“Take it! Take this worthless name away!” A frail shout rang in the midst of a heavy snowstorm, then a ghostly luster shone through the haze.

It was the gleam of a weapon—a blade citing runes and unknown inscriptions along its groove, which weighed no less than a feather, yet… its wielder, Roa Fariche, could not raise it higher than the level of his shoulder.

Fortunately, up to there was enough, the blade’s tip was towards his foe.

Time slowed to a snail’s pace. The blade lodged into Roa’s opponent.

The dragon’s vicious fangs in turn tore into his leather armor and flesh. He felt a wave of force thrash against his body, followed by a cascading pain. Soon, below his right shoulder, all sensation had gone, severed.

“Haa…” Roa let out a heavy breath, his eyes panning slowly towards his foe. “I’m done. No more surprises. I don’t think I can do any more. Let me rest…”

A modest frame that could stand just over 5 meters tall; history’s greatest threat, a manifestation of the power of the Spirit Domain—Solitaria, the Mad Calamity, and Harbinger of Frozen Ash.

On the other hand, there he was: the 15th, seat of Antares; the star that had no light; Roa Fariche, the oh-so pitiful One-Armed King.

“Hadar, Rigel, Arcturus… not even Sirius. A surprise to think that I would be the one to deliver the final blow,” Roa grit his teeth, stuck between tears and a sad smile.

The bodies of those who shone brighter than the seat of Antares were littered across the frozen battlefield, now snuffed of their brilliance. It wasn’t sufficient to pile them on a scale against the Mad Calamity, Solitaria. But it was enough, yes—only with the addition of Roa’s right arm was it enough to grasp victory.

The long and drawn out fight had ultimately gone past its climax and had now ended.

Roa slumped down and leaned against a snowy pile of ruins. He peered down between the disheveled locks of his long, dark hair, towards the frozen stump that remained of his right arm. His right side now appeared perfectly symmetrical with his left.

Blood trickled from his mouth when he tried to force a chuckle, “By now, those idiots would have started calling me the Unarmed King.” A bit of humor to distract him from the inevitable. Yet, he was only saddened that there was none left to ridicule him, he was all alone.

By some miracle, even if he were to survive, there was nowhere he could go. Eruind's roots had already encroached most of the known lands, invading and enveloping everything within the world of the Spirit Domain.

Humanity’s retaliation was feeble, as it fell ever so quickly.

Roa staggered out a puff of white smoke, his lungs trembling fiercely from the cold. His eyelids grew heavier, and he knew that once he closed them, there would be no waking up.

Slowly, the surroundings quieted... The constant whistle and howls of the chill winds abated.

‘Unarmed King,’ someone called, abruptly breaking the silence.

—Blatant mockery! Words that pricked his temper! Were they spoken by themselves? Or was it that he wasn’t the only survivor?

Roa’s fading consciousness jolted awake and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, ‘Who is it? Who is the idiot speaking!?’ he voiced in his head. Only he was allowed to poke fun at himself!

Roa had half a mind to curse—unfortunately, there was no strength left to tilt his head and look around, nor could he raise his voice to call out to them, if anyone was truly there to hear him.

He quickly settled himself and silenced his thoughts. He decided to endure… However, his tolerance only lasted for a moment.

‘Unarmed King. Thank you.’

‘I said, who is it!? Who is the idiot speaking!?’

‘There are only the two of us here, Unarmed King. So, I would assume that you would be the idiot. Though, I cannot understand why you would address yourself so.’

‘Tch! Hey, since there are two of us here, I’d naturally not be calling myself an idiot now, would I?’

‘Hm! How rude! Even for a human king! Nonetheless, on the account of being this one’s savior, you shall be forgiven.’

It was the pleasant ring of a female’s voice. She seemed to speak directly into his head, thankfully discarding the need to converse as his throat was too desolately dry. How was it so? —This question wasn’t important. What was important was that there really was someone besides himself here! Although, the voice wasn’t anyone Roa recognized.

‘Human king?’ He repeated in his head. ‘How ridiculous, to say that to someone who’s the farthest from being…’

Roa knew he had no royal blood. The title of the pitiful One-Armed King–that was just a title. One that the masses foisted upon him. There were also a couple more that were notable, though of all of them, One-Armed King was the most prominent.

