《Beyond The Eternity: Rise of the Forsaken》 Ch 1: Lake of Blood It was a cold winter night, the kind that made the world feel vast, quiet, and unforgiving. Above, the sky was a giant sea of unbroken clouds, smothering any and every trace of moonlight. The forest below, vast and dense, lay cloaked in shadows with its towering trees swaying under the weight of the breeze. Then came the rain. It wasn¡¯t just a gentle drizzle but a sudden, relentless downpour that brought all life to the stillness. Raindrops struck the leaves in rhythm, their sound mingling with the occasional groan of the trees. The damp earth releasing its rich aroma while the rainfall spilt into streams, rivers, and lakes, stirring their stagnant and flowing surfaces into rippling mirrors. It was a beautiful... nature¡¯s symphony in motion. The lakes appeared restless, disturbed by the rain, yet there was an unspoken calm to their rhythm. That serenity lasted until an intrusion shattered the harmony. A streak of red. It started faintly at first, almost imperceptible... a trickle weaving into the transparent, bluish water. But it grew quickly, spreading like an inkblot, staining the lake with a deep crimson. The vibrant blue and vivid red clashed, forming a contrast that radiated outwards from one point along the shoreline. The source was unmistakable. Blood. A steady stream of blood poured from the land into the lake, darkened by rainwater yet unmistakably red. Following its path upstream, the gruesome truth lay ahead. On the wet and muddied earth, lay a man, no older than twenty-three. His body was ravaged... horribly and mercilessly mutilated. All four of his limbs were severed, jagged stumps exposing flesh and bone. Blood gushed freely from the wounds, pooling beneath him and feeding the crimson stream that led to the lake.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The man¡¯s body covered in countless marks of violence. His pale skin was a canvas of cuts, bruises, and burns. His cerulean eyes, once vivid and alive, were void of light, staring blankly into the stormy sky above. The golden strands of his hair were covered with mud and streaked with blood, plastered against his face by the rain. His once-vibrant form lay broken and still, same for the faint, erratic rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing. Barely. Each breath was a struggle, his chest heaving weakly as if the very act of living defied the laws of nature. His heart struggled to beat, its rhythm uneven and sluggish, as if contemplating whether to stop altogether. His face remained eerily calm, but the truth of his pain was visible in his trembling lips and the faint twitching of his brow. His body felt both numb and aflame like a jar filled with water cracked and spilling over. "Argh..." The faint groan escaped from his throat... a ghost of sound swallowed by the storm. ''How... how did it come to this?'' he wondered, his mind going through storm of its own. The questions lingered to his thoughts, unanswered, as his body lay motionless under the downpour. His existence seemed to be destined to have faced its end in that moment, washed away by rain and blood. ''What wrongs had I done... to deserve this?'' *** 23 years ago The first day of spring was a time of renewal in the kingdom of Weltons. Yet, in the outskirts, far from the grandeur of the capital, the season¡¯s beauty was nothing more than a fleeting whisper. Far from the kingdom¡¯s bustling heart, in the outermost slums, the cries of a newborn echoed. It was a fragile sound, fighting to be heard amidst the cacophony of poverty and despair. Inside a small, cramped house, a woman lay motionless on the dirt floor. Her face was pale, her breathing stilled... her life had left her. Beside her knelt an old woman, her wrinkled hands cradling a newborn boy. Her back was hunched from age, her hair snow-white, and her face worn with sorrow. She looked down at the lifeless mother, her lips trembling as tears welled in her eyes. With a deep, shuddering breath, she stood. The baby was wrapped tightly in a tattered towel, its cries soft but persistent. Opening the creaking door, the old woman stepped outside. The rain had not yet come to the slums. The air was thick and stagnant. A man stood by the doorway, chewing his nails anxiously, pacing in uneven steps. His dark hair was unkempt, streaked with strands of white, and his rugged clothes hung loosely on his lean frame. He looked up, startled as the door opened. His eyes darted to the old woman and then to the bundle in her arms. "Congratulations, James!" the old woman announced, forcing a smile that didn¡¯t reach her weary eyes. She stepped forward, extending the baby towards him. "It¡¯s a boy. A healthy, strong boy." James froze. His hands trembled as he reached out to take the child. His expression shifted from shock to disbelief, then to an overwhelming relief. "I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m a father!" he whispered, his voice breaking. His legs nearly gave way as he hugged the baby to his chest. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he laughed... a bittersweet, trembling laugh. "I¡¯m a father!" he exclaimed, repeating the words as if saying them would make them more real. The old woman watched him with a strained smile, clutching the edge of her shawl tightly. ¡°Thank you¡± James murmured, his voice still choked with emotion. "Thank you, Auntie. Because of you¡­ Salina and my son are safe. Thank you." The mention of Salina made the old woman¡¯s smile falter. James, oblivious to her change in demeanour, continued speaking, his voice full of unrestrained joy. "Salina will be so happy. She¡¯s always dreamed of being a mother." He cradled the baby closer, whispering to him... "Your mother will love you so much. Just wait till she sees you." The old woman couldn¡¯t stay silent any longer. Her voice wavered as she spoke. "James¡­ about Salina¡­" His joyous words came to an abrupt halt. His head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto hers. ¡°What¡­ What about Salina?¡± he asked, his voice barely audible. ¡°She¡­ She¡¯s fine, isn¡¯t she? She¡¯s¡­ alive?¡± The old woman shook her head, her tears falling freely now. "Salina¡­ couldn¡¯t make it. I¡¯m so sorry, James." For a moment, James didn¡¯t react. He stood frozen, his expression blank as if his mind refused to process her words. ¡°No¡­¡± he muttered, his voice trembling. ¡°No¡­ No, you¡¯re lying. You¡¯re lying!¡± The baby began to cry in his arms, its wails piercing the air. ¡°Salina!¡± James roared, his grief pouring out in a guttural scream. His trembling hands tightened around the baby, and his tear-streaked face twisted with anguish. ¡°You¡­¡± he whispered, his voice laced with venom as he looked down at the crying child. His grief turned to rage, and his eyes darkened with killing intent. "You¡­ You killed her." --- ¡°Ah¡­ That¡¯s right,¡± the young man thought, staring up at the rain-soaked sky as his body bled out. ¡°That¡¯s how my shitty life began. The son who killed his mother¡­ and a father who despised my existence.¡± Ch 2: The Silent Years Five years had passed since the birth of the child. From the very moment he had taken his first breath, Davey lost his mother. And just moments later, he had lost his father... Not physically, but emotionally. James, who once dreamed about a life filled with love and joy with his wife, Salina, found himself torn and struggling between his grief and hatred. Though he despised the child, James could never muster the courage to harm him. Each time he raised his trembling hands against the boy, the memory of Salina''s kind... Bright smile would flash before his eyes. His wife had given everything away for this child. Her life. Her dreams. Her future. Each time, tears would well in James'' eyes as he froze in place. His shaking fists would lower itself, and the fury in his heart would subside... although just for a moment. "What would Salina think?" he''d mutter bitterly to himself. "Would she curse me if I killed him? Or would she cry, knowing I failed her?" Over time, James made a decision. It wasn''t born of love but of obligation. "I''ll raise the boy. It''s my last promise to you, Salina." he whispered one night, staring at the stars. "I''ll do it for your peace¡­ not his." And so, the child was named Davey, just as Salina had always wanted. But promises made without love rarely bear fruit. Even as James kept the boy alive, his hatred never waned. His glares were cold, his voice... distant. Stolen novel; please report. Every look at Davey was a reminder of what he had lost. Yet, to the boy, James was still his father. *** Early Years... By the time Davey turned eight months old, his dark eyes gleamed with curiosity. He was an active child, crawling around the small, cramped house and exploring every corner like it''s a new discovery every time. But his favorite activity was far simpler... he would cry until James came into view. It was as if the child''s very existence revolved around his father''s presence. "uwaaaah!" the baby''s cries would echo until James, frustrated and exhausted, would lift him into his arms. Even in his bitterness, James couldn''t help but feel a little bit of guilt as the baby''s cries subsided. But he never allowed himself to dwell on it. "Don''t look at me like that, kid." he muttered one evening, holding the boy awkwardly. "I''m not doing this because I love you. It''s for her... for Salina." Davey, too young to understand, merely giggled. While his tiny hands tried to reach for James'' unkempt beard. By the time Davey turned two, he had mastered the art of walking and talking. His words were clumsy, and his steps wobbled alot, but his joy was infectious. Despite James'' cold demeanor, Davey would smile every time his father came home. "Welcome home, father!" he''d chirp. While his small face would light up like the morning sun. But James never returned the smile. Instead, he''d turn