You could hear a pin drop in the total silence that dominated the room. The blue masked Blade Master always talked too much, but it's better if he just talks, his other favourite activity results in too much blood and gore. His mask's absence, or his presence here without his "colleagues" isn't important, the only thing I need to focus on is getting out of here.

I always hated "that" title.

"Sensei, you must be joking. He can't be the Inquisitor. He doesn't look anything like-" voiced the youth in the hakama with short spiky hair and a pair of short swords.

"That's right, there is no way he can be the Inquisitor." another youth with a staff and a bald head interjects.

I return to reviewing the status of my body. It's not the worst my body has experienced, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm still in critical condition, "disabled", and surrounded by enemies. The most pressing concern is still the sword lodged in me. I'm not sure when or from where the next attack will come from, I can't stop being vigilant just because everything is calm right now.

I lost trust in everyone and everything a long time ago.

With a quick motion I grab the pommel of the huge slab of metal, that shouldn't be called sword, and rip it out of me. As the sword falls to the marble with a clang, every eye returns to me.

My left lung isn't in a state where I can heal it, so no need to waste mana trying to repair it, I'll have to rebuild it from scratch later. But if I don't get rid of the lung's remains they'll rot inside of me, causing inflammation in the best case, and death in the worst. I could spend a huge amount of energy to recycle the remains like last time, but that's not an option right now. Plunging my hand into the stab wound that spans the length of my shoulder to my stomach, I rip out as much of the remains as I can. The grotesque pieces fall from my hands onto the ground with a wet slapping sound.

An overwhelming desire to break the bolt stuck in my neck finally wins out, but as always, I'm really "lucky". The arrows they fired weren't just enchanted, but also made of steel. I rip the bolt out from the direction it was travelling before it got stuck in me. As I pull the bolt out, the fletching scrapes through the wound, making it even larger than before. With a bit of mana I stop the bleeding, and with a deep cough I clear my windpipe, which should increase the amount and speed at which I can inhale oxygen.

I return to breathing and circulating mana, which should help a bit with the reconnecting of the arteries that I closed to stop the bleeding. I feel the wounds closing, but it's still too damn slow for the current situation.

"Calm down friend. No one will attack you anymore." says my old acquaintance. He may say that, but it's not his decision. Many of the guards' eyes jump between me and the pieces of my lung laying next to the dead body of their colleague.

"This is not your decision Blade Master. He killed the personal attendant of Her Highness in the throne room. There will be consequences." says an old man in a grey robe from the right side of the throne.

"If he really is the "Inquisitor", then we have an international issue here. As the representative of the Empire, is there anything you would like to say Councilor?"

Looking at the person to the left of the throne, the horrendous situation finally sinks in. Red clothes, that should've been obvious. The Empire always sends their representatives to other kingdoms, but for one to be a councilor to the King.

FUCK.

He can't say that there's an open hunt on me publicly, it'll raise many questions, which they can't answer. Like why I'm hunted, what I did, or who made the official request, but he will try his best to get me killed and my head sent to Protus.

"Well, "Councilor"? says the amused voice from the throne.

With a smile he could barely hold back he faces the throne and began. "As you know your highness, we had a small problem with the Zeron fanatics for the past decade, we tried our best to help them and "clean" their ranks, but to our greatest regret, a few perpetrators were able to slip away." Bowing slightly he continues. "We humbly ask for an apology for the damage our shortcomings have caused. The Sun Empire would be eternally grateful if you would implement capital punishment against this fanatic for his crime against the Empire and your great kingdom."

God FUCKING damn it. He actually did it.

Someone could say that I'm the one who was attacked, and that it's fucked up that I somehow ended up as the bad guy, but as soon as you understand how those in power think, and how they work, things start to make sense.

Laws, fairness, justice, right, wrong, never existed.

That what will benefit those in power will become the law and "culture".

You need self-sacrificing soldiers? Make the people genuinely believe that it's the greatest honour to die for your country.

Need to weaken the nation? Destroy that which holds it together. Education, customs, traditions, and especially children, the future of the nation. Corrupt them, make them weak, gullible, and the nation will crumble by itself within a generation.

If I die here-

[DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE! We! Are! Not! Dead! Not dead! NOT FUCKING YET!]

It would be great if I got some help from the person who brought me here, but she's petrified while looking at me, from behind the shields of several guards. She has seen me in similar states before, so my appearance shouldn't be the reason. It may be because we are in the throne room, and her shyness overwhelmed her, but by her previous eccentric behaviour it could be ruled out.

It's hard to predict what will happen next. I should prepare for the worst.

