Logan's journey had led him to the desolate world where his parents once lived, their legacy reduced to ruins. The planet was cold and barren, its skies covered in a blanket of gray clouds that seemed to weigh down on the land. The once-beautiful house stood abandoned, its wooden walls warped and cracked by years of neglect. The yard, overgrown with wild grass, swayed with the breeze as if mourning the loss of what had once been. As Logan approached the doorstep, the air grew still, the silence around him heavy with memories.
He could almost hear his mother's voice, lighthearted and teasing, scolding his father for not holding him right as a child. The warmth of that memory, the sound of his mother's laughter and his father's soothing words, felt painfully distant now. The weight of their loss pressed on his chest.
Logan paused for a moment at the door, took a deep breath to steel himself, then pushed it open. The hinges creaked loudly, the sound echoing through the empty house. Inside, the rooms were dark and cold, the once vibrant and comforting space now a shell of its former self. The walls, once adorned with bright tapestries, now stood bare, peeling with age. The wooden floors, once polished and gleaming, were now littered with dust and debris. Furniture that had once brought warmth to the house lay broken and overturned. Glass from shattered windows sparkled on the floor like forgotten stars.
With slow, deliberate steps, Logan wandered through the rooms, his footfalls heavy as they echoed in the silence. His hand brushed against the old wooden furniture—what remained of it—where once laughter and conversations had filled the air. It was all gone now. The house felt empty, the air thick with memories of a time that could never be reclaimed.
He eventually reached the old sofa where he and his parents had spent countless peaceful hours. The fabric was torn and faded, its cushions flat, but in Logan's eyes, it was still the place where his family had gathered. Sitting there, he could see himself as a child, nestled in his mother's arms, his father sitting beside them, a warm and proud smile on his face as they discussed his future. That memory, so vivid and clear, contrasted sharply with the stark reality of the present.
He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the memory too much to bear. The sorrow in his heart was undeniable, but Logan's face remained composed, masking the heartbreak that surged within him. His parents' voices seemed to echo in the room, and for a fleeting moment, he could almost hear their laughter, their promises for his future. But it was a fleeting memory, and with a sharp breath, he forced himself back to the present. The past could not be changed.
After lingering for a few moments longer, Logan stepped outside. The field beyond the house, where he had once played as a child, had grown wild and untamed. Tall grasses and overgrown weeds seemed to swallow the land, the remnants of a once-beautiful landscape now hidden beneath a shroud of neglect. The sky overhead was a dull gray, the clouds heavy and threatening, as if they too mourned the loss of what had once been.
Logan moved toward a quiet corner of the field, the wind whispering softly through the tall grass. He knelt down, his hands steady as he began to dig. The earth was cold and unyielding beneath his fingers, but he worked with purpose. Slowly, he shaped two graves, each one carved with precision and care. Once finished, he placed two simple stones at the head of each grave, marking the final resting place of his parents: Satayan and Raphael.
Kneeling before the graves, Logan bowed his head in silent reverence. The world seemed to hold its breath as the wind picked up, a soft gust carrying the scent of earth and decay. For a moment, Logan was lost in thought, the weight of his parents' loss pressing heavily on his chest. The years of training, the battles he had fought—none of it would have been possible without them. And now, they were gone, leaving only memories behind.
With a quiet resolve, Logan whispered into the wind, his voice low and steady. "I promise you… your sacrifice won't be in vain. I'll restore what you lost and avenge what was taken. Just watch over me."
The wind swirled around him as he stood, the moment of quiet grief ending as he turned his gaze toward the horizon. His journey was far from over.
After paying his respects, Logan took flight, his form cutting through the heavy air as he soared toward the distant town. The world he was on had no mystical energies like Qi or Mana. Instead, its people relied on strength, wealth, and political power to survive and thrive. Logan was here for a purpose—he would claim this world's principle, the one that bound its people to the pursuit of power.
The town came into view, a bustling settlement full of life. Its streets were lined with large stone buildings, their structures designed to intimidate and assert dominance. At the center stood the castle, towering above the town like a symbol of absolute authority. Logan's destination was clear, and he made his way toward it without hesitation, his heart set on obtaining what he came for.
As he neared the castle gates, the heavy presence of guards became evident. Armed with spears and swords, they stood watch over the entrance, their eyes trained on anyone who dared approach. Logan's arrival did not go unnoticed. The guards quickly reacted, their hands resting on their weapons, preparing for the unexpected.
Seeing Logan descend from the sky, their training kicked in. Within moments, they surrounded him, their weapons drawn and their expressions hardened with suspicion. They were ready for a fight.
One of the guards, a tall man with a commanding presence, stepped forward. His sword glinted in the dim light as he pointed it directly at Logan. "Identify yourself, outsider!" he barked, his voice sharp and unyielding. "Who are you, and what is your purpose here? No one approaches the castle unannounced!"
Logan's gaze swept over the guards, his expression unchanged. His calm demeanor only seemed to heighten their tension. Without flinching, he met the captain's gaze. "I come with no ill intent," he said, his voice steady and authoritative, as if he was used to commanding attention. "I seek an audience with the one in charge of this castle. Take me to them."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. Logan's unshaken demeanor was unsettling. The captain's grip tightened on his sword, and he took a step forward. "You don't get to demand anything here," he growled. "If you wish to enter, you'll have to prove you're not a threat—or leave while you still can."
Logan's lips curled into a faint smirk, the expression barely visible under his calm exterior. "Prove it, you say?" he murmured, almost as if amused by their words. "Very well. But don't say I didn't give you a chance to step aside."
The tension in the air thickened as Logan prepared himself for what would come next. The guards tightened their formation, but Logan stood tall, ready for the challenge that awaited him inside the castle.
End of Chapter 5