away, muttering under his breath. "Stop smiling at me like that... I don''t deserve it." *** When Davey was three, things began to change. James, who used to be diligent and timely, began returning home late. He''d often stumble through the door with a strange smell clinging to him... a sharp, bitter odor that stung Davey''s nose. His movements were sluggish, and his words slurred. "F-Father¡­ are you okay?" Davey would ask hesitantly. James waved him off, collapsing into a corner of the room. "Juzt shud ap... kid... Eat yor food and shleep." ("Just shut up, kid. Eat your food and sleep.) Even though Davey didn''t understand what was happening, he remained grateful. His father still brought him food, even if it was often stale or cold. And that alone was enough for him to smile. "Thank you, father!" he''d say cheerfully, As his tiny hands clasped together. But his gratitude only seemed to irritate James further. "Stop it!" James snapped one night, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. "Stop smiling at me like that. Stop pretending everything''s fine. It''s not. It never will be." Davey''s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained it. "But¡­ you brought me food. Isn''t that something to be happy about?" James turned away, his fists clenching. He couldn''t bear the sight of the boy''s innocent face. One fateful evening, Davey gathered the courage to ask the question that had been burning in his mind for months. "Father¡­ can I ask you something?" James, reeking of alcohol and barely standing, glanced at the boy with bloodshot eyes. "What is it now?" Davey hesitated, his small hands fidgeting. "Do I¡­ do I have a mother?" The room fell silent. James froze, his body stiffening. The mention of Salina''s name was like a knife plunging into his chest. His vision started to blur with rage and sorrow. "What¡­ did you just say?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I-I just wanted to know..." Davey stammered, his voice trembling. "All the other kids¡­ they have mothers. Do I¡ª" Before he could finish, James erupted. "Shut up!" he roared, his hand striking the table with a deafening thud. "Don''t you dare ask me that again!" Davey flinched, his small body trembling. But James wasn''t done. In his drunken state, years of suppressed anger and grief burst forth. He grabbed the boy by his arm and threw him to the ground. "You want to know about your mother?" he snarled... towering over the child. "She died because of you! You killed her! Do you understand that?" Tears streamed down Davey''s face as he struggled to process the words. "I¡­ I didn''t mean to¡ª" "Shut up! Just shut up!" James bellowed, his fists slamming down. That night, for the first time, James crossed the line he had sworn never to. He beat Davey until the boy''s cries faded into unconsciousness. As James stood over the motionless child, a strange sensation washed over him. It wasn''t guilt or regret. It was¡­ pleasure. For the first time in the last years, he felt a twisted sense of relief. The anger that had been festering in his heart seemed to dissipate... Being replaced by a sickening calm. He stumbled to his bed, a faint smile on his lips. "Finally¡­ some peace." Meanwhile, Davey lay on the cold, hard floor, his small body covered in bruises. Blood trickled from his head, pooling beneath him. The room was dark, the only sound that could be heard was the faint patter of rain against the window. Davey''s tiny frame shivered... As his mind drifted in and out of consciousness. "Why¡­?" he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible. "What did I do wrong¡­?" But there was no answer. Only silence. Ch 3: Cruel Solitude After that unfortunate night, when James first unleashed his rage, his life... twisted and broken as it was... gained a new, Dark and horrifying rhythm. For the first time in years, he had felt something other than sorrow and regret... pleasure. It was not the joy of a father nor the satisfaction of a man who had found peace. It was the sadistic pleasure of control, the release of the rage onto someone weaker. Like a predator is drawn to blood, James became addicted to that feeling. From that night onward, beating Davey became his nightly ritual. Every evening, after drinking himself into a stupor, James would stumble to home and take out all his frustration, anger, and guilt on the boy. "Come here, you little parasite!" he''d growl while pulling Davey by his arm. "Father, please... please stop!" the boy would cry, his small voice echoing through the barren house. James never listened. His fists landed again and again, each blow getting heavier than the last. Davey''s screams filled the night, but the walls of their home kept the agony locked within. Davey''s fragile body bore the brunt of his father''s torment. His skin was covered in bruises... dark patches that never had the chance to heal before new ones appeared. Cuts and welts lined his arms, legs, and back. At first, the pain was unbearable. Each strike felt like fire coursing through his veins, each bruise would remind him of his father''s hatred. But over time, something changed. The pain began to fade. As Davey''s young body hardened to the abuse, his mind retreated. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. He stopped crying as much, though not out of courage... out of exhaustion. Crying never stopped the beatings, and his voice was too hoarse to scream. But James noticed. One night, after another drunken tirade, James delivered blow after blow. Yet Davey didn''t scream. He didn''t cry. He simply stared at his father, his dark eyes were hollow, his lips trembling but silent. "You think you''re tough now, huh?" James snarled, his face red with fury. "You think you can just take it?" Davey shook his head, terrified. "No, father¡­ I¡ªI didn''t mean¡ª" Before he could finish, James'' gaze landed on a hammer lying by the doorway. His lips curled into a twisted smile. "Let''s see how tough you really are." Davey''s small body trembled as James grabbed the hammer. "F-Father¡­ please¡­" he stammered as he backed away. James ignored him, his steps were heavy and unsteady. With a roar, he raised the hammer high and brought it down on Davey''s right arm. A sickening crack filled the air. Davey''s scream pierced the night, louder and more desperate than ever before. He clutched his arm, writhing on the floor as tears streamed down his face. "Now you know." James spat, his voice venomous. "You''ll never forget who''s in charge." From that day on, the violence escalated. James no longer limited himself to his fists. Anything within reach became a weapon... bottles, belts, furniture. And the food that was once scarce became nearly nonexistent. Davey''s already frail body grew weaker. His ribs jutted out, his skin became pale and sickly. The boy who once smiled even in the face of neglect had now become a hollow shell. His eyes, once curious and bright, were now empty. The neighbors heard everything. The screams, the cries, the crashes of furniture¡ª ... it was impossible not to. But no one intervened. "It''s not our business." they would murmur, avoiding each other''s eyes. "It''s better to stay out of it." Even the children in the neighborhood shunned Davey. On the rare occasions where he''d venture outside, they would run away as their laughter turns into whispers. "Don''t play with him" one child warned another. "He''s cursed." "His father''s a drunkard." another said. "It''s better to stay away." Davey didn''t bother trying to make friends. He didn''t want to see the pity... or the fear... in their eyes. Instead, he stayed inside the small, suffocating house that had become both his prison and his grave. Another year passed, and Davey turned five. The passing of time brought no relief, only more misery. James came home even later, and the little food he brought was barely enough to stave off starvation. One evening, as Davey stood washing dishes in the dim light of the kitchen, he stared at his reflection in the water. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken. The boy he saw was not a child but a shadow. "What did I do wrong?" he whispered to himself. "Why does father hate me?" His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion outside. The quiet neighborhood, usually so still that even the sound of breathing could be heard, was alive with murmurs. "What''s going on?" Davey wondered, his curiosity piqued. But fear held him back. He didn''t want to go outside. A loud, commanding voice cut through the noise. "Is this the house?" Davey froze. The voice was cold, authoritative, and unlike anything he had ever heard. Before he could react, the front door was kicked open with a deafening bang. Four men stepped inside, their silver armor gleamed even in the dim light. Their faces were stern, their eyes scanning the room until they landed on Davey. "Are you Davey?" one of them asked, his voice sharp and unyielding. Davey stumbled backward, his heart pounding. "Y-Yes¡­ but please, don''t hurt me!" he begged, falling to his knees. The soldier who had spoken stepped forward. Without a word, he raised his hand and struck Davey hard across the head. The world blurred, and darkness consumed him. As Davey''s unconscious body slumped to the floor, the soldier picked him up effortlessly. The group turned and left the house, leaving the battered home in silence once more. The door hung ajar, swaying slightly in the evening breeze. The neighborhood was silent again, as if nothing had happened. But within the broken walls of that house, one thing was clear... Davey''s life, as he had known it, was over. And somewhere deep within the boy''s unconscious mind, a faint flicker of hope began to stir. Ch 4: A Fate Worse Than Death Davey''s eyes fluttered open. His vision was hazy, and a dull, throbbing pain radiated from the back of his head. He groaned softly as his small hands instinctively reached to rub his temples. His body started to tremble uncontrollably, though oddly, he felt neither pain nor numbness... just an overwhelming sense of unease. