A teenage divorakk, with dark hair and bright red eyes, ran through the woods. Behind her was a trail of liquid fire, she knew that the forest was blessed by the Goddess herself, it wouldn't burn down no matter what happens, so she spread her volatile magic all around her and everywhere she stepped.

She was clearly desperate, she needed to escape. Especially since cradled in her arms is a five-years-old boy, wailing and trembling due to the massive stress he was going through. Around the girl, bandits that were equipped with items that could weaken magic, ran towards her.

Although they had proper protections, divorakk magic is still powerful. Even with better garbs they still would most likely have to endure the uncomfortable heat that the liquid fire was emanating. Only true antimagic material could fully stop divorakk magic—well, divorakk magic used by a teenager and above would have these qualities. An immature child would not be able to break through any kind of antimagic barrier due to their mana still being unstable and lacking a clear identity that came with maturity.

The girl could definitely take on the bandits, the problem is she's only one person whilst there was ten of them pursuing her. She might have good control over her magic, but she was still inexperienced with fighting groups. Divorakks might be magical geniuses, but technique and skill were still required to unleash their full potential.

Pure power with no refined skill or technique is nothing more than a clunky weapon.

There was another reason why she couldn't take on the ten bandits. It wasn't just their numbers, she didn't want to risk hurting her little brother, if she used her magic to try and take down the bandits, then the intense heat might burn her brother to a crisp.

So she could only run, screaming for help. Trying to see if there were any villages that survived the raid that occurred a bit of time ago.

She hugged her tiny brother tight, tears threatened to fall as she started to lose hope. Divorakks were physically weak, she could only run for so long. Her legs were already giving out and she could hear the bandits gaining on her.

With what little stamina she still had, she ran, she ran with all her might. As long as her brother could live, she didn't care what her fate was. Her beloved brother was the most precious thing to her.

But alas, she knew that he'd be taken too. If he wasn't used as a magical battery, then he'd be sold off as a slave. She knew how human societies worked, she was an intermediary to some kind humans from Guwagon, and they often warned the divorakks about bandits, and often told horrible stories about their mistreatment of their captured prey.

She shuddered, it'd be fine if it was her. She was old enough to handle whatever they threw or did to her. But not to her brother, he was too small. But apparently, according to the people from the fertile hills of the north, size nor age never mattered to these types of people. Her stomach churned as she thought of the atrocities they could do to both of them. The image of her little brother bleeding out from his whipped back and his slowing breaths due to overexertion were terrifying thoughts that she desperately pushed back. But her slowing pace kept reminding her of her doomed fate.

With an ear-piercing whistle, a massive needle flew through the air. And pierced one of the bandits cleanly through the head. Before the girl could process what was happening, the bandit who was supposed to be dead, opened its mouth to speak.

"I'm okay, keep chasing the girl." The bandit said in a monotone voice. It was an odd sight, the bandits mouth just opened and the words came flying out. His lips didn't move, it was unnatural and it made the skin of thise who heard and saw the man crawl. The man's eyes were glazed over and soulless, and somehow it was derpy in a way. This deeply unsettled the other bandits, who were now on guard after seeing the limb-sized needle kill their comrade right in front of their eyes.

They couldn't take a single step towards the girl, they didn't want to risk getting pierced by another needle. They only stared at the unsettling kneeling figure of a man, their friend, the bandit that spoke without his lips moving.

"Chase the girl." His voice was raspy. It sounded dehydrated and irritated. It resembles your father's voice in a way. But it sounded artificial, it sounded human but the voice lacked a soul. It triggered the vocal equivalent of uncanny valley.

It sounded predatory. It was gruff, and though it didn't express a drop of emotion in its tone and way of speech, it still managed to sound hungry.

The discomfort and uncomfortable atmosphere thickened. They couldn't focus on the girl. They could only focus on the mounting dread that grew in their hearts. Though they could push away the terrifying thoughts and are able to stave away their primal fear, they couldn't ignore the fear-inducing aura that the living-corpse was spreading. It was like a virus, or a memetic of sorts. The moment they heard their former comrade's voice, they couldn't help but stop and stare at him. They felt that a single eye off him and they'd all be dead.

And then it stood up. The needle was absorbed deeper into its body as it got up on its feet. The dead man's eyes were unfocused and acted more like cheap googly eyes than human ones.

The fear made the bandits unable to move. It was the type of fear that one would feel when they know what they're looking at was only a cheap caricature of what a human should be. It made them want to vomit, but their minds were too focused on the man to make any kind of movement that would take their eyes off the dead man.

Even the two divorakks couldn't look away, only the older sister, who had more mental fortitude than everyone around her, could see that there was something wrong with the 'zombie'.

She could see the form of the unsettling bandit waver. As if it was merely an illusion. She could see a strange mana emanating from the man. It wasn't human, it resembled a divorakk's more.

But, even she, who could sense that something was wrong. Didn't expect what would happen next.

A little boy, around the age of her little brother, calmly walked behind the bandits. A merciless and hateful look in his eyes. It was overflowing with contempt for the humans in front of him.

With a single blade of a scissor, he pierced the bandits' necks one by one. A morbid painting was on display, a little boy almost bathing in the splattering blood of the bandits, a violent and bloodthirsty look in his young eyes. It was a large contrast to his angelic, harmless, and innocent appearance. A contrast so sharp that it would look as if the contemptuous gaze were another's, as if it were merely copied and pasted onto the boy's face.

The bandits couldn't do anything, they were absorbed in the illusion of Clailip's magic. He knew deeply how his magic worked, it was a divorakk's natural instinct to know exactly how their magic ticked, after all. So he infused the needle that he shot at the man with a spell that would disperse fear-inducing, hallucinogenic, droplets of water in the air. It was made possible by his magic's 'fear' trait.

