And so began my life as Gloria’s slave. The days that followed were a blur of petty humiliations and pointless tasks. Gloria seemed to relish in my degradation, ordering me to fetch her water from across the village, scrub the floors of her chambers, and even eat scraps from the floor. She would lash out with her fists or a stinging slap for the slightest perceived infraction. I’d seen my share of cruel masters on Earth, but Gloria’s pettiness was something else entirely.
Thankfully, my transformed left hand proved useful in more ways than one. With a bit of subtle manipulation, I could make it appear as though I was obeying her humiliating commands while secretly discarding or minimizing whatever object she’d forced upon me. It was a small victory, a way to maintain a shred of dignity amidst the degradation.
“I don’t understand you, lad,” Warzheil says, shaking his head. “You could have won. You could have walked away from all this. Why are you letting her treat you like this?”
I sighs, setting the scrub brush aside. “It’s not that simple, old man. She’s hurting, lashing out. Maybe… maybe this is what she needs. A way to vent her anger, to feel in control.”
“By enslaving you? By treating you like dirt?” Warzheil scoffs. “Don’t be a fool, Ronin. This isn’t helping her; it’s only feeding her anger.”
“Maybe,” I says, “but I can’t fight her. Not like this. Not when she’s already lost so much.”
Warzheil opened his mouth to argue, then closed it with a sigh. “You’re too good for this world, lad.”
Warzheil, bless his gruff heart, tried to intervene whenever he could, scolding Gloria for her cruelty and pulling me away for lessons in enchanting and blacksmithing. Those stolen hours in the forge were a welcome respite, a chance to forget, for a while, the weight of Gloria’s resentment and the burden of my unwanted destiny.
Meanwhile, in the opulent halls of the Holy Kingdom of Shevalon, a gathering of cardinals and priests buzzed with concern. They sat around a massive table, their faces grim as they discussed the news of Drax’s death.
“So it’s true,” says one priest, his voice heavy with disbelief. “The God of Fire and Heroism is dead.”
“We can’t change that now,” replies another, his gaze fixed on the stern figure at the head of the table, Cardinal Diodis. “But what about the bones, Master Diodis? They hold immense power. We must retrieve them.”
Diodis, a man whose youthful appearance belied his centuries of experience and authority, steepled his fingers. “We sent Gloria with a battalion of paladins and Cardinal Cruth. Cardinal Cruth, explain what happened.”
Cruth, an elderly cardinal with a tremor in his voice, rose to his feet. “We… we reached the location, but the Thundersmith… he was there, with a demon. They put up a fierce resistance.”
A younger cardinal scoffed. “Strong enough to defeat forty of our best paladins and one of the Seven Heroes? You should have sent me, Master Diodis. Cruth is past his prime.”
“Silence!” Diodis’s voice boomed, silencing the whispers and murmurs. “A situation of this magnitude requires unity, not bickering.” He turned his gaze to Cruth. “And you, Cardinal, do not shift blame. I will hear from Commander Ava herself.”
As if summoned by his words, the doors to the chamber swung open, and Ava strode in, her armor gleaming, her expression as cool and composed as ever.
“You’re right on time, Hero Ava,” Diodis says, his voice laced with a hint of disapproval.
“I was waiting outside, Father,” she replies, her tone respectful.
“Hmm. Tell us, why did you fail to subdue the demon?”
Ava paused, choosing her words carefully. “A demon? It seems Cardinal Cruth is mistaken. The being in question is a human… one who has somehow fused with demonic power.”
A wave of shock rippled through the room. Murmurs erupted, quickly escalating into a cacophony of concerned whispers.
“Tell us more,” Diodis commands, his voice sharp.
“He was strong,” Ava says, her gaze distant, as if reliving the encounter. “Absurdly strong. My holy magic, even Divine Possession… nothing worked against him. Only physical attacks seemed to have any effect.”
Diodis’s eyebrows shot up, his composure finally cracking. “Even Divine Possession? You were granted divine power?”
“Yes, Father. Goddess Ethis herself took control,” Ava confirmed. “And still, he survived. He avoided every attack, even her divine strikes.”
Diodis rose to his feet, his face pale. “I… I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it or not, Father, it is the truth,” Ava says, her voice firm.
Diodis paced the length of the table, his mind racing. After a moment, he sat back down, regaining his composure. “We will deal with this… demon… before he becomes a problem. I was going to demote you and Cardinal Cruth for your failure, but considering the circumstances… and your success in dealing with the demon lord…”
“The demon lord?” Gloria’s voice, sharp with disbelief, cut through the tense silence. “What are you talking about?”
Ava and Cruth exchanged confused glances.
