I was just a boy, shivering beneath a thin cloth blanket in the cramped, rattling cart of our caravan. The screams outside tore through the night like jagged shards of glass. My mother. My father. The mercenaries we'd hired for protection. Even the workers who had laughed just hours before. One by one, they fell to the bandits' blades.
I clamped my hands over my ears, pressing as hard as I could, but it was useless. The cries and the clash of steel drowned everything else. My heart pounded so loud I thought it would burst. I couldn't block it out. No matter how tightly I pressed, no matter how much I wanted to disappear, the sound of death was everywhere.
Then, the carts began to creak and groan as the bandits moved through them, one by one. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping, praying they'd pass me by. But when the blanket was ripped away, the cold air hit my face like a slap.
I was trembling.
I couldn't stop it, no matter how much I willed my body to still. But my face… I kept it set. My lips pressed into a tight line, my eyes wide but unblinking. I didn't know if it was courage or just fear so deep it numbed me.
The bandit who pulled the blanket sneered, leaning down to look me in the eye. "Hey, boss!" he called out. "Got something here you might want to see!"
Footsteps thudded against the dirt, heavy and deliberate. Then he appeared. A hulking man with a thick black beard, his buzz-cut hair making his piercing brown eyes even sharper. He crouched down, studying me for a moment.
"I like that courage of yours," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Men, raise him. I want you to turn him into a killing machine."
They dragged me out of the cart, and from that moment, I stopped being a boy and was forced to become a man.
At first, I didn't eat the food they brought me. I didn't move. I didn't speak. But when I refused to train, they beat me. Hard. Their fists and boots left me gasping, choking on my tears as they shoved the cold, tasteless food down my throat. Made me train until my body collapsed. My joints ached in ways I didn't think were possible. Every muscle felt torn apart as if it were peeling from my bones. And when the next day came, they did it all over again.
Day after day. Pain after pain. The little scraps of food I received barely keeping me alive. The few hours I slept at night due to the constant fear of getting beat just barely keeping me rested.
I grew angrier with every blow, every cruel laugh. And when I turned twelve, they decided I was ready.
They brought me on a raid. I followed them into homes, through villages, watching as they burned and stole. At first, I thought I'd hate them more for what they made me do. But it wasn't them I hated. It was the people. The ones who weren't like us. The ones who had everything, who lived without the constant sting of hunger, the weight of fear hanging in the air as they slept.
I hated their ease.
Their fortune… despite me having just that not too long ago.
That hate became the fire that kept me moving.
By the time I was fifteen, I had clawed my way to the top of the bandit ranks. I wasn't the leader, but I was close enough that nobody dared cross me. Not unless they had a death wish.
I was angry all the time. Not just angry—boiling, seething. It never stopped. Anyone who thought they could take my spot ended up in the dirt. Brutal, bloody, and dead. I didn't care who they were.
Why was I so full of rage?
I hated everything. The bandits. The world. Myself. I lashed out at everyone. The leader didn't seem to care. He said I was useful—a nice little weapon to send out when we hit caravans or villages. He liked watching me work, said it was "good for morale."
But I hated him too. I didn't want revenge for my parents. They were gone. Revenge wouldn't bring them back. I wanted to kill him just because he existed, because he was in front of me, because he wouldn't die no matter how many times I tried.
Why was I so full of rage?
I challenged him constantly. Over meals, after raids, whenever the anger boiled over too much to keep in. I came at him with everything I had. Every time, he knocked me down like I was nothing. He never killed me, though. He didn't even seem mad. He'd just fight until he got bored and knock me out with one punch.
Life as a bandit wasn't easy. I was starving half the time, exhausted the other half. The mountains were cold, the raids were brutal, and I hated yet loved every second of it. I complained about it, over and over, but I didn't change a thing. I didn't leave. I didn't try to make it better. I just fought. Always fighting.
Why was I so full of rage?
Then one day, everything came crashing down—literally.
We were moving through the Jagged Pass in the Sunbolt Mountains when I slipped. One wrong step, and I went tumbling down a ravine. Rocks tore at my skin, and when I hit the bottom, I couldn't move. The pain was blinding. Both my legs were broken.
I started crawling. Dragging myself forward, inch by inch. My arms screamed in pain, but I didn't stop. When my arms finally gave out, I bit into the dirt and pulled myself forward with my teeth. Every inch felt like a mile. The anger burned hotter than the pain. At myself. At the world. At everything.