It was a name that was a source of great regret—a sling of mud mixed with some pig dung, vomit, and dog piss—flung at his face every time it was uttered, a curse! Every time he was reminded of it, he would clench his only fist with rage!

He attempted to raise his right hand in protest, but was quickly reminded–he now looked similar to one of those armless straw puppets knights would practice their strikes on.

‘It’s not that bad,’ Roa scoffed inwardly, ‘At least I’m finally rid of that abhorrent thing.’

The blade he wielded, a weapon of dubious origins disallowing him any support of magic in exchange for its power, a cursed blade. Since his right arm had gone, the curse bound to it was as well. Although he could not clench his fist, Roa found a small relief in being released from it… Though another problem had appeared in its place.

An impatient scoff sounded in front of him. Roa had forgotten he was in a conversation.

‘Savior? Whose?’ he questioned, it seemed a headache was coming.

‘This one’s,’ the female voice deadpanned.

‘—This one who? A name, give me a name.’

‘What was it that you people called me? Mad Calamity? Harbinger of Frozen Ash?’

‘Solitaria? Bull!’ he spat. Roa was dying and he was spending the last few minutes of his life having nonsensical banter?

The Mad Calamity wasn’t called as such for no reason. It did not and could not hold any intelligent conversation; now, parts of its spirit should be coalescing around that very cursed weapon, somewhere near where his arm had flown off.

‘And why is it that you think that I am lying? Hm?’

While Roa grumbled his thoughts, a porcelain hand reached for his chin and lifted up his head. Something remarkable showed itself before his dazed eyes—a sight so exquisite and so out of place such that he unwittingly shed tears in bewilderment.

There she stood… Small, bare feet standing incredibly pale upon the white snow; long, flowing locks of soft blue hair accented by a pair of peculiar horn-like ornaments on each side of her head; her unclothed, clear skin, embraced by the surrounding chill winds—an ethereal silhouette. Elegant. Beautiful.

Roa huffed slightly in exasperation. His vision was already dulling. If he was to be shown such a scene, then why did it have to be inconveniently obscured—and timely, mind you—by blinding rays of light!

‘Has an angel come to take my spirit? Or has a demon come to turn me into a shade? Either way, they’re the only ones that would con a dying man, right?’ Roa thought aloud.

‘How rude! It is neither!’ The woman took his carefree remark as a personal offense. She tipped his head upwards with her fingers before she stood up and struck a proud pose. ‘This esteemed one is Solitaria!’

‘Bull.’ Roa groaned. ‘ Solitaria is a dragon. A huge ugly lizard with wings.’

‘Savior, you’ve not only been incredibly rude, but also really disrespectful! Likening me to birds! —Hmph! Then imps? Now you say I am a lizard!?’

The woman who called herself Solitaria leaned forward. She took Roa’s chin once more with a forceful grip, then squeezing his cheeks. Her flush face was now in front of Roa’s, with her nose almost kissing his.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

‘Now take a good look, do I resemble anything like a lowly lizard?’

With a closer view, Roa’s dazed vision managed to focus; he could finally see her appearance.

Long eyelashes; eyes a bejeweled blue matching her hair; a tinge of pink on her nose and cheeks as well. Anywhere his gaze traveled, he could see no semblance between her and a reptile—especially as his gaze impudently panned below her clavicles.

‘Truly a sight to behold,’ he inadvertently thought.

Normally, Roa would be unperturbed by such things, but this wasn’t the slightest bit a normal situation. The odd occurrence caught him off guard since it’d been too long that someone had acted this intimately with him.

His heartbeat hastened. On his deathly pale face, a slight blush soon became apparent. Fortunately, his wounds were bandaged by the frigid weather, else, he would have already started bleeding out profusely.

‘Well, what do you know!’ Solitara’s face bloomed with a self-satisfied smirk.

‘Shut it! Leave a man to die with his dignity!’ Roa groaned, before coughing out a mouthful of blood and stunning Solitaria into silence.

‘Finally!’ Roa thought. A brief respite from her continuous chatter was earned.

All he wanted was to be left alone and pass away quietly. Truthfully? He didn’t really care about who it really was in front of him. He only wished to rejoin his friends in the next life—if there was one.

