The f*ck!?

I blinked, saying mentally, "Rip my arm off? Are you kidding??"

"No," Doryu responded nonchalantly.

I sighed, biting the urge to rub my temples.

This f*cker. He's doing it just coz he wants to, isn't he?

Stupefied, I stared at him, then his growing fangs.

Sighing, I nodded.

"You're serious?" Sofia chided in.

Disinterested, Doryu just glanced at her, "His arm's not gonna heal naturally. It's beyond recovery. Not even the top tier recovery medicine can heal his arm."

"Don't get me wrong, girl." Doryu walked up to me, "I know what I'm doing."

Callahan tightened his arm around me and I clenched my teeth. I'd gone through exploding arms quite a lot that it was kinda normal nowadays.

But, that didn't make it less painful. I just got numb to it. It didn't vanish. Not in the slightest.

"He's not as vulnerable as you think." Doryu's voice resounded as his fangs neared my right arm.

"Stop!" Sofia shouted.

Annoyed, Doryu turned and glared at her.

Before he could reprimand her, something clicked inside my mind.

I quickly stopped him.

"Stop. I have a better and efficient idea." I said. Doryu turned and looked at me.

I gestured at the Dor lying near me and he sighed audibly.

"Ugh, There goes my fun." He puffed inside me after he said so.

"Give me a piece." I said to Callahan, gesturing toward the Dor with my eyes.

Callahan stared at it for a moment then fed me one before they took a few steps back.

As the euphoric warm liquid got absorbed, I quickly flared Dor.

My right arm, from the tips of my fingers to my shoulder, lit up in a fiery red hue from the inside, showing the veins and the shape of the bone.

I didn't care about the details and just released.

With a boom, my arm exploded into a gory mess, blood and meat splattering around. Some got on my face and some on the others.

Before anyone had the chance to complain, I burned Dor. As the steam worth of a single breath got generated, I used it to heal my arm. Not caring about wastage, I used all of it.

The shoulder got healed, but the arm didn't.

It was strange, my healing never failed me and healed any injury, some even worse than this. But this, this wasn't healing.

The shoulder healed as if I never had an arm and a hand, but that was it. The only indication that it had even healed, was the smoke coming out of my shoulder.

I sighed.

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Just as I was about to curse, Kismet's voice resounded again.

⟨don't worry. I was the one who made it so that your arm won't heal. The weapon I gave you would have required a limb's place anyway. So don't worry. Oh, and I won't be answering anything from now on. My servant, Mark, will. Good bye.⟩

F*ck you!

Rage bubbled inside me. Pure, unbridled, rage.

What do you mean by that!?

***

Davis awoke to the pure darkness of his new lord's magnificence.

Ecstatic, he bowed.

"My lord. The preparations are complete. The sacrifices are ready. Command, and I shall kill them all so that you could awaken in your full glory." He said, lowering his head deeper.

His lord was not something he could just look at, far from it. He was not allowed to see even a glimpse of his lord's beauty.

Even imagining the lord's face was blasphemy.

"Rise, my servant. The time has come. You shall do as you please. Sacrifice them, so that I shall arise from the depths of hell once again." The lord's voice resounded in his ears.

It was akin to the euphoric liquid of Dor. So warm. So calming. Made him feel powerful.

Davis was elated. His lord's time had come. 'His' time had come.

He'd show them, all those who had stood in his path, he'd show them that he was powerful.

They'd kneel. Surely. Everyone would kneel. In front of his lord and in thus, in front of him.

He was his lord's vessel, nothing more, not anymore. He might have had a family, he might have had a life. But, now, his only purpose was to serve his lord, nothing more, nothing less.

All this just for a single promise his lord made.

"I shall take leave, my lord. Many preparations need to be made." He bowed once again, deeper than before, and waited for his lord's permission patiently.

His lord did not speak, he waited. He was not allowed to move or raise his head in the presence of his lord. Not until he was given permission. No matter what happened.

"You shall leave."

He vanished, without a single word, his lord had wished so, and he was obliged to comply.

Davis woke up in the real world. He had been asleep, talking with his lord. Now, he was fully awake.

He moved forth to the place his lord was going to arrive in his body. His legs were stronger than before, his power had increased.

After his lord 'changed' him, he wasn't even able to move. He was weak.

Then, he barely managed to move. That's when that pesky bug had fallen and killed his brethren.

Even he had barely survived. But that was a long time ago, for him anyway.

