“Astolfo!” Ophelia shouted and ran towards her son. “Oh, my! You’re bleeding so much, what happened!” She pulled the unconscious Astolfo into her arms with a panicked look. She inspected every inch of his body, grimacing at every scratch she discovered.

Having taken note of his injuries, Ophelia concluded she can’t waste any time and had to treat him now. It wasn’t that bad. He just had shallow gashes at various places and a few cuts. He only fainted because of his fractured soul and would heal with time, but she was too blinded to notice that.

Ophelia chanted a quiet spell, and a vial of purple liquid appeared in her hand. She opened the vial’s cork and placed it on Astolfo’s lips. She carefully poured the liquid in his mouth and chanted another spell, making the vial disappear.

“Just tell us if you want something…” Ophelia said. With a pained gaze, she looked at her son from top to bottom. Her eyes stopped at his palms. A beautiful flower with metallic petals and a tint of blue stuck out of his weak grasp.

When Ophelia saw the metallic rose in his hands, her pained gaze involuntarily turned into a tender and loving one. “So you found it.” She chuckled and placed Astolfo on her back. She wrapped his tiny arms around her neck and heaved him up. That night, Ophelia walked back home with the sleeping boy on her back.

**

It was early in the morning when Vincent noticed his wife was not around. After checking over the house, even his youngest son was missing. Instead of searching for them, he cooked up some breakfast for everyone.

‘What could happen when Ophelia is gone, too? Heck, If I were to worry, I’d worry about whatever will try to bother them.’ With such thoughts in his mind, Vincent whistled and continued with his cooking.

Soon, he heard a knock on the door and opened it to his wife. Branches and leaves stuck out of her messy hair, dirt and grime from the trees and stones covered her pale skin, and a light smile hung from her face. Vincent’s jaw dropped at this sight.

“W-what… did you fight an archdemon??”

“No?” Ophelia tilted her head to the side. “I’ll be pretty beat up if I did. I was just walking through the forest.”

‘Just walking?!’ Vincent was even more baffled now. “A forest on the other side of the world or something?”

“Ah, move aside already! Astolfo needs to rest. I’ll explain everything later.” Ophelia pushed her husband aside and walked inside. As she passed him by, Vincent took a look at Astolfo on her back. He looked peacefully asleep. There were no wounds or scratches anywhere. He was just dirty. In the end, Vincent just shrugged and went back to the kitchen.

Soon, Ophelia stepped into the kitchen with a towel draped over her head. It was still too early in the morning, so Vincent just served the food for the two of them and took her to the dining table. With a yawn, Ophelia indulged in her husband’s cooking while explaining the events of the night to Vincent. Halfway through, his jaw dropped, and he stopped eating. At the end of the story, Vincent dashed up from his seat and to his youngest son’s room.

As he opened the door and looked at the peacefully asleep boy, his racing heart calmed down. Vincent sighed and walked next to Astolfo. He closed his eyes and concentrated for a bit before opening them again.

The entire world went hollow. Monochrome.

Vincent’s gaze peered past Astolfo’s physical body and looked into its ethereal state. The true form of the boy. Above his lower dantian and below where his heart would be rested the core of his existence, his soul. As the inexplicable shape of the soul cleared up in his eyes, confusion overtook his being.

“What… in the world?”

The soul that was cracked and fractured in hundreds of places was suddenly in a much better state. It was still broken, but the shape of the soul that was previously indistinguishable now looked concrete and defined. The hundreds of cracks and fractures were reduced to half that number.

“O-Ophelia! Hurry—”

“—What?!” Ophelia came inside the room in the blink of an eye.

“I-I don’t know? How is this even possible…” Vincent stuttered over his words.

Ophelia frowned and extended her senses using the mana. “What is?”

“H-his soul is healing…” Ophelia staggered backward in bewilderment as she tried to process her husband’s words. What did he mean by healing? Every method one of the strongest mages and swordsman could think of was tested over the past seven years all to no avail! How could a single fall from a cliff turn all their attempts on their feet?

Ophelia shook her head and used her mana again. “That’s not all… somehow, there is a lot of mana in his body as well…”

“Hm? I don’t sense any mana?”

“That’s because it’s not dominated,” she said in a whisper.

“You mean to say that the mana in his body is not his own? Are you still tired?” Vincent quipped.

Ophelia hissed and turned her head towards him. “Shut up. It’s the truth… The mana in his body has not submitted to him, but is… obeying him…”

Vincent pulled his head back and tapped his feet on the ground. His head tilted left and right as he hummed a flat noise. At last, he sighed and placed his hand on Astolfo’s head. “Whatever it is, the kid’s getting better. That’s all that matters. We can figure out the rest at our own pace.”