Why was I so full of rage?
Yet, even in my clouded rage, I knew I had no choice but to keep moving otherwise, there was only one outcome: death.
I dragged myself forward, my body ready to give out completely. The edges of my vision blurred, and my breath came in shallow gasps. Then, I heard it—a faint squirming noise.
My head snapped up. My whole body ignited with a single thought: food. I scanned the dirt in front of me and saw it—a small, silver maggot. It was a bit bigger than a normal maggot, but I didn't care. It wriggled slowly, gleaming faintly in the dim light of the ravine, and without hesitation, I lunged for it.
My hands, trembling and raw, closed around the maggot, but the moment I touched it, it moved. No, it burrowed—straight into my flesh. I screamed. The pain was unbearable. It tunneled through my hand, up my arm, winding through my muscles like it was searching for something. I clutched at my arm, but it kept moving—to my shoulder, to my neck, and finally to my forehead.
I screamed again as it burrowed into my skull. My mind exploded with flashes of memories—none of them mine. Faces, places, voices I'd never known. It was too much. The disgust, the agony… the anger—it all boiled over until I blacked out.
Why was I so full of rage?
When I woke up, the pain was gone. Not just gone—my body was healed. I moved, testing my limbs. No aches, no breaks. I should've felt relief, but I didn't. I was angrier than ever. My mind raced with one thought: the bandit leader. He left me. He abandoned me.
I knew we were both horrible people. We never looked after each other, yet I still hated him. Hating him for abandoning me was more of an excuse for me to target my hatred on him.
Why was I so full of rage?
So, I refused to die here. Day by day, I survived in that ravine. I ate bugs, forcing them down through grit teeth. My anger kept me alive. And then the voice came.
"Quite the desperate thing you are, boy," It spoke in tongues I didn't know, yet for some reason I could understand it.
It wasn't loud, but it was clear. It told me to focus. To feel the ground. And when I did, I realized I could move it. The fine metal beneath the earth shifted under my will. It wasn't strong enough to pull me out, but it was something.
So, I climbed. I climbed until my fingers bled. I fell and fell again, but I kept going. Each fall added more scars. Each failure made me angrier. All I could think about was reaching the top. Reaching him. Fucking kill him.
Why was I so full of rage?
When I finally clawed my way out, I didn't stop to notice the sky or the air. I ran. The base was where it had always been, tucked between two cliff faces in a small clearing.
I must've looked like a demon when I stumbled in—covered in mud and blood, my body lined with scratches and blisters. Then suddenly, my forehead hollowed out where the maggot had entered. My sclera had turned pitch black, my pupils white as death.
Why was I so full of rage?
As I stepped into the clearing, I felt metal rise from my flesh. Silver armor encased me, clawed gauntlets around my hands, boots heavy and sharp on my feet. I tore through them—the men who had been my so-called family. Their screams echoed in my ears, but I didn't care.
I picked up a sword along the way. With every slash, I ended another life. The ground was slick with blood by the time I reached him.
The bandit leader stood before me, massive and unyielding as ever. I didn't care. I was breathing hard, tears streaking my face from the adrenaline. Without hesitation, I drove the sword into his face and ripped it down. His body split in two, and the blood coated me completely.
Why was I so full of rage?
And then I fainted.
When I woke up, I was human again. The armor was gone, my flesh and eyes normal, but the anger—it wasn't there anymore. I felt hollow. Utterly empty.
I dropped to my knees, gripping the sword. The thought crept into my mind, and I raised the blade. I wanted it to end.
Before I could plunge it into my chest, a hand caught the blade. Strong. Warm. I looked up to see a man—golden hair, golden eyes, a halo like the sun shining behind him. He smiled at me, and something broke inside.
Bum Bum… I could feel my heartbeat.
I sniffled. His warmth surrounded me. A tear slipped down my cheek. Then another. And another. They fell onto his iron armor, mixing with the dirt and blood. My chest heaved. The tears turned into sobs, deep and uncontrollable. I buried my face into his chest, the cold iron strangely comforting against my burning skin. Everything I had been holding in—years of anger, hatred, pain—poured out of me.
Bum Bum… Bum Bum… I could feel it thump in my chest.