Now that his mind was free from Harmless Sweetie's bind, he now knew that its suffocating grip would force him to use innocent-looking magics.

Some skills were sentient, and they could sometimes influence the owner's personality and identity. Harmless Sweetie was such a skill, it made it so that Clailip wouldn't feel the deep hatred for humans and the violent outburst he would have had the moment he saw his home burned down was cut down into weak sobs before it completely suppressed his emotion.

After all, how would an adorable little harmless sweetie be able to hate anyone? How would a cherubic harmless sweetie be able to let their magic run wild and kick and claw and scratch at what remains of their burnt home? What kind of harmless sweetie would curse and yell at the dark ashes of what once was, and promise that he would tear out the hearts of every human he sees?

Because of Harmless Sweetie, Clailip was only able to vent his anger and hatred for humans now. He was only able to realize now that the image of his burning home gave him scars that ran deeper than he would have ever guessed while being brainwashed by his skill.

Though it was a skill that saved him numerous times, it also contributed to deep emotional wounds and repressed thoughts and emotions. It even entirely changed who Clailip would have been by now. For this, Clailip absolutely hated his skill, if he could dig deep into his soul and tear it out of his body, he would. Oh he absolutely would.

What remains of Gabrielle Agustin after her reincarnation was almost fully erased by Harmless Sweetie, even Clailip himself was unknowingly being puppeteered by it.

The blood on his hands and body made him feel alive. He wanted to preserve this hatred, Gabrielle would have preserved this hatred, he wanted to get revenge on Jija and watch their kingdom fall. Gabrielle wanted to watch Jija fall.

For once, in his five years of existence in Magamundo, he and Gabrielle Agustin were one.

He had to find a way to suppress Harmless Sweetie's power over him. The skill was useful, and though he didn't like cheat skills, he knows how dangerous this world is. Even with Harmless Sweetie he would struggle greatly, his other unique skills were more or less just power-ups. From what his parents and grandparents told him, this world was far from the magical fantasy-land that he hoped, as Harmless Sweetie's puppet, to explore.

This world was dangerous, monsters that could warp reality itself, evil witches that plot the extinction of all life, daydreamers that could rewrite the laws of existence itself, Eldritch horrors far beyond anyone's understanding.

And that was just the normal everyday, existential threats that the people worry about.

The world was a dangerous place. Even with his mind now freed from Harmless Sweetie's shackles, he still craved the warmth, love, and comfort that his home provided for him. He missed the security his mother and father would give him, the feelings of safety whenever he was in their arms.

It was something he deeply craved, both as Gabrielle Agustin and as Clailip Diancia. This feeling was made stronger by his reset mental age, he wanted to be nurtured and protected. And he was willing to do anything to get back his beloved parents, and siblings.

Gabrielle's vengeful and childishly violent nature was now fully freed, intermixed with Clailip's tenderness, gentleness, and his desire for love and affection. It created a growing monster that was desperate for parental love and validation.

'I need to find my grandparents.' He thought, before he let himself snap back to reality. The scissor blade, which was larger than him by a considerable margin, was dispelled with a flick of his wrist. He turned around and stared at the confused teenage girl, and the boy in her arms.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes lost its deep hatred the moment he confirmed that all the bandits were dead with a single look. None of them were breathing.

"A trahed?" The girl asked, her voice sounded terrified, it's obvious that she's never seen this much bloodshed. Dianians were the most peaceful of the main four divorakk tribes, so one can imagine just how much of a shock this was to the girl.

Clailip shook his head and said a quiet no, before he started walking on over to the girl. Which prompted the girl to hug her brother tighter, and try to get away from the bloody boy. With each step Clailip took, the girl slid on the forest floor backwards.

"STAY BACK!" She hissed. She knew that the boy wasn't a trahed, but those eyes that seemed to dig deep into her soul, and steal from it her greatest fears, made her want to stay as far away from the boy as possible.

Clailip opened his mouth to talk, but was cut off by the disappointed tone of Colin's voice criticizing him. "You didn't have to kill every single one of them. Turning them in to the proper authorities would have been the better option. But I'll let this slide, they're cold-blooded criminals after all. Though I do worry about that hateful look you had in your eyes when you killed them off." Colin went on over to each corpse to close their eyes which still held a tense expression. As if they were still staring at their dead comrade.

"Innocents are innocents. Remember that, Little Lune. I'm afraid of what you could possibly turn into in the near future, if you keep nurturing that dark hatred inside you. You've done well to keep it concealed up to now, keep it that way." Colin advised, walking toward the smaller boy and past him. He reached out his hand for the teenage girl.

"I am Colin, a danzian. I assume you're a Dianian? The sun and moon work in tandem to keep the world's balance, may you thrive in the light of the pale moon." Colin greeted, he curtsied and smiled at the girl.

The girl trembled, and looked at Colin for a considerable time before realizing that the man had no I'll intentions. "And may you dance in the warmth of the eternal sun forevermore. I am Valerie, and this is my younger brother Diwotom." Valerie nervously smiled back, feeling comforted by the trahed's presence. An adult finally came to her and her sibling's rescue. She could finally take a breather.

She relaxed, the mellow scent of chamomile and moonflower helping to ease her body enough for her to almost fall asleep. Colin was doing this on purpose, the girl needed to rest, he knew that very well. The flowers would help calm her nerves and let her relax while he talks to Clailip more about his decisions.

Diwotom stared at Colin, who wore a gentle and storgic smile. It made the boy feel safe, he was absolutely tired from screaming and crying, so the moment he felt safe enough to rest he immediately fell asleep.

Colin took in a deep breath 'Kids… I wonder how the children at the orphanage are doing…' He wondered, it's been some time since he last visited.