A tender smile blossomed on Ophelia’s face as she nodded with enthusiasm. The two let the sleeping boy rest in quiet.

**

A stifling pain raced through Astolfo’s spine. It traveled through his blood and assaulted the furthest extents of his body. His every cell screamed in pain as his eyes glanced over the segment of hell he found himself in.

Gigantic structures of steel and metal ravaged the ground in the wake of their destruction. Everywhere he looked, searing flames wrecked the world and their teeming fumes asphyxiated the rest. At last, Astolfo’s sight landed on the creature at the forefront of everything. Disgust welled up within the boy as the figure made itself clear.

A pair of thick horns protruded from the sides of its head. Curling upwards, the horns were filled with craters. The creature’s gnarly skin, laden with pits and bulges, nauseated all that laid their eyes upon it. With a single long fang and a large scar on its face, the one-handed creature laughed as it made its way towards the fallen Astolfo.

“HAHAHA!! ASTOLFO! Today, I take my revenge!” the creature screamed and raised its hand. Under the grip of its horrendous claw was a flailing man. As soon as Astolfo saw him, he felt as if a hundred needles had stabbed his heart. The man’s blonde hair had been muddied and blood profusely dripped from every inch of his body. His large frame was filled with gaping wounds. His breathing was minuscule and his eyes weak, but he was still alive.

“Your friend’s life is in my hands!!” the creature erupted. “For my arm and my face… You’ll pay with death!”

Astolfo could feel himself choking from pain. It was different from the one before. This pain was the pain of grief. His heart raced and his eyes burned. He wanted to scream out loud, but instead of a wail, a chuckle escaped his mouth. Against his will, his hand pushed him off the ground and he weakly stood up. “Bolverkr… your lack of pride astound me.”

Why?

Why was he moving?

The creature would kill the man! He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want him to die. He didn’t understand, why was he feeling this way? Where was he? Every time these questions popped into his mind, his emotions drowned them away.

“You are worse than a sewer rat. Prideless. Insignificant. Bug. That’s all you are.” Astolfo stood up and looked into the creatures, into Bolverkr’s eyes.

“ASTOLFOO!! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL HIM!” Bolverkr’s grip tightened. A cracking sound reverberated through the hellish field as the man in his hands groaned in pain. Astolfo felt tears well up in his eyes, but his body was smiling.

“S-save me… Astolfo…”

As if a trigger was flipped, the pain in Astolfo’s heart multiplied. The air in his lungs escaped and his muscles tightened. Grief like he had never imagined, permeated each corner of his soul. He smirked and stretched his hand out as the hilt of a broken sword entered his hand. Bolverkr trembled in confusion.

Astolfo wanted to cry, he wanted to stop.

With a swing of his hands, a golden hue encased the hilt before transforming into a thin black blade. “YOU BASTARD! DO YOU THINK YOU CAN KILL ME AND SAVE HIM!!” the creature’s disgusting scream shook the air!

‘STOP! STOP!’ Astolfo wailed. He didn’t know who the man was, but he didn’t want him to die. He screamed and flailed, but his body didn’t stop. It didn’t obey him.

Before Bolverkr could blink, his enemy disappeared. The creature turned left and right, but Astolfo didn’t appear. Soon, Bolverkr pulled the man close to him and increased the strength in his claws. The creature was convinced! Astolfo was still a human, no matter how powerful. Even he would stop to save someone he loved like a brother. ‘He will give up,’ the creature thought.

“GAHHH!” the creature bellowed in the surety of its victory when a piercing force tore through its neck and crushed into its core. There, with a gaze as colder than ice, stood Astolfo. The black blade of his sword passed through the heart of the man in Bolverkr’s hand and right into its core. Blood spurted out from the creature’s neck and its limp self fell forward, but Astolfo’s sword held it in place.

“W-wh…y… Astolfo…” the man’s voice reached Astolfo’s ears. “Wh—”

Before the man could finish speaking, Astolfo pulled his sword back. The action was enough to kill the man and the creature behind him.

“AHH!” Astolfo woke up with a scream. “It was a dream. A dream…”

Covered in sweat, the young boy tried to calm his trembling heart down. “Just a dream...” he said.

He brought his knees to his chest and buried his head in his arms.

For memories, he didn’t remember.

For emotions, he didn’t feel.

For a friend, he didn’t have.

Astolfo Kirsche cried.