《Lost in Paradise》 (Ch.1): Shattered, Part 1 I want to sleep¡­to dream of something new¡­ The wind howled around me, tugging at my clothes as the city lights swirled ever closer. It drowned out my screams as those sharp, terrified sounds fell behind me with every story I passed. My stomach pitched violently as the world below surged closer and closer. The neon skyline twisted, colors streaking across my vision like warped paint smears on shattered glass. It was beautiful in a way. Everything felt so sharp and vibrant. Time seemed to slow, granting me this final chance to see the world around me. I was scared. I was at peace. The distant honking of horns warped into a distorted hum. The glass windows of a skyscraper guiding my descent reflected my plummeting form. Air burned and slashed against my skin, hot and suffocating despite the icy wind tearing through my hair. My limbs flailed, but nothing could slow me. Then¡ªimpact. A sickening crunch rippled through me. My body caved under the weight of gravity and its inevitable conclusion. A blaring horn sounded, followed by screams. The scent of burning rubber filled the air as tires screeched. I felt and heard all that for only a second. And then, silence. White consumed everything. Shades of black ran across the white tint like racing birds in flight, twisting and writhing against the pale glow. Desperate and fleeting, they clawed through the light until the brightness swallowed them whole. A lurching sensation overcame my body. The feeling of falling returned, but I wasn¡¯t moving. My limbs tingled, my breath snagged, and the space around me seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting like a living being. Then¡­nothing. Everything went away. I felt death consume me. Cold seeped into my bones, hollow and endless. Suddenly, light slammed back into existence. My body convulsed, my chest heaving as I sucked in a breath. My skin pressed against something cold and metallic. The sharp tang of iron filled my nose. Overhead, a cage of silvery, glimmering bars loomed. Its vastness clawed at my senses. It felt ancient and¡­wrong. ¡°What¡­where am I?¡± My voice wavered, barely above a whisper. Sweat clung to my brow as I pushed myself upright, my fingers scraping against the smooth metal floor. My legs trembled, weak and unsteady, as I took in the impossible sight before me. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. An endless sky surrounded me, seeming to defy the very concept of distance. Wispy clouds moved about like colonies of fish amongst the blue that stretched far beyond what my eyes could see. I walked toward the edge of the cage. Looking down, the view was the same. Every direction was like a reflection of the others. There was no ground, no sun, no life¡ªjust an endless, suffocating sky. A prickling sensation skittered down the back of my skull like icy fingers running through my hair. My body seized with unease, my breath shallow as an unnatural silence swallowed the space around me. Someone else is here. Slowly, I turned my head. A woman stood at the far edge of the cage, motionless, watching the sky-like abyss as if she could see far beyond what I could. Her back was to me, her posture unnervingly still. She didn¡¯t breathe. She didn¡¯t shift. Not from what I could tell. She just¡­existed, as though she were a statue carved into the cage. Her hair was too long, cascading down her back in thick, white strands that pooled at her feet. It clung to her body, not like hair, but like something alive, possessing a mind of its own. A God? A warden? Something worse? I didn¡¯t have the answer. I couldn¡¯t even make myself breathe normally or stand without shaking, let alone speak. The woman turned to face me. As she did, tens of thousands of people appeared. They floated outside the cage and encircled it. Their faces were distorted, yet I could feel them all staring at me. They observed me and judged me. They scrutinized me and the life I lived with great interest. I could feel it in my soul. The world then distorted painfully. My hands latched onto the sides of my head as a piercing sensation assaulted my mind. Blinding lights like distorted color wheels violated my cognition. I dropped to my knees. ¡°Pitiful girl,¡± said the woman in the cage with me. ¡°Your mind¡¯s shattering.¡± I could feel pieces of my past tearing away¡ªmemories of my childhood, my pain, my successes, my failures, and even my name. Where were my memories going? Who was I? A pair of warm hands wrapped around my neck. I felt energy flowing into me. My memories ceased to shred apart, but I had already lost my past. I was nobody. I didn¡¯t even have a name. Was I a terrible person? What kind of past had I lived? Why did I feel so¡­relieved? The world trembled. At first, it was subtle, like a faint thrum in the air. Then, the world trembled again. The second time, it felt more menacing, akin to a heartbeat, as if something colossal were stirring from its slumber. The bars of the cage around me began to shift and warp into strange patterns, as if they sensed an unseen force. Something was coming. I could feel it down my spine. It was a primal level of fear, innate and ingrained. A voice broke through the sky. ¡°That¡¯s where you were.¡± The heavens tore apart. A hand¡ªlarger than a planet, vaster than reason itself¡ªpunched through the endless sky, its sheer size reducing the world I once thought infinite into fractured, insignificant glass. It reached down with deliberate, crushing certainty, its fingers curling around the cage like a child picking up an insect. The cage burst open suddenly like a blooming flower. The woman immediately pushed me out. Horrified, I stared fearfully at the Godlike being as I plummeted through the endless sky. She stood defiant, her gaze remained upward at the hand plummeting down upon us. For some reason, though, I sensed the woman was¡­smiling? Confusion wracked me. Eventually, my mind gave way to exhaustion, and everything went black. (Ch.1): Shattered, Part 2 The darkness faded, and my body suddenly felt strange. Pain struck me. I couldn¡¯t find its source, nor could I see, no matter how hard I tried. Then, the world snapped into focus. Before me, a giant man and woman appeared. The woman held me tight while the man lingered over her shoulder. The man looked worried. His orange eyes examined me, deep in thought. The woman, on the other hand, gazed at me with pure, unfiltered love, as if I were the most precious thing in the entire world. ¡°What should we do with them?¡± the man uttered, his gaze fixed on the sides of my head. ¡°They¡¯ll notice the ears. You know what my people are like. They fear devils. Dammit! If she grows horns, she¡¯ll¡ª¡± ¡°Myros, look. Our baby,¡± said the woman. Her voice was ragged, but she was smiling. Thick black hair ran around her face, hiding her forehead and ears while highlighting his odd gray eyes. ¡°Isn¡¯t she perfect?¡± ¡°We need to do something about her ears,¡± said the man, Myros, hurriedly, as he ignored the woman. He fumbled with his belt and pulled out a knife. ¡°I can shape them. She won¡¯t remember. Maybe they¡¯ll heal and look like mine. At least until she¡ª¡± ¡°No!¡± The woman grabbed the man¡¯s hand. ¡°You¡¯d mutilate our daughter?!¡± ¡°We can¡¯t afford to wait! She doesn¡¯t have hair to hide them!¡± Myros hissed, gripping the blade tighter. ¡°If we want her to have the best chance at a normal life, shielded from all the dangers to come, we must do this. It¡¯s only temporary. She won¡¯t even remember. Please, I need to do it quickly while I still have the willpower.¡± The woman clutched me tighter to her chest, her fingers digging into the blanket wrapped around my body. Blood stained the fabric. Her body trembled, but her resolve did not. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt our baby. Her looks should be a point of pride. Don¡¯t touch them. N-Not¡­not yet. Let¡¯s¡­let¡¯s enjoy this part, please. O-Our child is alive and away from that wretched island. I just want her to be happy. Like I couldn¡¯t. She doesn¡¯t deserve that.¡± ¡°And I want her to live.¡± Myros¡¯s voice cracked. He ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair, his jaw clenched so tightly that it shook. ¡°Damn it, Melania!¡± He slumped slightly, his eyes defeated and raw. ¡°You think I want to do this?¡± Silence. Melania¡¯s gaze flicked to the knife. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her breath snagged as she looked down at me as if studying something fragile and small. ¡°She¡¯s perfect,¡± she whispered, as if saying it aloud would make it real. Myros exhaled sharply. ¡°Melania¡ª¡± ¡°No.¡± She lifted her chin, her grip tightening protectively around me. Myros stared at the woman holding me, the weight of their conversation pressing down on him. At last, he let out a shuddering breath and shoved the knife back into his belt. ¡°Fine.¡± He swallowed hard and ran a hand down his face, exhaustion ragging at his features. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and touched my cheek. His fingers were calloused but gentle. ¡°My beautiful girl,¡± he murmured. The room swayed vapidly, blurring my vision. Boxes and barrels were scattered throughout the room. The walls, ceiling, and floor were made of wood. There was an unusual curvature to everything as well. Coupled with the peculiar movements, we were clearly on a ship. Myros and Melania looked around, their faces etched with worry. Myros opened his mouth to speak, but¡ª The ship swayed violently again, far worse than before. All three of us were thrown into the air. I broke free from the woman¡¯s grasp as she slammed into a wall. The man struck his head against the ceiling. Hard. I flew a distance away from them and became entangled in a mesh of ropes holding back barrels. ¡°Myros!¡± screamed the woman. She crawled over to the man once the ship had somewhat stabilized. It was easier to see her body now that I was no longer in her grasp. She was ragged and bleeding from her lower half, so much so that it stained the floor below her. Blood gushed out of the top of Myros¡¯s head, exposing the inside of his skull. The reason why was right above him. The roof had splintered, and sections of the wood pointed downward. One corner was chipped and looked like it¡¯d been splashed with red paint. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°No, no, no! Don¡¯t leave me!¡± The woman¡¯s face glistened with tears. She shook the man¡¯s body and hugged him. ¡°Wake up, my love! Wake up!¡± she cried. ¡°I can¡¯t do this without you.¡± Her voice softened. ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this without you¡­¡± My head and body ached. I wanted to throw up. Tears streamed down the woman¡¯s face as she made eye contact with me. A wave of determination washed over her as the boat rocked violently again. She looked at the man one last time, brushed her fingertips against his lips, and let him go. The woman¡¯s body shook as she tried to stand, but her legs buckled beneath her, collapsing like broken twigs. A strangled sob left her lips, but she did not stop. She crawled forward, dragging herself across the bloodstained wood, her fingers clawing against the ship¡¯s splintered floorboards. She didn¡¯t look at her wounds. She didn¡¯t look at the body behind her. She only looked at me. Her hands trembled as she reached out. ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± she whispered, wrapping her arms around my tiny body. The warmth of her skin burned against mine, her grip tightening as she tried desperately to shield me from the tragedy happening around us. ¡°I¡¯ve got you.¡± A sudden, violent lurch twisted the ship, throwing debris into the air. A barrel crashed somewhere behind us. Wood split and groaned, the whole world screaming apart at the seams. Water burst through the walls. It was freezing, suffocating. It surged up, swallowing the floor, drenching everything in its path. The woman¡¯s arm squeezed me tighter. She was shaking¡ªbut not from fear. She held my gaze as the ship shattered around us, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something. But she never got the chance. The sea took us. ? I woke with a sharp, gasping inhale¡ªlike I had been drowning and only now breached the surface. Sunlight stabbed through my eyelids, blinding me. My breath felt painful and ragged, sliding through my throat and past my lips. Something coarse and grainy pressed against my cheek, sticking to my skin. Sand? I tried to move. My limbs twitched, but they were sluggish and unresponsive. I willed my fingers to flex, but they barely obeyed, curling in weak, pathetic motions. A heavy weight pressed against my tiny, fragile body, warm yet unmoving. My breathing came faster, more erratic. Panic coiled in my stomach. Where am I? I forced my eyes open. Bodies were sprawled across the shore like discarded dolls, limbs twisted unnaturally, with faces frozen and empty. No rising chest. No shifting fingers. No signs of left. Only me. My heart lurched. Agitated, I tried to move again, but my body refused. I was weak, unnaturally so, as if I¡¯d lost something important I¡¯d taken for granted. My limbs felt¡­wrong. Small. Soft. Unfamiliar. Something was holding me. My sluggish, trembling fingers brushed against what was pinning me. I turned my head. The effort was excruciatingly slow, like pushing through a thick fog. And then I saw her. The woman from the ship. Her long, dark hair spilled around her face, veiling her features like a mourning shroud. Her eyes¡ªhollow, glassy, lifeless¡ªstared down at me. She wasn¡¯t breathing, much like everyone else around me. Fragments of memory from the boat swirled in my head, slipping between my thoughts. The woman. The man. Their voices. Their desperation. They mentioned a ¡®daughter,¡¯ didn¡¯t they? I swallowed, my throat tightening as the scene from before replayed in my mind. Realization hit me as I put the pieces together, now alone and stuck in silence. My limbs twitched, the weight of exhaustion still pressing down on me. Slowly¡ªso painfully slow¡ªI focused my gaze downward. Tiny. My hands¡­weren¡¯t mine. Whatever that meant, that¡¯s how I felt immediately. They were small, fragile, no longer the fingers of someone who had lived a long life. My fingers barely curled when I willed them to move. A tremor ran through my chest. My brain, finally catching up and accepting reality, forced me to realize who I was. This body was new. This life was new. It wasn¡¯t me anymore. Baby. I was a baby. Not just reborn¡ªreset. Those people were my parents. They must have been. The knowledge sat heavy in my head, pressing into my mind like a presence that didn¡¯t belong. Everything before this moment¡ªwhatever life I once had, whatever name I once carried¡ªwas nothing but lost fragments I could no longer touch. I was empty. A being made of echoes, filled with knowledge without a past to ground it. I remembered falling out a window, a bird cage, a Goddess of some sort, a giant hand, and then¡­I was here. But I didn¡¯t recall anything before that. There should have been something¡ªpeople, places, a face I could call my own. But there was nothing. Only fragments of knowledge with no shape or meaning. I knew things. I could understand language. I knew the names of things, their significance, science, math, and so much more. But I couldn¡¯t remember why. I had no name. No history. Just a body too small in a world too large to fathom. My head started to hurt, so I stopped thinking. Instead, I looked up at the corpse of my¡­mother. I barely knew her, but I was still struck with a profound emptiness as I gazed into her cloudy eyes. She never let go. (Ch.1): Shattered, Part 3 A thrashing noise nearby startled me awake. My mother¡¯s body made it hard to see most of what was around me, but I could look straight ahead rather easily between the gaps in her arms and hair. I stared at the vast landscape of death and decay until I spotted the source of the disturbance. A corpse twitched. No. Seized. At first, I thought I imagined it. The dead don¡¯t move. But then, the bloated skin convulsed, rippling like something alive was struggling and bubbling beneath it. A bulge pushed outward just beneath the corpse¡¯s stomach. The skin stretched tight, veins bulging as though the body was pregnant with something violent. The thing inside pushed again, harder this time, its shape pressing against the flesh. A hand? A claw? A mouth? The corpse lurched violently, its ribs snapping inward from the unnatural pressure. And then, with a wet tearing sound, whatever was inside punched through. Gray. Blood-slicked. Fingers curled into claws as they tore through flesh like wet paper. The belly ripped open, splitting wider, exposing the hollow cavity within. The body jerked as if resisting, but the thing inside was stronger. A second hand followed. Then shoulders. Then a grotesque, emaciated form pulled itself free, dripping with viscera. My breath locked in my throat. Every muscle in my tiny, useless body screamed to run, but I couldn¡¯t. It was impossible. My limbs were weak, unresponsive, and slow. Even if they weren¡¯t, I doubt I could have moved. My entire body felt as though it had been weighed down by the burden of my own terror. The¡­thing¡­slithered free, dripping in dark, glistening fluid. I could smell it from where I lay. It overwhelmed even the stagnant corpse smell on the beach. It was wrong¡ªsource, metallic, festering. I wanted to gag, but even that would make noise I couldn¡¯t afford. The creature looked humanoid, but everything else about its form was a mistake. Its skin was pale and gray, and its legs and arms were too long and skinny. The creature was frail-looking, and its skin stuck to its bones. Every nerve in my body screamed ¡°danger¡± as I calmed my breath and body to a standstill. I didn¡¯t know what the creature was and had no memory of seeing it before, but I knew in my heart that attracting its attention would mean my death. