The First Taste of Blood:
Zeron stands amid the aftermath of his first brutal conflict. The air is thick with acrid smoke, a pungent reminder of the violence that has just transpired. Blood stains the ground beneath him—both his own and that of the countless warriors who fell before him. The battlefield, once full of clashing steel and screams, now lies silent, save for the occasional groan of the dying and the distant echo of battle horns.
He has no recollection of the specifics—no memory of the names of the men he fought, no sense of the passing hours. All he knows is the overwhelming surge of power that flooded his body as he tore through them. His limbs, fluid with raw energy, moved almost of their own volition, driven by the storm of rage that had consumed him. His hands—slick with blood—still tremble, but not from fear. The feeling isn't fear. It's hunger, a deep, primal need to fight again.
The cold weight of emptiness settles in his chest. The satisfaction of victory is fleeting, like the last remnants of a dream slipping from his grasp. There's no glory in this, no joy. Only the cold void where emotions should be.
Is this all he is? A monster born of violence? A weapon with no purpose other than destruction?
As the battlefield grows quiet, a figure emerges from the smoke, cutting through the haze like a shadow—Rael. His presence is imposing, but his movements are measured, deliberate. Unlike the chaos that Zeron has just witnessed, Rael's calm is unsettling in its contrast.
"You've killed many," Rael observes, his voice low, as if acknowledging a necessary but unsavory task. "But killing is easy. It takes no skill, no wisdom. Control is what separates beasts from men. That is the true measure of strength."
Zeron's brow furrows. Control. He doesn't understand. Doesn't it matter that he's powerful? That he has strength beyond that of any mortal? To him, power is everything—it's survival. But Rael's eyes pierce into him, as if seeing straight through his skin, to the confusion and emptiness within.
Rael continues, "Without control, your power is a weapon of chaos. A storm that destroys everything, including its wielder. You will burn brightly, but you will burn out, just as the great warriors before you have. You will be consumed by your rage, and you will fall."
Zeron clenches his fists, his fingers curling instinctively around the blood-soaked hilt of his sword. He doesn't need control, he tells himself. His power is enough. Yet, Rael's words linger, gnawing at him in the silence.
Rael leads Zeron away from the battlefield. As they walk through the desolate landscape, Zeron becomes aware of the vastness of the world around him. The bloodshed he has caused feels insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The world is much larger than the small pocket of warlords and kingdoms he's come from. It's a place where he is not a person but an anomaly—born from the forbidden ritual, an experiment that should never have happened.
In the silence of the journey, Zeron's mind churns. Why was he created? Was he born to be a mere tool of war? A weapon to be wielded by those with power? Or was he meant for something more?
Rael's voice breaks through his thoughts. "You are not like the others. You were not born from ambition, or fate. You were forged in blood and violence—an anomaly. But even anomalies can find a purpose."
Zeron does not reply. His mind is still clouded, but something stirs deep within him—a flicker of something that isn't rage. Could there be a purpose beyond destruction?
Rael's presence offers a strange comfort. Zeron doesn't fully understand it, but for the first time, he feels as if he is not entirely alone in the world. Perhaps he doesn't have to be a monster forever.
Rael begins to teach Zeron not just how to fight, but how to understand himself. Combat is more than raw strength; it is a mental and emotional discipline. Rael teaches him that the mind must be as sharp as the sword if one is to wield power effectively. But above all, Zeron must learn to control his rage.
The lessons are grueling. Zeron's instincts resist every step. His inner beast rages against restraint. The monster within him howls, its fangs gnashing in protest. He wants to release it, to tear through every obstacle with reckless abandon. But Rael's steady hand and clear-eyed wisdom are unyielding.
There are moments when Zeron feels as if the beast inside will consume him whole. But then, slowly, Rael's teachings begin to sink in. Zeron learns to take a breath before striking, to focus his mind before allowing his body to act. He learns to recognize the signs of his anger before it explodes, to channel the rage in a controlled direction, like a flood diverted into a river. But it's a constant battle. For every small victory, there are countless moments when he is on the brink of losing himself again.
Zeron isn't just training his body; he is fighting his very nature. It is as though he is slowly being reshaped, but the process is agonizing. The beast within is not easily subdued. It will take time, Rael warns him. Patience. Mastery over oneself will come with time, not force.
Zeron is far from mastering control, but the world around him is quick to recognize his raw potential. Rumors of his strength spread like wildfire, and before long, leaders of the warring factions take notice. His power is a commodity, one that they are eager to claim for their own purposes.
The first to approach him is Selene—a woman whose beauty is as dangerous as her ruthlessness. She offers Zeron an alliance, but not in terms of comradeship. No, Selene seeks to own him, to use his power as a means to further her own ambitions. In return, she promises to provide him with the means to master his rage. She will offer him the tools he needs to control himself, she says, even as she subtly manipulates his emotions, playing to his vulnerabilities.
Zeron is wary. He doesn't trust her, but he does not yet understand the intricacies of power—the games that must be played. Selene's offer feels like a lifeline, but Zeron soon realizes that every alliance in this world is born from self-interest. Loyalty, as he will soon discover, is something to be bought, not earned.
Selene, with all her cunning and allure, is no different from the forces that seek to destroy him. She is a master of manipulation, and Zeron is beginning to see the true cost of his power. To trust anyone in this world is to invite betrayal.
As Chapter 2 comes to a close, Zeron stands at a precipice. His journey has just begun. The road ahead is fraught with danger, and the world's power struggles beckon him like a siren's call. His understanding of control is growing, but so is his awareness of the deeper complexities of his existence. The choices he makes now will shape the man he will become—if he can ever shed the weight of the beast within him.
One thing is certain: Zeron will not be a pawn for long. Whether he becomes a monster or a man is yet to be seen. But the beast inside him is not gone. It waits, ever-patient, for the next fight, the next moment of bloodshed. And Zeron knows that it is only a matter of time before the storm will break again.