“The goddess Ethis informed me,” Diodis explains. “It was this same man, Ronin, who defeated the demon lord in a death duel.”
The room fell silent, the weight of this revelation heavy in the air.
“A mana-less human defeated the demon lord?” one of the priests whispered, his voice trembling. “Impossible.”
Diodis ignored the murmurs, his mind already focused on the next course of action. “Cardinal Hera,” he says, his voice regaining its usual authority. “Use your Divine Detection magic to locate this Ronin. Send out spies, contact the Adventurer’s Guild. Gather all the information you can. We need to know everything about him, his powers, his weaknesses… everything. If possible, we will bring him under our control. If not… then we will eliminate him before he becomes a threat.”
Ava bowed her head. “As you command, Father.” With a final glance at the assembled cardinals, she turned and left the chamber.
Diodis leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. “Kill him, huh? I doubt it will be that simple.”
Back in Newin Village, I sat with Warzheil in his forge, experimenting with my newfound enchanting abilities. Warzheil had provided me with the Ramoon blade – now a sleek, deadly glaive after he’d removed the hilt and replaced it with a spear pole – and a batch of freshly prepared enchanting ink.
I dipped a fine brush into the ink, the liquid shimmering like a black void flecked with starlight. “I’ve never seen a solution like this before,” Warzheil says, his voice filled with awe. “Maybe you’ll be able to unlock cosmic enchantments with this. If your idea works, that is.”
I was trying a new approach, based on my understanding of the ‘T’ symbol’s power. Following Warzheil’s instructions, I carefully painted the traditional ‘3’ symbol near the base of the blade, signifying hostility, and then extended a simple linear pattern along the length of the blade.
But instead of using my mana to activate the enchantment, I focused my intent on the ‘T’ symbol etched onto the glaive’s pole. As I channeled my will, the black ink shimmered and pulsed, the area enclosed within the pattern deepening into a cosmic abyss, while the edges of the blade glowed with an ethereal, moon-like radiance.
Warzheil’s eyes widened. “It’s as if the material itself has changed,” he breathes. “Come on, let’s test it out.”
We headed to the training ground, where a few soldiers were sparring, their movements lackadaisical, more playful than focused.
“Hey, look! It’s Ronin!” one of them called out, nudging his companion.
“He looks like a weirdo,” his friend replies with a sneer. “I wouldn’t talk to a slave if I were you.”
“You’re the one who needs to shut up,” the first soldier retorted. “He didn’t cheat. I was assigned by Gloria to get him some clothes, and he changed in front of me and Warzheil. There were no artifacts on him, and that was right after the fight.”
“No way! Are you sure, Wyran? Why would she lie about it then? That means he’s been falsely accused!”
“Nothing can be done about it now,” Wyran sighs. “He accepted defeat and didn’t resist. Maybe he’s planning something… or maybe he’s just a weirdo.”
I ignored their chatter, focusing on the glaive in my hand. With a flick of my wrist, I activated the enchantment. The blade began to hum, its ethereal glow intensifying as it resonated with the cosmic energy.
Warzheil watched, fascinated, as I demonstrated the glaive’s capabilities. The blade sliced through the air with an eerie silence, leaving behind a trail of glittering stardust.
“By the gods,” one of the soldiers whispered, his eyes wide with awe. “What kind of magic is that?”
“It’s not magic,” I says, smiling. “It’s just a little something I came up with.”
Warzheil chuckles, clapping me on the back. “You’re a natural, Ronin. You might just change the world yet.”
I was so caught up in the moment, showing off a few spear techniques to the wide-eyed soldiers, that I didn’t notice her approach. It was the gasp from the crowd that snapped me out of my rhythm. I turned, and there she stood, Gloria, her masked face a canvas of shock.
“What?” I asks, unable to suppress a grin. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “How… how did you get a primordial class weapon?” Her eyes were fixed on the glaive, her gaze tracing the ethereal glow of the blade.
Before I could answer, she lunged forward, her hand reaching for the weapon. Years of training and instinct kicked in, and my grip tightened on the spear shaft, denying her attempt to snatch it away.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I snaps, anger flaring within me. The disrespect, the assumption that she could just take what was mine… it was infuriating.
Warzheil stepped between us, his thick arms forcing us apart. “Ronin! Your eye!”
I instinctively brought my hand up to my eyepatch, feeling a strange heat radiating from beneath the fabric. I pulled out the small mirror Warzheil had given me, and my breath caught in my throat. Red light pulsed from the edges of the eyepatch, like a warning beacon. I quickly shielded my left eye from the onlookers and lifted the patch slightly. The ‘T’ symbol, usually a dull crimson, was now glowing a fiery red, the intensity of its radiance mirroring the anger coursing through me. As I focused on it, trying to understand, the glow slowly subsided, fading back to its usual dim state.