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The creature crawled over the corpse, its thin, spidery limbs bending at unnatural angles. Its face twisted open, revealing teeth too long, too many, and too jagged to fit naturally in its mouth. But they did. It lowered itself, pressing its face against the dead flesh, and inhaled deeply. A slow, shuddering breath, like a starving animal savoring its meal before the first bite. And then¡ª Crunch! Bone snapped like dry twigs underfoot. Flesh tore in wet, stringy strands as it ripped the head free, twisting, chewing, slurping. A sickening squelch followed as teeth scraped against cartilage, tearing muscle from bone with a wet pop. It devoured with practiced hunger engrained within this newborn predator. I watched in horror as the creature feasted. It stripped flesh and meat like a panda eating bamboo. The final bites sedated the creature. It licked its lips and sat down on the ground. Its swollen belly jiggled against its taunt skin and thin bones. Try as I might, I could not look away. After an hour, the creature stood again. Its gaze cast over the beach before landing on the body closest to it. Slinking toward the potential meal like a cautious primate, it hovered over the body of a deceased man in his mid-forties. Like with the last corpse, it started with the head and worked its way down until it had its fill. Sated, it sat down again, though this time entirely on its back. The creature began to snore. Gore caked its face. It was a few feet away, and there were many bodies between me and it. But given its appetite, unless something distracted it, its hunger would eventually fall to me, a mere snack ending in a bite or two. All I could do was wait for that to happen. That thing fed in intervals. Not constantly, not mindlessly¡ªbut in cycles. It would gorge itself until its stomach swelled, then retreat¡ªa bloated, satisfied thing. It lay motionless in the sand for hours, rising only when hunger stirred it again. I watched. I listened. Every time it moved, my breath caught in my throat, my muscles tense with anticipation. At night, it was worse. I could only hear it¡ªguess where it was. With the morning sun, I finally saw it again to check its progress. The wait was worse than dying. My world had shrunk to the sound of chewing. Bite. Tear. Swallow. Pause. Repeat. The rhythm was unbearable. Each bite was a countdown, each pause a moment of false hope. There were two bodies left. One. The creature stopped. It sniffed the air, its pupil-less eyes tilting in my direction. I had nothing left. No power. No choices. My turn was coming soon. I should have cried. Screamed. Ended my misery. But even that was beyond me. The creature lumbered over me. My mother¡¯s body was in the way, but it did nothing to hide the sounds of the beast overhead. Using what little strength I had, I scooted closer to my mother¡¯s stomach in anticipation of the creature¡¯s patterns. As soon as I did, a pair of hands gripped my mother¡¯s head. They crushed her skull like fruit as hungered lips lapped up the aftermath. I couldn¡¯t breathe. I didn¡¯t think. My brain shut down from the terror. All I could do was watch as the body hiding me slowly got eaten and torn. (Ch.1): Shattered, Part 4 Rot. Blood. Death. The stench was thick¡ªa rancid fog that sank into my lungs. I could hear the monster breathing now, as if right by my ear. The sound was deep and ragged as it slipped and smacked wetly over its oversized teeth, which clicked together with hunger and anticipation. Then it stopped. My stomach clenched as something cold and wet brushed against my cheek¡ªits fingers. It was reaching toward me. Thunk! A new noise pinged my ears. The creature yelped seconds after it sounded. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! The creature roared again, moving away from my mother¡¯s body and sprinting across the beach toward the edge of a forest in the distance. Arrows jutted from its head and chest¡ªmere annoyances rather than lethal wounds. My gaze followed it, connecting with the source of the sound. Some distance away, a lone archer shot at the monster. The creature twisted toward its attacker, snarling, its emaciated form moving with unnatural speed as it found the source of its pain. It dropped to all fours, its long limbs bending grotesquely as it launched itself toward the archer, mouth gaping wide to tear into him. The archer didn¡¯t move. He exhaled a slowed, measured breath as his fingers tightened around his bowstring, pulling it back in one fluid motion. The air around him shifted, charged with something invisible yet heavy. The moment he released the arrow, I felt it. The shot was unnatural. A tiny streak cut through the air like a line of pure force, concentrated and undeniable. Splurt! The arrow punched through the creature¡¯s skull as if it were made of brittle paper, punching out the back in an explosion of bone and gray matter. It didn¡¯t even have time to scream or contemplate its death as it tumbled forward, flipped, and laid motionless on the ground. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Oh, thank the Gods.¡± The archer keeled forward with relief, wiping his brow. ¡°If it were any stronger or closer, I¡¯d be a dead man. Shit!¡± He stared at the corpse before dotting his eyes along the coastline, his expression slowly turning grim as he did. ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem like there are others around. I don¡¯t know if I could do that more than once that well.¡± A faint glow started to swell near the dead creature¡¯s heart. Some sort of gem rose to the surface and protruded. The archer smiled, plucked it from the flesh like a berry, pulled a small cloth sack from his side, and dropped the gem. ¡°It¡¯s a refined one. Only a few deformities. Should sell well. Or maybe Amalia can use it,¡± muttered the archer. His gaze returned to the beach again as he scanned it several more times. ¡°No survivors.¡± There was one, dammit! For the first time, a sound tore from my throat¡ªnot a word or a scream, but a raw, instinctive cry. The archer¡¯s head snapped in my direction. He stilled. I could feel his hesitation, the moment of uncertainty before his boots crunched against the sand. His approach was quick but careful. After a while, my mother¡¯s body¡ªwhat was left of it¡ªshifted. The moment the weight left me, cold air rushed over my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that had shielded me until now. I shivered violently. Then¡ªhands. Rough, warm, steady. Different. Suddenly, I felt those hands tense as I stared at the man, his brilliant green eyes gazing into my own. ¡°A devil?¡± The word fell from his lips like a curse, sharp and bitter. His expression tightened. I didn¡¯t understand what he was saying. But I saw it¡ªthe way his eyes locked onto my head, his gaze flickering to my ears with something unreadable. What¡¯s wrong with me? My few moments with my parents flickered in my mind. My ears? My heart lurched as I watched the man deliberate. Whatever kindness I saw initially was gone. Was he going to kill me? Leave me here? Why? What was wrong with my ears? Why did they make me a devil? What¡¯s a devil? Why did that make me bad? The silence stretched far too long before the archer exhaled sharply, rubbing his free hand down his face before cradling me against his body as gently as possible. I was so small, I fit in the crook of his arm like I¡¯d never belonged anywhere else. ¡°It¡¯s just a forest devil,¡± he muttered, his tone more tired than anything else. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have horns. What am I even thinking?¡± The archer cursed under his breath. Reaching into his pocket, He pulled out a strip of cloth. Without a word, he wrapped it carefully around my head, hiding what made me different. I didn¡¯t understand. Not yet. But the way he hesitated told me enough. Whatever I was, it wasn¡¯t something he wanted others to see. ¡°I¡¯ll bring you somewhere safe, little one,¡± said the archer as we slowly walked into the forest. (Ch.2): Devil, Part 1 The archer carried me through the forest for what felt like an eternity, though I knew it had been less than an hour. My body remained weak, but my mind was sharp and hyper-focused on the world around me. The trees thinned, revealing a settlement nestled in a clearing a short way from the ocean¡¯s coastline. The village wasn¡¯t large, and it wasn¡¯t in any rush to be. A handful of wooden houses leaned into one another like old friends, their roofs sagging under the weight of time. A mill creaked lazily in the distance, its wheel turning with the slow persistence of something that had seen generations pass without change. Farmland and livestock sat in the far distance just outside of town. A few villagers milled about, moving with the leisurely pace of people who had nowhere to be. A man sat outside a small shop, rocking back and forth in a wooden chair while his fingers idly carved a piece of driftwood. Two old women sat beneath a sagging awning, chatting in hushed tones. The occasional gust of wind carried the laughter of children and the chatter of locals past my ears. A pair of chickens strutted lazily through the dirt path ahead, pecking idly at the ground as a gray-haired man shuffled past them, carrying a bundle of firewood in his arms. A weathered sign sat above a local inn and tavern, its faded lettering declaring it ¡°Beginner¡¯s Rest¡± barely legible. The air smelled of earth, salt, and old timber, carried on a faint ocean breeze that rustled the rooftops. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked once before settling into silence, as if even it had little energy for anything other than laziness. It looked like some sort of backwater town. The place was full of life, yet it felt unhurried, as if forgotten by time. Most people dressed plainly in pants and shirts or dresses. Occasionally, someone donned armor beneath large coats. I couldn¡¯t exactly pinpoint why, but it looked wrong to me. I felt like I was in the past. I didn¡¯t understand why. I wasn¡¯t even sure what my present used to be. The other thing that stood out to me was the tattoos. Black rings, thick as bindings, inked deep into every person¡¯s skin I saw. Some bore additional bands along their fingers, neat rows of dark lines that seemed too uniform to be random. I knew they meant something. I felt it in the way my mind got caught on the sight of them, snagging like a hook. But no meaning surfaced. It was strange. Not the tattoos themselves, but how completely natural they seemed to everyone but me. I couldn¡¯t even explain why they were so weird. My mind just kept perceiving them that way. My eyes darted down to look at my hands and fingers. There was nothing on them¡ªno marks or bands. Why does everyone else have them and I don''t? I wondered. Because I¡¯m a devil? Or just a child? What are they? What do they mean? I scanned the faces of the people around me. Lots of brown eyes, too. The archer is the only one I¡¯ve seen with differently colored ones. Why is that? This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°How will Amalia react,¡± the archer wondered while holding me, sighing. ¡°It¡¯s a baby. She won¡¯t resist very long.¡± As he passed, villagers nodded in greeting, some pausing mid-task just to acknowledge him. A fisherman wiping his hands on his apron muttered a low, ¡°Good to see you, Quintin,¡± while an older woman pressed a loaf of bread into his free hand without a word, her weathered fingers tight with unspoken gratitude. Even those who didn¡¯t speak stole glances his way, their expressions a mix of respect and quiet expectation. I stared at the archer, Quintin, with newfound curiosity. A woman sweeping the steps of a small shop paused and leaned on her broom as we passed. ¡°Did you find anyone?¡± Quintin shook his head. ¡°Not alive.¡± The woman exhaled through her nose, her eyes flickering to me briefly before lowering them again. ¡°Damn shame,¡± she murmured before returning to her sweeping, much slower than before. ¡°Hey, Quintin!¡± A man in the village called out to Quintin. He wore light clothing with a breastplate over his shirt and a short sword at his hip. His brown eyes looked me and Quintin over. Like everyone else, he had two black tattoos on his wrists and ring-like tattoos on his fingers¡ªeach one except his thumbs. ¡°Did you find anything?¡± D¨¦j¨¤ vu. Quintin nodded. ¡°There was more wreckage down the way. Found bodies and a demon.¡± ¡°A demon?! You sure?!¡± The man recoiled in surprise. ¡°What kind?¡± ¡°Just birthed, and it wasn¡¯t a strong one,¡± said Quintin. ¡°I dealt with it.¡± ¡°Of course you did.¡± Albus let out a breath, shaking his head. ¡°If you couldn¡¯t kill it, none of the rest of us would have any hope.¡± ¡°You give me too much credit, Albus. If it had been any older or a high Tier, I¡¯d have died. I¡¯m not as good as I used to be in my military days.¡± ¡°Still better than me,¡± Albus said with a half-smirk. Then, catching sight of me bundled in Quintin¡¯s arms, his expression shifted. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Something precious I found on the beach.¡± ¡°Oh? And what would that be?¡± Albus looked at me and gasped. ¡°A baby?¡± He leaned in slightly, his brown eyes scanning me with an expression between curiosity and unease. His gaze flickered to the bundle of cloth covering my ears, lingering just a beat too long. ¡°Poor girl,¡± he muttered. Quintin shifted his grip, subtly pulling me closer against his chest. ¡°She was pinned under a body,¡± he said, his voice even. ¡°Only reason she¡¯s still alive. If I¡¯d been a second later, she¡¯d be dead.¡± Albus straightened, exhaling sharply. His discomfort passed like a shadow. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a blessing then.¡± My thoughts temporarily confused me. Talking about ¡°devils¡± and ¡°demons¡± made the concepts of ¡°Angels¡± and ¡°God¡± appear in my head like they¡¯d always been there, but I clearly knew nothing about them a moment prior. ¡°I¡¯ll take her home to Amalia. We¡¯ll look after her,¡± said Quintin. Albus smiled at Quintin. ¡°You two have been trying for a while now, haven¡¯t yah?¡± Quintin nodded. ¡°These things happen for a reason. Be glad. You¡¯ll both do a great job.¡± Quintin looked at my face. I noticed his eyes drift to my covered ears. ¡°Yes, they do.¡± Quintin and Albus said their goodbyes before separating. We continued walking until we reached the outskirts of the village, closer to the farms and mill, where we stopped in front of a charming two-story building that was slightly larger than any of the places I had seen in town. There were archery targets out front, their surfaces pockmarked from years of use. A shed sat beside the house, the door slightly ajar, revealing the faint gleam of metal tools inside. The air smelled different here than in town. There was less salt and a thicker scent of wood, smoke, and dirt. This must be where he lives. (Ch.2): Devil, Part 2 Sure enough, Quintin passed through the gate surrounding the property and entered the home. ¡°I¡¯m back, my love,¡± he called into the house. A woman in her late twenties, around Quintin¡¯s age, came into view. She had long, dark hair and brown eyes. She, too, had tattoos on her wrist, but the markings on her fingers only covered her middle and ring fingers near the knuckle, resembling jewelry embedded in her skin. ¡°I heard about the shipwreck. What happened?¡± asked who I assumed was Amalia. I could tell she was a kind soul from her voice and demeanor. ¡°From what I and the others could piece together, a cargo ship coming into Port Prosper from the Broken Bits went down along the shore. Storm must have swallowed them,¡± answered Quintin. ¡°I found this poor girl alive on the beach.¡± Quintin lifted me slightly to show his wife. Amalia¡¯s eyes widened as she moved to take me, but Quintin held back. ¡°Her mother was shielding her from a demon. She¡¯s got no one. From the looks of it, she was born only a few days ago at most,¡± said Quintin. ¡°There¡¯s no one to take care of her. No family. Nothing.¡± ¡°I understand?¡± Amalia¡¯s reply relayed her confusion. Sympathy filled her as she peered at me. She observed me closely. ¡°Why is her head bandaged? Is she hurt?¡± Panic rose in her voice. ¡°Do I need to¡ª¡± ¡°The baby is alright. I bandaged her head to hide her.¡± ¡°Hide her?¡± ¡°Be mindful,¡± said Quintin. Slowly, he unwrapped my head until my entire face was revealed to Amalia. Amalia took a small step back. It was slight, almost imperceptible, but I saw it. The moment her eyes landed on my ears, her expression flickered with uncertainty and fear. She caught herself quickly, smoothing over her hesitation with a carefully measured breath. ¡°She¡¯s a forest devil,¡± Amalia murmured. Her lips pressed together. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, her hands reached out, hovering just a hair¡¯s breadth from my tiny frame. ¡°She¡¯s just a baby,¡± replied Quintin. Amali¡¯s lips parted like she wanted to argue, but Quintin kept going. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°We humans are closer to devils than not,¡± he continued. ¡°We all talk, think, eat, fight, and love. Devils live in this country; many are adventurers, and we trade with their homelands. Her kind come to this town all the time. Our people are used to devils.¡± ¡°If you felt that way, you wouldn¡¯t have bothered covering her ears,¡± argued Amalia. ¡°She will always be seen as less than. Always. Even if she manages to make friends. People don¡¯t change that easily.¡± ¡°Amalia¡ª¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we try to find a relative or put a contract out for someone else to take her or¡ª¡± ¡°The girl is alone. A baby. With no one. She has no home,¡± said Quintin. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt she¡¯ll face problems, but as long as we support her, she¡¯ll grow up loved.¡± Amalia said nothing, but I could see Quintin¡¯s words worked their way into her heart. If this family decided I wasn¡¯t worth the risk, I would die. The realization settled in my gut, heavy and undeniable. My brain sped up, looking for solutions. I shouldn¡¯t know how to do this. But I did. I could see Amalia teetering between doubt and sympathy. She wanted to reach out but needed just the right push. Her fingers, hovering inches away from me, were waiting for an excuse to close the distance. I could give her that excuse. And that was the part that unsettled me. Not that I had to do it. Not that it was necessary. But that it was easy. I let out a tiny, innocent squeak, my arms reaching for Amalia with a soft gurgle of nonsense sounds. A wide and eager smile overtook my face. Playful. Vulnerable. Exactly what she needed me to be. Amalia¡¯s breath steadied in her throat. Her already softened stance collapsed completely, hesitation crumbling under the weight of maternal instinct. She let out a soft whimper. Her hands subtly reached out to me again, stopping only a hair¡¯s breadth from my little body. Got you. Sensing the gap my actions created, Quintin nudged me forward into Amalia¡¯s arms. She was hesitant for a brief moment. In that gap, I nuzzled my head into her chest. Amalia shuddered, signaling my victory. ¡°Does she have a name?¡± asked Amalia. ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± answered Quintin. ¡°Can I give her one?¡± Amalia asked, her voice quieter now, as if naming me made this real. Made me hers. Quintin exhaled. ¡°Of course.¡± Amalia studied me for a long moment. Then, with a soft, almost reverent whisper, said, ¡°Yennifer.¡± The name settled over me like a weight, unfamiliar yet¡­grounding. A tether to something I hadn¡¯t asked for. ¡°After my sister,¡± she added, as if that explained everything. I had achieved what I wanted. Safety. But something inside me twisted. That was too easy. My hands¡ªsmall, fragile, innocent¡ªhad crafted an outcome without effort. I¡¯d played Amalia like a piece in a. Game I wasn¡¯t even conscious of playing. My stomach curled. What kind of person was I before? (Ch.3): Growing Up, Part 1
The room was quiet except for the rhythmic rise and fall of Quintin and Amalia¡¯s breathing.
