Weapon and Purpose

The town had a pompous name for such a forgettable place: Marvalen. Though, to be fair, the pomp came from its founding days, when a man named Marval—or so they said—managed to kill a bear with his bare fists. Or with taxes. Accounts varied.

ㅤㅤI wasn’t there when the guards closed the gates. By then, I laid in a grain field, arms crossed behind my head, watching the clouds with the calm of a man who’s committed a political murder… and still allows himself a midday nap.

ㅤㅤThe grain scratched at my neck. The wind swayed the stalks. A constant buzz of insects, distant but persistent, kept me in that strange state between sleep and wakefulness. I had no watch or sun in my eyes, but I knew it was around midmorning. The perfect time to reflect on fate, chaos, and other things that solve nothing but give a false sense of control.

ㅤㅤThere was one detail I hadn’t fully grasped until now:

ㅤㅤThis world had no firearms.

ㅤㅤAnd if all magic was like the “Scorching Light Spark”… then my abilities were something close to a superpower.

ㅤㅤA gift.

ㅤㅤFallen from the sky.

ㅤㅤSpecifically for me.

ㅤㅤIt felt like a part of a bigger plan. Destiny? Guided reincarnation? A clerical error by the universe?

ㅤㅤWhat if someone—or something—wanted me to do something here?

ㅤㅤFree the world from tyranny?

ㅤㅤI almost laughed. Almost.

ㅤㅤKilling a fat Lord in a nameless town for personal reasons wasn’t the same as becoming a liberator.

ㅤㅤSomething beneath me trembled—or maybe I did. After having such a detailed résumé in my previous life, it wasn’t fear, of course. It was… what? Excitement? Satisfaction?

ㅤㅤGuilt?

ㅤㅤNo.

ㅤㅤNot guilt.

ㅤㅤThat pig deserved it.

ㅤㅤThe people’s reaction left a bitter taste. I expected cheers, rebellion, a wave of freedom… But no. People screamed, yes. But not with joy. They screamed like someone does when a dead rat is thrown into a party.

ㅤㅤThe Lord was dead, and his executioner would be turned into a monster.

ㅤㅤMe.

ㅤㅤLiberation implies revolution.

ㅤㅤAnd revolution… implies people.

ㅤㅤAnd I hated people.

ㅤㅤBesides, who was asking me? Them? Soup in winter and silence—there was their revolution.

ㅤㅤI sighed. Closed my eyes. Thought of the town crier’s voice, nasal and grandiose. Of the sound the Lord’s neck made when the natural order broke. Of the silence that followed: absolute, round, complete.

ㅤㅤI stayed like that for a long while.

ㅤㅤHours, maybe.

ㅤㅤUntil the sound of wooden wheels pulled me out of my thoughts.

ㅤㅤI stayed still, flat against the earth, like a lioness waiting for its prey—evaluating whether I should show myself and risk being recognized.

ㅤㅤAlong the dusty road came a small cart. Drawn by a donkey that its vocation appeared to be depressed. Pushed by a squat little man with a ridiculous hat, a braided beard, and a nose that deserved its own chapter.

ㅤㅤNews.

ㅤㅤI thought.

ㅤㅤAnd I revealed myself.

ㅤㅤ"Ahoy!" the man greeted without stopping. "This the road to Nolvar?"

ㅤㅤ"To what?"

ㅤㅤ"Nolvar. Trade town. Two inns, spice market, and... a bit of a bad reputation, hehe. This road leads there?"

ㅤㅤI remembered the name from a weathered wooden sign. Nolvar was to the southwest. This road went east.

ㅤㅤ"No. The opposite," I said.

ㅤㅤThe man gave an “ah,” gestured somewhere between thanks and resignation, turned the donkey slowly, and started walking away.

ㅤㅤA few meters later, I shouted:

ㅤㅤ"Did you pass through Marvalen?"

ㅤㅤHe stopped, turned halfway.

ㅤㅤ"Yeah. Passed by this morning. Planned to rest there, but… not a chance."

ㅤㅤ"Why not?"

ㅤㅤ"All locked up. Guards at the gate, checking carts, asking names, looking for someone, it seems. No one in or out."

ㅤㅤ"And so you're trying your luck in Nolvar?" I asked.

ㅤㅤ"It's a bit farther," he nodded, "but at least no soldiers staring at me like I slept with their sister."

ㅤㅤThere was no need to ask more. He waved, clicked his tongue, and went on his way. Slow, but steady.

ㅤㅤI stayed there, seated among the stalks, feeling the afternoon begin to cool.

ㅤㅤ“So the fox begins to hunt the wolf.” I said to myself, as a half-smile slipped out on its own.

ㅤㅤI lay back down, but I couldn’t fully relax anymore.

ㅤㅤWhat was my purpose?

ㅤㅤBeing a weapon with no target had elegance, sure, but made me incomplete.

ㅤㅤThe sun began to set. Shadows stretched long. The sky turned those shades of red that look like diluted blood.

ㅤㅤI stood up.

ㅤㅤBrushed the dirt off my pants.

ㅤㅤAnd walked back.

ㅤㅤThe house was in the middle of a small forest. A sturdy cabin, hidden behind treetops, From a little hill, you could even see Marvalen.

ㅤㅤThe lights were on.

ㅤㅤToo many lights.

ㅤㅤThe wooden wall gleamed with torches that weren’t usually there. And not just that: there were lights outside the wall. Makeshift campfires, tents, and temporary structures.

ㅤㅤThe chaos I had started.

ㅤㅤAnd with it, martial law.

ㅤㅤThe Lord’s Guard had taken control and locked down the town. No one in, no one out. The order was to protect the integrity of Marvalen while investigating the murder. Which really meant: beat the first suspicious person to a pulp.

ㅤㅤBut I had gone the other way.

ㅤㅤNo witnesses.

ㅤㅤNo trace.

ㅤㅤSafe.

ㅤㅤFor now.

ㅤㅤI entered the house. The air smelled of wood and cured leather. I locked the door. Sat down. Pulled out a crude map I had drawn over the past months, with incomplete names and barely explored routes.

ㅤㅤMarvalen was becoming too small for me.

ㅤㅤBut other names appeared on the map.

ㅤㅤNolvar. Keldar. Yurkar…

ㅤㅤAnd in the margin, in fine script, I had written a name with an arrow:

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓵

ㅤㅤI stared at it for a long time.

ㅤㅤThe chaos had already begun.

ㅤㅤI had only given it the first stab.

ㅤㅤShould I stop it?

ㅤㅤSteer it?

ㅤㅤOr simply watch?

ㅤㅤI had no answer.

ㅤㅤBut maybe, a new destination. A serpent’s head.

ㅤㅤI knew following that arrow would take me to The Capital.

ㅤㅤWhat I didn’t know is where getting there would take me.