Life of hanz continued

"Will this be all?" the mysterious hooded figure asked, his voice coarse and deep. He towered above the two women standing before him, holding a heavy bag of coins they had just handed over.

"Yes," one of them replied, her voice tense. "That will be all. How long until it’s done?"

The figure paused, letting silence build the unease before replying in a low, ominous tone, "It shall be done in two days."

A black smoke began to spill out from the bottom of his cloak, thick and unnatural. It swirled around them, choking the moonlight from the field in front of the orphanage. And when it cleared — he was gone.

The two women stood in silence until the younger one, Mari, finally spoke. "Martha... are you sure we did the right thing? What if our lady has a reason for trusting the boy? If she finds out what we’ve done, and she steps in—"

"She won’t," Martha interrupted coldly. "Can’t you see it, Mari? The boy’s already infected her with his darkness. If we wait any longer, she may make a mistake none of us can undo. This is for her own good… and for the good of all the realms."

Mari fell silent, troubled — but convinced.

The morning sun crept into the orphanage windows as Hanz stirred from sleep, unaware of the dark scheme set in motion. He stretched, letting out a breath and muttering, "From today onward… I won’t need to live in fear of you anymore."

His demon's voice came without delay, slithering through his mind like oil on water. "Do you really believe that? That some woman you just met can suppress me? Even if she could, do you understand the cost?"

Hanz sat up, the demon’s words digging in. “Everything comes with a price,” it whispered. “And the better the gift, the higher the cost. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

It was true, to a degree. In the orphanage, extra food meant harder labor. Toys came at a price. Even safety required sacrifice — friendships brokered through barter. Nothing ever came free.

Hanz clenched his fists. The weight of truth in the demon’s words nearly swallowed him — until he stood up and said with quiet resolve, "Then I’ll pay it. No matter what it takes, even if it costs me everything… I’ll be free of you."

The demon’s laughter died, replaced by an eerie silence.

As Hanz opened his door, he found Hannah waiting — casually leaning on a wall, holding an old, rusted katana. "Yo. Hope you slept well," she said with a grin. "Because you're about to feel like a wet rag."

Before Hanz could ask, she plunged the blade straight into his gut.

His eyes widened — not from pain, because there was none — but because the sword began to change before his eyes. The rusted metal darkened, shifting into a sleek, deep black. Hannah pulled it free, and his wound sealed instantly, leaving not even a scar.

Before he could speak, she beat him to it. "Yep. Your eyes aren’t deceiving you. It changed color." She twirled the sword once, then tossed it to him. "That sword just absorbed your demon’s power. I guided the blade to draw from his source — it’s now sealed inside."

"You’re serious?" Hanz whispered, gripping the sword. As he did, a dark, crushing presence passed over him — and then vanished.

"What was that?" he asked, stunned.

"That," Hannah said, "was the pressure of demonic kantar. But only you can wield it safely — your body was built to handle it. Anyone else? The kantar would burn them alive from the inside out."

Hanz turned the weapon over in his hands. "Kantar…?"

"Oh, right. You don’t even know what that is yet," Hannah said, scratching her head. "Alright. Pack your things. I’ll explain on the way."

"Wait… pack?" Hanz blinked. "You mean I’m leaving?"

"Yep."

He hesitated only for a moment. The orphanage had never truly been home — no friends, no warmth, just suspicion and fear. Hannah was the first person who seemed to see him as more than a threat.

He packed quickly.

Moments later, they stood in a forest clearing. The trees whispered in the wind, far removed from the orphanage’s cold walls.

"What I just did," Hannah began, "was a kantar technique. Kantar is the energy that flows through all living things. It powers our bodies and souls — like blood, but more than that. When someone learns to control their kantar, they can do… well, this."

She waved a hand, and a breeze split through the trees like a blade.

"Some people are born with innate kantar techniques — natural abilities that evolve over time. Think teleportation, illusions, fire control. Others can learn techniques, but they’re weaker and don’t grow. Only innate abilities evolve with the user’s kantar."

Hanz blinked. "So… if I learn this stuff, I basically get superpowers?"

"Pretty much," she laughed. "Which you’ll need to control your demon. So — you in?"

Hanz’s grin grew. "Operation Superpowers is a go."

Hannah chuckled. "You’re a strange one. You haven’t even asked why I brought you here."

"I figured you’d tell me eventually," he shrugged. "And… I don’t exactly have much to stay for. The staff fear me. The kids avoid me. You’re the only person who ever looked me in the eye."

Hannah smiled, faintly. "You remind me of my son. He’s around twenty-two now."

"Wait, what?" Hanz looked at her. "You don’t look a day over nineteen."

"I’m over three hundred, kid."

He gawked.

She continued, "And don’t blame the staff. Humanity’s been through a lot. There was a time an evil celestial ruled the world… then came the war between celestials and demons. Half the human race was wiped out. People don’t forget that kind of trauma overnight."

Before Hanz could respond, she added, "As for why I brought you here… last night, I overheard a couple of caretakers. They hired an assassin to kill you. I couldn’t leave you there."

The air grew cold.

But before Hanz could speak, a flash of crimson burst through the clearing — and a massive red sword pierced straight through Hannah’s back.

She gasped, blood spraying from her mouth.

"Hannah!" Hanz screamed.

From the shadows stepped a cloaked assassin, eyes glowing blood-red beneath his hood. His voice was a cruel hiss. "Never did I expect to be the one to slay the great Celestial of Destruction. I wonder…"

He leaned forward, almost smiling.

"What does the blood of a celestial taste like?"

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