I laid in a pile of blankets in a makeshift crib, my body exhausted but my mind wide awake. Every time I closed my eyes, the same questions clawed at me.
Who am I? Why am I here? What am I supposed to do?
They rattled inside my skull, refusing to settle.
Nothing was trying to kill me anymore, and shelter was guaranteed. I was safe, but I wasn¡¯t at peace. The future loomed ahead like a great, black void, and I had no map to navigate it.
Try as I did, I couldn¡¯t remember a single thing about my life before this one. There were fragments of a cage. Some Goddess. A giant hand trying to crush me. But nothing else. Nothing else at all.
Annoying. I thought. It¡¯s not like I can do anything even if I had the answers. It was a miracle I managed to do anything on that beach. This body is so weak and useless. It¡¯ll be a few years before I can achieve anything. I paused for a moment. Learning is my top priority. I basically know nothing. Like it or not, I¡¯m in this world. It may even be the world I lived in before, though I doubt it based on how my mind reacted to certain things. My little lips frowned. Take it one day at a time. You¡¯re alive. You have a name. Take a break. Rest. You deserve it.
Finally, I went to sleep.
Time blurred.
Days, then weeks, then months passed. I was constantly fading in and out of existence, trapped in a cycle of sleep, wake, exhaustion.
I had flashes of moments¡ª
The warmth of Amalia¡¯s heartbeat as she held me close, singing something soft and unfamiliar.
Quintin¡¯s rough hands adjusting a bowstring, the creak of wood and snap of a released arrow just outside our home.
The sound of rain against the rooftop, soft patters lulling me to sleep.
Tiny glimpses of life, stitched together in fleeting awareness.
But then, one day, something shifted.
I stayed awake long enough to realize it.
I don¡¯t feel like I¡¯m going to pass out yet. My time awake is getting longer every day. I thought halfway through a day six months later. Is my body finally adapting to me?
¡°You want the blanky?¡± Amalia sat beside me on the floor of our house, the fireplace crackling with soft, comforting embers. The rug beneath us tickled my body. ¡°Come get it!¡±
I promptly reached out to snatch the cloth from Amalia, but she yanked it away at the last second. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
¡°You want the blanky?¡±
Yes, obviously, I want it. I argued in my head. Give it to me. I¡¯m bored. At least it¡¯s something to do!
Being a baby sucked.
My mind was sharp, clear, and ready to take on the world. But my body? A useless, sluggish cage. Every movement was slow, uncoordinated, and humiliating. I could think of a hundred things I wanted to do, but not a single muscle obeyed me.
When I first tried rolling over, it felt like being trapped under a weight. I barely managed to shift an inch before exhaustion stole me away.
Sitting up and playing with another person seemed like a miracle after all that effort.
The worst part, though, was the boredom. There were only so many times I could stare at the ceiling before my thoughts blurred into nothingness. Even sleep, which should have been an escape, wasn¡¯t. I drifted in and out of existence without control, my body dictating my fate like some cruel warden.
Free will was a dream. A luxury. And I had neither.
But things were getting better. If I¡¯d learned anything in my time so far, it was that patience was the most powerful tool in one¡¯s arsenal.
¡°Do you want the¡ª¡±
I seized the blanket as quickly as possible before Amalia could finish the sentence.
Amalia recoiled, stunned. ¡°Oh, wow! Good job!¡± She turned to Quintin, who was watching from the couch nearby. ¡°She¡¯s smart.¡±
¡°Maybe she¡¯ll start speaking soon,¡± he replied with a chuckle.
I wish. I thought. The words didn¡¯t come out quite right when I tried the last few times. Will they now?
¡°Faaaa!¡± I said. I was trying to say ¡°food,¡± but the word got jumbled. Annoyed, I pouted. ¡°FAAAAA!¡± I screamed louder.
¡°Do you want food?¡± Amalia asked.
I nodded on instinct as my stomach growled.
A moment of silence flushed within the house. Then¡ª
¡°Wait,¡± they both said in unison. ¡°Did she just understand us?
My stomach turned to ice. Oh. Shit. My mind raced through a hundred possible explanations. How much do babies usually understand at this age? I messed up, didn¡¯t I?
Quintin and Amalia exchanged glances.
For a brief, terrifying second, I thought I¡¯d ruined everything.
?
As it turned out, no. If I were a human baby, yes, but the fact that I was a devil made them jump to some unnecessary conclusions.
Since neither of them had raised a devil before, didn¡¯t know someone who had, nor had someone they could ask about me, they concluded devils must mature faster naturally.
I started pressing the limits of what I could do from that point forward. With my consciousness fully in my control, I started acting to regained my autonomy. I tried speaking whenever I was in their presence. It took a few months, but eventually, my mouth could form garbled versions of words. Walking was easier than talking; I mastered that before I was even one.
Amalia and Quintin pampered me throughout the process; however, Amalia was the worst of the two. Just because my body prevented me from talking or acting as I wanted, that didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t absorbing every conversation I heard around me.
The two of them tried having a baby for years. I knew that without being told. It was in the way Amalia lingered just a little too long when she held me, the way her fingers curled protectively around mine as if afraid I¡¯d vanish.
They even tried again while I was in their room in my crib¡ªhope, desperation, and resignation all wrapped into one.
But no child came.
At some point, Amalia stopped trying.
And me? I became enough.
That¡¯s why, when I got older and kept asking to go outside, Amalia was very hesitant. She likely wanted to keep me inside, safe, forever. Even so, she knew I couldn¡¯t do that. Sooner or later, I¡¯d need to leave the house.
Thankfully, by the time I wanted to see the outdoors, my hair was already coming in. Like the woman who birthed me, it was long, thick, and dark like the feathers of a crow. It easily hid my ears, especially when Amalia helped me style it.
At some point, I started to enjoy my life and routine. I had a family, a safe place to stay, and some freedom.
Then I turned three. (Ch.3): Growing Up, Part 2
¡°Devils are lesser than man,¡± I read from one of the only books in our house. It was a large, leatherbound book describing the tenets of this world¡¯s religion, the Pantheon. ¡°Absolute bullshit.¡± I tossed it aside. ¡°Agias is the source of this garbage, huh? A whole country run by religious zealots. So stupid. That¡¯s why Zalevet is better,¡± I realized, puffing up my country. ¡°Money rules the world. That makes more sense to me.¡±
When I could, I spent my time learning. Since there weren¡¯t any worthwhile books at home, I had to ask lots of questions or snoop on people when out in public.
I currently lived on the Human Continent, which was comprised of four countries: Zalevet in the south, Brosnock in the center, Agias in the north, and Viorna, the jagged peninsula to the east.
Probably not surprisingly, given how I arrived in these lands, I was in Zalevet on the southwestern coast in a little town called Sandy Branch.
Zalevet was a single kingdom built around a market-driven monarchy with an advisory council of ranked nobles. It had massive ports, a good geographical location, and the strongest connections with other continents. Brosnock, Agias, and Viorna routed all their products and trade through Zalevet to the rest of the world and vice versa.
It was a land ruled by humans¡­which I was not.
¡°Did you throw that book again?¡± shouted Amalia from downstairs. I was in my space, a lofted area above the living room. It had a bed, furniture, and places to store clothes¡ªbasically, it was my room.
¡°It annoys me,¡± I complained, my squeaky, three-year-old voice spread downstairs.
¡°Then stop reading it!¡±
¡°Why do you even have it?¡±
¡°You never pass up a free book,¡± replied Amalia sternly. ¡°They have machines to make them in the cities, but the nearest one is Port Prosper. That¡¯s days away. The market for them out here isn¡¯t as high, so they¡¯re expensive.¡±
Yeah. No school, no books, no education. I thought. If people didn¡¯t have codexes, I bet everyone would be illiterate.
Annoyed, I sat up, picked up the shitty book, placed it nicely on my desk because I felt guilty, and went downstairs. ¡°Can we go to the market?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m bored.¡±
Amalia stared at me. Her eyes went directly to my ears. ¡°Fix your hair first.¡±
¡°Oh?¡± I quickly bolted back upstairs until I was in front of a mirror. My ears were sticking out from my hair¡ªpointed and long. They were only getting longer and harder to hide with age. I quickly messed with my hair, brushed it, then tied it into a low ponytail. Then, I headed back downstairs. ¡°All done!¡±
¡°Let me look.¡± Amalia examined me all over. She even tugged at my hair. ¡°Okay. We can go.¡±
I was basically bouncing in place as Amalia opened the door for us to leave. I zoomed outside, childish energy surging through me as the fresh, warm air surrounded me. A breeze cast over me, fluffing my clothes and hair. I couldn¡¯t hide my smile. Being outside was the best.
Every year, right at the end of the harvest season, all the local farmers and merchants that came in to buy crops put up a small market in town. There were stalls with all different kinds of goods and food I couldn¡¯t find any other time of year.
It was also when the local inn, Beginner¡¯s Rest, experienced its largest influx of adventurers staying in town, eager to tackle the Forest of Beginners a few hours away. Adventuring and farming were Sandy Branch¡¯s primary sources of income, making it busier than ever during this season.
Dozens of people filled the central part of town, where the inn and shops were located. The once vacant, dusty streets, barely populated with slow-moving locals, were now brimming with locals, visitors, merchants, and adventurers.
Amalia held my hand as we carefully moved through the stalls. Quintin wasn¡¯t in town at the moment. He had been picked up by a group of adventurers to serve as a guide through the Forest of Beginners. That was how he kept us clothed and fed. Quintin was a former knight in his past life before settling down with Amalia. Apparently, it was love at first sight. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
I kind of wish he was here, too. I thought as we looked through the stalls. A halved and curled piece of corn on a stick, loaded with spices, sat in my free hand with large chunks already taken out of it.
A group of adventurers crowded outside Beginner¡¯s Rest. The owner, Tannin, and her husband Bruno had set up outdoor seating and served drinks to those who wanted them.
The reason they caught my attention was because, out of the six of them, two were devils.
One was a tall man with long blonde hair. Like me, he had pointed ears. He was a devil¡ªspecifically a forest devil¡ªyet he smiled and chatted with the rest of his party.
Why do I have to hide my ears? I found myself wondering. Are they really that bad?
The other devil was a female with gray rabbit ears sprouting from her head and a small ball-like tail from her backside. She wore very¡­light clothing and appeared to be the drunkest among the group.
That¡¯s a beast devil. I recalled. She looks happy.
I played with my ears beneath my hair.
Amalia spotted this and immediately stopped me. ¡°Don¡¯t do that.¡±
¡°But they don¡¯t have to hide anything,¡± I said, gesturing at the two adventurers.
¡°They¡¯re strong, and they don¡¯t live here. They¡¯re also adults. People are afraid of them. You are a small child who can¡¯t use mana,¡± argued Amalia forcefully, tightening her grip. ¡°Keep your ears hidden.¡±
Honestly, I didn¡¯t believe her. The only devils I¡¯d seen treated poorly were the ones with the Mark of Enslavement on their bellies. But they were slaves. If there were just devil slaves, that¡¯d be one thing, but there were human slaves, too.
Maybe I just don¡¯t know enough yet. I decided, opting to listen to Amalia. The last thing I want is to ruin my peace.
¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Sorry.¡±
Satisfied, Amalia softened her grip on my hands. ¡°You want to buy some colorful ribbons for your hair?¡±
My eyes sparkled. ¡°Yeah!¡±
We continued walking through the market until we reached the section where jewelry and clothing were sold. I stood a little way behind Amalia as she bought me a pretty, bright red ribbon to tie my hair.
Then, something hit me.
I fell to the ground hard, my face mushing into the dirt and my back grinding against little rocks. ¡°Oww,¡± I moaned, rubbing my head before sitting up. ¡°Why?!¡± I complained to whoever, or whatever, hit me.
¡°Oh, sorry, kid, I¡ª¡± It was a merchant. He reached down to help me up, but something caught his eye. His sorry gaze turned to one of disgust. He spit on me. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going, freak.¡±
I stared after him, stunned, as he stepped over me like a piece of trash and carried on his way down the road.
The voices of bystanders passed through my ears.
¡°Isn¡¯t that Quintin and Amalia¡¯s kid?¡±
¡°What happened to her ears?¡±
¡°It¡¯s a devil?¡±
¡°Gross. How could they have one of those¡­things in their home?¡±
¡°Is it their pet?¡±
¡°It must be a slave.¡±
¡°My kids wanted to play with that thing. Better tell my wife so she keeps ¡®em away.¡±
I knew what had happened as my hands launched to the side of my head. I could already feel cool air against the tips of my ears. My fingers touching them without the presence of hair confirmed it all.
Everyone could see my ears.
The locals were starting to chatter amongst themselves. Word spread like a wildfire in only a few seconds.
Amalia reached down to grab me and pull me up. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I squeaked.
Amalia didn¡¯t say anything. She pulled me along through the streets. I could feel everyone¡¯s eyes on me.
Then, out of nowhere, something struck me on the side of my head. Food. Some type of pie.
I stared forward, stunned.
Amalia immediately stopped and turned to me, kneeling. She wiped what she could away before turning to the crowd. ¡°Who threw that?!¡±
I gazed into the crowd, too. Unlike before, I couldn¡¯t spot a single kind eye in the crowd. Some were filled with disgust, but most were indifferent, like I didn¡¯t even exist. Like I was beneath them.
When my gaze landed on the two devils by Beginner¡¯s Rest, our eyes met. They stared at me with immense pity before averting their gazes, ashamed.
Amalia picked me up in her arms and walked me back to our home.
?
Quintin came home later that night. By the time he got to the house, the news about what had happened had already reached him. ¡°Are you okay?¡± He asked me as soon as he saw me at home. ¡°Are you hurt?¡±
¡°No,¡± I muttered. ¡°Someone knocked me down, and another person threw a pie at me. Tasted terrible, though.¡±
Amalia was sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine, half-drunk beside her. She spent hours crying and apologizing to me after we got home. Then she passed out. When she came to, she cooked dinner, ate with me, hugged me, and then started drinking.
Quintin rubbed my head. He glanced at Amalia. ¡°We were never going to be able to hide it forever.¡±
¡°I just want her to live a normal life,¡± said Amalia in a weak, broken voice laced with sorrow.
¡°And she will.¡±
Everything changed.
I finally knew what it meant to be a devil.
The ones at the inn weren¡¯t treated like I was. It wasn¡¯t because people respected them but because they feared them.
I needed that fear, too, if I wanted a normal life. I had Quintin and Amalia, but what would happen if they weren¡¯t around? Could I survive on my own? Will I do good in the future? I wasn¡¯t sure.
Suddenly, a goal for my future finally entered my head. (Ch.3): Growing Up, Part 3
3
Days after that incident, I asked Quintin a question I already knew the answer to: ¡°What¡¯s with all the marks on people¡¯s wrists and fingers?¡±
We were outside. Quintin was chopping firewood, and I watched him while enjoying the cool air.
Quintin glanced at his wrists. Thick black marks were etched into his skin. They wrapped around the entire wrist in a perfect, even circle. ¡°These? I guess it makes sense you¡¯d be curious.¡± He placed his axe against his woodpile and kneeled before me so I could examine his arms. ¡°They¡¯re Mana Rings.¡±
¡°Mana Rings?¡± I repeated slowly, questioning the words.