“What’s wrong with his eye?” Gloria demands, her voice sharp with suspicion.
“Nothing that concerns you,” I replies, my voice cold. “I’m still your slave, remember? Just tell me what pointless task you want me to perform today, and I’ll get to it. But do try to keep it quick. I have more important things to attend to.”
“You will speak to me with respect, slave!” she hisses, her eyes flashing. “You do not get to…”
“Enough of this bullshit!” Warzheil roars, his voice booming across the training ground. Gloria flinched, her anger momentarily eclipsed by surprise.
“Oldman, shut it,” I say, trying to regain control of the situation before it spirals further. “You’ll only make things worse.”
“No! I will not stand by and watch this any longer!” Warzheil’s voice shakes with anger. “You’ve gone too far, Gloria. You’re acting like a spoiled child, not the daughter of a god! You’ve dishonored your father’s memory with your pettiness and cruelty!”
“How dare you?!” Gloria gasps, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and hurt. “You have no right to speak to me that way!”
“I have every right!” Warzheil thunders. “I was Drax’s friend, his confidant! I saw the sacrifices he made, the burdens he carried, the love he had for you! And you’re throwing it all away with your childish tantrums!”
He steps closer to Gloria, his voice softening, but his eyes still blazing with intensity. “He wasn’t using any artifacts, Gloria. That’s one of his abilities. He can neutralize magic, even divine power.” He shakes his head, his voice heavy with disappointment. “And what if he did use an artifact? Are you saying you, with all the strength of a dragon and a god flowing through your veins, couldn’t defeat a mana-less human in a fair fight?”
Warzheil’s words hang in the air, heavy with truth and reproach. The soldiers, sensing the shift in power, quietly disperse, leaving us alone in the center of the training ground. Gloria’s shoulders slump, and her hand trembles as she reaches up to wipe a tear that escapes from beneath her mask. Without another word, she turns and flees, her choked sobs the only sound breaking the silence.
“You went overboard, old man,” I say, my voice quiet, but my gaze fixed on Warzheil. “You need to apologize.”
Warzheil sighs, the anger draining from his face, replaced by a deep sadness. “I know, Ronin. I just can’t bear to see her like this. She’s lost her way, and I don’t know how to help her anymore.”
I nod, understanding. “I know how you feel. But we can’t give up on her. Not yet.”
I look down at the glaive, the symbol on the blade pulsing softly. “I think I know what I need to do. But I need your help, old man.”
Warzheil’s eyes narrow, his gaze piercing. “What do you need me to do, Ronin?”
“I understand where you are coming from, old man,” I say, my voice softer now, the anger receding. “But you were too harsh on her. She’s grieving.”
“No, you are just too selfless, kid. Don’t you have any pride?” Warzheil grumbles, but the fire has gone out of his voice.
I let out a tired sigh. “Why must I have pride? All I’ve done in my life is cause trouble and death. Countless lives lost because of me. No family, a sister who’s better off without me... no one to mourn my death. Why should I have something called pride?”
Warzheil’s gruff facade softens, and he places a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, I’m here for you, lad. Until the day I die, I’ll stand by you, you hear? You’re not alone.”
His words offer a sliver of comfort, but the ache in my chest remains. “Thanks, old man. I appreciate that. But this is something I need to handle myself.” I turn to face him, my gaze steady. “Any idea where she might have gone? I need to talk to her.”
“You’re going after her?” Warzheil’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Obviously,” I reply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Now tell me.”
Warzheil hesitates, then nods. “There’s a small cliffside near the Kobe River, behind Sil’s house. It’s a few kilometers from here. Gloria used to go there every day to watch the sunset. It was her… her special place. She might be there.”
“Thanks, old man,” I say, already turning to leave.
“Hold on, Ronin,” Warzheil calls out. “Tell her… tell her I’m sorry for being so harsh. She’s just… lost, that’s all.”
“Tell her yourself, old man.”
I sprint off into the gathering dusk, my mind racing. I need to find Gloria, to bridge the gulf of misunderstanding that separates us. But how do you reason with someone consumed by grief, blinded by anger?
The cliffside is breathtaking. The sky is ablaze with a fiery tapestry of oranges, reds, and purples, the setting sun painting the Kobe River with liquid gold. And there, beneath a sprawling tree with perfectly spaced branches, sits Gloria, her head bowed, her shoulders slumped.
