My name is Shlain.

That was the name I was given at birth by my parents, something which generally for commoner parents like them, should’ve been given to their child only a few weeks after my birth, just as it has been for my two little brothers.

But, being born what I was, they made an exception for this tradition and gave me, immediately upon birth, that name.

I was not like my parents or my younger brothers; I was born a child of light, a noble born of commoners. But unlike most children of light, I was not taken away by the Church. All that for a reason. My parents refused to give me away, something which most child of light parents are forced to do, allegedly for their child's well-being.

All that was thanks to the fact that my parents were different, or maybe, to be more precise, the situation they were in and the one I was born into was very different from most people. They, commoners though they may have been, were far from being ordinary people. They were bandits, part of a nomadic clan of thieves and outlaws, and I, as their child, born into that clan, was also born one.

The clan, as special and troublesome as my powers were in my early years, accepted me, bore and raised me as one of their own.

Not long after my birth, my little brother, David, was born, and soon enough, my second little brother, Austen, too. We, born into a thieving family, were quickly introduced to the banditry lifestyle, and I, as the eldest, was the first one to step into it, and it must be said that things went very differently than they should have, for I wielded something most thieves and bandits lacked: magic.

Thanks to my magic, our clan thrived off of their raid, which I was included in. I now realize that statements like this make the clan and my parents come across, especially to those not born into the same condition as I, as horrible and self-serving, but that’s how we were, and that's simply how things were. I may have been just a child back then, but it was what was normal to me, because not only was it all I knew, I knew I was good at it.

Besides, I was also happy to help, because I knew from a young age that it was only because my parents were bandits that I could spend time with them, along with my brother, along with the clan, because if my parents had been anything other than bandits, I would've been taken by or sold away to the church for some random to adopt.

I loved that life, but as time came close to my ninth birthday, they suddenly came and attacked us. I'd never forget seeing our haven engulfed in flames, the ground washed with the blood of our loved ones; and them; everything about them, their faces, their blades, their priestly outfits; each one of them, everything; the helplessness I felt that night, what I saw, I'd never forget.

That night, the only thing I was able to accomplish was to buy time for my brothers to run away. That night I was captured and taken away by the Church.

And as every child of light who was, in a case like mine, kept hidden away from the church by their parents, I was sent to the "rehabilitation house", a horrible place where those like me who were raised by their commoner parents to an aware age were taught how wrong our parents were in doing so.

Though it felt like an eternity to me, I quickly left the rehabilitation house because one year after being taken away by the church, a noble family appeared, announcing their willingness to take me in. Something very unusual given that, in most cases, children of light like myself would, after going through the Rehabilitation House, continue to work for the church.

The family in question was no ordinary noble family; they were closely related to one of the seven great noble families, so for them to show interest in a child of light, their willingness to take a child of light already as old as I was more unusual, if not straight up suspicious, than having someone willing to take me was already. But, as unusual and unexpected as it was, I was powerless to do anything because, upon entering the Rehabilitation House, the only thing that made me special was sealed away, the same way it would be for a newborn noble, so I was taken away, sold away, but despite this, I nourished a hope. I hoped that wherever I was taken away, they would unchain me from the strangle that restrained me from using magic.

I was wrong.

At first, during the first two years, it was a mystery to me why they would take me in, but it came across as clear from the way I was treated, beaten, loathed, imprisoned, and kept away from most eyes, that that family took me in with no intent of freeing me nor allowing me to, like a noble, ever make use of magic.

It was around then that I first met her, one of the many heiresses of that family, and from her words I understood why I was taken in and treated this way..

What that family expected of me was to give them, through that girl, an heir whose magical talent would be the equal of the fourteen. They were expecting an heir that would inherit both of the two of us' best magical traits; from me, my dark-lightning magic, and from the girl, her immense mana pool. As perplexing as that practice was to me at the time, it was only later that I learned that, just as arranged marriages exist for the sake of affairs and interests, these kinds of arrangements are also done in the shadows by families who regard magical descendance as a prestige to be proud of and sought after, even if it means resorting to such an unscrupulous method to obtain the heir they are dreaming of. The family that took me in was such a family, and I was their victim.

I was only taken in for my magic and was expected to be discarded once I had filled the role I was taken in for.

For them, I was nothing more than just a tool. I knew and understood that very well. So I waited and waited patiently for the opportunity to show them how wrong they were. And that night, a few months before the girl's fifteenth birthday, it was finally presented to me, in the face of a careless guard while feeding me.

That night, using my fist and the fork I was handed with the food that was served to me, I killed my first man, but it was not the only one I killed that night.