People always needed scary stories, and because of that they created monsters. They morph simple wild animals into grotesque demons with huge claws and fangs, with a hundred lives and sizes vastly disproportionate to reality.

I did a lot of stuff, I won't deny that. I deserve the title, I deserve the scorn and hate. But at some point the "Inquisitor" somehow became something much more sinister and evil than Lucifer himself. People started piling on crimes that I didn't commit, morphing me into a creature of nightmares. And all those images blended together, contradicting one another, but still somehow maintaining its shape.

Maybe it was just easy to find one "object", a scapegoat of sorts, to blame all of the problems in the world on. The Blood Brotherhood and Blood Legion were just that. They were publicly blamed for all the mistakes, errors, and failures, just so they could clean the whole organisation of the dark and evil past.

It doesn't matter if it's a lie.

If you repeat it enough, it'll become reality.

My opinion didn't matter then, and it doesn't now.

I didn't heal my body, just made sure I could move. But now that my body is more or less ready for action I can start healing. But if I start ripping the bolts out, the people around me will instantly react, so for now it's better to keep them there while healing all the internal wounds and preparing for the moment they act.

The people used the last dozen seconds of silence to digest the fact that the Inquisitor isn't just "publicly" on the list of "dangerous" fanatics, but the Sun Empire would be grateful for his death. Everyone visibly tensed, even my old acquaintance became silent. The tense atmosphere was cut by the voice of the old man in grey clothes on the right side of the throne.

"Princess, did you bring this person here for a reason?" All eyes turned to Olana. She visibly paled and started breathing heavier. After another few seconds the voice from the throne broke the silence.

"Olana." She visibly shuddered while slowly turning in the direction of the throne. The slow pace of events is good for me, more time to heal, but I'm not sure how I can slow it down even more.

"Y-Yes father." she squeezed out.

"Where are your personal guards?"

She visibly swallowed. "T-They...they..died." she responded while looking down.

"Why did you bring the 'Inquisitor'?"

"I-I didn't know! I thought that he was just a Blood Brother, I thought he could help us with finding Melania! Using him we can finally reach Uncle Yorgan! With him we can find Melania, she could still be alive! We still can, if we-"

"Enough."

A dozen seconds of silence followed.

"Olana." the Queen whispers. Taking Olana's hands in her own she looks at Olana while she quivers. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it slowly. The Queen tries again several times, but fails each time.

"Yorgan died." the King says.

"What?"

"How?" Olana says in a hoarse voice.

"Quite some time ago. He died nobly in battle against Pkar Shamans from the Lort-thol Continent." says the King.

"We couldn't tell you." the Queen whsipers to Olana.

"I travelled to the Empire and Qing for nothing. They died for nothing." whispers Olana in a half-daze as she falls on her knees repeating "Sorry" again and again.

The room's attention is taken by the sound of laughter, deep, sinister, unhinged. I couldn't understand where it was coming from, until I noticed my chest rising and falling. Oh. I'm the one who's laughing. All the attention returned to me.

"Is that what they told you?" I say in a barely recognisable voice. "Noble battle? Against who? Pkar Shamans? Those overgrown magic orcs?" The room continued to fill with my unstoppable laughter.

"Pkar killed Yorgan? HA! Fucking Pkar! They couldn't leave a scratch on him."

It doesn't look like they'll let me walk away. If this world wants to burn so much then I will make sure that they have the biggest pyre.

"Did the Empire's emissary tell you that?" I say, looking directly at the Councilor on the throne's left hand side. "If Yorgan really died a 'noble death' in battle as the Empire says then they wouldn't mind telling you where his body is buried."

In the silent confusion everyone turns to the Councilor.

He doesn't know.

He can't know.

He's just a small chess piece, nothing more. He may have even genuinely believed that information too. But you pissed on the wrong tree, and because of your green and desire for recognition from the next Legat, I'll take you down with me.

"Stop it friend." the Blade Master says. "I know you guys were close, but don't." he finished, while looking at me with pleading eyes.

[If Yorgan really had noble or even royal blood in him, with just a few words from us, we could start a war. But who cares? The continent will be in flames one way or another.]

My attention is focused on a sudden movement in my vision. The Queen slowly walks towards me and stops a few meters from where I'm pinned.

"My brother...Yorgan...please." she pleades with me. "...tell me....please."

Looking closer, I find too many features resembling Yorgan. From the many stories Yorgan told me about himself a name, I thought I had long forgotten, leaves my mouth.

"Twinkle."

Her eyes open wide, after which a smile breaks across her face, as tears stream down her face.

