The Burden She Must Bear

In a world where death is the absolute ruler, there exists a magic that is considered the ultimate form of heresy: necromancy.

The power to bring the dead back to life is viewed with great disdain, repudiated in most villages and cities, considered a sign of bad luck.

Things were no different in that small seaside village. There were many protests against Belchior’s decision to let the girl stay, but in the end, no one could stop him from taking her in.

(...)

"She is a necromancer.
Her magic may be powerful, but using it is out of the question."

"Why is that?" Peter asked innocently.

"They say that if you use necromancy for too long, or if you try to bring a human back to life, Mors will descend from the heavens to take you personally."

"Mors..." Edward muttered thoughtfully.

"She carries the Scent of Death. I’m surprised you two never noticed."

"Lana taught me that it’s not polite to comment on a girl's scent. They’ll think you’re weird." said Peter with a smile in the face.

"Honestly, none of us would do that...
... But I’d probably notice if she changed her perfume."

That suspicious statement made the other two turn their gazes toward Edward. After realizing the stupidity of what he had just said, embarrassment rose to his head, and his cheeks turned slightly red.

"I-It's not like that, it's just that... I'm used to her perfume. I’d notice if it changed from one day to the next!
It's a pleasant scent; there's no reason to call it the Scent of Death."

As Edward tried to hide his embarrassment, Belchior’s expression grew serious.

"Arya doesn’t wear any kind of perfume. That ‘pleasant scent’ you’re talking about is the ‘Scent of Death.’
A slightly sweet aroma, similar to the blooming of red lilies in the field. It’s not just a scent but a presence that clings to anything linked to death.
Necromancers end up being affected by it, as if it were Mors’ way of saying he is aware of their existence. But many believe it attracts demons."

"And is that really true?"

"I can't say for sure, but ever since Arya arrived in the village, the number of lesser demons at the borders of the Utopiosphere seems to have decreased, so I think it's just a superstition."

"She told me about that, how the villagers refused to be near her. Even though they didn't act violently, they wouldn't let her get close."

"It wasn't easy for her to get used to. It took a long time before people started trusting her.
But she stayed strong and determined to earn that trust. That’s why I say Arya is a strong and fearless girl."

"She really is an amazing person," Edward said with a slight smile.

"Enough chit-chat, let's get to training!"

(...)

The boys practiced using their abilities in direct combat against Belchior. Despite being old, the mage maintained good physical shape and wouldn’t be easily overcome in a face-to-face fight.

The two young men tried various strategies, coordinated attacks, or individual assaults that played to their strengths. But even when they landed hits, they were unable to bring the old mage down.

Peter had a more aggressive style, with a strong punch capable of knocking out an unsuspecting opponent. However, he left his guard open too often and struggled with counterattacks.

Edward was much more focused and coordinated. He wielded a katana-style sword he had received from Belchior, using attacks that emphasized speed and precision. However, he often lacked the strength or skill to break through the mage’s defense.

"Huff, huff... I don't get it! We've tried everything, and nothing seems to work against you!" Peter said, collapsing to the ground.

"This difference… You say it's because of your magic, but I can't even see it!"

Belchior pondered for a moment.

"Indeed, I don’t usually manifest it physically, but it is always around me.
Since that’s the case, I suppose a small demonstration won’t hurt."

He extended his hand forward, palm open, and his spiritual energy began to flow through his body.

As the boys watched, they felt something moving around them. Then, rusted chains appeared, as if they had been materialized from thin air.

"The Chain," he said, closing his hand. The chains retracted toward him at high speed.
"This is my magic. These old chains manifest my will, and through them, I’ve been able to neutralize you two until today."

Peter looked at him with some expectation.

"Is there a way for you to teach us how to use these chains?"

"No… These are my chains. This is my magic. Maybe somewhere in the world, there is another mage who can use chains like I do, but ‘these chains’ belong to me alone.
Magic is the manifestation of your spiritual energy, so its form depends on the soul of each individual.
You will only reach the true potential of your magic when you can fully unleash your spiritual energy."

"But old man, that's the part that seems impossible! This is way too complex!"

"Well, I’m not very good at detecting spiritual energy, but I have a feeling that there’s something in your souls that interferes with your ability to use magic..."

The two boys exchanged glances.

"Could it be..." Peter whispered.

"Psyqui..." Edward's expression darkened as his mind was flooded with memories.

(...)

It was about two months ago.

Belchior was on one of his morning walks, the touch of sand beneath his feet and the monotonous sound of the waves crashing were a refreshing sensation for him.

Demons were more active at night, so the calm of a new morning was something soothing to his soul—a certificate that he had fulfilled his duty for another day.

He observed the horizon with satisfaction, but when his gaze shifted to the rest of the beach, he noticed something unexpected.

A small boat was stranded on the shore, followed by a few footprints in the sand leading to the unconscious bodies of two young men.

After confirming that both were alive, he carried them to his home, where, with Arya's help, he provided the necessary treatment for them to recover.

Both showed signs of dehydration but not drowning. They had passed out from exhaustion after drifting at sea for several days, holding on with sheer willpower until they finally reached land.

From that day on, the two boys began living with Belchior and Arya, accepting his training agreement so that one day they could return home safely.

(...)

"Someday, that bastard will pay for what he did..." Edward muttered.

"The fact that he looks so anthropomorphic is a red flag."

"Anthro— what?" Complicated words were not Peter's forte.

"Anthropomorphic," Edward replied. "It means he looks like a human."

"Exactly. The more human-like a demon is, the stronger it is.
Your lack of understanding about demons worries me."

"Apart from the giant screws he had on his head, he looked human enough," Peter commented.

"They're horns. They can vary in shape and size, but they’re always on the head.
No matter how anthropomorphic a demon is, it will always have a pair of horns.
That’s a rule without exceptions."

"I think that even knowing this rule, we wouldn’t have assumed those screws were horns. He looked strange, but his charisma balanced it out."

"Demons with higher intellect act that way. Instead of attacking irrationally like a beast, they use tricks to attract and infiltrate among humans, causing greater destruction.
That’s what makes them so dangerous."

"Then we still have a long way to go before we can reach his level," Peter said with a disappointed sigh.

"It doesn’t matter." Edward clenched his fists. "One day, I will destroy that monster… He will regret what he did to us."

Belchior crossed his arms, analyzing the boy.

"Be careful, Edward. Choosing the path of revenge is not always the best option.
Instead, think about what you want to protect."

"I know what the best choice is."

"As foolish as it may seem, it's never a bad idea to listen to an old man’s advice.
Isn't there someone special you'd like to protect?"

Edward paused to reflect for a moment. In his mind, the image of his family and friends appeared—but more than anything, the image of Arya.

"Yes," he replied with a smile. "I do."

"Instead of focusing on defeating that demon, you should concentrate on protecting those who are precious to you.
Don’t cling to life's grudges—think about what makes you happy.
This world is too cruel; if you don’t maintain an optimistic stance, it’s only a matter of time before you’re brought down."

"That’s right, old man! I like the way you think!" Peter agreed enthusiastically.

"Stop calling me old man!" Belchior retorted as he smacked Peter on the head.

Edward spoke calmly. "I understand... You’re both right."

But deep in his chest, the desire for revenge still burned.