His arms wrapped around me gently, like he'd done this a thousand times before. He didn't say anything at first, just held me as I broke apart in his embrace. My cries echoed through the clearing, raw and unrestrained.
For the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn't feel alone.
Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum…
After what felt like an eternity, my sobs began to slow. My breathing was ragged, my body limp. I felt like a hollow shell. He didn't let go, even as I went silent.
Finally, his voice broke the quiet, soft but firm, carrying a weight I couldn't understand. "I won't ask you what happened. I won't force you to tell me. However, do one thing for me."
I looked up at him, my vision blurred with tears. His golden eyes met mine, steady and unwavering.
"Don't give up. Don't give in. Live for the sake of yourself. For the sake of your own happiness. Just as demons are evil and the gods are good, you must live because that is what you were chosen to do on this planet. Live until your last breath leaves naturally from your body."
His words sank into me, heavy and unrelenting. For the first time, I felt something stir in the void that had replaced my anger—a flicker of something I had long forgotten… the feeling of being alive.
Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum…
I didn't respond.
Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum…
I couldn't.
Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum…
I just stayed there, leaning into him, too exhausted to speak.
Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum
For the first time in a long time, I let someone else carry the weight.
Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum
For the first time in a long time, it felt like I was wanted. Not for the sake of some ulterior motive. But just because it was me. Eizum Bular.
…
(Present Day)
"You have slaughtered my people. My men," The bandit king, muttered, the enemies in front of him instinctively taking a step back. "I understand they weren't the kindest. They weren't the friendliest. They weren't the nicest, however… they wanted to belong somewhere… and I provided that for them… yet you ripped that from them, including their lives."
The Holy Knights took to a formation, their power flaring to life. Golden light radiated from their bodies, weaving itself into the shapes of lion-like mantles. These glowing forms draped over their shoulders like capes, rippling with an energy that seemed to pulse in rhythm with their determination. Their eyes gleamed with a radiant gold, their focus sharpening as their strength surged.
Tridra stood apart, her breathing unsteady. Her violet eyes shimmered faintly, reflecting the fire of her resolve. She clenched her fists tightly, whispering to herself to try and steady her nerves. "I won't run. I won't run ever again, even when I'm scared—"
Her thoughts shattered in an instant.
Eizum's silver cape twisted unnaturally, lengthening and hardening into a spear. It shot through the air with terrifying speed. Captain Edwin, sensing the danger, stepped forward and raised his shield. The impact was immediate and devastating. The spear slammed into the shield, tearing it from his arm and wrenching his shoulder with a sickening crack. The shield spiraled away, useless.
The spear didn't stop. It struck Tridra squarely in the chest, the force sending her flying. Her body tumbled across the snowy ground, limp and helpless, until she collided with the fortress wall. She crumpled to the base of it, unmoving, her violet light snuffed out.
A chilling silence fell over the battlefield. The Knights, momentarily stunned, felt an icy dread creep up their spines. Their golden glow flickered as their breaths quickened.
Eizum stood at the center, his presence heavy and unyielding. His blood-red eyes burned as he spoke, his voice calm yet chilling. "The pest is gone. Let's proceed with the real fight."
The Knights tightened their grips on their weapons, their golden light flaring brighter.
The Holy Knights moved as one, their golden auras blazing against the icy ruins. They charged Eizum in a coordinated assault, their weapons raised, their intent clear. The twin shortswords wielder darted in first, his blades flashing in rapid arcs aimed at Eizum's midsection. Eizum twisted his body effortlessly, leaning just out of reach of the strikes.
The Knight with the mace and shield followed, closing the distance with a roar. He swung his mace downward in a crushing arc. Eizum stepped inside the strike, his cape extending into a barrier that absorbed the impact with a metallic clang. Before the Knight could recover, Eizum pivoted sharply, delivering an elbow to his side that sent him skidding across the ground.
The lance wielder thrust forward, the tip aimed for Eizum's chest. Eizum sidestepped, catching the shaft of the lance in one hand and twisting it sharply, yanking the Knight forward. With his other hand, he brought the hilt of his sword down on the back of the Knight's head, dropping him instantly.
The battle axe wielder roared as he swung his heavy weapon in a wide arc. Eizum ducked low, his cape shooting out and coiling around the Knight's ankle. With a sharp pull, the Knight was yanked off his feet, crashing to the ground with a dull thud.