"Yes." she squeezes through the smile and tears.

You know what? FUCK IT.

"We knew too much. Him even more so." As I think of what I can say, the words stop in my throat. I realise that no one can, not just believe, but understand the whole truth.

"We were sent on a suicide mission, few survived........... There were meant to be no survivors. During an official meeting we were stabbed in the back."

Her face slowly morphs from confusion to disbelief.

"Tvaar poison" I state shortly.

The previous emotions quickly change from disbelief to horror. From horror to realisation, and finally from realisation to anger and hate.

"Your Majesty, this is a farce. This person is spewing ridiculous lies to save his life. We are not even sure if he's the real one."

This idiot. That could've worked if at the start you didn't confirm that it's me and you want me dead.

Tvaar is an anti-magic poison, made most likely of the same ingredient as my anti-magic bombs, mana devourers from the Dead Continent. Only a few even have enough information to theorise about it. But people know of only one place where Tvaar comes from, the same location as anti-magical bombs, the Empire.

Turning back to the Queen, I finish what I wanted to say.

"I buried him in Andaral. At the place where you got your name."

Her mask of rage falls apart as her knees hit the floor and she starts sobbing. As her sobs fill the room, with my eyes I take a quick look around, to once more calculate the situation.

As if cold water was poured over me, I think over what I just said. I can't see the King's face from here, bur I don't think that even if he believed me he would tarnish his relationship with the Empire, more likely he would use it as an exchange piece for a better deal.

What happened doesn't matter, what will happen does.

Who the fuck cares about the past.

[Just you.]

Not good. I think I stalled as much as I could, but as the attention is back on me, they can react or take action any second.

[Oh? But didn't someone want to die here and leave this shell for HIM? What's with the mood swings? Decide on something and fucking stick to it!]

Taking the deepest and quietest breath I can, with a quick motion of both my hands I wrench the bolts out of my legs and make the fastest leap I can behind one of the columns on the left side of the hall. The moment I reach the column, sounds of the bolts crashing into the walls sweeps through the hall. A stinging sensation returns to the position where my left ling should be, and looking down I find a fresh bolt sticking out of the left side of my chest. Maybe one of the curses really got stuck on me. Somehow too much bad "stuff" happens to my left lung and the area around it.

I pull out the meter long steel bolt and do the same with the rest. As I prepared enough mana beforehand there wasn't much bleeding, and the wounds started to close. Shouts to regroup and take action sounded from the leaders. But I need to move as they'll flank me in a few moments. I don't have any protection from anti-magic spells anymore, even though spells may take some time to cast I have even less, and they'll reach me before that.

I will live. Even if it's for one more day.

Not yet. NOT FUCKING YET.

Gathering mana in my legs I make a leap to the next column, closer to the entrance where I came from. As I land behind another column another hail of bolts shreds the column and pieces of it crumble, crashing to the ground. The sound of something crashing in the direction of the entrance brings a sense of horror to me. Peeking with one eye from behind the column, I could see the entrance was closed.

GOD FUCKING DAMN IT.

The sound of metal boots clanging against the marble floor came closer. SHIT. Enforcers, Mages, and skilled archers working together in sync with bad terrain is usually a sure path to doom and a quick death. Looking around for another exit isn't possible right now.

Wait.

Where does the light in this hall come from? Looking up, I find huge colourful windows starting from about fifteen meters high and reaching the ceiling.

"If you can't move horizontally, move vertically." I quickly climb the column using my palms, thankfully strength returned to my hands. With rapid movements I quickly reach a high point, but a sudden chill on my back makes me turn and look to my left I find archers with their crossbows already pointing in my direction.

FUCK.

Sending all the energy I can into my legs, I leap in the direction of the glass windows filled with colourful pictures. Halfway through, two burning sensations on my stomach and leg tells me that something hit me. But it doesn't matter, I'll be much safer as soon as I reach the other side.

The window was much thicker than I thought, at least five centimeters in thickness. As soon as the window glass breaks under my velocity and momentum, an explosion's shock wave and heat hits my back and sends me even further, as I catch a glimpse of yellow fire spell exploding at the location I was at a fraction of a second before. But that's not the problem. Looking down I find that there's at least a two hundred and fifty meters between me and the ground.

The fucking hall was at the top of the tower!

HOW THE FUCK DID I GET SO HIGH!?

Maybe some kind of illusion?

[FOCUS!]