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. Slowly, the world came into focus. The room he found himself in was nothing like his home... or anywhere he''d ever seen. It was cramped and murky, with walls that seemed to close in on him. The air was thick and filled with a foul stench... the kind that made his stomach churn. Cobwebs hung in the corners like tattered drapes while the floor seemed alive with the movement of spiders and insects. Davey flinched as a cockroach scurried past his foot. "W-Where¡­ where am I?" he whispered in a hoarse and trembling voice. As if in response, a voice emerged from the shadows. "Well, well. Awake already? That was quick." The voice was cold and detached... It came from a shadowy corner of the room. Davey''s head snapped toward the sound. Standing there, leaning casually against the damp wall, was a man. Or at least, Davey thought it was a man. The figure was dressed entirely in black robes, his body hidden beneath the fabric. A mask that covered his face... simple in design, except for one striking detail... a crimson-black line ran down the right side of the mask in a jagged, lightning-like pattern. Through the mask''s eye holes, Davey could see the man''s eyes... or what passed for eyes. They were utterly unnatural. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. The sclera was pitch black, while the pupils were a stark, glowing white, as if the colors had been switched. The sight of them sent a shiver down Davey''s spine. "Who¡­ who are you?" Davey stammered in a voice that was barely audible. He took a cautious step back, his small frame trembling like a leaf. "Where am I? What do you want from me?" The man tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the boy''s questions. "Relax, kid." he said in a calm tone, devoid of warmth. "I''m not here to hurt you. You''re here because your dear father got himself into some¡­ trouble." "Trouble?" Davey echoed, confused. The man''s words made no sense, but a faint hope flickered in his chest. "You¡­ you know my father? Is he here? Where is he?" The man''s eerie eyes seemed to narrow behind the mask. "James?" he said... his voice dripping with disdain. "He''s dead." The words hit Davey like a hammer. "What¡­ what do you mean?" he asked as his voice started to break. "Dead? You''re lying! He''s not¡ªhe can''t be!" His chest heaved as emotions surged through him... disbelief, confusion, fear¡­ and something else. Something darker. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he struggled to make sense of it all. Despite everything James had done to him, despite the beatings, the neglect, and the hatred, the idea of his father being dead felt¡­ surreal. "Why are you crying?" the man asked as his voice sliced through Davey''s spiraling thoughts. "Is it because you truly loved him? Or because you''ve lost the faint hope that one day he might change?" Davey looked up at him, his tear-streaked face full of confusion. The man stepped closer, his presence looming over the boy like a shadow. "Your body." he continued... "it screams of abuse. The scars, the bruises, the broken arm that never healed properly... they tell a story far clearer than words ever could." Davey''s lips quivered, but he couldn''t speak. "And yet..." the man said, his tone sharp and cold... "you''ve been clinging to the idea that some miracle might happen. That your father might wake up one day and see you as something other than a burden. But deep down, you know better, don''t you?" The man''s gaze bore into him in an unrelenting manner. "Your smile." he said while pointing a gloved finger at Davey''s face. "My¡­ smile?" "Your unconscious smile..." the man clarified. "The one you didn''t even realize you had. The moment I told you James was dead, you smiled. Because a part of you... the part that knows the truth... wanted him gone." Davey froze as his heart started to race. He hadn''t noticed it at first, but now that the man had pointed it out¡­ he realized it was true. His lips had curled into a faint, involuntary smile. The realization made his stomach churn. "I¡­ I didn''t mean¡ª" Before he could finish, the man moved. In a flash, Davey felt a hand grab the back of his shirt. He was yanked backward with incredible force while his body almost levitated through the air. "What are you¡ª" Davey began, but his words were cut off by a deafening crash. The ceiling above them exploded, sending debris and a thick cloud of dust raining down. Davey coughed violently, his eyes stinging as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Out of the dust emerged something horrifying. At first, it looked like a massive glob of flesh, a grotesque mass of skin, blood, and organs fused together in a chaotic mess. Bones jutted out at odd angles, and eyes dangled loosely from their sockets. Davey''s stomach churned at the sight. He gagged, trying to fight the urge to vomit. And then¡­ it spoke. "You bastard!" the thing roared. It''s voice was distorted and haunting. "Look what they did to me! This is all because of you! I''ll kill you, you little wretch!" Davey''s blood ran cold. He recognized that voice. "F-Father?" The thing in front of him was James. Or what was left of him. Davey stumbled backward, his legs started to tremble. His mind raced with questions... How? Why? But deep down, he didn''t want the answers. The masked man stepped in front of Davey, shielding him. He raised a hand... gesturing for the boy to stay behind him. "Stay back." the man said in a tense voice for the first time. James... or the creature he had become... let out a guttural laugh. "You think you can protect him?" it snarled while it''s twisted form started lurching forward. "You''re nothing. I''ll rip you apart!" The masked man drew two daggers from his belt, their blades glinting even in the dim light. Without hesitation, he lunged at the creature. Davey watched in silent terror, clutching his chest as the battle unfolded. He wanted the man to win. He needed him to win. But his hope was short-lived. The creature moved with unnatural speed and strength, its grotesque limbs twisting and contorting as it fought. Within a minute, it had overpowered the masked man. Davey''s heart sank as he watched the man fall, his body lifeless on the ground. The creature... James... turned its attention to Davey. "You''re next..." it growled as it''s mangled form crawled towards him. Davey''s body refused to move. He was frozen in place, staring into the hollow, bloodshot eyes of the monster that had once been his father. Ch 5: Lionheart Davey''s legs trembled as he staggered backwards while his tear-streaked face froze in fear. His heart pounded so violently that it felt as though it would burst out from his chest. Before him, the grotesque figure that was once James... dragged itself forward while his mutilated body left a slimy trail on the cold, grimy floor. "Get back here, you little worm!" the creature screeched... its distorted voice dripping with rage. "You think you can run from me? I''ll rip you apart!" James''s flesh rippled unnaturally as he moved while twisting and contorting his body. From the writhing mass of his torso, he created a whip-like appendage. It''s surface bristling with jagged shards of bone that gleamed like crude knives. "You motherfucker!" James shouted in a sharp, venomous voice. "You''re a disgrace to the name of Lionhearts!" Davey''s blood became as cold as ice. Lionhearts? The word echoed in his mind, unfamiliar yet strangely familiar. He froze as his lips parted slightly in disbelief. "What¡­ what did you say?" Davey whispered barely audible voice. But James wasn''t interested in answering. He swung the whip with great speed. the makeshift weapon sliced through the air with a sickening hiss. It struck Davey''s stomach with devastating force while the jagged bones tore through his small frame. "Ahhhh!" Davey cried out as the whip pierced clean through his abdomen... leaving a gaping, bloody hole. He collapsed to the ground... coughing violently as blood gushed out from his mouth. His trembling hands instinctively reached for the whip embedded in his flesh, desperately trying to pull it out, but the pain was unbearable. "Pathetic." James snarled as his grotesque face twisted into a mockery of a smile. "You really think someone like you... a child who couldn''t even let his own mother stay alive... has the blood of Lionhearts in his veins? Don''t make me laugh!"Stolen story; please report. Davey''s vision blurred as James''s words cut deeper than the wounds on his body. "Lionhearts?" he repeated weakly while his mind started grasping the word as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality. James''s voice grew louder, more hateful. "The Lionhearts don''t accept weaklings! They don''t accept murderers! And you... YOU... killed the very woman who gave birth to you! You''re a curse, a stain on the family name! You''re no Lionheart!" The accusations tore through Davey''s soul, but something strange began to happen. Amid the pain and despair, the word Lionheart started to resonate deep within him. At first, it was faint, like a distant whisper. Lionheart... But it grew louder. Lionheart... LIONHEART... The word reverberated through his mind like an unrelenting chant that drowned out all other thoughts. And then... everything went white. When Davey opened his eyes... he was no longer in the dark, suffocating cell. Instead, he found himself standing in an endless expanse of white. The ground beneath his feet was smooth and pale, reflecting the light of a sunless sky. There were no landmarks, no horizon... just an infinite, pristine plain that stretched in every direction. His wounds were gone. The hole in his stomach, the searing pain... It had all vanished. Davey stared down at himself... His small hands trembling as they felt his