"As if I'd let my family die. From the first day, I'd been fighting."
From the day the gates opened and the monsters hit us wave after wave, I'd been fighting and weirdly enough…
The more I killed, the stronger I got.
I didn't need to engrave any rune on my body, or rather, I was already born with one engraved, not just one but multiple, in fact.
Just like that, unknowingly, I'd become the first and strongest slayer to ever be.
Day after day, my wife and I along with our little princess dove into gate worlds and fought for a better day, a better world.
After the royal family came out with the news about the runes, I was delighted as it meant my little wifey could finally get stronger with us, as my daughter had somehow inherited the same traits I had.
We continued battling, everyday, without rest but now, we weren't alone.
Other remarkable slayers rose from the ashes of our destroyed world and fought alongside me as over time, our legend spread far and wide.
History knew us as the Holy Six.
After thousands of years spent fighting, for some reason, the Izvuldurs, left.
Just like that.
The confusion that bloomed within my aged heart was hard to describe but it was quickly replaced by an overwhelming sensation of joy and accomplishment as on that day the entirety of our planet celebrated and commemorated this day like never before.
Peace returned to Gaïa and without any hesitation I put my weapons away and instantly moved to the country side with my beautiful wife. I mean, was there more to life than having a good farm, animals and a loving wife?
"I can think of a f-"
No there isn't.
The younger generation took over as I could finally rest my old bones.
The war was over and I had managed to protect my family and bring peace back to the world but there was a hole, a tiny hole within my heart.
Old man Lakria.
He hadn't died, I knew that for a fact. I was powerful enough to engulf entire solar systems with my mind, if he was dead I would've found his body or even remains of his being.
But no, there was nothing. Not even a trace. That old bastard had disappeared without a word.
I knew he had dark secrets within that aged skull of his but how bad could it have been for him to leave without telling me anything?
He hadn't even been able to meet his granddaughter.
Though this saddened me, I didn't linger on it any further. He was of my blood, and the secrets of the runes I was born with should be the same on him. If I managed to survive, so could he, or atleast, I hoped so.
Time passed and the scars this war had left on my heart healed and the light of day blessed my bloodied existence but as usual, darkness loomed over the horizon.
When I came back home that day, a basket of fruits and bread in hand, my heart dropped.
Blood.
That's all I could see.
That's all I could smell.
As I stood there, her screams of horror and suffering transcended the boundaries of time and reached me.
Getting on my knees, I tried grasping at what was left of my wife, my beautiful wife.
My world, my rock, my anchor, my everything.
"Looking back, this day is probably the most pivotal event of my life. It affected me in ways I still see today."
"Oh? Why's that?"
"You'll see."
When I got to my daughter's house, seeing the same horrifying scene, I kneeled, my forehead stuck to the ground as tears of blood flowed down my expressionless face.
I stayed in this position for ten years.
When I got up, the light within my eyes had dimmed but the fire within had kept burning, its flames even mightier.
I had almost broken, almost.
One thing my grandfather always told me was that a man's strength was measured by his ability to love and forgive.
At the time, I was young, too young to understand and I often disagreed but then, as a man that had lived for millennias…
I still disagreed.
On that day, I'd decided to be the weakest man to ever be as the fury I'd unleash on the world would be one to remember.
After burying what was left of both of my loved ones, I vanished, knowing where to head.
It was all too obvious, especially for a slayer like me who specialised in mental abilities.
On the first day, news of the death of five of the holy six spread like wildfire as panic rapidly spread.
On the second day, the mutilated bodies of all their family members had been found.
On the third day, I had left Gaïa, my sights set on a very specific silver piece of land.
"Wait, what? Why did you kill them?" Asked the voice, its tone less authoritative and more inquisitive, my storytelling skills had clearly reeled him in.
"Because they were the ones that killed them. No one and I mean absolutely no one would've been able to even have such a thought without me knowing, though I came from a weak mortal world, my mental abilities were out of this world." I calmly answered.
"Why did they do that? You were on good terms with them all, no?"
"I was but they were sellouts. The Izvuldurs had paid them to kill me and my family."
When I arrived on the Izvuldurs home planet, a carnage never seen before was unleashed.
I was undying, I refused to. I refused to die before they all perished, I refused to die before their race was extinct and their planet was turned to ashes.
Just like that, I spent my last days fighting against hordes upon hordes of Izvuldurs, a sad yet fitting end.
On that day, when my eyes closed and I succumbed to death, I had expected to be awoken within the deepest pits of hell as the blood on my hands had gotten too heavy but to my surprise, I woke up facing a man, or being that claimed to be God.
That was the start of my second and most eventful life.