Fuck, I'm going to splat against the floor if I don't decrease my speed. Ripping the two new arrows out of me, I reorient myself and try to get closer to the tower wall. But I miscalculated and got closer to it too fast and just bounced back after impact. I try to repeat the action again, but this time much slower. Regretfully the ground which is quickly coming closer makes it much harder to stay calm. As soon as I get closer I try to brush against the wall rather than hit it, and succeed in slowing down a bit, but quickly change my mind as some kind of balcony appears on the trajectory I'm travelling, which is somewhere in the middle of the tower wall.

Gathering mana in my legs I jump away from the wall and evade the balcony, after which I repeat the previous action and start sliding down the tower wall again. Thankfully, I finally feel myself slowing down. But soon another pressing issue appears, the location where I will likely land, is filled with guards. Searching around for a better location, I find an area which looks like a moat around the castle. Landing in the water should be better than landing on earth.

Should be.....

I try to calculate and at a specific point send mana into my legs and jump as far away from the tower wall as I can. But I made another error. I'm on the right trajectory, but I'm gathering speed and I'm already falling too fast.

SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.

Bracing for impact I bundle together. My vision fills with explosions of yellow, red, and white fireworks. Groaning, I find myself on my back in the middle of the moat. I feel nothing, as if my body is paralyzed. But I don't have time. I command my limbs to start moving, to float closer to the shore. Who the FUCK said water is better than ground? I feel as if someone tried to rip me apart, and used just enough strength to keep me in one piece, but at the same time to make it as painful as he possibly could. As soon as I reached the shore I slowly climbed out of the water and collapsed on my back, and took several deep breaths.

I will not repeat that again.

I jerk up, remembering that I'm still being pursued. Looking around I find the shore empty. Am I really that lucky? Or not, the adrenaline finally wears off and I feel as if I weigh a thousand tons. My wounds start bleeding, and the world starts spinning.

Not yet.

They can't track me by my mana, so I may be safe. Wait...my lung is still laying on the hall's floor...do they have anyone who could track me by blood? There shouldn't be any Blood Brothers in the city, but still....

Fuck it. I stand up and start walking south, trying to stay off the main roads as much as I can. With my appearance I may attract too much attention in this quarter. I need to rest first, everything else can wait.

...

I sit in one of the back alleys of the city. The main roads tell a totally different story in comparison to what I see around. The main road buzzes with activity, merchants, carriages, and people. Everyone is moving, everyone has a different face. But one word can describe them all.

Alive.

Happy and sad, serious and carefree.

In contrast to it, the back alleys look like a different world.

Dead eyes.

Most people laying around, doing nothing.

More bones than human.

Luckily, I still have gold from the wyvern. They took all my equipment, but they didn't search me. Who would believe that hobo looking man has a fortune in each boot. I could change the fate of the people in this alley if I want, I don't need that much gold anymore.

[Really? Do you really believe something will change? Money doesn't matter. Even if you give them all the gold you have they'll either drink through it, spend it on bullshit, or get killed for it. Resources are worth nothing if you don't know what to do with them.]

[So lay along with these bums and rest. We can think about escaping the city after that.]

...

Just because I was resting didn't mean I left my guard down. Sending mana into my ears I was able to listen to what people on the main road are saying. Most of it was bullshit and bragging, but I learned a few worth while things in the three hours I spent resting.

First of all, the King has nineteen wives.

Nineteen.

Who the fuck needs nineteen wives? If you have two or three children with each you'll have at least several dozen offsprings. How do you even please nineteen wives? Anyways, it doesn't matter. I made the right decision to run away. I don't think the King would care about the opinion of one of his many wives, even less about one of his too many children.

Second, rumour has it that the Northern Kingdom citizens were "liberated" from their tyrants by Qing and the Empire. This makes no sense, the Northern Kingdom has too many ties to the Empire. It was more of a province than a separate kingdom. Why would Empire even give part of "their" land to Qing.

But there is one point that strengthens that rumour. The two wizards that destroyed Samolesh, one of them should've been from Qing. That fast beam magic was really strange, but it strongly reminded me of the fast and powerful ritualistic light magic from Qing.

Qing started it.

Third, closely connected to the second. The Desert Alliance is no more. All of their cities just fell apart, and the western ones were absorbed by the Caliphate. The Desert Alliance was always sketchy, but because their leadership was so well hidden, I believed them to be nearly undestroyable. Like Hidra, doesn't matter how many cities you destroy, new ones would always appear again.

Things became too chaotic. I was in those cities weeks ago...

I can't be sure of anything anymore.

I need to move.

Standing up I continue walking, I need to get some equipment, food, and water. Who knows if the King has already closed all of the gates.

