her grey skin and miasma surrounding her aura that they can't let anyone see her, especially in broad daylight. Using the treasure chest, Simos suggested putting her body—since she was basically a carcass, in the bracelet. It was just an added bunos that her voice can be heard.

Unfortunately, there was no air in the spatial device, so he cannot put Maou-chan inside. Delica, however, almost mowed him when he raised that idea.

"Nee nee, Delica, we're getting close!" Maou-chan exclaimed whispering to the bracelet as she munch on her food.

"So my soul really is still inside the city. That's good news." She said as the jewel glows faintly whenever her voice pass through it.

He also tried to make Simos wear something similar, but a traveling party that was composed of just girls and a toddler was very conspicuous.

It's been three hours since then. The mountain ranges, signaling the borders of Terminum Silva Forest that blends with the Milodas greeneries keep their view with nothing but trees and undergrowths. The High Road snaked between the two edges. As the main trade route, a line of [ Fae Lucernam ] lampposts stretched throughout the worn down pathway.

He was still listening to the conversation when he noticed the adventurers trudged silently behind. A warrior, a cleric, and an archer. They introduced themselves earlier but their names weren't important for him to memorize them. They've been eyeing Aiven's group from the beginning. I guess anyone would be that wary when some group of unknown origin approached you with loads of loots for trade (their party's gold increased by 321 pieces) and requested for transport.

Cirque, despite it all, was ready to help. He's a good guy even with the dastardly villainess he exudes. Though he kept glancing at Aiven—Ainee.

"Ah haven't heard o' Chan's afore. Whist pairt o' Frear urr ye from, lil'uns?" Cirque asked, booming with a hint of amusement.

He's been asking them, always addressing the question to Ainee. "Hokkaido, sir," Ainee finally breathed an answer.

Being a merchant he could sense a lie from miles away and had always taken a liking to honest people. Satisfied that his judgment was correct, he laughed and looked straight to the road. "Ain't that sum'tin? A've bin travelling bit naw but haven't heard o' ah 'Hokkaido'. It mist be far. "

He continued relating his travels as Aiven absent-mindedly went over his inventory.

Unable to equip.

Incompatible mana class

He's been equipping weapons of different kinds--rapier, single-edged, double-edged, jagged tooth swords, daggers, kalis, scythes. Scanning his inventory empty and with it, this window would constantly appear.

Aiven's commands happen so fast that no one could notice since the image would blur before it could fully materialize. He already bought some stash of basic sewing kit from the merchant and put it aside.

He doesn't expect anything at the moment, but what he was interested in was the word 'blade' at [Blade Clothier] class he got from the gifting. Since it mentioned combat, he'd been trying to find what weapons were suitable for him, but to no avail. The more he could fight, then the better. Knowing the full potential of his new class would help him and he'll make sure he'll take what he could squeeze out of it if possible.

Then the forest thinned and what greeted them was a meadow that covers the whole area and at the center is the massive wall of Cessine's fortress. It was a familiar scene for the group. Blocks of bricks and plaster can be made out of the fortress and scars of cannons and war was evident at its impressive exterior.

They were passing near the gates when their caravan noticed pikes welcoming whoever passes the pavements leading to the city. And with a mocking tone, Cirque remarked.

"Gag, they Blanks daein' whitevur thay waant. They're juist com'ners lik' us, but look 'it. Thay turned traitors lik' th' dugs thay 're." He trailed over the pikes.

Simos had his hands on his scabbard in an instant when Aiven raised his hand for him to stop whatever it was the blonde wants to say or do. He felt Simos stiffened, and his friend gave him a concerned look, even with the helmet hiding his expression.

"Aiven--"

"Do. Not. Stare." He commanded. His muscles tense with emotions. Aiven's palms went over the eyes of Maou-chan as he held her closer to him, trying to stay calm and finding comfort at the much-needed warmth from the child. If Delica could see, she would have pointed pedophile at him. But if she was really with the carriage right now, they know Delica won't even voice it out and might actually be the one giving him comfort.

The eight boulder-high pieces of woods actually held mutilated bodies of traitors. It was a sign of fear instilled in the people from the cities. Arms and legs were mangled off, leaving bloody stumps from the torso. If a man, all vestigial part, including their manhood, is cut off. If a woman, their chest would be flattened and bludgeoned. Their heads were separated from their necks and were placed at the tip of the pikes. There were only three bodies today---white flags were attached to each one, signaling a noble house. A noble house of the white banner.

Aiven gave one last empty look at the execution grounds and saw his mother's face.