As I approach, Sil is walking towards the mansion. She stops briefly, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. “I hope you can comfort her rather than fight with her,” she says quietly. “You are her dad’s legacy. Prove it to her.”
All I can do is nod with a soft grunt, the weight of her words settling in my chest.
My footsteps are silent as I near her, but she senses my presence. She quickly wipes her face, adjusts her mask, and straightens her posture, as if bracing herself for another battle.
“This is the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen,” I say, my voice soft, more a statement than a greeting. “It’s no wonder you come here every day.”
“What do you want?” she asks, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.
“May I sit with you for a moment?”
“Why? So you can gloat about your victory? To remind me that you’re free while I’m enslaved to a lie?” Her words are laced with bitterness, each syllable cutting deeper than I care to admit.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s not why I’m here.” I gesture to the empty space beside her. “This is such a beautiful place. It seems like the perfect spot to share thoughts, to… talk.”
“Don’t patronize me, human,” she snaps, her anger momentarily flaring. “If you think I’ll be swayed by your pretty words, you’re even more foolish than I thought.”
I ignore her protests and lower myself to the ground, leaning back against the tree trunk. “You’re wrong, Gloria. I’m not here to manipulate you, to win you over with words. I just… want to understand.” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “It seems like you’re carrying a lot of pain. And you’ve directed that pain at me. But I think… I think there’s more to it than that.”
She’s silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the setting sun. Then, she speaks, her voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. “Why wouldn’t I be angry? You… you’re the reason my father is dead.” The words are a raw, open wound, the pain seeping through her carefully constructed facade.
“Gloria…” I start, but she cuts me off.
“You don’t understand! You don’t know what it’s like to be alone, to crave a parent’s love, to train and fight for their approval, only to be discarded like trash. You don’t know what it feels like to be replaced by a god, a fake god, a manifestation of my father’s delusions.” Her voice cracks, the dam breaking, and tears stream down her face.
Her vulnerability shakes me, and for a moment, I’m at a loss for words. But then, I speak, my tone steady and sincere. “I do understand, Gloria. More than you think.”
Her head snaps toward me, her tear-streaked face a mixture of disbelief and anger. “How could you possibly understand?”
I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “I was born into a loving family, and for a while, it felt like we had everything. My grandfather was a self-made man, and my parents worked hard to ensure we were taken care of. But when I was twelve, everything changed. My parents were killed in what was called an accident, but the truth… it felt much darker. Their deaths left me alone to take care of my little brother, who was just seven, and my baby sister, who was only one.”
Gloria’s gaze softens slightly, but I can tell she’s holding onto her skepticism. I continue, my voice steady. “My grandfather, a strong and resilient man, took us under his wing. He tried to shield us from the pain, but two years later, my little brother… he was taken from us too, in another so-called accident. My grandfather performed rituals to honor him, but the loss was a blow that tested my will.”
I pause, the memories clawing at me. “When I was seventeen, my grandfather disappeared without a trace, leaving me with only my sister. By then, I was juggling college and part-time jobs to provide for her. I managed to graduate early, earning recognition as a genius in my field. But just when I thought I was finally moving forward, everything was torn away again.”
I clench my fists, the weight of those days pressing down. “A shady group abducted my sister. I sold everything, even our home, to find her. After six desperate days, I was approached by an organization—the Shadow Company. They promised to help me find her if I worked for them. Desperate, I agreed, becoming their hitman, their tool. For twenty-one years, I worked in the shadows, earning the name ‘Ronin, the Man of Death.’ But in all that time, I never stopped searching for Ava.”
Gloria’s expression shifts, her tears flowing freely now. She watches me, her anger replaced by sorrow and shame as I continue. “Eventually, I learned the truth. The same organization that employed me had taken her, twisted her into someone I barely recognized. They told her lies, made her believe I was the one who sold her out. I destroyed the Shadow Company, piece by piece, but it was too late. She hated me. And still, I searched for her, even after everything.”
Silence falls between us, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant murmur of the river. Gloria’s voice trembles as she whispers, “I… I am so sorry. I’ve been such a fool, judging you without knowing… without understanding.”
I offer her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Gloria. We’ve all made mistakes. What matters is that we learn from them.”
She nods, wiping her tears with trembling hands. For the first time, her mask seems to slip away completely, revealing the person beneath the bitterness and anger.
And so, we talk. We share our stories, our regrets, and our dreams. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the world in shades of twilight as we forge a fragile connection. I begin to see glimpses of hope in her eyes, and I feel a renewed sense of purpose in my own heart.
Together, we start to plan our next steps, not as adversaries, but as allies. There’s a long road ahead, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m not walking it alone.
ns 15.158.61.42da2