I promised vengeance to all those who forced me to go through what I had to go through, but as magic-less as I was, I knew that running away from that place was my best course of action. I knew I had to be patient, and I was.

I kept a low profile for a while, doing my best to survive on my own in the unfamiliar city I was in, where I eventually had to develop true stealing skills in order to survive and not starve to death.

With the little money I earned by stealing in that city, I embarked on a trip—a trip to the city near the Rehabilitation House. Once again, patient, I waited to learn more about the establishment and, more precisely, about the noble working in it who was responsible for the sealing of my magic, and soon I did, learning his patterns in and out of the establishment and finding the way to reach him when in my state I could bring him down.

As tedious and challenging as was the task of bringing him down, I took him down, and with him dead, I retrieved my magic.

It was then, with my magic and my assurance of protecting them back, that I finally dedicated all my efforts to finding my brothers, with whom, that night, I was separated from. From there, it took me years and effort, but eventually I found leads regarding their whereabouts and met again with them.

After being separated for such a long time, we brothers were finally reunited.

After so long, I finally reunited with David, who during my absence awakened as an aina-user, and Austen, who was no longer the little child I remembered him being when we parted ways.

I learned that they, after separating with me, found refuge in a castle belonging to a family who, despite being commoners, were also reputed to be the church’s little dog. I already expected the worst after learning of it, but surprisingly, my brothers turned out to be fine. Or at least, fine enough for me to not make a commotion of it.

I took them away from the Douglas castle, and together our fratry journeyed across the continent with the sole goal of finally avenging our parents and our clans.

Still remembering vividly their faces and the names that were called out that night, my brothers and I hounded every single person involved in the attack on our clan, and together we made them taste their own medicine.

In a few years, while we were passing judgment on the bastards scattered across the continent, some men, mostly aina-users, heard of our accomplishment and joined us in our endeavor, and together was born the Eirweins Brotherhood. Soon, with their help, we, brothers, accomplished our revenge. But to me, there was still one left. a family I had promised in my heart but had not yet exacted vengeance on.

Years after I escaped the prison they kept me in, I came back for them. But, as powerful as they were, attaining them was a challenging and time-consuming task, even for someone like me, but I eventually managed to reach each one of them, including and especially "her," the heiress to whom I was supposed to become the object of.

She, sometimes after my evasion, upon reaching fifteen, just like her fellow nobles, went to attend the Aurora Academia where she would spend several years, ultimately marrying a fellow former Aurora student who would become, in the span of a few years, a high-ranking clergyman of the church. With the crusade unfolding, it was when that clergyman just happened to be away that I learned about her whereabouts.

Needless to say, I was furious when I learned what she had become.

My misery, suffering, and escape had no bearing on her life. She got her happy life after everything I had to go through, and she even got to have a child with the man she married and pretend to be a mother.

That day, I came for her and served her what she deserved.

With retribution served, I thought I was done with this part of my past, but I was wrong. I was so wrong.

A few years after her death, "he" came for me, but it wasn't me he got his hands on, but rather my brother, my little brother David.

That day, it was from his hand that I lost my brother, the newly crowned Archbishop, Durant Sunnivah. "

***

"Archbishop Durant Sunnivah."

How? Why? What is he doing here? So many questions I should’ve been asking myself, but right now none of these mattered.

"At long last, you recognize me," the man said, the same way a familiar but forgotten friend would, but it was everything but warm. "I had my doubts about using a member of the royal family as bait," the man said, "but to think you'd be baited for it." before adding sarcastically, "You’re a hard man to meet up with, White Ghost."

"So... this is all your doing?"

"So much trouble just for an audience."

The man approached me, and as rage-boiling as I was, I was surprised at how I didn't immediately jump on him yet.

"I’ve waited so long..."

"Thirty… fucking… years."

"-and it is our first time meeting, I did not expect us to meet this late."

"Better late than never."

"Indeed," looking at me up and down, the man commented, "you look like him," he said, clearly trying to get on my nerves.

"So did he, you. I can see the resemblance. " I answered back.

"So it was really you..." he seethed murderously, before, after a short pause, gathering himself up. "Even though we haven’t met before, you haven’t changed even a bit... In the Barista Manor, I heard you pull it out again."

"What do you want? Old habits hardly die."

"So it seems."

We just stared at each other for a moment, expecting one to jump on the other first, but none of them did so.

"I think you know what I want to do to you just as much as I know what you want to do to me. So let’s get done with this thirty-year old unfinished business," Durant suggested, unveiling behind him a tall zapping rectangular mirror.

"I could not say it better," I agreed, summoning out, me too, my magic.