Chapter 2: The Unquenchable Ember

Morning in Hezel arrived as it always did—silent, cold, and brittle. A thin mist clung to the ruins, and the sunlight seeped in slowly, as if hesitant to touch the dying city.

Karen woke first. As was her routine, she took a small basket to scavenge for food and water for them both. "I won't be long," she said softly.

Yohaime merely nodded, still leaning against a cracked wall.

Minutes later, a sound shattered the morning silence. A scream.

"Let me go!"

Yohaime’s body jolted. That was Karen’s voice.

He sprinted toward the sound. In the main square, the Baltana Royal Army had returned. Several children were already in chains; others were being dragged without mercy. Karen was struggling in the grip of a soldier.

"Yohaime!"

But before he could reach her, two soldiers caught him from behind. "This one too," one of them remarked.

Yohaime resisted. He kicked, bit, and struck out. But this small body was too frail. A blow struck his face, and his knees were forced into the dirt.

In that moment, something inside him snapped.

He had knelt like this before. In the face of betrayal. In the face of death.

His eyes, originally a bright amber, began to shift. A crimson hue bled into them, like embers fanned by a sudden wind. The cold morning air grew heavy.

A soldier beside him grew careless, his sword slipping slightly from its sheath. Without hesitation, Yohaime lunged for the hilt.

His movements were swift. Precise. Not like a panicked child, but like someone long acquainted with blood. One short slash. The first soldier's throat was opened. Blood sprayed onto the dew-damp ground.

The Baltana troops froze. "What the—"

Yohaime didn't wait.

He moved like a shadow losing its human form. Every short step, every brief swing, was aimed at the gaps in their armor. His red eyes blazed. It wasn't mere rage; it was instinct. The soldiers couldn't grasp his style. It wasn't a knight’s technique, nor a street brawler’s scrap.

It was the technique of an assassin.

One by one, they fell. Karen watched him with a mix of terror and hope.

As Yohaime stepped toward her—a whistle sliced through the air. An arrow buried itself in his shoulder. His body seized.

Poison.

His strength vanished instantly. The sword slipped from his fingers. In the distance, an archer lowered his bow.

"Get out of here! Leave the freakish brat!"

Karen was dragged into the second carriage. "YOHAIMEEE!" Her voice echoed before the carriage door slammed shut.

Yohaime’s vision blurred. Amidst his fading consciousness, he seared the archer's face into his memory. A face he would never forget.

Heavy rain began to fall, as if the sky itself were closing the chapter on that morning. Footsteps approached. A man in a raincoat stopped before him, kneeling to check Yohaime’s pulse.

"He's still alive... thank goodness."

Darkness swallowed everything.

Yohaime woke with a scream. "KAREN!"

He tried to bolt upright, but pain surged through his entire frame.

"Don't move too much," a voice emerged from the dim corner of the room. "The poison from that arrow hasn't fully cleared your system."

A man stepped into the light. White hair, sharp black eyes, and an eyepatch over one eye. He was heavily built, dressed in neat, dark clothing. He looked to be around forty-three.

"Who are you?" Yohaime asked coldly.

"My name is Wise Demiurge. I am the one who saved you from that lethal toxin."

Yohaime narrowed his eyes. "Are you one of them?"

Wise shook his head slowly. "No. On the contrary, I am interested in the magic that manifested from you a few days ago."

"Magic?"

Wise nodded. "That magic only appears in the descendants of the First Demiurge. It means you carry the same blood as us. The Great War of the past—sparked by people from other worlds—tore our family apart."

"They caused that chaos?" Yohaime asked.

"Yes."

Silence fell for a moment. "I don't know who you truly are," Wise continued, "but your blood is certainly no ordinary blood."

Yohaime took a breath. "Then, let me be honest with you."

Wise watched him. "About what?"

"I am not from this world."

Wise showed no surprise. Yohaime told him everything—the betrayal, the death, and the gods' offer.

After listening, Wise spoke. "Then, let me train you. So that you may properly control that power."

Yohaime nodded. The training began that very day.

His body was still weak, but his will was harder than steel. Between training sessions, he gathered information on the Baltana Kingdom. The reports made his jaw tighten. They frequently kidnapped orphaned children for human experimentation.

Days turned into weeks. Wise taught him the family’s unique magic: <Creation>.

The magic to create. Not just weapons, but anything he could visualize. Yohaime began with something he knew best. A pistol. Metal formed from gathered mana, following the intricate structures in his mind. Wise was stunned by how quickly he mastered the mechanics.

Three years passed.

His body grew stronger. His movements matured. But his goal remained unchanged: Save Karen.

"I'm going to Baltana," he said one night.

Wise looked at him sternly. "Entering that kingdom without permission is suicide. Only the 'chosen' enter freely."

Yohaime went silent. Then, an idea sparked. "What if I become your adopted son?"

Wise was taken aback.

"That way, I'll have an official identity. I can enter without suspicion."

Wise remained silent for a long time before finally nodding. "Fine. But on one condition. You must enroll in the Baltana Academy."

Primary school. Secondary school. He would have to endure it all. To Yohaime, it was a small price to pay.

In school, his grades were exceptional. His achievements were steady. Wise, as his adoptive father, did not hide his pride.

Three years later, Yohaime had grown significantly. One afternoon, he sighted a deer through his hunting rifle.

A steady breath. Bang.

"Target neutralized."

Wise stood behind him. "Tomorrow, you have a mission," he said.

Yohaime turned.

"You will travel with a woman named Olivia to Dalmara. You are to escort a secret briefcase."

"What's inside?"

Wise shook his head. "I don't even know myself."

To Yohaime, it wasn't just a job. It was an opportunity. An opportunity to test the results of his training.

And perhaps—the first step toward Baltana.