Soon enough, life began unfolding before his eyes as he staggered out another puff of white smoke.

Over ten years of struggle inside the Spirit Domain; the time before the encroachment of Eruind's roots; the earliest days at Luveris Academy; and the fateful moment, when his left arm was separated from his shoulder.

That time, Roa’s growth as a mage was effectively halted.

Since the fact that he was missing a left arm contributed to him remaining at the bottleneck of a red tier spirit ,the mana he could utilize was never enough. He had been relegated to the lowest tier of talents, barely making the cut.

Even still, in the end he had managed to attain the 15th, the seat of Antares.

In this life, Roa Fariche had reached a point where he only ever had to be blinded by the brilliance of fourteen other people—fourteen incredibly bright stars. Then… what would it have been like if he had retained his left arm? If he found a way around his stunted growth and continued with both the path of sword and magic?

‘Ha! I guess there’s no room for regret when passing through death’s door!’

That’s right. Roa would rather he’d spend his final moments reminiscing about happy memories instead of wallowing in bitter ones.

‘Are you dying, savior?’

‘Happy memori—Do I look healthy!? Why are you still here?’ Roa’s ongoing reverie was interrupted with a picture of Solitaria clothed by the rays of the sun.

‘Why would I leave you, savior?’ Solitaria asked, pausing briefly before continuing with a lonesome tone, ‘Besides, there’s no one else here I can talk to…’

Roa felt a prick of guilt. ‘Bah! Who is the one dying here!?’ he thought to himself. Even still, he responded, ‘If it’s just talking… Fine. Let’s do it. Heck, I have all the time in the world! What is it you want to talk about?’

Solitara perked up when she heard his affirmation. Exhilarated, her words flowed out like a dam that had burst open. She immediately brought up simple and mundane topics—food, clothing, cities, odd facts—Roa dutifully answered, but had an increasing doubt, ‘Are these seriously all she wants to talk about?’

It was like catering to the whims of a cheeky, yet curious child. A few minutes was all he had left and some of the last few words he would leave on this plane of existence was, ‘Yeah, birds defecate and piss from only one hole. Cool, huh?’

Yet, it seemed answering her questions left Solitaria genuinely delighted. Weirdly enough, her excitement came across and infected him with a gladdening feeling. He had not noticed, but his tense breaths began to come out less and less staggered.

Two voices continued to echo within his consciousness. One boisterous and speaking as if she would never run out of words; the other, slowly turning mute.

‘Hey hey, Savior! Why’ve you become so quiet? You said you would talk to me!’

Smack! Smack! Loud slaps echoed within the sudden silence.

Achieving no results, Solitaria neared Roa’s face again but received no response—he could no longer answer. The small bit of light in his eyes grew increasingly dim, about to snuff out, but just before they did, Solitaria heard Roa mumble words that were barely audible.

She pursed her lips as she heard them and pondered for a second before asking, “Your wish… If I grant it, then can I stay with you? Will you continue talking to me?” This time she spoke from her own mouth.

Roa was still and quiet. Instead, a subtle smile grew evident on his face while his eyelids slowly fell, closing the curtains on his life.

Roa Fariche, age twenty six–end.

“Then, it’s a promise!” Solitaria’s gleeful shout was the last thing Roa heard before his spirit had departed his body—or at least, that was how it was supposed to go.

Within limbo, Roa’s spirit suddenly found itself drifting aimlessly within a pitch-black darkness. It had no particular appearance, an unremarkably small wisp which contained Roa’s essence, his past, and his entire being—the battered spirit of the One-Armed King.

A bright dot appeared in the distance—a light at the end of a dark tunnel. The feeling it gave off felt so serene and tranquil that it slowly beckoned Roa’s tired spirit towards it.

However, on the way towards the light, the journey was impeded by a larger, more intimidating looking spirit. Roa’s spirit stopped dead in its tracks, like a small animal instinctively freezing in the presence of a much bigger animal.

The larger spirit formed something like a hand and smacked the small spirit, which did not send it flying into the void, but shook it vigorously—its essence, past, and entire being—it was already worn and torn, and that smack was enough to almost wipe it out of existence, however… it did not disappear, and instead grew slightly larger.

