[This is a transcript of my time with the Seer. For the years that we were both prisoners of the Monarch, I was tasked with bringing him rations.
I didn't know who I was assigned to at first. One day, I was led deep below the surface, past all the usual cells, to an enormous room in the back of the hallway, constructed with no bars, only hewn stone bricks. Even the door was built of metal woven with magic.
And the man himself? His matted black hair and head hung low, which only briefly twitched to acknowledge our presence, were nothing extraordinary. But he was chained to the wall at every joint, rigid purple lines stretched across his lithe body down to his toes and fingertips, and a set of bandages wrapped around his eyes. That's when I understood who I'd been assigned to, and I knew I had to hear his story.
This is my treasure, because no matter the circumstances he's in, his regality shines through.]
...
Enough.
Since you have the persistence to hound me every night, yet lack the decency to let a broken man grieve in peace, I will answer your frivolous questions. I am as you say, Kazunari the Seer, the man with eyes that could see the future, and you want to know about these empty sockets, don't you?
Ha, I don't need them to predict what you'll say.
...
First, I'll tell you how I earned my name.
Years ago, I led my first raid on a slaver outpost. The Commander stationed me at that sector in hopes that my newfound ability and stellar combat prowess would inspire the people there.
I was alone in the war tent, deliberately fastening the straps on a leather chestpiece and the sheaths for my two daggers. I ran a hand over my chest, the armor and a thin tunic separated my hand and the insignia carved onto the left side, right over my heart, that burnt out slave crest. Three licks of flame trapped in a cube, a deep purple for most of my life, blackened after I broke free.
Namikawa joined me inside the tent. She wore her usual cloak masking whatever she had on underneath, but her silver catalyst was around her neck, instead of in her hand. I knew what that meant, but had to ask anyway.
"Will you be joining us?"
"I'm more useful on base. Doesn't mean I won't cheer you on though."
I nodded and peeked outside. To be honest, I was more than a little nervous about speaking in front of so many people. But I took a deep breath and stepped out. The fact that my presence commanded attention was something I'd have to get used to, and when I saw the look of camaraderie and utter trust on my allies' faces, the mental blocks cleared, and the feelings I wanted to express flowed out with ease.
"Today, we strike back at those who subjugated us. I can see it already, our victory is certain!"
.
I died many times that day.
The first time, I got tangled up with their leader's bodyguards. A sharp cold punctured my heart. The high pressure blood immediately burst forward, flooding my lungs with a sickly warmth. For a moment, my mouth tasted of iron.
Then, time stilled.
I winced and looked down at the crimson stained blade jutting outwards and the droplets splattered across my chest. Though my body did not follow the motions of my "soul," my physical body remained as it was at death, but "I" could move at will. I reached back for the hilt, my hands clasping over the fingers of whoever killed me. With an inaudible grunt, I pulled it out in a fluid motion. The blade did not leave my body at the angle it should have if I was the one who'd removed it. At a glance, the man behind me had yet to strike. There was no blood on my chest, and the wound vanished like I'd never been hurt.
Time resumed, and I immediately stepped left. My would-be killer stumbled forward and nicked his ally on the arm. I slit both their throats before they could blink.
Then I faced their leader. The ground was slick with viscera and I'd lost my footing. My killer's sick grin framed against the sky branded itself into my mind as she heaved her enormous hammer down on my skull. I felt it splinter, caving in, and I was dead before my brain matter pulp could hit the ground.
Time paused, waiting for my move.
I ignored the throbbing, a tight crown of ghost pain that stretched between my temples. I pushed the hammer back as my flesh and bone knit together. Motion resumed and I rolled to the side, narrowly dodging but still feeling the resounding thud through the ground beneath me.
I got to my feet. She left the hammer half buried in the shattered cobblestone and instead swiftly hurled a smaller one at me. I ducked right, but it caught me between my neck and shoulder. After a violent crack, a shock of pain echoed through my body. I staggered. She pulled the hammer back by the thick chains and whipped the other end around my leg before I could gather myself. A yank and she brought me to the ground again.
My heart thumped in my ears. Each hair stood on end, every muscle tensed. My instinct to shield myself and blunt the attack screamed through my mind, but I forced it down.
Take the death, I thought. And her hammer snapped my spine.
I sighed, emitting no air or sound, and wrenched the hammer out. The veins and tendons in my neck realigned, but my collarbone stayed broken. This time, I grabbed the chain tangled around my leg and pulled downwards. She lost her grip on the chain and stumbled. I kicked her feet out from under her, pinned her dominant hand to the ground with my boot, and brought my knife down on her chest.
I cut off her head, a grisly task for such a small knife. Eventually, I used her own hammer to break through her neck. Ironic, really.
I stepped out onto the balcony and held her severed head for all to see. Blood dripped down into the crowd.
"Rejoice, my comrades! Their leader is dead by my hand!"
Resounding cheers filled the air. My allies pushed forward, the remaining enemies scattered or surrendered, and we took the outpost.
.
Afterwards, Namikawa visited me in the hospital.
"Have you heard? They're calling you Kazunari the Seer."
"I'm flattered, but why?"
"Some kid in scouting came up with it. He heard your speech and saw you in action. Guess he was impressed." She took a long drink from her flask. Given her flush, it was not water. "I still think you should call it Future Eyes."