He nodded, tracing the ones on his wrists. ¡°When a child comes of age, these bands appear around their wrists. It¡¯s called an awakening. Once you have these, you can use mana.¡±
I pointed at his fingers. There was a band on each one near his knuckles. ¡°What about these? And why do you have four? Mom only has two.¡±
¡°These?¡± Quintin pointed at each of the circular, permanent bands on each of his fingers on both hands. ¡°They let me change mana into a different element.¡±
¡°Like the fire you use for the fireplace?¡±
¡°That¡¯s right.¡± He gestured at his ring finger. ¡°This one represents fire. Because I have it, I can do this.¡± He held out one of his palms, and a small orb of flames danced in his hand. ¡°See?¡±
I had seen him and Amalia perform magic plenty of times before. They acted as if it was normal, and I wasn¡¯t entirely sure it wasn¡¯t for me. The only time I ever asked about it was how I could do it, and both of them said I couldn¡¯t until I was older.
That¡¯s about all I¡¯d invested in the topic until now. They never lied to me, and I was more curious about the world than the ability to make fire. It was like asking why I could breathe: I could, so it didn¡¯t matter. But now that people knew I was a devil, and I understood the implications of that, knowing more about mana seemed like a good idea.
¡°What about the other fingers?¡± I asked.
Quintin gestured to his pointer finger. ¡°This one lets me control the ground.¡± Then to his middle. ¡°This one¡¯s for water.¡± He skipped the ring finger and went to his pinkie. ¡°Wind.¡±
I pointed at his thumb. ¡°Why isn¡¯t there one there? And why does mom only have the water and fire ones?¡±
¡°The thumb is for special people,¡± explained Quintin. ¡°And mommy only¡ª¡±
¡°Stop telling her these things,¡± interrupted Amalia as she came out of the house.
¡°Oh. Sorry. I only thought¡ª¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
¡°She¡¯s too young. Let her enjoy her childhood.¡±
¡°Sorry, my love.¡± Quintin sighed and patted my head. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you when you¡¯re older.¡±
¡°But¡ª¡±
¡°Yen, come inside and help me with dinner,¡± ordered Amalia. She¡¯d become overprotective ever since the incident at the market.
¡°Coming¡­¡±
?
Time marched on.
Two more years passed by.
My trips outside lessened since the incident in the market. The little freedoms I had were snatched away. I spent more and more time indoors. When I wanted to go outside, I had to be supervised.
It wasn¡¯t an entirely unwarranted thing. Adults were colder to me. Some even called me a ¡°monster¡± when we passed them in the streets. Oddly enough, whenever kids saw me outside, they still waved and said they wanted to play. I wasn¡¯t sure why that was.
For two years, I tried my best to get whatever knowledge I could about mana and fighting from Quintin. At each attempt, Amalia cut him off before he could say anything, or he told me to ¡°wait until I was older.¡±
It frustrated me to no end.
But I was a stoic practitioner of immense patience. Being a baby ingrained that within me. Sooner or later, they¡¯d crack. They¡¯d have to.
I needed to get stronger someday if I wanted the freedom those devils at the inn had. Magic seemed like the best way to achieve my goal.
I didn¡¯t have a choice.
My ears weren¡¯t the only things wrong with me anymore.
I laid on my bed upstairs, rubbing my head. Little bumps were forming just behind my hairline. At first, I thought they were bug bites or something, but they didn¡¯t hurt or itch. I tried putting creams on them and having my parents check them, but nothing came of it.
They just kept getting bigger and bigger, a fact I kept to myself after a while. It was probably something devil-related that was better kept to myself.
Frustrated, I violently roughed up my hair before rolling over in bed.
But I was close to the edge.
I slammed into the ground.
¡°Godsdammit,¡± I whined as I rubbed my nose. It had smashed right into the wood at full force. ¡°Am I bleeding?¡± I dabbed the area under my nostril. ¡°No. Thank the Gods.¡±
¡°You okay up there?¡± Quintin called to me.
¡°Y-Yeah!¡±
¡°I take it you¡¯re ready to go then?¡±
Without responding, I thumped downstairs with a smile on my face. ¡°Absolutely!¡± I was already dressed. We were headed into the town for groceries, and I¡¯d wormed my way into the expedition through intense whining and begging. ¡°All ready!¡±
¡°Fix your hair,¡± said Amalia immediately. She tossed me a hat. ¡°And put this on.¡±
¡°No,¡± I replied immediately.
¡°That was not a suggestion.¡±
¡°Hats hurt my ears,¡± I pouted. ¡°And everyone already knows what I am.¡±
¡°Even so, it¡¯s better to hide them. There¡¯s no reason to remind people.¡±
My face firmed. ¡°It¡¯s not like I chose to be like this.¡±
Quintin and Amalia flinched.
It¡¯d been two years since the incident in the market. Most people were used to me and ignored me. Some people still insulted me in public, but they were easy to ignore. Words didn¡¯t hurt or affect me. It¡¯s not like I could change their minds. Their lives didn¡¯t matter to me, and no one has tried to hurt me since the pie.
What did I care?
It didn¡¯t stop me from pursuing power, though. I wasn¡¯t stupid. Violence was the key to peace if the adventurers I saw were any indicator. Or at least the key to maintaining a healthy distance between those who wished to harm me.
Regardless, I knew Amalia and Quintin thought I was holding in all my feelings and acting tough. Little comments like these softened them into giving me whatever I wanted.
¡°Fine. But you still have to fix your hair,¡± said Amalia. ¡°Let me help you.¡± She tossed and touched my locks until only my face showed through my hair. She turned to Quintin, who was already holding open the front door. ¡°We¡¯re ready.¡± (Ch.3): Growing Up, Part 4
¡°Good morning, Quintin! Amalia! Little Yen!¡± said Albus as we walked outside.
¡°Good morning!¡± I spoke first with a chipper, childish tone. It kept up appearances and made me look less like a freak. My arms thrust toward Albus. ¡°Gifts?¡±
Albus chuckled. ¡°Not today, little lady.¡±
¡°Awww,¡± I pouted.
¡°Come now to Uncle Albus.¡±
¡°Not a chance,¡± said Quintin. Before I knew it, I was lifted into the air and placed on his shoulders. ¡°Papa is the only one who gets to carry her.¡±
¡°Papa!¡± I said, excited, forcing a goofy grin on my face as I lightly batted his head. ¡°So tall! Hee hee!¡±
¡°I never get to hold her anymore,¡± complained Albus.
¡°That can¡¯t be true,¡± retorted Quintin.
¡°It is!¡±
¡°Mhm. Maybe another time. We¡¯ve got things to do and stuff to buy. Suspect everyone has got the same idea, or will sooner or later,¡± said Quintin as he deftly changed the topic. ¡°Winter¡¯s coming, after all.¡±
The three of us said goodbye to Albus and strolled down the main street through town. People greeted us along the way. The lone baker, Greta, gave me a piece of bread. The blacksmith, Harkin, who had one of the only continually busy businesses year-round, waved hello and gave Quintin back his bow he had dropped by earlier in the week to get repaired. Everyone else offered us waves or warm greetings.
"Yen! Play with us!¡± shouted a flock of children from the village. Six of them were running through town and passed us, laughing, as they thumped by.
I stared after them with no intention of responding. I may have been a kid in body, but the idea of frolicking mindlessly through the village like an idiot wasn¡¯t something I wanted to do. I doubted Amalia would let me even if I wanted to.
We soon arrived at one of Amalia¡¯s favorite stalls in the town¡¯s market. She looked through the ingredients and picked up vegetables for dinner.
A brilliant, bright book floated just above her left hand. It was her codex, a personal log made of mana.
A codex could store items, create contracts, keep notes, manage money, and relay basic personal information to its owner. It essentially served as a journal, backpack, and bank rolled into one magical, personal, real-time book. I had been allowed to examine Quintin¡¯s and Amalia¡¯s codexes a few times and generally understood how they worked. Most people did since they were vital for survival.
I didn¡¯t have a codex and wouldn¡¯t until I awakened my mana. It meant that if I needed to, I could not buy or sell goods because I couldn¡¯t access the commonly used currency. Of course, there were ways around that, yes, but it was inconvenient. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
¡°Look at it,¡± I heard a woman hiss as she passed us in the market. ¡°Acting like it¡¯s one of us. Monster.¡± I heard her spit. ¡°Why do they treat it like a person? Disgusting.¡±
I ignored her. Her words hardly phased me.
Quintin, however, clenched my hand. He let me down a while ago and has been keeping me close to him since we were in public. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to them,¡± he said calmly.
¡°Stupid people don¡¯t matter to me,¡± I replied.
Quintin chuckled, relaxing immediately.
Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. ¡°Are people going to treat me worse when I get older?¡± I asked Quintin suddenly.
Quintin¡¯s steps slowed. ¡°What do you mean?¡±
¡°People don¡¯t really bother me now like they did the first time people saw my ears. Most kids treat me fine, and even some adults don¡¯t seem to care. But the people who do?¡± I hesitated, then forced the words out. ¡°They don¡¯t see me as a person. They never will.¡±
Quintin¡¯s jaw tightened.
¡°They tolerate me because I¡¯m small and harmless. But what happens when I grow up? Will they suddenly hate me? Will they¡ª¡± I stopped myself.
Quintin didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. ¡°No. It won¡¯t get worse.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t sound sure.¡±
Silence.
¡°I need to learn how to defend myself,¡± I said, essentially laying out my reason for wanting to learn to use magic and fight. ¡°I don¡¯t want to wait until something happens and then regret it.¡± I turned to him, my voice firmer. ¡°You were a soldier. You know how to fight. Teach me.¡±
¡°Absolutely not,¡± Amalia cut in, rejoining us from the market stall. Her tone left no room for argument. ¡°You¡¯re five. You¡¯re too young.¡±
¡°That¡¯s arbitrary. What other five-year-old acts like me? Age is irrelevant. I¡¯m special,¡± I said arrogantly, though, objectively, my words were correct. More importantly, I was tired of this damn argument. ¡°If I wait, it''ll be too late by the time I actually need those skills. Why not now?¡±
¡°Because you are safe.¡± Amalia¡¯s voice softened, but her expression was resolute. ¡°You have a home. A family. We won¡¯t let anything happen to you.¡±
¡°Can we really say that?¡± Quintin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°You know what she is, Amalia. She¡¯s experienced it firsthand. You know how people¡ª¡±
¡°We¡¯ll talk about it later,¡± she interrupted.
¡°Which means we won¡¯t,¡± I muttered.
Amalia sighed. ¡°Yen, listen to me. I want you to be happy. I want you to have a childhood.¡± She crouched down, meeting my eyes. ¡°You¡¯re obviously different from other kids, even putting aside your ears. You are intelligent beyond your years. But if you start training now, if you take that path, you won¡¯t ever be able to step away from it. You understand that, right?¡±
I did.
But I also knew I had no other choice. So did she. I could tell. Even so, she didn¡¯t relent.
¡°Then if I¡¯m so safe, I¡¯ll just become an adventurer tomorrow,¡± I said, feigning innocence. ¡°Sure, I can¡¯t use mana, never used a sword, never hunted an animal, and don¡¯t even have my codex yet, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll figure it out. After all, it¡¯s not like this town revolves around hunting for food and killing monsters to survive.¡± I flashed her a too-sweet smile. ¡°Oh, wait.¡±
Amalia closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then smiled. ¡°You¡¯re grounded.¡±
I blinked. ¡°What?¡±
¡°You heard me.¡± She patted the hem of her dress and stood. ¡°There will be no talk like this until you¡¯re older. But¡­¡± She glanced at Quintin and then back at me. ¡°I guess¡­I guess you can learn to hunt animals. Just deer and target practice for now. And only with your father. If you disobey him once, no more. Do you understand me?¡±
¡°Yes, mom.¡± I paused. ¡°So¡­when I¡¯m older¡ª¡±
¡°You¡¯re pushing your luck.¡±
¡°Sorry.¡±
It was a start.
¡°Am I wrong?¡± I asked Quintin once Amalia had walked ahead of us.
He chuckled. ¡°Your approach? Yeah. Your point? Not at all.¡±
¡°As long as I got what I wanted.¡±
¡°Brat.¡± Quintin ruffled my hair. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ll make you a bow together after my next job.¡±
I smiled. ¡°Promise?¡±
Quintin grinned. ¡°Promise.¡± (Ch.4): A Start, Part 1
The woods wrapped around us like a cloak as Quintin and I moved slowly beneath their green and brown visages. It was cool and dry, and we were downwind. I walked silently behind my adoptive father while he paced forward, his eyes trained on the trees. Occasionally, he¡¯d stop to examine tracks on the ground.
It was our first day hunting together. He told me to watch, observe, and try not to make any noise. Quintin gave me a cloak and a hunting knife but told me not to play with the knife or use it unless there was an emergency. Like me, he wore a cloak, but he also had leather armor on his chest, legs, arms, and joints. He had no weapons at his side or on his body other than a quiver of arrows on his hip.
¡°Stop,¡± ordered Quintin. ¡°Do you understand what I¡¯m doing?¡± he asked me quietly.
¡°Not at all,¡± I admitted.
¡°Right.¡± Quintin scratched his head. ¡°Never taught anyone anything before.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯m tracking a deer.¡±
¡°How?¡±
Quintin then spent fifteen minutes discussing footprints, what they told him, and why they mattered. Then, we moved into a short segment on feces and brush breakage.
After the brief lesson, Quintin asked me to assess what we should do next based on what he told me. I gave him answers, and then he pointed out the things I missed or that were inaccurate. We repeated this several times until I began to understand.
¡°You¡¯re picking it up faster than I thought you would. But you¡¯ve always been smarter than most, so I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m surprised,¡± admitted Quintin. ¡°We¡¯ll make a hunter out of you yet. Stick with it. Learning to take care of yourself will ensure that if anything happens to me or Amalia, you¡¯ll be able to survive.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t die so I don¡¯t have to,¡± I replied.
Quintin chuckled. ¡°We¡¯ll try not to.¡±
For some reason, while talking through hunting and tracking with Quintin, my mind ¡°remembered¡± how to do so, and in ways better than Quintin taught me¡ªlike I¡¯d done it before.
I wasn¡¯t given any actual context for the skill¡ªa montage of scenes of the past version of me didn¡¯t replay inside my head. Instead, I suddenly just knew what to do. In fact, it suddenly felt odd that I even needed Quintin to teach me in the first place.
It wasn¡¯t the first time something like that had happened. Certain stimuli or information would cause my brain to learn a skill at an extremely deep, detailed level like a master. I assumed it had something to do with my past life. Every time it happened, it made me wonder who I must have been. It is how I learned to read, write, and cook so quickly. My brain just ¡°remembered¡± things like I¡¯d done them all my life. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Quintin held his hand out in front of me to stop, but he didn¡¯t say the words. I looked around for a reason and spotted it immediately¡ªa deer. It was munching on vegetation near the base of a fallen tree.
My father put his hands together and opened them like a booklet outward. As he did, particles of white mixed with different dotted colors¡ªreds, blues, and yellows¡ªformed silently into the shape of a book. He turned a page and reached his hand inside. It disappeared into the magical paper halfway up to his elbow before he pulled it back, bringing his massive bow with it.
I¡¯d seen it countless times before, but the way adding and removing items worked in a codex always captivated me.
Quintin tossed his codex behind him. Before it could hit the ground, it shattered like rain into the same particles it was formed from.
The entire time, the marks on his fingers and wrists glowed the same color as his eyes¡ªa brilliant bright green. Even his eyes got brighter. It always happened whenever someone used their mana to create magic.
Quintin already had a quiver of arrows strapped to his side. He silently pulled out one with a broad tip and placed it against the string of his bow.
I watched with anticipation as he pulled back the arrow. His breath was steady. The bow adjusted upward in his hands, tilting and rectifying until he had the first angle.
And then¡ª
Thunk!
The arrow darted from his string and caught the deer right in its throat just as it looked up. It collapsed on the ground screaming, its legs kicking out and its head thrashing against the brush.
¡°Come on. Let¡¯s put it out of its misery,¡± said Quintin. He shoved his bow back into his codex and removed a large hunting knife in the same motion.
The deer¡¯s cries lessened with each step we took toward it. It got slower and slower until its legs and head were barely moving. Even the soft rise of his torso was thin and weak.
Quintin carefully knelt down and finished the deer off with his blade, ending its suffering.
The sight of death sent a rush running through my spine. It was so random, so powerful a feeling, I flinched. What was that?