The longsword-wielding Knight attempted to capitalize on the opening, slashing horizontally at Eizum. The Bandit King parried with his sword, his movements fluid. His cape lashed out again, knocking the Knight's legs out from under him before whipping across his face, leaving a searing cut.
One by one, the Knights fell, their golden mantles dimming as their bodies hit the snow.
As Alexandra rushed in, Edwin quickly dashed towards his shield and with a slick slide, propped it back up against his arm before running over to help his teammate. Alexandra swung her longsword in a precise vertical arc, aiming for Eizum's shoulder. He blocked with his sword, but before he could counter, Edwin's shield came crashing into his side. The combined force pushed Eizum back a step, his feet sliding slightly on the snow.
Eizum's eyes gleamed with faint amusement. "Better," he muttered, his tone calm.
Alexandra continued to press him, stepping in with a diagonal slash. Eizum parried smoothly, twisting his wrist to deflect her blade downward. She pivoted on her back foot, spinning to deliver a second strike aimed at his ribs. Eizum caught her sword with his own, locking the blades.
Edwin seized the moment, his shield leading as he charged. He slammed into Eizum, forcing the Bandit King to disengage and step back. Edwin followed up with a horizontal slash, aiming for Eizum's exposed side.
Eizum's cape moved with blinding speed, intercepting the blade and twisting around it, wrenching the weapon from the captain's grasp. Edwin quickly ducked under a follow-up strike from Eizum's sword, retrieving his weapon in a swift roll before rising to his feet.
The Bandit King exhaled slowly. "Enough," he said, his tone carrying a sharp edge as it entered the man's ears.
The silver cape receded, wrapping around his shoulders as he raised his sword with both hands.
Alexandra lunged first, her sword glowing brightly with holy energy. She aimed a powerful downward strike at Eizum's head. He met her blade with his own, the impact shattering the glow of her weapon in an instant. The force of his swing continued downward, slicing cleanly through her sword and armor, leaving a deep, jagged gash across her chest.
Alexandra's body crumpled to the ground, her golden light extinguished.
Edwin roared in anger, stepping over Alexandra's fallen form as he engaged Eizum. Their swords clashed in a flurry of strikes, each movement calculated and precise. Edwin blocked a high slash with his shield, countering with a thrust aimed at Eizum's stomach. Eizum twisted his torso, evading narrowly before delivering a sharp kick to Edwin's shield.
The Captain staggered but kept his footing, retaliating with a wide sweep of his sword. Eizum ducked under it, his sword flicking upward to strike at Edwin's exposed arm. Edwin raised his shield just in time, the impact sending a jolt through his arm.
Eizum stepped inside Edwin's guard, his movements quick and fluid. He delivered a sharp punch to the man's side, followed by a knee to his chest. Edwin grunted in pain but pushed forward, his shield slamming into Eizum's midsection.
Eizum stumbled back a single step before regaining his stance. "Not bad," he said quietly, his tone almost approving.
Edwin pressed on, his strikes growing more desperate. He slashed, thrust, and swung, but Eizum met each attack with ease. The Captain's focus wavered for a moment as his eyes darted to the shifting cape.
Eizum took advantage of the distraction. He sidestepped Edwin's next strike and delivered a brutal kick to his chest. The force sent Edwin flying backward, his body skidding against th snow like Tridr before smashing into the fortress wall.
He hit the ground hard, his vision swimming as pain radiated through his body. His grip on his sword loosened, and the last thing he saw before his world went dark was—
"Fuck…" Edwin muttered. "I guess I have to use it."
…
(Inside the ruins)
Ophelia stepped through a large gateway, entering into a gargantuan library. The ceiling stretched high with runic marble beams and arches while the obsidian floor glistened under her boots. Once inside, she looked up at the hulking beast eyeing her, watching it open its mouth.
"Somebody who wields the parasite should be assisting their allies. They have already lost because of your arrogance," The beast lamented through gnashing teeth. "Utter arrogance. I am disappointed."
Ophelia lightly chuckled, rubbing the back of her head, her ease apparent to the beast's big, hungry, and absolutely horrifying eyes.
"What is so funny? Even that man I had high expectations for was utterly shut down."
"Are you talking about Edwin?" Ophelia's grin widened, a hole burrowing into her forehead, revealing a black abyss inside. "Well, he's not a captain for no reason."