unharmed body. "Am I¡­ dead?" he murmured... "Is this¡­ the afterlife?" For a moment, he felt an overwhelming wave of sadness. "Damn it..." he muttered as his eyes welled with tears. "I couldn''t even live a normal life¡­ not even once¡­" As his words started fading into the emptiness, a sound broke the silence. It was laughter. Deep... hearty laughter that echoed across the vast plain. Davey flinched... spinning around frantically to find the source. "Who''s there?!" he shouted in a shaky voice. "Show yourself!" "Ah, forgive me!" the voice replied while it kept chuckling. "I didn''t mean to startle you." As the laughter faded, clouds began to form in the distance. At first, they were wispy and faint, but they quickly thickened, swirling together like a brewing storm. Davey took a cautious step back, his eyes wide with wonder... and fear. "W-What''s happening?" he stammered. The voice returned and replied in a calm yet commanding tone. "I didn''t want to intervene, you see. But I couldn''t just stand by and watch my family name end like this." Davey froze. Family name? The clouds grew denser as they started to converge infront of him. The air seemed to hum with energy, and Davey''s heart raced as he watched the spectacle unfold. Finally, the clouds began to part, revealing a figure within. A man stepped out. His golden hairs were wild and untamed, cascading down his back and framing his face like a lion''s mane. His cerulean blue eyes radiated a calm yet powerful presence while it''s gaze, piercing yet kind. His flawless face bore a faint smile... one that exuded warmth and familiarity. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his muscular frame wrapped in a magnificent coat made from a white lion''s fur. Every inch of him radiated strength and authority, yet there was something undeniably gentle about him. Davey stared, awestruck and speechless. The man smiled down at him. "How''s it going, descendant? You doing okay?" Davey blinked as his mind struggled to process what he was seeing... and hearing. "D-Descendant?" he repeated in a voice that was barely above a whisper. The man''s smile widened. "That''s right. You''re my blood, kid. And from the looks of it, the last hope of the Lionheart family." "L-Lionheart¡­" Davey murmured... the word tasting strange on his tongue. Before he could say more, a deafening roar shattered the stillness. A bolt of lightning struck the ground behind them... the sound so loud that it made Davey''s ears ring. He clapped his hands over them, wincing in pain. The man sighed, clearly irritated. "Damn interruptions." he muttered while rubbing one ear with his finger. He turned back to Davey with a serious expression. "Listen, kiddo. I don''t have much time left, so I need you to pay attention." Davey still overwhelmed, nodded weakly. "You..." the man said while placing a hand on Davey''s shoulder... "...are a Lionheart. And that name... our name... means something. It stands for strength, courage, and a will that doesn''t break, no matter the odds." Davey kept staring at him. The man crouched down, bringing himself to eye level with the boy. "You''re young, and you''ve been through hell." he said gently. "But you''re still here. That means something, Davey. And it''s time for the world to reminisce who the Lionhearts are." The man raised his index finger finger, pressing it lightly against Davey''s forehead. A golden energy began to swirl around his hand, warm and vibrant. It flowed from the man''s finger into Davey, filling him with a sensation he couldn''t describe... powerful, yet comforting. Davey''s vision began to blur as the energy consumed him. "Go." the man said as his voice echoed. "Show the world what it means to be a Lionheart." As Davey''s consciousness faded, the man''s final words rang in his ears... "Make your name known, Davey Lionheart." Ch 6: Blessing or...? Davey thought he was slipping into unconsciousness, perhaps even death. The pain, the exhaustion... it was too much to bear. He welcomed the thought of sleep, appreciating the chance as an escape the agony. But reality was cruel. A searing and violent pain jolted him awake, his body convulsed as his chest burned with an unbearable heat. "Aghhhh!" he groaned in a hoarse voice, as his breathing grew ragged. His eyes flew open, and the first thing he saw was the abomination standing over him. The creature''s grotesque, tentacle-like appendage was buried deep in his chest, grinding against his ribs as if savoring his agony. Blood gushed from the wound, soaking his tattered clothes and pooling beneath him. Davey''s body felt numb, his limbs were heavy heavy and unresponsive. The sharp edges of the pain were dulled, yet the torment he endured was still enough to make him groan and gasp. His nose and mouth dripped with blood, and his vision blurred, yet he was still alive... even though, Barely... The creature sneered down at him in a guttural voice, filled with twisted glee. "Do you know how long I''ve waited for this moment?" it growled as its misshapen face shared a sinister grin. "To see you broken, groveling in the dirt like the pathetic worm you are?" It laughed... a low, guttural sound that sent shivers through Davey''s battered body. Davey couldn''t muster the strength to respond. His body writhed unconsciously, his hands twitched as if trying to push the creature away. Yet his mind was elsewhere. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The strange dream he''d just had... the golden-haired man, the name... Lionheart... it clung to his thoughts like a haunting melody. Lionheart¡­ The word echoed in his mind, bringing a strange mix of confusion and hope with it. Who was that man? What did he mean? And why, even now, at the brink of death, did that name seem to give him strength? But the creature wasn''t done. It yanked its tentacle free from Davey''s chest with a sickening squelch, sending a fresh wave of blood cascading down his torso. Davey collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, his body had become too broken to even scream. The creature stood over him, raising its whip-like arm for one final blow. "Goodbye, Davey." it growled, its voice dripping with mockery. The tentacle shot forward, slicing through the air with lethal precision. Davey''s eyes widened as he saw his death reflecting in the jagged edges of the tentacle, the cruel finality of it all. ''This is it¡­'' he thought. For a brief moment, doubt crept into his mind. ''Maybe that dream¡­ that name¡­ Lionheart¡­ maybe it was all just bullshit. A trick my dying brain conjured up to give me false hope.'' And then... everything seemed to have stopped. The world around him turned to gray, as if all the color had been drained from existence. The tentacle, just inches from his face, froze in midair. Davey''s heart skipped a beat. His pupils dilated as he stared at the still scene before him. "What¡­ what the hell?" he muttered weakly. The pain in his chest roared back to life, no longer masked by adrenaline or shock. He clutched at the wound, his fingers trembled while blood the blood dripped down. His screams echoed in the lifeless silence while his body convulsed from the intensity of it all. But even as his pain reached its peak, something strange began to happen. The unbearable agony subsided, fading slowly but surely. His ragged breathing steadied, his heart no longer pounding like a war drum. Davey slumped to the ground, his body trembling as the pain faded into a dull ache. He took a deep, shuddering breath. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his body wasn''t consumed by torment. But his mind raced with questions. "What''s going on?" he whispered to himself in a cracking voice. He stared at the frozen tentacle hovering before him, its jagged edges glinting faintly in the gray light. "How¡­ how is this even possible?" His thoughts spiraled. The events of the past day... if it had even been a day... played over and over in his mind. From his capture to his torment, to the dream of the golden-haired man calling him a Lionheart, nothing made sense. "Am I¡­ dreaming again?" he wondered aloud. Suddenly, a faint golden light appeared in the corner of his vision. Davey blinked, his eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on it. The light grew brighter, its warm glow cutting through the colorless world around him. "What now?" he muttered in a voice tinged with both frustration and fear. The light coalesced into a floating, rectangular shape. It shimmered, its surface radiating a golden mist that seemed almost alive. Strange symbols began to appear on it, glowing softly. Davey stared at the screen-like object while his confusion only deepened. Despite having no formal education... he had never learned to read or write... he found himself able to understand the words as if they were being spoken directly into his mind. The glowing letters formed a message... --- [Hidden Conditions have been met.] [The Lineage of Lionhearts is at the brink of extinction.] [The System has successfully detected the presence of the only remaining, as well as, the Chosen Lionheart.] --- Davey''s brow furrowed as he read the words. "System?" he murmured as the unfamiliar term rolled awkwardly off his tongue. "What the hell is a system?" Before he could process the message further, the text changed. --- [Awakening the bloodline of Lionhearts with the topmost qualifications¡­ within the last survivor, Davey Lionheart.] --- "What does that even mean?" Davey shouted, his frustration boiling over. But before he could say anything else, the golden light enveloped him. His body began to glow, the light seeping into his skin, his veins, his very soul. Warmth spread through him, soothing his wounds and filling him with an indescribable power. Davey gasped, his body convulsing as the transformation began. The golden light grew brighter and brighter, consuming everything around him. And then, with a final, blinding flash, the