¡°Don¡¯t be afraid,¡± said Quintin as he looked at me, clearly assuming my action was drawn from fear and shock. ¡°Something¡¯s got to die for us to eat, be it an animal for meat or bugs, birds, and rodents for crops. Nothing in life is gained without sacrifice. Surviving means something dies.¡± He shifted the blade in his hand. ¡°Now, watch how I butcher this guy. Next time we¡¯re out, I¡¯m gonna have you try this, okay?¡±
Why should I care about the life of something that doesn¡¯t affect me? I thought. As long as I and those I care about live, everything else is of little consequence. But I didn¡¯t say that out loud. Instead, I nodded, fascinated by the blood pooling under the creature¡¯s lifeless form.
When the deer was properly butchered and packed away in Quintin¡¯s codex, we returned home. As soon as we got in the yard, Amalia ambushed me, slamming me with question after question about how things went, and checked me for wounds. Afterward, we ate dinner, and they discussed future adventures involving me.
That night, while everyone else was asleep, I imitated the way Quintin fired his bow.
The imaginary wood sat comfortably in my left hand. With my right, I pulled back the pretend weapon¡¯s string. An arrow was notched. On my bedroom wall, I envisioned the scenery changing. Snow dotted the background. A demon was standing off in the distance, blood covering its face.
¡°Die,¡± I whispered as I let the imaginary arrow fly. (Ch.4): A Start, Part 2
Thunk!
My arrow pierced the head of a deer standing nervously amongst the trees. It staggered for a moment before lifelessly hitting the ground.
Nuzzled in warm clothes and a cloak, I ambled over to my prey¡ªmy prize. I¡¯d been hunting it for some time now, and I¡¯d succeeded in my first hunt by myself.
¡°I passed the test, Quintin,¡± I said as I examined how best to butcher the deer. Using my knife, I started carving its flesh as I lost myself to daydreams and memories once.
I was nine years old and would turn ten soon.
Quintin didn¡¯t let me do any real hunting when we first started training. We¡¯d made a bow together, but I never used it outside of our yard. On hunts, I could only watch him, answer questions, and butcher whatever he killed.
The butchering was supposed to be a lesson about the sanctity of life, but I found myself numb to the process. I didn¡¯t need an emotional reason to kill an animal. If I were hungry, I¡¯d kill or steal without hesitation. If the option was either that or dying, it was obvious.
Emotions didn¡¯t need to play a part¡ªnot that they really played a part in any of my decisions.
Quintin deliberately slowed my training because of Amalia. Even when he suggested taking me on more adventures, she kept using my age and race as justification to keep me contained. It was annoying, honestly.
Around seven, things changed. Quintin let me go on more hunts with him, and he put more consistent time into training me in archery under his direct supervision.
At a certain point, I learned to use a bow with hardly any guidance. All I needed were a few pointers and examples from Quintin, and I ¡°remembered¡± how to do it¡ªfragments of my past life, whatever it was, guided me. Still, my body couldn¡¯t keep up with my skill, so I needed constant practice to align reality with what I could do in my head.
When Quintin was confident in my skills and stamina, he let me help him on hunts with tracking and picking prey. Then, I started taking over the lead role and the shooting.
Once he witnessed me kill and butcher my first animal without his input with no issues, he brought me to areas with monsters.
Mana existed in all living things. When it condensed too much in one place, it formed a mana-rich environment referred to as a ¡°miasma.¡± It was in areas filled with miasma where monsters and demons were usually born and thrived.
Mana sometimes condensed too much in animals and plants, turning them into monsters. They were ranked on a Tier list and given a level based on the amount of corruption they endured, their strength, and a variety of other factors.
Demons were humans who died in a place thick with miasma or who died harboring intense negative emotions that corrupted their mana and engulfed their souls. If any of those instances occurred, the mana in a person would bubble and produce a crystal inside them. At that point, given my real-world experience, a demon would then crawl out of its host body like a parasite. According to Quintin, more than one could emerge from a person in certain instances depending on the circumstances.
I¡¯d seen Quintin kill many weak monsters but no demons¡ªnot since the shipwreck when he saved my life. Given how they were created, it made sense that there were more monsters than demons. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
My thoughts trailed as I packed the butchered deer in a bag and trudged home. My ears flickered unconsciously as wind and snow battered against them. They never fared well in the winter.
¡°Having a codex would make this so much easier,¡± I grumbled as I shifted the weighty bag on my shoulders. Its straps dug against my collarbone. ¡°Only a few years left to go. I wonder what color my eyes will be when I finally awaken?¡±
I passed by a small pond and scrutinized my reflection. My irises, black due to my lack of mana, gazed back at me. Frowning, I looked away and continued the long, tedious task of walking home.
There¡¯s brown, green, violet, orange, grey, and white. That¡¯s the order Quintin gave me for mana levels. I mulled over. Awakening meant a child could start off at any color and build from there. Most people awakened with brown eyes and a select few with green. Any higher at an initial awakening is considered a ¡°miracle.¡± I probably shouldn¡¯t hope for much more than that. I paused. But both my biological parents had high mana since it¡¯s based on eye color. I think my dad had orange eyes, and my mother had grey. Maybe I should be more hopeful. Then again, it¡¯d piss me off if I expected greatness and nothing came of it. Better to be realistic than optimistic.
Annoyed, I shook my head, readjusted the straps of my bags, and forced myself to think about something else.
It would still be a while before I could use mana.
?
¡°Are you hurt?¡± I heard Amalia call to me as I entered our property a while later, lost in thought. She smashed into me, hugging me, and pushed my chin up to look over my face. ¡°Scrapes? Bumps? Cuts? Are you sick?¡±
¡°Nothing went wrong,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m just a little colder than I was this morning. My ears feel like they¡¯ll fall off,¡± I joked. ¡°Maybe that¡¯d be a good thing.¡±
Amalia immediately started rubbing them with her fingers. ¡°Better?¡±
I nodded as a soothing feeling registered in my brain. It felt like I was being caressed by warm angels.
¡°Good girl.¡± Quintin went to pat the top of my head. It made me flinch. I recoiled, brushing his hand away before he could touch me, and he laughed. ¡°Sorry, sorry. I forgot you don¡¯t like that anymore. Lemme see your haul.¡±
I took off my pack and offered it to Quintin. The horns of the deer dangled from the back. We walked into his shed beside our home and unpacked my goods. The pelt and meat were neatly stored and cut, just like I¡¯d been taught.
¡°Oh, well done,¡± said Quintin. ¡°I¡¯ll sell most of this to the butcher and save half the coins for when you get your codex. How does that sound?¡±
¡°Oh, awesome! Perfect!¡± I yelped. Quintin had been saving up some coins for me for a while. This was generally our agreement, so I didn¡¯t protest the terms. However, noticing how I¡¯d subconsciously acted childish without much thought, my cheeks flushed red, and I cleared my throat. ¡°Th-That would be nice, I suppose.¡±
Amalia and Quintin smiled at me. I looked away from them, embarrassed.
¡°You did an amazing job,¡± said Quintin. He placed an arm on my shoulder. ¡°And you¡¯ll be ten soon. Your mana should awaken within the year. I think it¡¯s time I started teaching you how to use a sword if you want. Let you get a head start before your awakening. That sound good?¡±
My neck tingled. ¡°Really?!¡± I cleared my throat again. ¡°Is that so? That would be nice, I suppose.¡±
Quintin chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t expect too much from me. I¡¯m not anything special.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t put yourself down,¡± I pouted. ¡°I don¡¯t like that.¡±
Quintin went to pat my head again, but I moved away from him at the last second. ¡°Right, right. Sorry,¡± he muttered. ¡°Puberty¡­¡±
Something like that¡­
Instinctively, I rubbed my scalp where Quintin nearly touched me. A dark look passed across my face. I won¡¯t be able to hide this forever. I don¡¯t know if I can afford to waste any more time. I need to know more about devils. I can¡¯t keep putting this off.
My voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°If possible, since I know I¡¯ve never asked and I felt you all have avoided telling me¡­could you¡­teach me about¡­me? W-Why you adopted me, and about devils.¡± I suddenly felt flustered, which irritated me. ¡°I know¡­it¡¯s an awkward thing to talk about but¡­I¡¯m old enough now, right? I¡¯ve been putting off asking because¡­like I said, it¡¯s awkward. But I don¡¯t want you guys to think it¡¯s because of you all.¡± I cut myself off. ¡°I¡¯m rambling. Sorry. Forget about it.¡±
¡°No, don¡¯t apologize.¡± Quintin knelt before me so we could make eye contact. ¡°Amalia and I agreed not to discuss it until you brought it up. I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t ask sooner.¡±
¡°Really?¡± I looked at Amalia, and she nodded. ¡°Then¡­please?¡±
¡°Right.¡± Quintin appeared a little worried. ¡°Give me some time, okay? There¡¯s a place I need to show you first.¡± (Ch.4): A Start, Part 3
I turned ten. Amalia baked me a cake, and Quintin had Harkin, the town blacksmith, make me a new bow and a cheap sword. Turning ten and fifteen were considered significant milestones in a person¡¯s life, so my adoptive parents spent more coins on me than they probably should have.
One bright morning, Quintin woke me up, saying he wanted to take me on a little adventure. He shared that it was finally time to tell me ¡°what I wanted to know.¡± Ominously, he led me south toward the coast.
The path we took was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It confused me until I saw the shape of the shore before us. When I did, everything made sense. We were where Quintin found me all those years ago. It was the beach I¡¯d shipwrecked on with my dead mother, where the demon nearly ate me.
I guess he wants to tell me everything that happened to me. Or at least the parts he knew. How kind of him. It feels scummy that I¡¯ll have to pretend it¡¯s all new. I¡¯d better start working on some fake tears. I thought.
Quintin and I stood side-by-side, looking at the shore. I held a blank expression while Quintin¡¯s tinged with worry. I could tell from his eyes that he was struggling to start his sentence, so I gave him a little push.
¡°Very pretty,¡± I said loudly. ¡°What does this have to do with devils?
¡°You said you wanted to learn about them,¡± Quintin answered after a while. ¡°For you, the story starts here.¡±
Quintin then recounted the events of my life that I already knew. I feigned surprise where I should have, faked tears when I could, and the entire story ended with a big, dramatic hug. Honestly, I was surprised with myself. All my reactions came easily, just as I wanted them to. It made me feel guilty and proud.
¡°Why do my ears make me a devil? Why use that word?¡± I asked as I broke apart from Quintin, wiping my eyes. ¡°Is something wrong with me? Am I evil?¡±
¡°You are not evil. You are no different from anyone else,¡± said Quintin firmly. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare think that.¡±
¡°But people have called me a monster behind my back most of my life. Other devils won¡¯t even talk to me, and I¡¯m not sure why,¡± I retorted. ¡°I¡¯m different. I¡¯ll always be different. Why does it matter what I am? Tell me.¡±
Quintin frowned. ¡°People are always wary of what is different, Yen. You can only change those who are willing to change and should ignore those you cannot. But there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all. I promise.¡±
¡°Then why do grown adults feel comfortable shoving me to the ground, spitting on me, and throwing food in my face?¡± I questioned, bringing up what happened to me at the market years ago. It wasn¡¯t the only incident I endured, but it was definitely the most dramatic.
Quintin winced in discomfort but began to speak. ¡°Humans and devils have waged war countless times over the centuries. Such tragedy is never forgotten; it always sows hatred in people¡¯s hearts. Even so, the lives of devils aren¡¯t top of mind for most people. They care more about feeding their families, finding work, and keeping a roof over their heads. Times were worse decades ago, and some northern cities are still bad. However, most people do not hate you, Yen, as they are concerned with their own interests. If you¡¯re kind and polite, most people will act the same way.¡±
I fidgeted with my hand as I took in all that information. On some level, I already knew that from what I¡¯d experienced and heard in town. It was another thing to hear it stated so bluntly.
Sensing my discomfort, Quintin knelt before me. ¡°You¡¯re my daughter. I raised you. You¡¯re mine. I love you, and I¡¯ll protect you until the day I die. I¡¯m not the reason you were born, but you¡¯re my little girl, and that¡¯s more important to me than anything else.¡±
¡°I love you too,¡± I replied warmly with a light smile. I let that linger in the air before dropping into a more neutral expression. ¡°I guess¡­I guess I want to know¡­what exactly is a devil? What are we? What am I?¡± I¡¯d put together my own answer over the years from listening in on conversations, but I still wanted to know more.
¡°Devil¡¯s just a catch-all term for humans that aren¡¯t quite human,¡± described Quintin. He scratched his head again as he thought of the right words. ¡°If you ask me, there are six kinds of people in the world, including humans, but we name everything that doesn¡¯t look like a human a devil, so there are five types of devils.¡±
¡°Only five?¡±
Quintin nodded. ¡°Beast devils, forest devils, sea devils, sky devils, and archdevils. You, my child, are a forest devil.¡±
¡°Because of my ears.¡±
Quintin nodded. ¡°Yes, because of your ears. When you get older, you¡¯ll grow a lot taller and be very...thin and nimble.¡±
I doubt it.
¡°Could you¡­explain the differences for me, please? If that¡¯s possible.¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t want to push you if you don¡¯t know.¡±
¡°You¡¯re implying something annoying,¡± scoffed Quintin. ¡°Your dad¡¯s a smart guy, you know.¡± Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
I nodded but didn¡¯t say anything.
Quintin snorted. ¡°Fine, fine. They drilled the differences into our heads daily when I was a knight.¡± He cleared his throat and fixed his posture like he was imitating a scholar. ¡°You¡¯ve seen beast and forest devils in town a bunch of times. In this country, they tend to be adventurers when they¡¯re not, um¡­¡±
¡°Slaves,¡± I answered for Quintin.
¡°Y-Yes. Slaves.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°Beast devils are naturally strong. Really strong. Like ripping trees out of the ground without using mana strong.¡± Quintin¡¯s eyes paled like he was remembering something from his past. ¡°When they do use mana to augment themselves, they¡¯re considered some of the finest warriors in the lands.¡±
¡°Or workers,¡± I added. ¡°They make up most of the slaves in this country, don¡¯t they?¡±
¡°Y-Yes. Um, well... yes. Moving on. Sea devils can live and breathe underwater. They possess gills on their necks and can create or remove webbing from their hands and feet depending on whether they are on land or in water. Oh, and their eyes are enormous,¡± Quintin continued. ¡°Among all the devils, they remain neutral and have never fought for anyone but themselves, with some exceptions. Zalevet maintains peace agreements with some of their colonies to guarantee safe shipping routes. If humans anger them, we wouldn¡¯t be able to leave the continent due to the sea devils¡¯ complete dominance over the ocean, making them likely the most liberated of all the devils, after the archdevils.¡±
Interesting. Power matters more than superficial physical differences. Sea devils aren¡¯t treated poorly because they could destroy international trade. My focus on survival skills and learning to fight were the right call, then.
¡°There are sky devils,¡± continued Quintin. He started looking up to the sky. His eyes strained as if he were searching the far reaches of his mind to remember things. ¡°They¡¯ve got wings and¡­something else,¡± muttered Quintin. He shook his head. ¡°Most of them live in a clustered chain of islands to the south called the Broken Bits that¡¯s got a lot of humans and devils living in it equally. You have to go through them to trade with the rest of the world. We get them in Zalevet sometimes. The devils are mostly nomadic.¡±
They had wings? Lucky. I¡¯d prefer that to ears and, well¡­
He continued on. ¡°Beast and forest devils manage a continent we call the Devil Continent. Forest devils govern the northern half cause it¡¯s forested and warm. Beast devils oversee the southern half because it¡¯s colder. I mean, there are a lot more devils there than just those two, and humans do live there, but those two dominate.¡±
So most of the world has devils, we trade with them, and there¡¯s even a territory called the Broken Bits where we live with them peacefully. I summarized. Why are people so pissy here? The answer came to me immediately. Religion. That stupid book I read. Is that really it? There¡¯s got to be more.
Putting that aside, I nervously asked my next question. ¡°What was that last one?¡± I cocked my head to the side. ¡°Archdevils?¡±
¡°Oh yeah. Those. Don¡¯t really want to talk about those,¡± muttered Quintin. ¡°They¡¯re the reason everyone hates devils.¡±
My face hardened. ¡°Why? What¡¯s wrong with them?¡±
¡°They¡¯re powerful. The strongest devils. The reasons why are lost to history, but every time there¡¯s been a war, archdevils were the ones rallying all the other devils against humans,¡± said Quintin. ¡°Seems like every century or so, the devils go through a civil war and then attack us.¡±
¡°Unprovoked?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted. ¡°Although it¡¯s been a long time since the last war, the stories have persisted. When you tell people story after story, generation after generation, that archdevils control all the other devils and always initiate wars with humans, it inevitably breeds hatred.¡±
That explains so much.