As I walk by an old man, who's barely more than bones, dressed in filthy brown rags, he stands up and turns to look at me with closed eyes. Before I can do anything he appears before me and squeezes his hand around my neck with titanic strength. Before I can react I'm slammed against the building wall. The eyes of the old man open, and bright white light shines out of them. He opens his mouth, out of which a bright white light comes too, and an ethereal voice comes from his unmoving mouth.

"THE WAR SHALL COME MORTAL. THE FALLEN ONE WILL BE REBORN, AND WITH THAT, WE, THE HEAVENS, SHALL COME DOWN AND CLEAN THE EARTH."

As I gather mana in both of my hands to pry his hands off my neck, the light disappears and the old man turns to ash. I fall down and after several coughs I look at where the old man was, all that's left is a small heap of black ash and a filthy brown rag on top of it. Looking around for any other enemies I start breathing again. After half a minute, I start laughing. Fucking light spirits, even now they haunt me. Angels my ass, nothing more than over-glorified hungry spirits.

The thing is when a person has an affinity, it means much, much more than that. No one will give you mana just because you gave some of your own to them. The gate is open in both directions, and when the other side wants it can send mana and posses the vessel.

What? You thought that someone was sending you their mana just because you asked nicely?

People call it a lot of fancy names, Avatar, Titan of Element, Chosen of Spirits.

I call it slave, vessel, invading module.

And as everyone has several affinities, no one cane be fully possessed, as other spirits will interfere. The bodies just fall apart.

But what if there exists someone who has a single affinity? A perfect vessel just for you.

Of course, no such person exists.

But, there exists one who has no affinity.

A perfect vessel for anyone, all that matters is if you can bind it. But you can't find it, can't track it, can't possess it, as there are, simply, no connections to that vessel. The usual methods don't work, and some went as far as to do something that is against the world itself.

With my hand I trace the red-black scar on the right side of my face.

Everyone wants war, with its start, everyone can enter the game. Everyone wants something, and this is the greatest opportunity they'll ever have.

And my death is the starting signal for this theater play.

The sound of the door opening and sound of shouts fill the empty alley, which returns me back to reality.

"I work day and night, trying to put bread on our table and what do you do? You drink yourself half to death, and leave Clara alone!"

I turn my head to the right and see as a woman slaps a man across his face.

"Trash."

"Are you satisfied? Are you happy? Now give me money for booze." the man, in his late thirties, says as he extends his swaying hand.

"You don't care. As long as you are drunk you're okay with everything?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Why did I even marry you?"

"Because no one else would."

"What? I had dozens of suitors! But I chose you because I was young and stupid!"

"Suitors or clients?"

"So were you! You think I like job? You think I like selling my body? I have to work like this to feed you and Clara!" the woman growled.

"Ahahahaha. Me and Clara? You're doing it for us? If so, tell me when her birthday is? Tell me."

"Clara, huh. When is the last time you spoke with Clara? When is the last time you read her a story? I am a good mother, I love her and I will do anything for her."

"Enough lying, you don't love anyone. You make it look like I'm the bad guy here, but deep down you know the truth. You like this life. You like whoring. You love it. The attention, the things they do to you. You like it when they violently rape you. You even search for men like that. That, is the only thing that makes you happy. Don't lie to yourself. Did you really think that I don't know? Did you really think that I don't know that Clara isn't mine?"

"Yo-"

"Shut up. Just give me the fucking money. I want to forget everything, maybe I'll be lucky enough to die today and leave you to your happy life."

I don't even know what to say.

Everyone and everything is rotten.

Maybe a total cleansing is really needed.

Maybe.

...

After buying everything I need, and a new horse, I left the city that night. Somehow, after the events of the day, I expected a hell of a lot of problems, but nothing happened. The city didn't change at all. I still believed that some kind of trap would be waiting for me at the gates.

But still nothing.

I don't even know what to say.

Well it doesn't matter.

My travel ends in the next city.

South Dungeon.

I heard a story from one of the summoned.

He told me about an evil ring that couldn't be destroyed. A ring that held great power. He told me that it was sought after by everyone, and the only way to destroy it was to throw it into the volcano.

It sounded ridiculous back then, but right now, it doesn't.

South Dungeon is actually an active volcano.

And maybe like in that story, if I cast evil into the blazing inferno, the world will become a better place. I don't know if it will. No one can know that.

Will I even care? I'll be dead by then.

I always thought that there would be another day, a better day, a brighter day. But now, now that I approximately count the time I have left, it doesn't look like it'll be better for anyone.

Continental war, degradation of values, economical and social hell, and it looks like no one cares.

Or maybe I just care too much.