Running proved to be a correct decision, as it gave the kid time to think. He found early on how good he was under pressure and with all odds against him.

The loss of his unusual weapon did not rob the kid of every advantage despite his opponent’s pursuit. Maril understood how to fight, and she wielded her sword expertly, but she did not anticipate the kid’s creativity and improvisation. The kid entered an abandoned concrete building and began assessing the interior, quickly determining where he could catch his opponent unaware using whatever junk he could find around him or inside his satchel.

The building he escaped into was surprisingly well-preserved despite being more than a thousand years old. It was undeniably human architecture; only they would make concrete buildings that were more functional than stylistic, with sharp angles and minimal decorations with even color throughout. It certainly helped preserve the building when compared to the glass walls in some ruined cities.

The building, like many others, was an office, with many appliances and equipment powered by mana-based batteries, all of which were still functioning and clean enough to use. The kid could use them against his opponent, who was a Fa’ar. Anything with traces of mana could severely weaken a Fa’ar. It could also weaken the kid, but he knew how to handle them. Experience in tinkering with dangerous objects made him aware of the need for work safety.

But he couldn’t do any of those, not when he was being chased by a rat person who used an illusionary runic sword. He couldn’t look back and check where she was; she could be faking her position with her sword. Good thing he was a Fa’ar; his ears were sharp enough to hear light steps from a Fa’ar’s paws. With all the debris around them, she shouldn’t be able to mask her steps that—

“Got you!”

That declaration was enough to alert the kid that he made the wrong assumption. Maril was already in front of him. The steps he heard were also part of the illusion. She dashed towards him; sword ready to cut him down.

A quick action from the kid barely saved him. He was not running on all fours when she attacked as he was rummaging through his satchel to find something that he could use. He pulled out a flashbang grenade he previously bought and threw it between his legs. It exploded upon impact. The resulting flash momentarily blinded Maril. The kid, who closed his eyes moments before impact, managed to recover and escaped while grabbing a portable pill-shaped speaker on one of the desks. He took out the large mana-based batteries and expertly cut through the casing with a knife, exposing the black powder, the substance that created the reaction to power the speakers. The kid wasn’t sure what the name was, but he was sure that a small injection of mana from the user could power the speaker.

That was, of course, if the injection was controlled. With the battery exposed, it became a hazard. A concentrated amount of mana was enough to cause it to explode. In fact, breaking open one mana potion, housed in a breakable glass vial, could easily do just that.

Maril had no time to react after recovering from the flash when the kid jammed a vial of mana potion into the exposed battery and threw it at her. It hit the concrete floor, breaking open the vial, and soon, the reaction began. The makeshift grenade violently exploded near the Fa’ar, throwing her across the room and out the entrance into the open. The kid ran out of the building, hoping that Maril was either killed or too heavily injured to go on. The explosion was violent enough to cause extensive damage to the office.

But as he cautiously approached Maril, wary of her illusion, he caught a glimpse of a battle nearby. It wouldn’t have merited his attention if it wasn’t for the fact that the battle involved the Loup he was familiar with. He and the blonde-haired human he faced were hugging each other. It wasn’t clear from where the kid was standing of the outcome of the fight, at least until the human woman fell. To the kid’s horror, the Loup also fell to his knees before his whole body fell over his own pool of blood.

The kid ran towards Jacques, ignoring Maril completely. The female Fa’ar saw this as an opportunity to attack the kid, but soon found that she was too heavily injured. The explosion force broke her ribs and caused a splinter to stab through her right leg. She also lost grip of her runic sword, which was thrown clear from her and out of her grasp. She couldn’t do anything but watch as the kid desperately tried to treat Jacques’s wound, most of which reopened, including the deep gash caused by Ben-Renee earlier.

“K-kid…,” said Jacques weakly. “Thank god, you’re okay.”

“You’re bleeding all over, Jacques. Don’t move!” said the kid as he rummaged through his satchel. “Where the hell’s the bandages?!”

“You got your voice back,” he said, smiling weakly. “And just when I got to hear it, I’m already dead.”

“No, you’re not! Stay with me, Jacques. Let me get something to close—”

“Stop it,” said Jacques, grabbing the kid’s arm. “You won’t have enough time, so…please, just listen to me.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The kid started to become desperate and pulled out some flares, but he was soon accosted by one of the cultists, who became angered upon realizing that their leader was killed. The kid could not fight the bigger man and could only kick him to try and get off until he found a rock and used it to hit his skull. It wasn’t enough to kill, but enough to incapacitate. The kid returned to Jacques but found that his flares were thrown into the fire and became useless. Realizing that he could use the gunpowder from Jacques’s bullets, he started rummaging through his satchel, but then the Loup, with all his strength, shouted, “Stop!”

This caught the kid’s attention, who stopped what he was doing and turned to face the Loup. His eyes glared at the kid while growling. His breathing was ragged.

“This is it for me,” said the wolf man. “Claire, she…she knew where to stab to make sure it’s fatal. Please, just…listen.”