world went dark. Ch 7: The Curse in Disguise The world had gone black. Or atleast... for Davey. While his consciousness had become dormant, a storm raged within his body... His flesh tore apart and rebuilt itself in rapid succession. Muscles stretched, fibers shredded, and veins ruptured only to mend moments later. Blood coursed through his body with such ferocity that it found its way to every crack and crevice, seeping out in rivulets from his nose, ears, and even his pores. In any other circumstance, this much damage would''ve certainly become the invitation to death. But for Davey, this wasn''t the end. It was only the beginning. His soul... unconscious... was untouched by the torment his body had endured. It was still... Covered in an otherworldly warmth. A golden, radiant and divine energy enveloped his very essence, swirling protectively around his soul like a guardian angel. Soon, the energy began to shift. The golden mist started to condense. It grew larger, more defined, until it finally settled into a shape which was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. A lion. Not just any lion... but a colossal, otherworldly beast. Its eyes burned cerulean, so vibrant that they seemed to pierce through reality itself. Its golden mane shimmered like liquid sunlight while flowing with a grace that spoke of divinity. Its body exuded an aura of unmatched strength and authority. ''The King of Beasts, the embodiment of courage, pride, and power.'' The lion lowered itself to the ground as it''s massive paws rested protectively around the unconscious soul of Davey. The beast sat silently in a regal posture... It''s eyes remained serene as it watched the transformation of Davey''s body with an almost parental vigilance. But this wasn''t a parent''s love. It was a duty... This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. A responsibility that it was ''supposed'' to carry out, whether willingly or unwillingly... In the Reality, Davey''s body convulsed violently as his limbs twisted and trembled while a black, tar-like substances seeped out from his pores. This dark, viscous liquid carried the impurities and blockages that had plagued his body for years. Sweat mixed with blood and pooled beneath him. His frame swelled unnaturally while his bones cracked and the muscles tore under the strain of the transformation. Every piece of him was broken down, destroyed, and reshaped... till perfection. The lion remained still while it''s gaze did not wander off anywhere else even once, waiting for the right moment. When it finally came, the beast lifted its head toward the endless void above... ...and Roared. The sound wasn''t just a simple roar... Rather, it was a proclamation... a declaration of power that echoed across every plane of existence. It shattered the silence of reality by sending a soul-piercing shockwave rippling outward. The shockwave slammed into Davey''s body, forcing his chest upward as if yanked by invisible strings. His lifeless frame shot into the air, hovering as the golden energy engulfed him entirely. The energy... soon, solidified. Forming a dense, glowing barrier around his floating body. The barrier pulsed rhythmically as each pulse sent waves of warmth and vitality into Davey''s broken body. Inside the barrier, his body began to reconstruct itself at an astonishing speed. Shattered bones reassembled and aligned themselves perfectly. Torn up muscles stitched themselves together, growing stronger and more defined with each passing second. The impurities were purged out completely, leaving behind a body free of defects or any weakness. His physical form wasn''t the only thing that was changing. His appearance transformed as well. His once frail and undernourished frame became a muscular, well-toned build. His short black hairs, grew long and wild as they adopted a mane-like fluffiness. The color shifted dramatically, becoming a royal blonde that shimmered in the golden light. When the golden barrier finally began to dissipate, crumbling away like fragile glass while revealing a new Davey... unrecognizable from the boy he had been. His cerulean eyes fluttered open while glowing faintly as they replaced the dull black irises he''d known his whole life. For the first time, his body looked like it belonged to someone destined for greatness. But Davey wasn''t awake. His soul still lay unconscious, protected by the lion. Yet his body moved. The lion had taken control. Davey, or the Lion that had taken control of his body, snapped his fingers, letting the time resume. The World regained the colours and the things that were forcibly stopped, continued. The tentacle that was frozen mid-air, slammed into the ground with a sickening thud... mere inches from where Davey''s head had been. "What¡­ how?" the creature stammered as its eyes darted between Davey''s glowing form and the spot where his body should''ve been. Before it could react further, a voice sliced through the air... A Voice layered with immense and unmatched authority, cold and regal. "So¡­ you are James Lionheart." The creature whirled around as its grotesque face twisted with fear and rage. It saw the boy... no, the figure... floating before its eyes. Blonde hair like a lion''s mane. Eyes that burned cerulean, piercing through its very soul. A golden aura that radiated raw, authoritative power. "No¡­ no, no, no!" James began muttering as he unconsciously stumbled backwards. "This can''t be. It''s impossible!" His muttering turned to a panicked scream. "You''re a bastard! You''re nothing! How... how could someone like you awaken the blood of royalty?!" Davey... or rather, the lion controlling him... narrowed his glowing eyes in disgust. "How dare you..." the voice snarled as each word represented the most potent venom. {A/N:- Just like those Asian Relatives that come around every now and then to say, "oh my! Did u know my son topped his class!" -_- so fuggin annoying...} "How dare you, a Lionheart... stoop so low as to harm your own blood...your own son!" An immense pressure erupted from Davey''s body, slamming into the ground with the force of a meteor. The very earth beneath them cracked and splintered, leveling the area completely. The Creature fell to the ground, forced down by the sheer weight of the aura surrounding Davey. "No! I am the rightful heir! Me!" James screamed in a desperate voice. Davey''s lips curled into a snarl. "Vile. Ignorant. You don''t even have the decency to beg for forgiveness." The golden light around him intensified as he raised a hand. "You do not deserve to live." With a snap of his fingers, the creature exploded. Blood, flesh, and viscera rained down... the remains of James splattered against the broken ground. For a brief moment, everything was silent. The lion... still in control, glanced upward as its cerulean eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "I''ve fulfilled my promise..." the beast growled softly in a weary tone. "The boy is yours now. Leave me in peace." The golden energy around Davey dissipated as the lion began to fade. For a fleeting moment, the lion''s gaze softened as it looked at the unconscious soul. "You''re nothing but trouble..." it muttered. "But at least¡­ I can finally leave this embarrassment behind." With that, the lion disappeared entirely, leaving Davey''s body to collapse to the ground. Although, The golden energy didn''t vanish completely. It concentrated itself in Davey''s right hand, glowing faintly before embedding itself into his flesh. A screen emerged above his unconscious body. --- [The Goddess of Light, Aria, has forcibly chosen you as her Saint.] [Due to Davey''s condition, the baptism will commence immediately.] [Stigmata is forming.] [The System will now cease to exist.] --- And so, in the silence of the aftermath, Davey lay still... unconscious and unaware that his life had been irreversibly thrusted into more chaos. Ch 8: The Saint of Light Davey opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a wooden ceiling on which the grainy patterns faintly illuminated by soft daylight streaming in from a nearby window. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn''t in pain. His body, which had been through what felt like a storm of destruction and rebirth, felt unnaturally¡­ comfortable. Although he couldn''t move. His limbs were leaden, his muscles were unresponsive. He tried again and again, straining his muscles slightly, but his body ignored him completely. As he wrestled with his helplessness, a soft, melodic voice broke through the haze. "Oh my! The Saint is awake!" His blurry vision caught the outline of a figure... a girl, dressed in white robes that shimmered faintly in the light. She moved closer with movements that could only be labelled as ''graceful'', while her voice trembled with both excitement and reverence. Davey blinked continuously, to sharpen his vision slightly. He saw her face now... a beautiful girl, perhaps eighteen, with gentle features that seemed sculpted by divinity itself. Her large... kind eyes looked down at him with a mix of awe and relief. Her attire was immaculate, lined with intricate golden embroidery. She wore a soft veil that framed her face like a halo. She was, in every sense of the word, what the people called a "Saintess." But to Davey, she was just¡­ a stranger. "Where am I?" he asked in a hoarse but steady voice, completely bypassing her beauty or the situation''s grandeur. To him, she was just another human being... a fact which made all the more natural sense by the fact that he was still a child. The saintess paused, seemingly taken aback by his straightforwardness. