Damian sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, all centered around Ashford's unexpected offer to adopt him.
The idea of becoming Ashford's adopted son had come out of nowhere, leaving Damian both honored and bewildered. He had always seen himself as an outsider, someone who didn't quite fit in anywhere. The notion that someone as influential and powerful as Ashford saw potential in him was both exhilarating and terrifying.
'Why me?' he wondered, his brow furrowing in thought. 'What does he see in me that I can't see in myself?'
He thought back to the conversation with Ashford, the warmth in the old man's voice, and the sincerity in his eyes. Despite his frail appearance, Ashford exuded a strength and wisdom that Damian found both comforting and intimidating. The offer to become part of Ashford's family was a chance to belong, to have a place where he was valued and supported.
But with that excitement came fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of failure, and fear of the expectations that would come with such a significant change. He glanced around his room, the familiar surroundings suddenly feeling foreign and uncertain.
"That type of happiness, does it really belong to me"
'Can I really do this?' he asked himself. 'Can I live up to Ashford's expectations?'
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in his head. He knew he needed to make a decision, but it wasn't one to be made lightly. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with potential dangers and challenges. But it was also a path that would allow him to get closer to his goal of revenge .
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room in twilight, Damian made a silent vow to himself. He would think it over, weigh his options, and when the time was right, he would make his choice. For now, he would take it one step at a time, knowing that whatever decision he made, it would shape the course of his future in ways he couldn't yet imagine.
As Damian sat in contemplation, a knock came at the door, breaking the silence. He looked up, momentarily startled from his thoughts.
"Yes?" he called out.
"Damian, sir, it's Alfred," came the familiar voice from the other side of the door.
"Come in," Damian replied, his curiosity piqued.
The door opened, and Alfred stepped inside, his expression as composed as ever. "I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said, his tone respectful.
"Not at all, Alfred," Damian said, trying to mask the turmoil of thoughts still swirling in his mind. "What can I do for you?"
Alfred closed the door behind him and approached Damian. "I wanted to check on you, sir. I know Lord Ashford's proposal was quite unexpected. How are you feeling about it?"
Damian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I'm still trying to process it all. It's a lot to take in."
Alfred nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "It's a significant decision, and it's natural to feel overwhelmed."
"You know, Ashford is just like you In a way"
"And how is that?" Damian asked
"Ashford's early days were a far cry from the life of privilege he now led. Born a commoner, he was one of the worst off, having no family to speak of. His parents had abandoned him when he was just a child, leaving him to fend for himself on the unforgiving streets. He didn't know any relatives, and the concept of family was a distant dream.
Every day was a struggle for survival. Ashford would beg and cry on the streets, hoping for a scrap of food or a kind word. More often than not, he was met with indifference or outright hostility. Passers-by would kick him in the stomach for disturbing their peace, and gradually, a deep-seated hatred began to build inside him. He hated his existence, he hated the parents who had brought him into this world only to abandon him, and he longed for nothing more than to find them and exact his revenge.
Despite the bitterness that consumed him, there was one line Ashford never crossed: he never stole. No matter how hungry he was, he refused to take what wasn't his. He would rather starve than compromise his principles.
Then, one day, a miracle happened. Ashford was being picked on by other beggars, as was often the case. They taunted him, pushed him around, and he felt the familiar sting of helplessness and rage. But this time, something inside him snapped. The anger that had been simmering for years reached a boiling point, and in that moment of pure, unadulterated emotion, Ashford's soul awakened.
There are two ways to awaken one's soul. The first is through the deliberate absorption of soul particles in the air, a method that requires patience and discipline. The second, far rarer, is through the sheer force of pure emotion. To achieve this, one must reach the peak of their feelings—whether it be happiness, sadness, or anger. Ashford's awakening was of the latter kind, driven by the intense anger and despair that had defined his life.
That day, Ashford awakened a rare and powerful constitution known as God's Eyes. This extraordinary ability allowed him to see the very shape and nature of a person's soul, delve into their thoughts, and predict their next actions. God's Eyes also had the terrifying power to destroy other people's souls in a single glance. Such a gift was one in a million, making Ashford incredibly valuable.
Unfortunately for Ashford, his awakening did not go unnoticed. A nobleman, recognizing the immense potential of God's Eyes, captured Ashford with the intention of training him to become a loyal soldier and pet.
But Ashford was not one to be easily controlled. He bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. When the opportunity arose, he killed the nobleman and seized his title, freeing himself from the chains of servitude.
However, there was a hidden, sinister cost to wielding God's Eyes. The more Ashford used this cursed power, the more it devoured his very essence. His life force drained away, leaving him a shadow of his former self. His eyesight dimmed, and his vitality waned, a grim reminder that such power always demands a dreadful price.
"This is how Ashford came to be like this. Believe it or not, I'm actually older than Ashford," Alfred said, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"To this day, Ashford is still despised for killing the nobleman. He is discriminated against because he was born a commoner. It pains me deeply that I can't do anything to help him," Alfred continued, his voice trembling with emotion.
Ashford and I later met his parents, but the words he spoke that day shocked me to my core. He said, 'Thank you for giving birth to me,' "
"That was what he said and with that, he walked away from them. His parents stood there, frozen in shock, unable to move even after we left."
Alfred turned to stare at Ashford, only to be stunned by the sight of Damian staring back at him.
"Oh, sorry," Damian apologized, "It's the first time I've ever seen you get emotional."
"But what I don't understand is, why are you telling me all this?" Damian asked, confusion etched on his face.
Alfred managed a faint smile and said, "Because there's one more power of the God's Eyes that I haven't mentioned."
"And what is that exactly?" Damian inquired,
"It is, the power to see into the past of others," Alfred revealed.
Hearing this, Damian's eyes widened in shock, and a cold, deadly look appeared on his face as he cast a menacing stare at Alfred. The atmosphere immediately turning tense