I laughed and shoved her. She snickered and offered me a drink, but the nurse slapped it away.
She waved as she left. "Make sure to join us at the victory party, oh clairvoyant one."
...
It was a misnomer, ultimately. I cannot see the future, but that's what the others thought.
Hm? What does it matter if people know? My time as a hero is over.
...
By the next morning, my collarbone had been bandaged up, and Namikawa was at my side, grumbling and rubbing her temples as she read me the report. Her bun was lopsided, and her usually silky black hair was all crimped, with strays all over the place.
"-a dozen dead, about three times as many injured, most of whom are expected to recover without long term effects." She wobbled a bit, clenched her eyes shut for a moment, and groaned.
"Not vomiting the day after? Congratulations, your alcohol tolerance has improved!"
"Shut up. Nishimori was there and I made a good impression. I'm satisfied with the outcome." She cut her finger on the paper and cursed. "We found stores of food, weapons, magic paper, and miscellaneous supplies. The current estimates are-"
"Nishimori is the head doctor right?"
"Mhm."
"So that's why you've been visiting me so much."
"Wouldn't want to think of you and your collarbone between all the flirting."
"Ouch. Are you together?"
"Not yet." She squinted at the page and, giving up, threw the report onto my lap. "Screw this, read it yourself."
I laughed and leafed through. About half a page in, Namikawa started humming. It had a strangely solemn, yet hopeful feel to it.
"What's the song?" I asked.
"Nishimori's been singing it to herself. Last girlfriend left her recently, the dumb bitch." She muttered the last part. "I can't get it out of my head.
When your heart breaks to bits of glass,
forget who it was that you embraced last.
Shall we laugh together and vanish?
The future is longer than the past."
"Never thought I'd hear you sing a love song."
"Love makes poets of everyone."
Someone coughed and lifted the white cloth door. A scout or messenger by the looks of him.
"Namikawa sir, we require your assistance."
"What is it?"
"We found the slave keep, it's populated. None of us have the skillset to undo the seals, and the other mages are occupied."
My eyes narrowed immediately. Namikawa's too. We both stood, and I took the report with me.
"Take us there."
.
The scout led us down the spiraling stone staircase of a tower. The sunlight gradually vanished. Inside, the air was damp and smelled of mildew. I shivered at the resemblance.
Then I saw the people chained to the wall, glowing purple seals on their chest. The ones with more meat on their bones, any semblance of muscle, and the tightest chains were the combat slaves. Mostly adults or older teens. The sick and elderly were loosely restrained, the manacles had room to slide down their arms, but not out of benevolence. They were left to die.
One of our men located the key and set about unlocking everyone. Namikawa knelt and began undoing their seals.
She placed a hand over the seal on their chest and murmured. "This might burn." Most of them tensed in anticipation, but were surprised by the comfortable warmth. With a quiet sizzle, the seal faded to black and they were free. They embraced and thanked her.
I couldn't focus on the report, so I spoke to them instead.
"Can any of you tell me about who imprisoned you? Warden, catcher, anything."
A young woman about my age responded. "Most of us were captured by a short man with orange hair."
"Dirty orange hair." Someone chimed in.
"And he wasn't short, just hunched over a lot."
"Yeah, that's right."
"Never caught his name."
"Pale, baggy face, some red welts on it."
I wrote this all down on the back of the report. "Did he sniffle a lot?"
"Yes! How did you know?"
"He got me too." I wrote 'STING - CATCHER' above all the descriptors. "Who placed the seals?"
"A tall woman with long silver hair. I think her name was-"
I snapped the charcoal I was writing with.
"Mesmer." I hissed.
...
I'll never forget being held down as a child and branded. True to her title as "Witch of Gelicide," her touch left a bitter, biting frost on my skin. I remember screaming through most of it. Half conscious by the end, I looked in horror at the freshly carved shape on my chest.
She smiled, as if satisfied by her work. "One thing left." Her voice was low and smooth, cloying almost, but with immeasurable power behind it.
"Acknowledge me as your master."
With those words, she wrenched control from me. It was as if my body was rejecting commands from my mind. My throat and mouth and vocal cords acted without my will, even the basic agency of speech was stripped from me.
"Master, your will is my command."
I didn't have the power to spit those words with the proper hatred. Hearing that said with reverence and sincerity from me was not merely disgusting, it was violating.
The next moment I regained control I unleashed all the vitriol I was capable of as a child. She laughed, and I was dragged away to be beaten for my insolence.
I didn't remember the pain so much as the deep sense of defilement. I wasn't mine anymore, and that realization scared me more than any simple violence could.
...
When Namikawa finished, I stood and nodded to the freed slaves.
"You're free to go. You're free to stay. You are yours again."
.
I walked ahead quickly. She caught up to me.
"Kazunari, are you okay?"
"Excellent. I've never been so eager to tear Mesmer to shreds."
"What drives you?"
"Isn't it obvious? The world is better without the likes of them."
"Would you still be so keen on killing them if they reformed?"
"They never would."
"But if they did."
"They'd still deserve it. I can't rest until they get what's coming to them."
"The root is plain vengeance then."
Something about those words irked me. "Is that so wrong?"
"It's not my motive of choice, but I understand it. Ultimately, I just want to see you happy."
The best at disarming me as always. But still, I couldn't let go of the bitterness.
"I'll be happy when they're dead."