The kid was reluctant to stop, but Jacques’s tone was serious. Knowing that he couldn’t do anything more, and realizing that Jacques accepted his fate, he reluctantly stopped, and turned towards the Loup. His eyes started to swell as he realized that his savior was going to die.

“I…wasn’t being thoroughly honest…with you…back then,” said Jacques. “The child…didn’t promise me to avenge him. That was the promise I made to myself…because I could not accept the truth. Being an assassin meant that you must bear the burden of your kill. If you don’t, you’re just a murderer, and it can blind you. To me…killing a child is the ultimate burden. It may be done out of reluctance, but I still pulled the trigger.

“But upon looking back…I was glad the death wasn’t instant. I thought that…maybe I became a monster by letting a child suffer as he died, but no. It gave him a chance to make me swear upon his death.”

“The promise to end Nihilo, right?”

The Loup shook his head. “That…was my own promise. He promised me…to let go of my darkness…and help someone as unfortunate as him…to be the ray of hope that this world needs. That way…I will find the peace…I sought after. I wasn’t sure if I could do that, but the child insisted. He made me promise. A human child I never knew until that day…made me, a wolf man, promise. Looking back, I realized that…despite of being groomed to be their savior, the child…was aware of everything. He never believed himself to be the Sun Child. Maybe he knew how ridiculous it was.”

Jacques tried to chuckle, but it caused him to painfully cough. The kid kept his hand on his wound, still attempting to stop the bleeding until either Karkas or Raine, or even both, came to their aid.

“That promise…never came to pass. I could never accept the truth…and I went on a rampage. I turned on my friends. I made their life hell. I promised I’d never stop…until Nihilo was wiped off the face of the Earth. Raine was the kind of person who could help me realize my mistake…but it was you who made me remember that promise…kid. You had it worse than a groomed child. On top of that…you’re a Fa’ar. One of those called…Dark Races of Nuremnia. Descended…from the ones who brought ruins to this world. But even after all that…even after I betrayed your trust…you still sought me for protection. But your bravery, your…perceptiveness, your…past. It made me realize that what I did was wrong. I fell deeper into the darkness, unable to escape the anger. I am…nothing.”

No, you’re not,” interjected the Fa’ar. “You never betrayed my trust. If you did, you wouldn’t bother telling me that I couldn’t be saved. You were being honest, and I understood. Sure, Raine’s the one I’m grateful to, but I never trust anyone who showed kindness or trying to give me comfort, at least before I knew him better. Karkas, too, realized what he did and was honest about his prejudice against me. I know who I am, Jacques. But despite what everyone said, I am not a cursed race. I am who I am.”

“Good. Now I see…why you are…not completely broken…yet.” Jacques coughed. “You are a person, just like the rest of us. Who cares about something that happened a thousand years ago? I’m sure…you can live…not as a Dark Race, but as someone who can bring others into the light. So, kid…promise me this. Let my vengeance…die with me. One day, you will be forced to make hard choices, and you will live with the consequences. You will make mistakes, and someone, or even more…will die. But whatever you choose…never choose to abandon…who you are. Just…be as kind…to your friends…. Never…a slave. Not to anyone. Not to fate. Will you promise me that, kid?”

“I promise, Jacques,” said the kid. He released his pressure on Jacques’s wound and squeezed his hand. He couldn’t stop his tears. He lost people he knew before, but this hurt just like when he lost his parents. He cared for Jacques.

“Kid…what’s your name?” asked Jacques, trying to lighten up what he knew would be his final conversation. “I’ve been so…used to calling you ‘kid’. It doesn’t feel right…not knowing who you are…as I draw my last breath.”

The kid answered his final request.

“Narati,” said the Fa’ar. “My name is Narati.”

“Narati,” repeated Jacques. “A fine name. Just what I need.”

Jacques weakly raised his other hand. Suddenly, his signature pistol appeared before him. He then put it over his chest.

“Take care of her, Narati. In fact, take care of both,” said Jacques, referring to his signature twin revolvers, one of which was lying on the ground somewhere close by. “It would be a waste…if she’s left to rust in the void. They won’t be complete without the other. Go on….”

Jacques put his gun over his chest and let go. Narati took the gun and felt its weight. To think Jacques handled such a heavy revolver so easily. Granted, he was a Fa’ar, so it might be much heavier than it was supposed to be. The lack of featherweight spell also made it heavy.

“She’s beautiful,” said Narati, admiring the revolver. It was far more polished than any other guns and was well-maintained. “Sorry. I don’t understand why you refer to it as—”

Narati froze when he looked at Jacques. His eyes were closed. His hand felt cold, even with all the fur.

“Jacques?” called Narati. He called him again, hoping that he was just resting. He did not want to believe it, but sooner or later, he must accept the truth.

He then called him one last time. It was a shaky, emotional, “Jacques?” There was no response.

There was nothing Narati could do but sob.