Steeling myself, I asked my final question. ¡°What do these archdevils look like?¡±
¡°They¡¯ve got horns growing out of their heads.¡±
¡°Horns?¡±
¡°Yeah, horns. And a tail, I think, but I¡¯m not sure,¡± said Quintin with a nod. ¡°They¡¯re supposedly the strongest beings in the world besides the Voiced in Agias. No one¡¯s seen one in decades, though, and definitely not on this continent. The archdevils stay on Paradise. It¡¯s their own little island out to the west off the coast of the Devil Continent. Never heard of one leaving there. Never.¡±
¡°Are they¡­evil?¡± I asked slowly.
¡°Nothing¡¯s evil,¡± replied Quintin. ¡°Everything has its circumstances.¡±
That felt wrong and idealistic, but whatever. They¡¯re the ones that apparently start all the wars, though I¡¯m not sure I entirely believe that. Another question formed in my head. ¡°Do people perceive them as evil, then?¡±
Quintin paused. ¡°Um¡­¡±
¡°If one were to appear in the middle of town today, what would happen?¡±
My father didn¡¯t say anything for the longest time. ¡°People would run away. If they were brave enough, some adventurers and townsfolk might band together to try and kill it.¡± His face was firm. ¡°In the minds of all humans, archdevils are the source of all evil in this world. The Pantheon¡¯s ultimate goal is to eradicate them.¡±
I shivered. ¡°But other devils are okay?¡±
Quintin scratched the back of his head. ¡°If you grew up your whole life hearing bad stories about devils, you¡¯d hate them all regardless of the kind. But if you¡¯ve grown up around all kinds of people¡ªhumans and devils alike¡ªyou¡¯d know that things are a little more complicated than that.¡± He shrugged. ¡°But I¡¯ve never met an archdevil. Some of them are probably good. Or maybe they¡¯re all evil. Don¡¯t know. I¡¯d assume the former, but healthy caution is a good trait to have if you like breathing. That make sense?¡±
I nodded.
Quintin smiled. ¡°That was a little more than I thought we¡¯d talk about today. Sorry. Not a very fun day.¡± He scratched the back of his head. ¡°There¡¯s no sign of a war anytime soon. Most people have worked with or lived in the presence of devils their entire lives. You¡¯ll get a few assholes every now and again, but most people only worry about themselves. Your life is yours, Yen. It¡¯s up to you what you want to do with it. Your mother and I will support your regardless.¡±
¡°Is this you trying to cheer me up?¡± I teased, fixing my face. ¡°Do I look sad or something? I¡¯ll have you know, I¡¯m very mature for my age.¡±
¡°I know, I know.¡± Quintin chuckled. He reached out to pat my head, but I swiftly dodged him. That made him frown. ¡°Rebellious stage,¡± he whined. ¡°You used to love you daddy.¡± He sighed.
That wasn¡¯t the reason why I avoided him. If anything, I felt more respect and love for him now than I did before. Something else caused me to act that way.
Protecting my head, I briefly rubbed my scalp until I found the reasons why I didn¡¯t want him touching me.
Two horns barely poked out the top of my head. My hair hid them for now, but they¡¯d grow bigger someday.
I didn¡¯t have a tail yet. Either Quintin was wrong on that point, or it hadn¡¯t grown yet. I was hoping it was the former.
So that¡¯s what I am, huh? An archdevil. I suppressed a sarcastic chuckle. Whoever put me in this world like this is an asshole. (Ch.5): Dreams, Part 1 It was nighttime. No one else in my home was awake but me. I stood in front of my mirror and lifted my hair. My fingers played with two little horns¡ªbarely the size of pebbles¡ªlightly poking out of my head. ¡°At least they¡¯re black. Very hard to see even when my hair isn¡¯t perfect,¡± I uttered, messing with the strands. Curious even though I already knew the outcome, I pulled on the ends. A slight headache formed. I gave another yank, and my brain pulsed with pain. ¡°Gods forbid I accidentally run into something,¡± I muttered as I laid down in bed. I was still the only one who knew what I was: an archdevil. Bumps started forming in my head years prior. The tips only surfaced this year. I remembered my birth father saying something about horns when I was born, but it was such a one-off statement so far in the past I forgot it. Besides, I didn¡¯t see any on my birth mother. I¡¯d have remembered if I did. Either she didn¡¯t have them, or she cut them off. There were just never any signs that I would grow horns, and my ears looked a bit too much like forest devils for me to think otherwise. ¡°Now that I think about it, the ones I¡¯ve seen on others point more upward toward their heads,¡± I muttered while playing with the tips of my ears. ¡°Mine aren¡¯t as long and go back instead of up.¡± What Quintin told me was very helpful, but it only made me worry more about the future. If even a fraction of what he said was true, no one¡ªnot even my parents¡ªcould know I had these horns. Ever. Life as a forest devil was tough, but being an archdevil meant a death sentence, especially since I didn¡¯t have any mana, training, or power. ¡°I¡¯ll definitely have to shave them down eventually.¡± I tapped the tiny bumps hidden in my hair. ¡°That¡¯s going to hurt so bad, I can tell.¡± I flew out of bed and started pacing around my room. I didn¡¯t have a door or anything. I resided on the second floor of our home in an open storage area Quintin and Amalia converted into my bedroom as I got older. I could look down off the small railing by my stairs and see the kitchen below. The floorboards were squeaky, but I was used to them and knew exactly where to step as I enacted my panic-induced mania. Stolen story; please report. It wasn¡¯t the first time, after all. I found myself questioning whether I had been intentionally placed in the body of an archdevil or if it was by chance. If it was by chance, it meant I had horrible luck, but it also suggested that my luck couldn¡¯t possibly get any worse. However, if it was deliberate, there had to be a reason behind my transformation. If it stemmed from my past life, perhaps becoming an archdevil was a form of punishment. But then, considering their power and mythology, maybe it was a reward¡ªthough it certainly didn¡¯t feel like one. Regardless, the fact remained. I was an archdevil living alone on the Human Continent. ¡°Will things change when I awaken?¡± I looked at my wrists where the marks would one day appear. ¡°Will a tail suddenly appear? What¡¯s going to happen to me? Shit, I don¡¯t know. I hate this.¡± I started thinking of contingency plans. ¡°Worst case?¡± I¡¯m hunted. On the run. I should assume that. The plan stays the same¡ªjust with more stress. Keeping hiding. Get stronger. Have an escape plan ready in case it all goes to shit.¡± I paused. ¡°Do other devils hate archdevils?¡± I paused again. ¡°I don¡¯t know. If I can find one I can trust, it might be worth getting some information out of them about my kind. Otherwise, it¡¯d be best to stay hidden for as long as possible. This is my burden to bear alone.¡± I collapsed onto the bed again, limbs heavy. My skull throbbed from all the overthinking. I shut my eyes. Just for a second. I waited for sleep. It didn¡¯t come. ¡°Screw it. I can¡¯t¡­sleep?¡± I was aloft in a giant cage drifting in an endless sky. Floating. Weightless. Caged in an endless sky. The metal was cold under my legs, the feeling too familiar. A shiver ran down my spine as a sense of familiarity scratched the back of my brain. Suddenly, all my memories of being here came flooding back. This is where I ended up when I died. I remembered. But¡­I still can¡¯t remember who I am. Why only that? I scanned the entire place. It was empty. I didn¡¯t see the woman, the sky full of floating people, or the giant hand that tried to crush me before. Just the cage and an endless sky of wispy clouds. ¡°No. No, no, no.¡± I scrambled to the bars, my breath sharp. I looked down. My stomach lurched. ¡°Did I die again?!¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re just asleep,¡± a voice spoke closely into my ear¡ªtoo close, too soft, too warm. Like breath against my skin. But there was no breath. I jolted, a gasp catching in my throat. My back hit the bars with a metallic clang. A woman stood behind me¡ªtoo still, hands clasped neatly behind her back like she had always been there. She had no eyes, mouth, nose, or ears. Just a smooth, featureless skin. Her body was black and featureless, like a giant doll carved from metallic shadows. But her hair¡ªit moved. Silver strands slithered and curled in the air and around her figure, weightless, shifting like a living thing. ¡°Hello, you adorable little thing!¡± Her voice was bright. Cheerful. Sweet. It didn¡¯t belong. (Ch.5): Dreams, Part 2 Shocked, I tried to move further away, but my feet slipped on the metal underfoot. ¡°Gah!¡± My head bounced against the cage bars painfully, but my eyes never left the odd figure before me. ¡°Sorry, sorry!¡± The being lifted its hands and waved at me sheepishly. ¡°I don¡¯t get much company. You? First in a decade. Barely a chat since then. My bad. If I could have made this happen earlier, I would have. Hell, I¡¯d talk to you every day if I could!¡± The being was clearly a woman based on her mannerisms and voice, but everything else about her seemed alien. Her personality didn¡¯t fit her either. It was overly girlish yet sarcastic. ¡°I thought this would be easier than standing creepily in the corner of the cage, bellowing your name, then giving you unrivaled power.¡± ¡°What? Power? Creepy? What? What power? Why would you do that? Huh?¡± My voice came out sporadic. I spat out words the same way a bird might eat seeds off the ground. ¡°See? I made the right choice. Talking is always better.¡± ¡°Who are you?!¡± ¡°Ummm¡­¡± The being trailed off. ¡°Eve!¡± It was a blatant lie. Painfully obvious. Angry, I pointed an accusatory finger at her. ¡°You made that up!¡± Even stared at me sheepishly. ¡°So what?¡± ¡°Do you know what you look like?! Where we are?! Who¡¯d believe a single thing you said?!¡± ¡°Rude. Interesting you¡¯d judge someone¡¯s looks given what you are now,¡± said Eve. I flinched. ¡°Ha! Gotcha, bitch!¡± Eve snapped her fingers, twirled in place, then dramatically pointed a finger at me. ¡°Let¡¯s be friends now, alright? Did I make the name up on the spot? Absolutely. But I had a reason!¡± ¡°And that is?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a name.¡± ¡°Ah. Sure.¡± ¡°Oh, come on.¡± Eve pouted¡ªexaggerated and dramatic. Her shoulders slumped like a puppet with cut strings. ¡°You wound me. Yen. Do you still think I¡¯m lying?¡± I nodded. ¡°Absolutely.¡± ¡°Well, I can¡¯t do anything about that. You¡¯ll come to love me someday. Just be patient.¡± ¡°Whatever you say,¡± I said more calmly. It was apparent that ¡®Eve¡¯ meant me no harm, at least for now. ¡°Were you the one who brought me into this world?¡± ¡°Kind of.¡± ¡°Kind of?¡± Eve shrugged. Her silvery hair glittered around her obsidian body. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to explain.¡± ¡°Why are you acting so different from when I last saw you?¡± I said instead, opting to move on. In the few moments I¡¯d known her, I could tell she had an exhausting, hyper personality and was just as stubborn as she was dramatic. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°I was adjusting.¡± I waited for her to elaborate, but Eve never did. ¡°Is this how this is going to be? Bullshit answers?¡± I asked. ¡°At least you¡¯re not afraid of me anymore,¡± said Eve with a chuckle. ¡°Look at you.¡± I was standing again. My arms were crossed, and I was mere inches from Eve. ¡°I¡¯ve adjusted.¡± Eve snapped her fingers and pointed at me. ¡°Haha! Funny. Good call back.¡± She flittered around the cage, circling me until she was on my left side. Cocking her head, she stared at me with her distorted, mannequin-like face. ¡°It¡¯s been boring waiting to contact you. I wanted to do it soooo much sooner! It¡¯s the earliest I could, you know. Couldn¡¯t find a window until you awakened to your mana. Congratulations, by the way.¡± ¡°Wait, I did?¡± Focusing on my body, I felt a tingling sensation in my brain and skin. Is it really happening? Eve nodded enthusiastically. ¡°You betcha! It¡¯s happening right now as we speak. We wouldn¡¯t be talking together otherwise. I took advantage of a small gap created by the process to slip in and talk to you. Isn¡¯t that neat?¡± ¡°What¡­What does that even mean?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Just know I¡¯m checking up on you. You¡¯re very, very important to me.¡± Eve put her hands behind her back, walked away, twirled, and dipped her head forward to look at me pointedly. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± Her voice seemed to dip, swimming through the air like a predatory fish. ¡°Adjusting well? Feel a little selfish? A little off? Perhaps you struggle to connect with others unless it benefits you? Are you feeling detached? Creating conflicts where there are none? A bit psychopathic?¡± A chill ran down my arms. I swallowed. ¡°Why are you asking?¡± Eve twirled a strand of hair around her finger. ¡°Oh, just curious.¡± Her head tilted, slow and deliberate. ¡°Take a person. Rip out their memories. But leave behind what they knew.¡± Her unseen eyes bore into me. ¡°What does that even do to a person?¡± She murmured. ¡°Knowledge without experience. Instinct without context. Must be¡­confusing.¡± Of course it has. I thought. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said out loud. ¡°Being an archdevil won¡¯t help the matter,¡± muttered Eve, examining me. ¡°The horns are coming in, huh? You can hide them for a few more years, but you will have to cut them if you want to stay hidden. It¡¯ll hurt more than cutting off an arm, so be wary of that.¡± She waved her hand before her like that didn¡¯t matter. ¡°But I¡¯ll make it so you don¡¯t have to worry here in a few seconds.¡± ¡°How will you¡ª¡± She cut me off before I could ask the dozens of questions that popped into my head. ¡°It has been fascinating watching you so far. It wasn¡¯t that much different from a baby growing up naturally, but there was a little more nuance to it. A little more fun.¡± Eve puffed out her dark, metallic, shapely, doll-like chest. ¡°This must be how a proud mother feels. Oh, but I¡¯m sorry for everything you¡¯ve gone through. It must have felt disorienting and terrifying.¡± My brow twitched. ¡°You¡¯ve been watching me?¡± My own voice sounded distant. Even¡¯s blank face tilted. ¡°Oh, all the time. Do you know how bored I¡¯ve been?¡± she whined, voice light and dreamy. ¡°You¡¯re literally my only source of entertainment. And boy, has time flown by! One minute, you¡¯re a baby, the next, you¡¯re learning how to hunt and shoot. All of a sudden, you¡¯re ten. I mean, slow down a little! Let me enjoy your life, yeah? Hell, enjoy it yourself! Why are you moving through shit so fast?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of autonomy, I can¡¯t use mana, and I¡¯m too weak to fight even if I can remember how. I live in a small, out-of-the-way village, and I¡¯m a devil. Nothing¡¯s going to change for me until I grow up and get stronger. Being able to use mana is the first step. Everything else has been a waiting game.¡± ¡°True. And you¡¯re right, I expect things will change for you very soon,¡± said Eve as if hinting at something. ¡°You know everything about me, don¡¯t you?¡± My voice came out flat. Cold. Unimpressed. ¡°You ripped apart my memories, you¡¯ve been watching me for years, and now you¡¯re dodging every real question I¡¯ve asked. Or you¡¯re telling me things without explaining or letting me speak. So cut the shit.¡± I met her blank, featureless face. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± Eve sheepishly twirled her fingers through her hair. ¡°Being alone for so long made me rush things. We don¡¯t have long, after all.¡± I frowned. Eve took a single step forward. Her finger tapped my nose¡ªlight, playful. A bell-like laugh followed, sweet as honey. Then her voice dropped into a whisper. ¡°Oh Yen¡­¡± The air compressed. Like something vast and unseen was pressing against me. ¡°I¡¯m giving you back your memories.¡± (Ch.5): Dreams, Part 3 ¡°No.¡± The word left my lips before I even thought about it. Eve tilted her head. ¡°Really?¡± I hesitated. Just for a second. Then I nodded. ¡°Really.¡± ¡°They might be helpful, you know.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I doubt that. Aside from my status as an archdevil, I¡¯m set up for success without them if I¡¯m careful, aren¡¯t I? Why would I want to burden myself with memories of a life I haven¡¯t experienced and potentially ruin everything I¡¯ve worked for right now? Saying ¡®yes¡¯ is no different than killing my current self. I don¡¯t want that.¡± ¡°If you saaaay soooo!¡± chimed Eve. She twirled around once like a ballet dancer. ¡°I like you.¡± ¡°Even though my life is boring and goes by too quickly for your liking?¡± ¡°Oh, I have a feeling it¡¯s going to slow down real soon,¡± predicted Eve. She wasn¡¯t looking at me. I could tell by the direction of her head. Instead, her ¡®gaze¡¯ cast far out past the cage¡¯s bars. ¡°Purpose does that. But I could be totally wrong.¡± Why does she talk like this? ¡°Like what?¡± asked Eve. ¡°Sorry for having a unique personality.¡± ¡°Y-You can read my mind?