He had told everything about it to the lord, and the lord had blessed him with even more strength. He was stronger. Intelligent. Agile. He'd never lose again, he'd never let his lord down again.

He had already done so once before. He couldn't bear to do it again.

His lord had suffered enough. It was time for the world to suffer under his wrath.

'I remember now,' He could recall who he was before.

Davis Byrne. That was his name. He'd lived in Graymore with his mother.

She was old and wasn't fully sane, but he'd taken care of her his entire life.

His father had left them when he was barely four, and his mother had brought him up until he was able to work.

He'd always been more mature than others his age and had quickly figured out how the world was.

He had worked, day and night, for his mother, and himself. Even though he was poor, he'd go into the forest. Cut some wood, and sell it.

That was all he'd done his entire life. He'd always craved for more. But he was weak. And this world. 'This cruel world doesn't have place for the weak.'

His life had been normal. He'd wake up, and make something to eat for his mother. Sometimes, there wouldn't be anything left for him, and sometime, he'd have a plate full of food. If it could even be called 'food'. He'd hated it always. Alas, he was too poor to buy something worthwhile and was too weak to hunt himself.

After that, he'd go to the forest, cut some wood, gather it, and sell it.

Then he'd start for his home again.

Home. He never really had one. In his mind, a home wasn't a place, but the family he lived with. And he didn't have the 'family' to live with. Sure, he had his mother, but she was far from sane.

He'd bet that she was on the line between a sane and an insane person.

She'd never talk.

She'd never do anything.

She'd just lie on the bed—if it could be called a 'bed'—or sit on her chair, looking outside the small hole they used to call a 'window'.

She couldn't even do her normal needs. He'd always help her do it. Even though she was like that, he'd been, somewhat, happy.

He loved her, after all. She was his only family.

But even the small happiness he had, had been stolen from him.

One day, if he could recall correctly, it was more than two months ago.

He had come back from his work as usual and started preparing some meat to eat. He had managed to hunt some small game that day—he'd been lucky enough that it was a normal animal instead of a beast.

Of course, he had sold most of it, but he'd brought some home. He wanted to make some meat for his mother.

But alas, the world had something entirely different in store for him.

The moment he'd gotten near his mother, to tell her about the day—What he'd done, or what he'd planned to do—he found that she wasn't breathing anymore.

His world had crumbled apart. The last straw he'd been holding onto, had crumbled.

He hadn't cried. No. He had buried his mother, alone. But he hadn't cried; he had promised he'd never cry.

Days went by, and he did what he'd always done.

But, something . . .

Something was lacking. It was as if the small beacon of light he had in his life had dimmed.

Vanished.

And he had fallen into a pit filled with darkness with nowhere else to go.

He had no home. His 'home' had died. And so did he, that day, when he'd fallen inside a river. He could have tried, and he would've lived.

But, he didn't.

'I'm done with life,' That's what he'd thought before closing his eyes that day.

And here he was. His lord had revived him. Given him power. But most importantly, his lord had promised.

He had promised that he'd revive his mother—his home—from the dead as well. And that's exactly why 'I'm here.'

***

"Let's breakout." I suggested, staring at the three woman, one man, and a kid.

Callahan and Sofia seemed hesitant. I'd expected it. They weren't trained to fight. No. But Aria and Ariadne seemed eager.

Feyrith . . . Well let's just not include him in the plan. He's just a kid.

"So," I started. "Who is a Pyromancer here?" I asked.

Aria, Ariadne, and Sofia stepped forward. I stared at Callahan, but he shook his head.

Sighing, I looked at the others. Sofia obviously had a spark related to healing.

Even though she could heal without Dor. Hmm. I think I should send her to Clara—my first crush and the best healer I'd ever met—after I'm done here.

"Can you two fight?" I asked the twins. One nodded her head and one shook hers. They were identical, I didn't even know who was Aria and who was Ariadne.

"I can fight, but she can just defend."

I nodded.

I laid with my back on the cave's wall. It was rough, but that's what I had. Rubbing my chin with my left hand, I began thinking of a plan.

My mission was to investigate the cause behind the missing reports.

Both In Graymore and near Elvon―the land of elves.

I wasn't supposed to engage in battle. No. My only goal, was to investigate the cause.

Which I did. The zombies. They were kidnapping the people for whatever reason.

I didn't care as to what that reason was.

Now, I needed to escape and report back to my sister, that was it.

It wasn't my obligation to save the people. I was only here to investigate.

But, now that I was here, might as well save them. (there was something about a reward if I saved the people).

Now, the question was, how was I going to save them?