Chapter Four — The Breaking of Innocence

Chapter Four — The Breaking of Innocence

Hikari never wondered why the kidnappers never seemed afraid of him. After all, to humans without enough mana, he felt no different from any other child. To them, he was simply a quiet boy, slightly odd, maybe slow-witted—but harmless.

In truth, Only those who have atleast high aptitude and crazy mana could feel how strong he is.

The forest receded as the wagons rattled along. Hikari sat between burlap sacks of grain, his wrists bound with ordinary rope. He studied the scenery with wide-eyed fascination. He had never seen this part of the world—the tall oaks giving way to fields, the air fresh with the scent of rain.

A short distance away, he noticed another cart, this one crowded with children and women. Most looked beaten and hollow-eyed. But one face stood out: a little girl with tangled hair and enormous green eyes. She couldn’t have been older than five. She watched him through the slats, curiosity glinting in her gaze.

Maybe she’s from the deep woods, too, Hikari thought. Maybe she was hunting.

He smiled hesitantly. She didn’t smile back.

By sundown, the beautiful countryside faded behind them. The wagons rolled past the last sturdy houses into a district of half-collapsed buildings and blackened chimneys. A jagged mountain loomed over the skyline.

Hikari shifted uneasily. “Excuse me…I think I’d like to get out now.”

The men driving the wagon laughed—a mean, scraping sound.

“What do you think we are?” one called over his shoulder. “A charity organization?”

Hikari tilted his head, puzzled. Maybe I have to pay them. He wiggled his hands free—snapping the rope as if it were paper—and rummaged in his satchel. From inside, he drew the roasted thigh bone of the monster Ka’Renth.

Every eye locked onto it.

“What…is that?” the nearest man stammered.

“My payment,” Hikari said politely, holding it out. “It’s very good meat.”

Before he could explain further, iron rang against his skull. Stars exploded behind his eyes. He felt himself fall sideways into darkness.

He must have died, someone said distantly.

When next he woke, he was lying on cold stone, wrists shackled with steel manacles. A lantern guttered overhead. He heard the rattle of chains, the muffled weeping of other prisoners. The smell was awful—sweat, mildew, fear.

Footsteps approached. A large man with a gold tooth and a scar splitting his lip loomed over him. This was the boss—Gregor Voss, the men called him. He smelled of cheap cologne and stale pipe smoke.

Gregor studied him thoughtfully, accent thick and rough.

“Aye, you’re a stubborn one, eh? Thought you were dead. Maybe you got a wee bit o’ magic in you.”

Hikari blinked up at him. “I’m Hikari. I’m the son of Eldran.”

Gregor exchanged a look with his men and smiled slowly. “Is that so? And what else can ye do, wee lad? How old are ye?”

“Six,” Hikari said proudly. “But almost seven.”

Gregor’s eyes glimmered with speculation. If he’s truly Eldran’s child…maybe he’s worth more than a month’s ransom.

That evening, when a guard shoved stale bread at him, Hikari set it aside. “I think I will go hunt now,” he announced.

The guard stared blankly. “Hunt?”

“Yes. I’m hungry.”

The man burst out laughing, waving two others over. “Oy! This one says he’s goin’ huntin’!”

They surrounded Hikari, cudgels in hand. “Go back inside, brat—or get your teeth broke.”

Hikari frowned. “But I—”

“WHAT’S THIS?” roared Gregor, appearing at the door. He looked from the boy to his men. “What are ye doin’?”

“He says he’s goin’ huntin’,” the guard sneered.

Gregor scowled, then forced a thin smile. “Lad. If there’s anythin’ you be wantin’, you just tell me. I’ll get it for ye.” His voice softened. “Aye, like a da would.”

Something in Hikari’s chest warmed. He’s like Gramps Eldran, he thought happily.

Days turned to weeks.

Hikari was fed, clothed, taught to bathe properly. They even taught him simple wind magic—just enough to amuse him and keep him ignorant of his true strength.

To him, it felt like a family. Almost.

But most of the men treated him like an annoyance. They laughed when he asked questions. They shoved him aside when he wandered too close. Still, Hikari accepted every slight with a shy smile. They had given him shelter and food. That was enough.

Seven years passed.

Hikari was thirteen now. Taller, leaner. His hair had grown long enough to tie back. His voice was clear and soft. His manners were gentle. But beneath it, something patient and terrible waited.

He could shape the wind like cloth in his hands. He’d learned to coax a spark of fire, though the men insisted it was too dangerous to practice more.

One morning, Gregor announced a special mission. The wagons were loaded. The men strapped on weapons. Hikari was told to dress in his cleanest clothes.

“You’re comin’ with us, lad,” Gregor said. “We’ve a buyer..., someone that wants to meet ye.”

“Yes, sir,” Hikari replied, smiling.

As they filed through a corridor lined with locked iron cages, a muffled voice drifted to his ears. A voice none of the others heard.

“…Help…”

Hikari paused. “I’ll be right back,” he said lightly. “I just need to get something.”

No one paid him any mind. They were too busy secretly arguing about how much he would fetch on the market.

He followed the sound. In the last cage, he found the girl from years before, her green eyes glassy with misery. A man loomed over her, fumbling with his belt.

Hikari stepped forward. “What are you doing?”

The man jerked around, startled. “How did— You brat! What are you doin’ here?”

“I heard her crying.”

The man’s lip curled. “Thought they’d sold you already.”

“Sold?” Hikari repeated, voice soft. Something inside him shifted, a cold and crawling thing.

The man spat. “And wipe that stupid smile off your face—”

He lunged. But as his hand drew back to strike, he felt no weight in his body. He looked down and saw his torso neatly divided, half sliding away. His scream came out as a wet gurgle.

Blood splattered the stone.

The other men came running. They skidded to a stop at the threshold. Hikari stood there, smiling faintly, the girl behind him sobbing in terror.

“W-What happened here!” one whispered.

Gregor stepped forward, face pale. “Lad…did she hurt you?”

Hikari tilted his head. “You were going to sell me?”

“…Aye,” Gregor admitted. “But you brought this on yerself.”

His men lunged with axes. They burst mid-swing, shredded in midair as if a thousand invisible blades tore them apart.

Gregor stumbled back. “No…this is there a barrier?—”

Hikari took a step forward. Something inside his skull cracked, a pressure too vast to hold. He felt his mother’s voice, whispering: If you harm another…you will die.

Then his father’s voice overlapped: You will never die.

The curses collided—writhing, screaming, melting into each other. Hikari clutched his head. His thoughts fractured like broken mirrors. He saw every death he could inflict, every life he could erase.

He started smiling really hard. He couldn’t stop.

Gregor backed away, babbling. “Ye—ye think you’re so powerful? This—this wee bauble here—” He pulled a crystal from his coat, its facets pulsing with dark fire. “This can erase all existence. Even you.”

Hikari still smiling, eyes empty. Still trying to speak.

Gregor activated the crystal rune. Light erupted—and Hikari’s head flew from his shoulders.

Silence.

Gregor’s laughter echoed off the walls. “I guess I will be selling yer corpse to the Archivists of Ash. They’ll pay more than any slaver!”

He bent to retrieve the boy’s severed head.

Hikari’s eyes opened.

His head rejoined his body with a soft crack.

Gregor’s laughter died in his throat. “Was it Illusion…?” he rasped.

Hikari raised his hand.

Gregor never finished his scream. His body turned inside out, his last thoughts dissolving into horror as blood soaked the stone floor.

«End of Chapter Four»