¡± I stammered. ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s surprising to you?¡± Eve gestured around and then pointed at herself. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°R-Right.¡± I cleared my throat. ¡°Then you¡¯re like some kind of Goddess?¡± ¡°I won¡¯t deny it.¡± ¡°Oh, good. You¡¯re actually answering questions now,¡± I realized. ¡°Then you could tell me anything I wanted to know if I asked?¡± ¡°Very likely. I know about most things and a lot about you in particular,¡± replied Eve. ¡°But that¡¯s not important. This is.¡± She placed a hand on my shoulder. ¡°I need you to live your life without restraint, okay? Except for right now, never take advice from me or anyone like me ever again. Make your own decisions. Rely on people, but don¡¯t trust them.¡± She held my gaze somehow. ¡°Okay?¡± ¡°¡­okay.¡± ¡°You say that like you expected more. And you¡¯re right to expect that. Because of who you are, your existence will achieve what I need even without my input or desires ever being expressed or forced upon you. Don¡¯t overthink things. Live your life!¡± ¡°Is that why you brought me to this world when I died? To live my life? Who would believe that? And how does that benefit anyone?¡± ¡°Brought you? Oh no. You did that to yourself. You died,¡± said Eve. ¡°I just grabbed your poor little soul and brought it to me.¡± She made a catching motion before my face like she was snatching a bug. ¡°You¡¯re lucky. I saved the important parts of who you are and separated the rest. You¡¯re welcome!¡± Her personality and the meaning of Eve¡¯s words caused me to flinch. ¡°And where are they? My memories. What did you do with them?¡± ¡°Oh, they¡¯re around. I kept them. Trust me, you don¡¯t want them. Or do you? Were you fibbing to me before? How rude!¡± She paused. ¡°I sense conflict in your mind but can¡¯t really make out the thoughts,¡± mused Eve. ¡°How different am I now from who I was before?¡± I asked. ¡°Very different.¡± ¡°Then I am satisfied with my decision.¡± ¡°But of course! All the skills of your former life when needed, and none of the downside.¡± Eve sighed. ¡°Even so, I can return all your memories if you want.¡± She held out her hand. ¡°Care for a sample?¡± I took a fearful step back. ¡°Thought so.¡± It looked like Eve was smiling, but that was impossible without a mouth. ¡°Good girl! That¡¯s for the best. Trust me!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t trust you at all,¡± I said. ¡°Good! Trusting the wrong person can change the trajectory of your entire life,¡± said Eve. Her voice was slightly sad. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I wouldn¡¯t let you regain your memories even if you begged.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t there something else you¡¯d rather ask me?¡± said Eve instead. ¡°We have time.¡± That was an understatement. There was so much I wanted to know. The biggest involved why I was an archdevil. All my other questions were connected to that, actually. I wanted to know who my parents were, what kind of world I was living in, and what I should really be doing. Just ¡°living my life¡± sounded like a bunch of cow shit. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°It was an accident,¡± said Eve. ¡°What?¡± ¡°That you¡¯re an archdevil,¡± she answered. ¡°I can read your mind, remember? It¡¯s not like I could pick a body out for you. All I did was send your soul from here to the material plane. It took over the first newborn available, and here you are!¡± I frowned. ¡°Is that a lie?¡± ¡°I never lie! Anything I answer directly is the honest truth!¡± said Eve. She pouted. ¡°You¡¯re hurting my feelings.¡± ¡°What a baby¡­¡± ¡°You¡­you said that out loud...¡± ¡°If I thought it, you¡¯d still hear it.¡± Eve whimpered. ¡°That¡¯s not the point. You¡¯re very rude.¡± ¡°Why were you so concerned about my emotions before?¡± I questioned. ¡°Why could being an archdevil be good for me? All I¡¯ve heard and experienced are downsides.¡± Eve put her hands in front of her mouth like she was praying, but her expressionless, empty face looked right into me. ¡°I will. But answer a question for me first. The first answer that comes to mind.¡± I hesitated, but nodded. ¡°Fine, sure.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a busy town with a lot of families and kids. In this town, there¡¯s a school. Every kid walks home from school by themselves, except for one. One child¡¯s family walks him home every day, holding his hand. The other kids think this is weird and bully the child, causing him to cry to his parents every night.¡± Eve paused dramatically. ¡°In response, the couple slowly begins killing individual kids from the school at random. Why are they doing this?¡± I paused for just a moment before speaking. ¡°A murderer on the loose would make other parents worry about their children''s safety, leading them to walk home with their kids from school instead of letting them go alone. This would normalize the first family¡¯s behavior and eliminate any reason for their kids to be bullied.¡± I clapped my hands together. ¡°Problem solved.¡± It was the first answer to come to mind, but even so, a part of me felt grossed out by it. ¡°How about another one?¡± ¡°Do I have¡ª¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Eve curtly. ¡°A man went to a woman¡¯s funeral as a guest. This woman¡¯s father had died, leaving behind the woman and her sister. The man saw the woman for the very first time at the funeral and fell madly in love with her. They talked, but the man never learned how to contact the woman, where she lived, or how to meet her again.¡± She paused. ¡°Later, the man killed the woman¡¯s sister. Why?¡± ¡°To see the woman again,¡± I replied immediately. ¡°Another funeral provides another chance to see the woman again. It was the only time he met her, so all he had to do was recreate the same situation to achieve the desired result.¡± ¡°Do those answers seem wrong to you?¡± ¡°A-A little,¡± I admitted. ¡°Do you love your parents? The ones raising you?¡± ¡°They provide me a house, clothing, food, and shelter.¡± Eve shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not what I asked.¡± Her voice was cold. ¡°Do you love them?¡± I hesitated. ¡°Y-Yes?¡± ¡°If they tried to kill you, could you kill them?¡± ¡°Easily,¡± I said without hesitation, shocking me. ¡°Why does that kind of seem wrong?¡± ¡°Your past, current experiences, and nature as an archdevil are altering how you view the world,¡± answered Eve. There was no hint of sarcasm, jokes, or fibs. ¡°Archdevils are naturally utilitarian and selfish. It¡¯s a combination that makes them seem psychopathic as a group. Mix that with your lack of experience and broad knowledge, and you probably have a very difficult time empathizing with others or seeing things as ¡®right¡¯ or ¡®wrong¡¯ as long as it benefits you.¡± The word ¡°psychopathic¡± triggered something in my brain. Vague memories of the term, the concept of serial killers, and other related topics flowed into my mind. ¡°But¡­I¡¯m emotional and understand people.¡± ¡°To an extent,¡± agreed Eve. ¡°But you¡¯ve already proved parts of your thought processes are abnormal. Can you really trust your feelings? Are they real?¡± I opened my mouth to speak but closed it. I thought for a while, examining all my actions in their context. Every feeling I had was related to things I wanted or my own survival. I didn¡¯t consider others. I used people when threatened. I didn¡¯t even care when my biological mother died. Her head got squished in front of me, and the only thing I cared about was myself. Would I even care if Quintin or Amalia died in front of me? I wanted to think I would, but I knew in my heart¡ª ¡°How can I¡ª¡± ¡°Wait. Stop. No time. Your marks finally appeared,¡± Eve interrupted me. ¡°My what?¡± I looked down at my wrists. Two black tattoos wrapped around my left and right wrist. I didn¡¯t even feel them form. ¡°Look up for me.¡± Eve gazed into my eyes. Suddenly, she was very close. Close enough to touch me and lift my chin. ¡°Oh, violet! Congratulations. That¡¯s excellent for an awakening. Already a little prodigy! Fantastic.¡± She frowned. Or, at least, it seemed like she did since she didn¡¯t have lips. ¡°We can do better, though. Clench your teeth. I only get one shot at this.¡± Eve grabbed my wrists. Instantly, my vision darkened. The world stretched¡ªwarped¡ªas if something was pulling at me from every direction. My ears rang, my stomach twisted, and then¡ª White-hot pain tore through my arms, through my core, through every inch of me. I tried to scream, but my lungs refused to work. Immediately, I collapsed to my knees and leaned against Eve. I could feel myself convulsing as power surged through me. My eyes felt like blood was pouring out of them. Then, the pain stopped as soon as it started. ¡°There you go!¡± cooed Eve. She brought me to my feet and patted me on the head. ¡°You¡¯re gonna wanna wash your face when you wake up,¡± she teased. ¡°What¡­did you¡­do¡­to me?¡± I groaned, pain still shivering its way through my skin. ¡°I made you better,¡± said Eve. She dabbed the blood around my eyes with her fingers. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­some final advice before I go. Puberty¡¯s going to suck, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll get a few laughs out of it. When you wake up, go right to a mirror. That¡¯ll be fun. Just remember this advice about mana: just because you have a big boat doesn¡¯t mean it can cross a tiny stream. You¡¯ll have to widen it first. That seems like a good analogy,¡± rambled Eve. She stopped touching me and stepped back. I suddenly felt cold. ¡°You have one thing you need to aim for if you want to make it through this life. And this is advice, not an order,¡± said Eve. ¡°You need to focus on people. Find someone you¡¯d be willing to die for. That¡¯s your goal. Find many people like that. If you can do that, all your other problems will go away. I know it¡¯s a hard concept for you right now, but you have to find it.¡± She poked my forehead. ¡°Love. Got it?¡± The world around me darkened. A large shadow loomed over the cage, and pressure, unlike anything I¡¯d ever felt before, nearly caused me to pass out. ¡°Time for you to go.¡± Eve placed a hand on my chest and pushed. I smashed through the cage¡¯s bars and hurdled into the endless sky. ¡°Remember what I said! And you¡¯re welcome! See you again soon! Hopefully!¡± The sky cracked open. The hand from before emerged from a split in the vast expanse. It reached for me. Slowly. Deliberately. Like it had been waiting for me. Like it was ready to finish the job it failed before. My body locked up. My mind screamed at me to run, but there was nowhere to go. The hand filled my vision. A shadow of fingers, curling toward me¡ª I closed my eyes. (Ch.5): Dreams, Part 4
The next second, they shot open. My body thrashed¡ªgasping, hands clawing at empty airs. My heart slammed against my ribs. I expected the sky, the cage, the hand¡ª
A ceiling. Wooden and familiar. I¡¯d seen it thousands of times before.
My room.
I was back in my room.
My head pulsed with pain, causing me to groan. I immediately sat up and started rubbing my temples, hoping it would make the agony and sudden onset of nausea fade faster.
¡°What a dream,¡± I groaned. Even closing my eyes didn¡¯t stop the room from spinning. I wanted to bash my head against a sharp corner or at least grind my temples against one.
I tried to open my eyes again. The pain was starting to dull, but I still felt terrible. My entire body was tingling. It felt like I¡¯d jumped off a tall building, survived, tried a second time, survived again, then was hit by a carriage.
All my memories from my time with Eve stayed upon waking up. A part of me still thought I was in a dream, but that part was the minority.
I glanced at my wrists. That single sight silenced the unease inside.
Thick black bands wrapped around them both. I had the mark. I could use mana. I had awakened.
¡°None on my fingers yet,¡± I muttered, glancing at my digit. ¡°Need to learn the elements somehow.¡± I rubbed my eyes with my palms. ¡°Better ask Quintin in the morning.¡±
At once, I noticed something thick and wet adhering to my fingers and palms.
I pulled my hands away slowly, blinking through the haze. Dark stains smeared my hands, glistening under the dim moonlight. For a second, my mind clung to the wrong answer. Tears. Then I touched my tongue to my skin. The taste was metallic.
Blood.
I didn¡¯t remember anyone saying or telling me I¡¯d bleed out my eyes when I awakened. Quintin or Amalia definitely would have mentioned that. Then again, they were the type of people to hide information, thinking it¡¯d make me worry more if I knew something before it happened. It was honestly their worst qualities. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
Eve mentioned I¡¯d need to wash my face when I woke up. I remembered. It must have been something she did.
I swung my legs off the bed¡­and nearly collapsed.
The second my feet touched the floor, pain tore through me. My muscles ached, my skin burned, and my bones felt splintered from the inside out.
My knees buckled. I willed myself forward until I was by my dresser. I used it to support myself, gripping the wood with shaking fingers. I wanted to scream. I wanted to curse Eve¡¯s name. Instead, I gritted my teeth and lifted myself until I fully faced my mirror.
¡°Water, water, water,¡± I uttered, glancing at a pitcher on the dresser. There were cups and a bowl nearby. I took the bowl, placed it before me, poured in the water, and splashed it against my face.
Instantly, I felt a chill around my eyes. My skin relaxed as I massaged my cheeks with my fingers.
¡°I need a light,¡± I grumbled. My eyes lingered on the candlestick by my nightstand. ¡°Need you.¡±
My body screamed at me as I crossed the room again and returned with the lamp. Once the wick was lit, the small flame illuminated the room. Shadows that he had been hiding in furniture¡ªdormant and leery¡ªdanced against my walls as if they were music playing.
I stared at my mirror.
My breath caught in my throat, and my heart started thumping louder than before. Did she do this to me?
Blood stained my face. It cakes around my eyes and smeared into my eyebrows. It dripped in a long line down my face, cheeks, then chin. Lines and droplets of it escaped to my neck, shoulders, and chest. They stained my clothing and skin.
But that wasn¡¯t what caused me to panic.
It was my eyes.
They were white.
Brown, green, violet, orange, grey, then white. From lowest to highest, they represented how much mana one could tap into and leech from the world.
I remembered Eve saying I had violet eyes before touching my hands. That was already astonishing. That probably happened to a handful of children worldwide every few decades.
She changed them, didn¡¯t she? I realized as I touched the skin by my eyes. If there weren¡¯t a black dot in the middle of the eyes and an outline around it, it would look like my eyes were permanently rolled into the back of my head. Creepy.
Most people would celebrate the change. A white-eyed child was a miracle, destined for greatness. The kind of power that made kings take notice. The kind that made priests whisper of divine favor. The kind that made people afraid.
If I were human, I might have even felt blessed.
But I wasn¡¯t human. I was an archdevil.
A human with white eyes would be seen as a hero for humanity. So what would an archdevil with those same eyes be called? A villain. Evil incarnate. A sign of the end times.
I didn¡¯t want anyone paying attention to me at all. Now, everyone will. It¡¯s the last thing I could have possibly wanted. It was going to be hard enough hiding the horns when I got older.
¡°I¡¯m screwed.¡± The words felt weightless and ridiculous. Laughter bubbled up, thin and hollow, to the point where I couldn¡¯t stop it. ¡°Absolutely screwed!¡± (Ch.6): Cautious, Part 1
¡°Are you awake?¡± yelled Amalia upstairs. I heard her steps thump up to the loft attic. ¡°It¡¯s not like you to oversleep.¡±
¡°I was messing with my hair,¡± I said as I felt her presence beside me. I stood in front of my mirror with a pair of scissors. Black hair clumped on the nightstand it sat upon. ¡°How does it look?¡± I turned with my head pointed slightly down.
I needed a way to cover my eyes that looked natural. I had already been growing my hair long because of my ears and horns. There was enough there to create bangs without the rest of my hair looking like crap. As an added benefit, I had an excellent facial structure that complemented the look. Honestly, I should have gone with the style sooner.
Amalia froze then relaxed. ¡°It looks good. You¡¯re lucky.¡± She moved closer to me. ¡°You know, you could have asked me if you wanted to cut your hair.¡±
¡°I like to do things myself,¡± I quipped back.
¡°It¡¯s a little too long around your eyes,¡± noticed my mother. ¡°Can you see?¡±
¡°Very easily.¡±
¡°¡­alright then. If you¡¯re happy, I¡¯m happy.¡± Amalia turned around and headed downstairs. ¡°Come get some breakfast. And you can show your father your new hair.¡±
Part of me was worried about telling Quintin and Amalia about my eyes. I felt it was better to hide things from them until I was more comfortable moving forward.