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. But she quickly regained her composure, her lips curved into a serene smile. "You''re in the Holy Kingdom of Light, my Saint. This is the main temple of our Goddess, Aria." She continued speaking, explaining everything with a gentle tone, but Davey''s attention wavered. His head felt heavy while his vision remained blurry, so all he could do was listen passively as she spoke. After finishing her explanation, she bowed politely and excused herself, leaving the room with a hurried grace to inform someone... presumably the pope... of his awakening. As the door clicked shut, Davey took a moment to process everything he''d heard by narrating it mentally in the only way he could as his body refused to cooperate. "So..." he thought. "...apparently this is the main temple of the Goddess of Light, Aria. And according to her, a divine revelation told their pope that their new saint... me... was surviving in the outskirts of Welton, in the land plagued by death miasma." "After some grand search effort, they found me. Or rather, they found a giant crater filled with blood and divine energy, and at the center of it, they found me, unconscious but alive. They carried me all the way here, and now I''m apparently their saint. "Oh, and by the way, I''ve been asleep for an entire month. So¡­ yeah." His narration trailed off as he exhaled deeply. He wasn''t sure how to feel about any of this. When the saintess returned, she wasn''t alone. Beside her stood an elderly man, dressed in elaborate white and gold robes that radiated authority. His long beard and wrinkled face gave away his age, likely in his late sixties or seventies, but his posture remained upright. "The Saint has awakened." the old man said in a voice filled with something akin to relief. He lowered his head slightly... a respectful bow directed toward Davey. The sight of the pope of the Goddess of Light bowing to him made Davey''s mind stumble. "Wait. A pope... a literal pope... bowing to me? Is this normal?!" he thought. The man straightened and spoke again in warm but reverent voice. "Saint Davey, welcome to the Holy Kingdom. You are the beacon of hope for us all, chosen by the Goddess herself. Rest assured, you will be treated with the highest respect and care." Davey remained silent as his thoughts raced. He nodded faintly as his body was still too weak to fully react. The pope turned to the saintess. "Ensure that our Saint is well taken care of. Tomorrow, we will conduct the baptism ceremony in the presence of the Goddess." The next day arrived quickly, the sun climbed high into the sky as Davey was carried... since he was still too weak to walk... into the grand main temple of the Goddess of Light. The temple was massive, more a sanctuary than a building as its towering columns and complex architecture spoke about the devotion of those who had built it. At its center stood a colossal statue of the Goddess Aria, her arms outstretched as if to embrace all who entered. Hundreds of thousands of priests, believers, and dignitaries gathered to witness the baptism of the new saint. Their collective gazes bore into Davey as he was brought forward while their eyes were filled with a mix of awe, curiosity, and reverence. At the altar, under the shadow of the statue, the ceremony began. The pope recited the holy texts in voice that boomed through the sacred space. Davey, despite his reservations, followed along, repeating the verses with surprising ease. When the time came, the pope handed him a small ceremonial dagger. "This, Saint Davey, is your blood offering." the pope explained. "A symbol of your willingness to serve the Goddess, even at the cost of your own life." Davey didn''t hesitate. He took the blade and with a steady hand, sliced his palm. The pain was sharp but fleeting as his blood dripped onto the altar. The moment the first drop hit the altar, the air shifted. A blinding light erupted from the statue, enveloping Davey completely. The divine energy was overwhelming, its warmth washing over him like a tidal wave. The crowd gasped as they witnessed what could only be described as a miracle. Golden light rained down from the heavens, illuminating the entire temple. The energy spread outward, touching every temple of light across the world. Bells rang out in celebration, their chimes echoing far and wide. The baptism was complete. Davey stood there, bathed in golden light, his heart racing in his chest. For the first time in his life, he felt something he''d never thought he would experience. Acceptance. The priests and believers cheered with their voices filled with unbridled joy. They called his name, sang praises to the Goddess, and showered him with reverence. In that moment, Davey smiled... a small, genuine smile. He wasn''t the cursed child anymore. He wasn''t the boy abandoned by his own father. He was Saint Davey, the chosen of the Goddess of Light. And for all of it, he gave the credit to one name alone. "Thank you, Aria." he thought. "For making me feel human again." Ch 9: A lonely path Time had a way of slipping through one''s fingers like sand... and for Davey, it felt no different. The once-fragile boy who was abandoned in the outskirts of Welton was now a name spoken with reverence across the Holy Lands. By the age of 12, Davey had done what many believed was impossible... he had mastered the use of his bloodline. The cerulean glow of his eyes and the golden energy coursing through him marked him as a Lionheart in every sense. His mastery elevated him to the rank of a knight, the Title that normally took seasoned warriors decades to achieve. For him to rise to such heights at the mere age of 12? It was nothing short of a miracle. "He truly is the chosen one..." the whispers spread far and wide. "A gift from the Goddess herself." It was the golden era for Davey. He had a home to call his own, the admiration of the people, and strength that grew with each passing day. His training consumed him and he relished every moment of it. Yet, amidst all these accolades, something vital and important was missing, and that was... Friends. Sure, Davey had worshippers. He had admirers and believers who saw him as the living embodiment of the Goddess''s will. But friends? The kind of bond that was built on laughter, trust, and shared dreams? That was a luxury that he was yet to experience. That is, until his 13th birthday. Around that time, the saintess who had first greeted Davey upon his arrival at the Holy Kingdom decided that it was time to prepare her successor. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. She took in a disciple... a 12-year-old girl named Alice. Alice was everything that Davey had never encountered before. She was honest, kind-hearted, and full of life. With her jet-black hair and deep, dark eyes, she stood out amidst the golden hues and radiant whites of the temple. She was an orphan, born and raised within the Holy Lands, she carried herself with quite a dignity that belied her age. To Davey, she seemed like the perfect candidate to fill the void of companionship in his life. But to him, training always came first. Years passed, and by the time Davey turned 15, the bond between him and Alice had grown strong. They had become best friends... Despite the temples tough and rigid lifestyle where they barely had enough time to greet or see each other. By then, Davey had already mastered the Aura Sword, a wall so difficult to climb over that it earned him whispers of being the next Holy Knight. The Holy Knights were an elite group of warriors that were gifted with divine strength by the gods themselves after proving their worth towards the righteousness and tenacity to keep moving forward. Standing at the Apex of Humanity''s potential, Many dreamt about getting the chance to gain that title even if it was at the end of their lives, but to be a contender at just 15 was unthinkable. And yet, people continued to sing his praises. By the time Davey turned 16, life took a more serious turn. He received an oracle... a direct vision from the Goddess of Light herself. In the dream, he saw a world ravaged by darkness. A demon lord had risen, leading an unholy army that would soon bring humanity to the brink of extinction. The Goddess''s voice resonated in his soul, entrusting him with a mission. "Stop the darkness. Save the world." When he woke up, Davey was overwhelmed with gratitude. The very Goddess he had devoted his life to had chosen him for this monumental task. It filled him with a purpose and a reason to get more stronger. He threw himself into his training with renewed vigor, determined to live up to her expectations. Through it all, Alice remained by his side, offering support, comfort, and the kind of unwavering companionship that softened the edges of his increasingly burdened heart. Another year passed, and by 17, Davey had ascended to the rank of Holy Knight. He stood among legends, and with his new title came greater responsibilities. {A/N:- sounds like a certain spider...