At that moment, Roa’s consciousness was miraculously brought back, and his thoughts suddenly came rushing out, unchecked.

“Ah? Huh? Is this it? Did I finally die? Is that the door to the afterlife or is it the light that all babies follow before entering the world? Should I immediately try to say mama? Heh, wouldn’t it be pretty shocking? Hm?”

Whilst spouting incredible nonsense, he headed towards the light—the large, intimidating spirit seemingly out of sight. A loud crack suddenly echoed and interrupted Roa. The darkness crumbled, and the soothing light at the end of the tunnel… vanished.

Roa was startled. “Hey! Hey! Hey!? What happened? Mama!?”

It felt like he was forcefully torn away from the embrace of his new mother. But soon, a different feeling entered his faint consciousness.

It was a familiar feeling. The feeling of… being alive!

Warm blood coursed through his veins with a hastened heartbeat! Life rushed into his lungs! Roa coughed and at the same time gasped for a breath of air. Along with a splitting headache, ‘Have I turned into a shade!?’ was the first scary thought that came into mind.

“Unbelievable! Why did the mana crystal break!? You—Was it because of you?” At the sign of someone’s surprise, Roa opened his eyes once more. What first caught his attention was what was in front of him.

His right hand was placed on top of a transparent crystal resting on a table. And underneath his palm, a clear split was visible on the crystal.

Behind the table sat a man with thick facial hair, wearing a formal looking outfit. He was the one that shouted.

‘Where am I? Wasn’t I… Didn’t I die?’ Roa’s eyes darted across the room, struggling to steady his focus. Seeing his flustered state, the man across the table misunderstood him.

“Haa... Don’t fret, young man. We’ll redo the test. That mana crystal might’ve just been defective.”

‘Mana crystal?’ A few other people appeared as soon as the man spoke and brought a case containing another of the same transparent crystal. However, this one was different, as it was without the clear split, and was emanating a mysterious white glow. Eyeing it, Roa was familiar with its use.

A mana crystal of its size and shape was the type only ever used to test one’s aptitude with mana. He had come across this particular crystal once in his life. It was quite a memorable event in fact, since it was on the day that he had first been branded with his limitations.

Sure enough, the man instructed him to place his hands once more on the mana crystal.

Roa raised his right arm on instinct, but abruptly held it back midway. His headache had eased but now there was an unbearable itch burning on his left shoulder. Roa’s eyes widened as he noticed… the arm still attached to his left side.

‘Son of a—What’s this? Are my eyes deceiving me?’ Doubtful, Roa repeatedly formed a fist with the hand connected to the arm.

“Applicant Roa Fariche. Stop dawdling! Are you going to take the test or not?” the man across him tapped impatiently on the table.

Instigated, Roa stepped forward and placed his right hand on top of the mana crystal. This time, the crystal’s white glow became stained with a red tinge. The man across the table sighed with clear disappointment.

“Haa… I knew it. Roa Fariche, preliminary assessment: red tier spirit. You may now proceed towards the secondary assessment.”

Red tier—the most discouraging two words to hear from an aptitude test. The student, Roa, did not frown, however, as he was busy forming a rough conjecture:

Did he somehow return to his first day at Luveris Academy? Was it a regression of the mind? A momentary trip back in time? —A ‘trip’ from eating glowing blue mushrooms?

Roa quickly found the answer when he left the room and headed towards a nearby fountain. Nostalgia seeped through every one of his senses as he walked past the familiar surroundings. Eventually he reached the fountain where his gaze landed on the clear surface of its waters. He could not believe it.

Roa slammed his face into the water before raising his head back and having another look. What was reflected? —No longer the sullen and haggard old face littered with small scars. Gone were the many traces of his ten odd years within the Spirit Domain.

He raised his hand and touched a stubble free chin. He tousled his slick and neatly cut hair, pinched his soft cheeks and felt the pain that naturally came along with it.

“Dumb kid,” Roa chuckled. To the prim and immature face of the young man yet to face the world, he smiled and said, “No room for regret when you pass through death’s door.”

One foot through the door, he was still shackled by numerous chains of remorse. Apparently given a new lease on life, Roa smacked his cheeks, squeezing out a determined grin.

“When the time comes, I’ll even dance through that thing smiling like an idiot!!”

—End of Chapter 1