I quickly got dressed and followed her.
There was one set of stairs in the house. They led to an open loft that was retrofitted into my room years ago. The rest of the house was on a single floor. There was one extra room, a bedroom, for Amalia and Quintin to sleep, and it wasn¡¯t very soundproof, unfortunately. The kitchen was at the bottom of my stairs, and the living room was underneath my loft. It was a large house by Sandy Branch¡¯s standards but cozy for three people. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°Morning, kiddo,¡± said Quintin as I took my place at the kitchen table. He was already devouring eggs and fresh bread. ¡°Why did you do that to your hair?¡±
¡°Why? Is it ugly? Do I look gross?¡± I fretted, lacing my voice with worry. ¡°I-It¡¯ll grow back.¡± I made my voice quiver. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±
¡°N-No! It¡¯s fine. Just wondering!¡± hurried Quintin to explain.
¡°Oh. I just wanted a change of pace. It looks more grown-up this way, huh?¡±
¡°Sure, sure.¡± Quintin went back to eating but paused. ¡°Why do you wanna grow up so fast?¡±
My head was slightly down, and I avoided eye contact. ¡°No reason.¡±
¡°Fine. Keep your secrets.¡±
I played with the sleeve of my shirt. It was long and covered my wrists¡ªintentional on my part. I wasn¡¯t sure if I was ready to tell them about my mark yet. Then the inevitable question of ¡°What color are your eyes?¡± would follow. I¡¯d have to show them the white, and everything would change.
I didn¡¯t want that. Not yet. Not until I had some time to think.
¡°Oh, I can¡¯t practice swordplay with you today. Just focus on archery instead with your free time,¡± said Quintin as I started to eat. ¡°Barcus and his crew are in town again. They¡¯re looking to train his little brother, get him some experience fighting monsters, and earn some coins. They¡¯ve got a job lined up for today, so I¡¯ll be joining them.¡±
¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll practice on my own,¡± I replied. Noticing Quintin¡¯s regretful gaze, I frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that.¡±
¡°Like what?¡± asked Quintin, surprised.
¡°Like I¡¯m a sick dog begging for its owner. I¡¯ll just hit the dummy, shoot a bit, and relax in the forest. Sure, I may cry in the grass wondering why you abandoned me for money, but I¡¯ll get over it. Maybe. If you bring back gifts, I definitely will.¡±
Amalia stood behind me, lightly thumped the back of my head, and took her place at the table with us. ¡°Stop teasing your father. You know he¡¯s sensitive about these kinds of things.¡±
¡°Sorry,¡± I said to Quintin. I didn¡¯t make eye contact with him or Amalia throughout the conversation, and the hair mostly hid my gaze from their views. ¡°Barcus has a brother?¡±
¡°Just awakened a few months ago. He¡¯s twelve, I think. Named Nigel,¡± relayed Quintin. He funneled bites of egg into his mouth between words. ¡°They¡¯re not taking him on contracts quite yet. Still green behind the ears from what I hear.¡±
¡°Oh, if he¡¯s going to be in town by himself, why don¡¯t you tell Barcus to send him over here?¡± said Amalia. ¡°He can play with Yen.¡±
¡°Dunno if a kid that came here to learn to fight wants to play, but I¡¯ll bring it up,¡± said Quintin. He glanced at me. ¡°You fine with that?¡±
Not at all. I thought. ¡°Sure, why not?¡± I said, already dreading the rest of the day. (Ch.6): Cautious, Part 2
After breakfast, Quintin left for work. Amalia went into town to visit friends. I stayed behind to practice my swordsmanship.
I could shoot, kill, and butcher a deer by myself. My parents felt pretty confident that I could be alone at the house for small periods of time without supervision. It was a far cry from the privilege I¡¯d had less than five years prior.
My days generally consisted of shooting my bow and swinging my sword. Not much happened, so time droned on mindlessly. I¡¯d be practicing, and suddenly, it was night. Life moved on too quickly sometimes. It felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall sometimes.
Learning the sword was an¡­ interesting process. We started a little while after I passed Quintin¡¯s hunting test. He forewarned me before we started that my initial lessons would mostly involve me getting smacked around with a wooden sword. I¡¯d seen other children take lessons throughout the decade, and this was apparently the standard course in the world. Quintin said learning to take a hit and not being afraid to give one was vital.
I was initially hesitant during our first lesson. I kept flinching every time Quintin¡¯s sword came near me. My defense dropped, I struggled to hold the sword, and every motion felt foreign and unnatural.
Then I got hit. Quintin tripped me with his sword and smacked my funny bone. It triggered something¡ªa vivid, sharp pain akin to my flesh ripping scattered inside my mind. The second I felt that my fear went away, and I think my pain threshold increased, too.
Quintin was astonished at my growth after that. I felt more comfortable moving and blocking with a sword. I was willing to take blows and dish them out. Granted, I still sucked and never hit Quintin, but I didn¡¯t have the fear first-timers usually did anymore.
Like with most things, I ¡°remembered¡± how to use a sword. The only hard part after that was training my body, and that would take time.
¡°It¡¯s getting easier, but it still doesn¡¯t feel right,¡± I muttered as I practiced overhead cuts on a dummy Quintin made for me. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like swords are my thing. Bows aren¡¯t quite it, either. There¡¯s gotta be something I¡¯m better with.¡±
I was also bothered by what to do about my eyes, Eve, and the fact that I was apparently a psychopath and didn¡¯t even notice it. Exercising was helping me clear my mind, but it only brought about even more questions.
Eve says I need to find someone worth dying for. Someone to love. I recalled, gritting my teeth as I swung my sword. It would give me another person to rely on in the process, regardless of my success in achieving the emotions. I could probably make someone fall in love with me if I tried. I thought about the challenge. If they¡¯re another devil. Around my age. And in the vicinity. Okay, much harder than I thought. Impossible, really. I flinched, stunned. Oh Gods, I have a high chance of dying alone, don¡¯t I?!
That was putting aside the fact that I was already calculating how to use the person I was supposed to love. Yet another sign I wasn¡¯t thinking the right way.
It was weird. I knew the correct way to think. I ¡°remembered¡± what it was like to be empathetic, to care for others, and to love. I saw it in others and felt a strong pull towards those emotions. And yet at the same time, my first instinct was always utilitarian¡ªfocusing on the use of something over any other trait.
Me, me, me. I, I, I. I thought. What¡¯s so wrong with that? Who matters more than me? If I die, everyone else is as good as dead. If I can¡¯t perceive them, then their existence is meaningless. I rationalized. I¡¯m the only person who can see through my eyes. That makes me the most important person in the world. Who¡¯s the say I¡¯m wrong? Why should I try to change anything about myself? It¡¯s gotten me by so far. I¡¯ve survived some horrible shit. Screw Eve! Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Satisfied, I nodded. ¡°Now all I need to do is give myself a pep talk before telling my parents about the mark. They adore me, so I¡¯m not worried.¡± I let out a breath. ¡°I feel soooo much better now.¡±
I went to smack the practice dummy in our yard hard across its head.
¡°I finally found you!¡± A voice called out behind me. ¡°You¡¯re the devil everyone was talking about.¡±
Startled, I spun around with my practice sword raised and aimed it toward the voice.
A large fence surrounded our home. Over the side of said fence, a young boy leaned across it with a loose smile. He looked to be about eleven or twelve years old. Shaggy brown hair sat like a scruffy mop atop his head. His skin was naturally tan, which told me he was outdoors every second he got. He had a kind demeanor based on appearances and a sharp, lazy face. I could tell he had no hatred or ill intent in his words or demeanor.
¡°Who are you?¡± I asked after my assessment. ¡°Who is your brother? Why does he know me?¡±
¡°His name is Barcus! I¡¯m Nigel.¡± He put a hand on his chest and offered me a slight bow. ¡°His little brother.¡±
¡°I know Barcus. He never mentioned a brother before.¡± I said.
I¡¯d learned that information from Quintin, not Barcus, even though I had met Barcus a few times by then. So, technically, I wasn¡¯t lying. Barcus was an adventurer Quintin usually contracted with for work. He¡¯s come through the town a few times in the past few decades. Always memorable.
Nigel¡¯s face saddened slightly at that, but he didn¡¯t drop his smile. He shook his head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter! I¡¯m with him now. I turned twelve and had my awakening, so he and Jessie are training me to use my mana.¡±
¡°This is training? Coming by my house while he¡¯s out with my dad?¡±
¡°You know where my brother is?¡±
¡°Barcus always hires my dad when he needs a guide, and Dad said he¡¯d be gone all day on a job. Putting those pieces together, it¡¯s not hard to assume what happened. You got left behind because you¡¯re not experienced enough, and they didn¡¯t want to worry about you.¡± I cocked my head to the side. ¡°That sound about right?¡±
¡°Oh wow! It is!¡± said Nigel with a chipper expression. I expected him to get angry at my words, but he ignored them, it seemed. ¡°You¡¯re smart.¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far.¡±
¡°My brother loves your dad. Says he¡¯s a great man.¡± Nigel thumped his chest proudly. ¡°We¡¯re in town for about a month. My brother picked up a few contracts and thought this would be a good place to train me¡ªthat the monsters here were weaker than normal and good experience for beginners.¡± He smiled. ¡°When we were traveling this way, my brother kept talking about how his usual guide took in a forest devil as a kid. It was all he talked about on the way here from Port Prosper. He said the girl was nice and smart and I should try to befriend her. And your dad said I should stop by if I¡¯m bored, so here I am!¡±
What a weird way to describe me. Then again, it was probably notable that two humans adopted a devil and raised it like their own kid. I¡¯d probably have mentioned it to others, too, in Barcus¡¯s shoes.
¡°Nice? He knows me so well,¡± I said sarcastically, then sighed. ¡°We were both left behind for roughly the same reason, then. Interesting. I don¡¯t feel as bad about myself now.¡±
¡°Really? Have you awakened? I see you¡¯re training. Do you want to become an adventurer, too?¡± asked Nigel, excited. He strained to look at my face, but I turned away from him. ¡°What color are your eyes?¡±
I grimaced. ¡°That¡¯s a little personal, isn¡¯t it? It just happened a little while ago. My parents don¡¯t even know yet.¡±
¡°O-Oh! I¡¯m sorry. Never mind. I won¡¯t ask. How about I show you mine instead?¡± Before I could say anything, Nigel coursed energy throughout his body. ¡°See?¡±
I could not see his eyes very well before, but now that they were glowing, they were hard to miss. They, both his wrists, and the four rings around the fingers on both his hands glow a light brown. Brown was considered the weakest mana level a person could possibly possess. It was still stronger than someone with black eyes because that meant they couldn¡¯t use mana.
Most people awakened at that level, and Nigel could always raise his mana by hunting living creatures. It¡¯d have been easier for him if he¡¯d awakened with green eyes or better, but such is life. There was obviously nothing special about the boy.
If I have to use someone, I¡¯d rather they be strong. I thought, refining my standards.
¡°I¡¯m not very strong yet, but I¡¯ll get stronger,¡± admitted Nigel as if reading my mind. ¡°What¡¯s yours like?¡±
¡°Again, private,¡± I retorted quickly. To be honest, I¡¯d already told him too much without thinking. His personality was so bubbly and childish that I let my guard down. ¡°Don¡¯t pry. It¡¯s rude.¡±
¡°Awww,¡± pouted Nigel. ¡°Fine, I guess.¡±
¡°My power¡¯s just so overwhelming it might cause you to cower in fear and awe at my pure genius,¡± I said in a clearly sarcastic way to lighten the mood.
¡°The only thing overwhelming about you is your beauty,¡± Nigel said without hesitation. (Ch.6): Cautious, Part 3
I nearly choked.
Nigel laughed. ¡°Sorry! I¡¯ve always wanted to say that. Brother uses it a lot on women when we travel.¡± His face filled with a hint of dismay. ¡°And it always meant sharing a room with Garreth and Bydon afterward.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Your face was priceless.¡±
¡°I was terrified,¡± I said, etching fear into my voice.
Nigel froze. ¡°Wait! I¡¯m sorry! I didn¡¯t mean it like that! Promise!¡±
¡°Because I¡¯m an ugly devil girl. I know¡­¡± I said. My voice trailed off intentionally. ¡°Why would anyone ever think I was pretty?¡±
¡°N-No! I, uh¡­¡± Nigel¡¯s voice failed. His face flushed with embarrassment as he stared vacantly at the ground while searching his brain for any answer.
Those words would have been more effective if Nigel were older. And talking to someone other than me. I could tell he¡¯d be handsome in a few years, but he was just a brat right now. It was kind of adorable to tease him, though. Plus, he was very easy to read and manipulate. I kind of liked that.
¡°I¡¯m just messing with you. Sorry,¡± I admitted after a few more moments of watching him stew.
Nigel pouted. ¡°No, I messed up and made you uncomfortable. I¡¯m sorry, too. You¡¯re just covering for me.¡±
Well, he was nice but not the smartest person in the world. If he ever formed a party, Nigel needed a mean, loyal person in it. Otherwise, he¡¯d be tricked or killed.
¡°Not at all,¡± I said truthfully. ¡°Chin up! Be more confident in yourself. I¡¯ve only known you for like five minutes, and I can already tell people walk all over you. Be assertive.¡±
¡°Really? I guess you¡¯re right. Jessie says that all the time.¡± Nigel scratched his head. His face blushed, and he looked at me. ¡°Okay! Confidence!¡± He offered me his hand. ¡°Let¡¯s be friends!¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
I balked. ¡°Why?¡±
¡°Why not?¡± he threw back. Uncomfortable laughter distorted his voice.
¡°You want to be friends with a devil? We don¡¯t even know each other. I could be aweful.¡±
¡°Why not? There¡¯s a sea devil in Port Prosper I¡¯m friends with. His brother sometimes worked with my brother on jobs, so we played in the guild halls whenever they were gone. I liked him. Plus, there are two in Barcus¡¯s party. Bydon¡¯s a beast devil, and Tart¡¯s a forest devil. They¡¯ve both been with him for years and he trusts them and they¡¯re nice. Well, Bydon¡¯s nice. Why wouldn¡¯t I like you just because you¡¯re a devil?¡±
Wow. What a surprising, mature response. I¡¯m impressed.
¡°Annnnd if you¡¯re my friend, you can show me around town and tell me what¡¯s fun to do here,¡± continued Nigel. ¡°I am stuck here for a month.¡±
¡°You went from hitting on me to asking me to be your friend to using friendship as an excuse for a date. Scary.¡±
Nigel crinkled his nose. ¡°How old are you?¡±
¡°Ten.¡±
¡°Why do you talk like you¡¯re an old person?¡±
I shrugged. ¡°I like hunting and learning. Seeing things die and asking lots of questions ages you.¡±
¡°O-Oh.¡± Nigel paused. ¡°Then I¡¯m probably too immature for you to want to be around.¡±
¡°How old are you?¡±
¡°Twelve. I-I already said that¡­¡±
Well, at least he wasn¡¯t young. It was concerning how na?ve he is given his age, but he doesn¡¯t seem like a bad person.
While I had friends, none sought me out to do things. While not outright judgmental, their parents were wary of me as a devil. There were also no family of devils living in Sandy Branch. It meant I spent a lot of time by myself. I was a little bored being by myself all the time.
All I was gonna do today was swing a sword, eat, and sleep. I haven¡¯t done anything with anyone besides my parents in a while. Why not? It¡¯d be a boon to have at least one extra person in this world who somewhat likes me. I haven¡¯t had someone try to talk to me like I¡¯m normal since my ears got revealed. It¡¯d be a nice change of pace. Plus, it¡¯ll get mem out the house. And I think saying no to this kid would make him cry. As fun as that might be, it would draw too much attention. Oh well.
¡°Fine!¡± I chimed. ¡°You can be my friend!¡±
¡°Really? Great!¡± Nigel¡¯s eyes melted with happiness. They twitched after a moment, though. ¡°Why did you phrase it like you were doing me a favor?¡±
¡°Never mind. I take it back.¡± I lifted my sword and continued my practice. ¡°Go away,¡± I ordered him as my cheeks tinged red with embarrassment.
All I heard was laughter behind me as Nigel crossed over the fence to plan our day and chat.