} He ventured out into the world, leading a company of 100 knights along with Alice. Together, they fought demons in the name of Aria, spreading light and hope wherever they went. Villages hailed him as a savior, and kingdoms offered riches in gratitude. But Davey rejected it all. "I don''t fight for rewards." he told his followers. "I fight for the Goddess and her people." Instead, he donated every coin and treasure to the poor, those who reminded him of the life he once lived. "It''s the least I can do..." he''d say as he watched the joy on their faces. Their gratitude made him feel whole... made him believe as if he was making a difference. But the world, as it often does, was playing a cruel game. Unbeknownst to him, many of those smiles were false. People whispered behind his back, calling him na?ve. To them, he was a fool who gave away precious stuff for free and the best practical target to exploit. Davey, inexperienced in worldly affairs and the matters about ''who to'' and ''how to trust'', couldn''t see the difference between genuine kindness and selfish manipulation. He continued to give, unaware of the webs being spun around him. By the time he turned 18, reality began to crack. The number of knights under his command had dwindled. Of the 100 who had once followed him, only 25 remained. The rest had fallen during the Great Invasion... In the desperate battle to save a village on the brink of annihilation. Davey had insisted on saving them, and his knights had followed. They succeeded. The village was spared. But the cost? Seventy-five lives. Davey''s mentality was crushed. The weight of their deaths bore down on him like an avalanche. He replayed the battle in his mind over and over again, searching for the moment where he''d gone wrong. "If only I''d been faster¡­ If only I''d been stronger¡­ Maybe they''d still be alive." He swore an oath that day, standing over the graves of his fallen comrades. "I''ll never let my comrades die again. Never." But as they continued their march, the bond between Davey and his remaining knights began to fray. The survivors grew distant while their whispers became sharper and harsher. "He''s reckless." they''d say. "An idealistic fool who leads us into death traps." "He doesn''t understand the burden of command." "He can''t be trusted." Davey heard the whispers, but he didn''t confront them. How could he? He blamed himself more than they ever could. Ch 10: Path of Salvation At the age of 19, Davey Lionheart had become a living legend. The name of the young saint had etched into the history with every step he took, every demon he killed, and every life he saved. His feats were unreachable... killing four of the seven Archdemons who served as the Demon Lord''s strongest generals, all while keeping the promise he had made at his comrades'' graves... no more lives would be lost under his command. He kept that promise. His journey through the chaos of the demonic hordes had only made him stronger. Each battle pushed him closer to perfection and higher strength, sharpening his skills and aura until he stood at the very pinnacle of strength. His fame reached new heights when he defeated the strongest Holy Knight of that era, Nicholas Simon, the patriarch of the Simon family. That victory earned him the title of the strongest Holy Knight. By then, Davey was no longer just a saint or a warrior. He had become a pillar who supported the world and it''s hopes, a legendary hero who carried the weight of humanity''s future on his shoulders. It was during this time that he discovered a map while defeating the Archdemons. The map was worn and torn, leading to the final stronghold of the Demon Lord... a fortress located on an isolated island, far from the mainland. Davey didn''t hesitate. He accepted the task without question, rallying his comrades and preparing for the final march. But amidst the grim and cruel environment of their mission, something unexpected bloomed in his heart. Love. Alice, the saintess who had stood beside him through every trial, had grown into someone more than just a companion. Her laughter, her kindness, and her unwavering faith in him stirred something in Davey that he hadn''t felt before. One quiet evening, as they sat together beneath the canopy of stars, Davey turned to her with a soft smile.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. "After this is over..." he began, his voice steady but warm... "when the Demon Lord is defeated... will you marry me?" Alice''s eyes widened as tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks before she lunged forward to embrace him in her arms. "Yes!" she cried as her voice trembled with joy. "Yes, I will!" In that moment, Davey felt a happiness he''d never known... a sense of completeness that made all his struggles worthwhile. For once, it wasn''t about the Goddess, the world, or his duty. It was about him. But happiness, as fleeting as it often is, was soon overshadowed by the looming mission ahead. The day of trial arrived. Davey and his comrades stood at the edge of the Demon Lord''s castle. The fortress loomed like a mountain of obsidian as its dark spires sliced into the crimson skies. The air was thick with the stench of blood and rotting flesh, while before them, stood an army of unimaginable size... hundreds of thousands of demons... Their roars echoing like thunder. The Demon Lord''s remaining Archdemons stood at the forefront while their auras covered the battlefield like a thick blanket. Davey raised his sword high as its divine glow cut through the oppressive darkness. "In the name of the Goddess of Light!" he shouted in a steady and unwavering voicee. "We shall purge this evil from the face of the world!" His comrades joined in unison as their cries showcased their determination. "For Aria!" The charge began. It was a battle that no mortal could have believed was possible... 27 warriors against an endless tide of Demons. But Davey''s presence turned the impossible into reality. He stood at the forefront with his blade covered in divine energy as he cut down demon one after another. His comrades fought valiantly, protecting the saintess Alice as she healed their wounds and supported them from the rear. For three days and three nights, the battle raged on. By the end of it, the ground was littered with the corpses of demons, as their blood seeped out and pooled on the entirety of ground. Davey and his comrades stood victorious with their bodies battered and exhausted... Although, alive. As they tried to catch their breath, a sudden surge of malevolent energy pierced the air. Davey''s instincts spiked. Without thinking, he swung his sword into the seemingly empty space ahead of them. The force of his strike cleaved through an invisible aura that would have torn them apart. His comrades looked around in confusion as if still trying to understand what had happened. Davey''s gaze turned upward, towards the castle. And there, standing atop its highest spire, was the Demon Lord. The Demon Lord was a towering figure, clad in obsidian armor that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. His eyes burned with crimson flames, and his black wings spread wide, casting a shadow over the battlefield. Davey clenched his jaw, glancing at his comrades. They were too tired as their movements had become sluggish from the relentless battle. He couldn''t let them fight. "I''ll handle this." he said, changing his gaze towards the last target while his eyes were filled with resolution... Resolution to win "But Davey¡ª" Alice began, but he cut her off with a soft smile. "Stay back. I made a promise, remember? No one else will die today." With that, he stepped forward while his sword glowed brighter as he channeled all his remaining energy. The Demon Lord sneered, sensing the immense power gathering around the young knight. But instead of attacking Davey, the Demon Lord launched himself toward his comrades, aiming to exploit their defenselessness. "No!" Davey roared as his eyes widening in desperation. In an instant, he surged forward as his aura blazed like the sun. He extended his right arm, intercepting the Demon Lord''s attack just inches away from his comrades. The force of the collision sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield. "Not them... Never them!" Davey growled as he poured everything he had into a final strike. The clash was blinding, a burst of light and darkness that seemed to freeze time itself. When the dust settled, the Demon Lord lay defeated, his body crumbling into ash. Davey turned to his comrades as a sense of relief washed over his face. But as he took a step forward, his body faltered. His right arm... the arm that bore the stigmata of Aria and the power of his bloodline... was gone, destroyed in the final attack. The divine energy that had fueled him all his life had vanished. He collapsed to the ground with a faint smile on his lips. "I saved them..." his smile seemed to say. "I saved the world." But as his comrades rushed to his side, their expressions shifted. Relief turned to unease, and unease to doubt. Unbeknownst to Davey, the world''s hero was no longer a necessity. His strength was gone. His purpose was fulfilled. And in the harsh reality of the world... A Hero who has no longer use is nothing more than a burden. Ch 11: Weight of Betrayal "Where... am I?" Davey thought to himself as his mind grew clouded and heavy. His eyes opened slightly, barely able to lift the lids. The world before him was a blur, muted and gray. While something cold and soft pressed against his skin. It fell on him in gentle waves. "Rain?" Davey''s lips moved but no sound escaped outside. His voice was trapped inside his throat, just like the rest of him. His body refused to obey as it laid limp and unresponsive. He tried again... once, twice... to shift his arms, to twitch a finger, anything. But, nothing worked. Am I... paralyzed? A surge of panic rippled through his mind but his body stayed still, ignoring his desperate commands. As his struggle continued, some faint sounds began to reach his ears. The muffled murmur of voices. At first, it was distant, like whispers carried by the wind. But slowly, the words became clearer and sharp enough to cut through the haze. "... What do we do now?" The voice was familiar. Davey''s chest tightened as recognition dawned. Alice. His heart surged with relief. She''s here. They''re here. I''m not alone. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. He tried to call out but the words died on his tongue. His mouth refused to move. Instead, he focused on listening, requesting his body to hold on. But as the words became clearer, his relief turned into something darker. "Marry him?" Alice''s voice was sharp and almost incredulous. "Are you crazy? Why would I marry him? He''s... useless now." The words struck like a dagger. No. That can''t be right. I must''ve misheard. Davey''s thoughts spiraled as he tried to convince himself that it was a mistake, but the voices continued as each word shattered a piece of his soul. "Exactly..." another voice chimed in and that was one of his comrades. "He''s lost his strength. What good is he now? Honestly, I''m relieved we don''t have to keep pretending anymore." Pretending? The voices grew louder as if the floodgates of betrayal had been opened. "He served his purpose." "Without him, we can take the credit." "We''ll tell the world he died killing the Demon Lord." "We''ll be the heroes. The ones who saved humanity. Imagine the glory... the riches..." Davey''s mind felt like it was splitting apart. Each word was a hammer blow to his chest. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but all he could do was listen. And then, Alice spoke again. Her voice was cold and devoid of any warmth that once comforted him. "Let''s just bury him..." she said as if she was discussing some daily life chore. "We can''t risk him waking up and ruining everything. He has no place in the world anymore." Her words echoed in his mind... even as the sound of dirt falling on him began. Thud. Thud. Thud. The muffled sound of earth being shoveled onto his body drowned out everything else. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, the dirt piling higher and suffocating him. No... no! Inside, he screamed. Inside, he fought. But his body was still. This can''t be real. This has to be a nightmare. But the cold truth settled in as the last of the voices faded into the distance. They were gone. And he was alone. Buried alive beneath the weight of their betrayal. Time passed. Minutes? Hours? Davey couldn''t tell. He still laid in the shallow grave as his body was entombed by the earth while his heart had shattered into pieces. The pain of his severed arm throbbed faintly but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. Alice''s words replayed in his mind, over and over again, and each repetition twisted the knife deeper. "Why...?" he whispered to himself as his voice finally started to breakthrough the numbness. His throat was dry and his breath, shallow. Tears slid down his face... mixing with the dirt that covered him. "Why me?" His thoughts spiraled into a pit of despair. I gave them everything. I fought for them. I bled for them. I trusted them. He had sacrificed his childhood, his dreams, his life for the world, for the people he loved. And yet, they discarded him like he was nothing. Was I... just a tool? The question gnawed at him. From the beginning, did anyone ever truly care? Or had they only ever seen him as a means to an end? The Goddess. The temple. His comrades. Alice. Was it all a lie? Davey''s tears fell harder while silent sobs wrecked his body as the weight of it all crushed him. He wanted to scream at the heavens, to demand answers from the Goddess who had chosen him. Why had she let this happen? Why had she abandoned him? "Aria... why?" His voice cracked and barely audible. "Why did you let them... betray me? Was I... not enough?" The rain began to fall. At first, it was a light drizzle, the drops slipped through the loose dirt that covered him. Slowly, the rain grew heavier, washing away the thin layer of soil that obscured his face. The cold water soaked his skin and sent shivers through his numb body. It hurts. But that pain was enough to remind him that he was still alive. He took a shaky breath as the air filled his lungs for the first time in what felt like an eternity. His fingers twitched. His body ached while his severed arm burned but he could move. The rain continued to pour, as if the world itself wept for him. Davey laid there, staring up at the stormy sky. His tears mingled with the rain while streaming down his face in an endless flow. "Why?" he whispered again as his voice started to break. But this time, there was no answer. He was alone. The realization settled in his chest like a stone. Everything he had built, everything he had fought for, was gone. His home, his comrades, his love... lost to betrayal. And all that remained... was him. Just him. Once again. Alone. Ch 12: Will to survive Thud. Thud. Thud. In the middle of a damp forest, the uneven sound of someone staggering forward echoed softly. The steps were erratic and uncoordinated, like a marionette with its strings tangled. While a faint rasping noise accompanied the footsteps, the strained heaving of a man struggling to breathe. The figure was barely recognizable as human... so battered, bruised, and soaked that he seemed more like a shadow of life than life itself. Davey. His long blonde hair clunged to his battered body, drenched from the rain that had finally subsided. Mud and dirt sticked to his tattered clothes, still damp from the shallow grave he¡¯d clawed himself out of. Blood and grime streaked his face and chest, and his right arm... gone at the shoulder... hung as a ghost of what it had been. Yet, despite the agony that coursed through him, Davey moved. His legs trembled while his knees threatened to buckle with every step, but something within him refused to let him fall. The rain had washed away the dirt that buried him, but it could not wash away the betrayal. His eyes had become void of any light as they stared ahead blankly. His body moved forward as though it was getting pulled by an invisible string, dragged along by the strength of his will alone. ¡°This is where it ends, isn¡¯t it?¡± he muttered to himself. His voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper, breaking through the cold silence of the forest. ¡°If it¡¯s not starvation, it¡¯ll be the animals. Or maybe I¡¯ll collapse first.¡± He felt the truth of his words in every labored breath, every aching joint. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. His body screamed at him to stop, to rest, to give up. But his mind, though shattered, didn''t listen to anything like a stubborn child. "I can''t..." Davey whispered as his voice trembled. "Not yet." His legs kept moving, one step at a time. His feet dragged through the damp earth and crushed the wet grass beneath him. The cold air stung his skin as his wound throbbed, but none of it mattered to him. The only thing that drove him forward was the question that burned in his soul. Why? Why had they done it? Why had the world used him and thrown him away? Why had the Goddess chosen him only to let him fall so far? He clenched his jaw as his teeth grinded together as he remembered their voices... the words that had cut him deeper than any blade ever could. ¡°Let¡¯s bury him. He¡¯s useless now.¡± Davey¡¯s hand balled into a trembling fist. "I need... answers" he muttered under his breath as his voice seemed to gain strength despite the agony it carried. --- The pungent smell of blood, sharp and metallic, cut through the damp air. Davey stopped in his tracks as his senses were weakened but still able to recognize the familiar scent. His weary eyes scanned the area, and they fell on a disturbing sight... a large rabbit lay motionless, dead on the forest floor while its body torn open. An eagle stood over the carcass while its sharp beak was coated in blood. Davey¡¯s eyes lingered on the rabbit¡¯s lifeless form. His empty stomach churned, and a wave of nausea washed over him. But the hunger was stronger, gnawing at him like a feral beast. The eagle noticed him. Its head cocked sharply while its golden eyes narrowed as it spread its wings wide in a show of dominance. It screeched in a sharp and piercing sound as if to warn him away from its meal. Davey said nothing. He simply stared at the bird, his gaze locked onto its sharp talons and blood-stained feathers. The eagle, unnerved, met his eyes. And in those eyes, it saw something primal. The reflection of a lion. A wounded lion, battered and bruised, but with a fire in its eyes that refused to be extinguished. The eagle hesitated for a moment as its wings faltered mid-flap. Then, with a panicked screech, it took off into the sky while its cries echoed through the forest. Davey didn¡¯t move and watched as the bird disappeared into the clouds. Slowly, he crouched down beside the rabbit¡¯s body while his limbs trembled with the effort. ¡°This is what it¡¯s come to...¡± he muttered bitterly. His voice was low and laced with self-loathing. ¡°Eating scraps like a beast just to keep moving.¡± He reached out, grabbing the rabbit by its bloodied ears. The carcass dangled limply in his grasp as the blood dripped onto the damp earth below. His stomach turned at the thought of eating it raw. The metallic stench made him want to retch. But he knew that he had no choice. "If I stop now..." he whispered to himself as his voice grew colder. "If I give up here... I''ll die a pathetic, meaningless death. Without answers. Without knowing why." Davey bit into the rabbit. The taste was vile and the texture felt slimy and revolting. His body protested violently, his throat tightened as he forced himself to swallow. But he didn¡¯t stop. He tore into the flesh with his teeth as his fingers dug into the warm meat. Each bite sent waves of nausea through him, but he kept going. Because survival was the only thing that mattered now. As the last remnants of the rabbit disappeared... Davey leaned back against a tree, his breathing was still heavy. His body still trembled from exhaustion, but something had changed. In his eyes, a new light flickered. The light of determination. ¡°This isn¡¯t the end...¡± he muttered in a much steady voice. He clenched his remaining hand into a fist as the sharp sting of his nails digging into his palm grounded him. ¡°I¡¯ll survive. No matter what. I¡¯ll live... until I find out why.¡± His mind, though broken and battered, focused on one thought... the truth. The truth about his betrayal. The truth about the world. And, perhaps most importantly, the truth about himself. For the first time in his life, Davey felt something new stir within him. It wasn¡¯t the calm sense of duty he¡¯d felt when he served the Goddess. Nor was it the blind faith he¡¯d carried into battle for his comrades or the warm affection he had held for Alice. No, this was different. This was rage. A cold, simmering fury that ignited deep within his core and was burning away the sorrow and self-pity.