Your name echoed like a distant whisper.
Gradually, the sound grew louder. Clearer. Closer.
Then hands grabbed his coat and began shaking him.
Shaphira was screaming for him.
Slady's vision blurred before stabilizing. Amid the saliva spread across the floor, the rolled back eye slowly focused on the girl. It found Shaphira kneeling in front of him, fingers gripping the dark fabric tightly as she hugged him without hiding the sweat running down her body.
She said she had found him unconscious. She confessed how worried she had been.
Slady stayed still for a few seconds, his hands resting on her waist, steadying himself. He tried to reassure her, claiming he had just fallen asleep there without noticing. She pulled back soon after, took his face between her fingers, squeezing his cheeks while asking why anyone would use the floor as a bed.
He answered that his exhaustion had been so great he hadn't even noticed where he fell.
Still sitting on top of him, Shaphira crossed her legs and demanded he never scare her that way again. Slady agreed without hesitation. Satisfied, she finally stood up and announced she would make a cake to help him wake up properly.
Maybe it was hunger.
He thanked her quietly.
After she left, Slady sat up slowly and threw a brief glance at the saliva on the floor before looking away.
In the bathroom, he filled the sink with cold water and dipped his face into it.
The tension in his muscles began to dissolve immediately.
When he faced the mirror again, though, he felt a certain heaviness. The eye seemed to struggle to hold contact with the reflection. His fingers trembled over the sink. For a moment, he touched the eyepatch. His index finger found the exact center.
He pressed.
It didn't sink in.
Slady let out a long sigh.
Later, seated at the table, Shaphira remarked how rare it was to see him without that covering his second eye. Slady replied that, even though there was nothing beneath the eyelid, it was still good to remove the prosthetic once in a while. She just nodded.
Then she stood calmly, using the spatula to cut the still warm brown cake. Steam rose slowly as she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She mentioned how much she loved that recipe and thanked him again for having taught it to her.
The slice fell onto the plate.
Slady separated it with his fingers while watching Shaphira take large bites without any ceremony. Small satisfied sounds escaped her with each mouthful. Slowly, he did the same. But he quickly looked away and coughed.
One of Shaphira's ears shot up immediately. She asked if it tasted bad or if he had swallowed wrong. Slady shook his head, saying only that the sweet was still too hot. She called him delicate before filling her mouth again.
The silence stretched on for a few moments.
Then Shaphira suddenly asked if Elisa would like her food. Slady's single eye opened a little wider. He asked why she was wondering that. She explained she had promised her friend, a few days earlier, to let her try something she had made herself.
Slady replied that it would then be fair to make more cake, and that he could even help her. Before he could even try to stand, though, a hand pushed his shoulder back against the chair. Shaphira pouted irritably as she ordered him to just get ready, look handsome and charming, because she would make the brownie herself. Slady placed both hands on the table and tried to argue that a small extra touch would make the sweet even better. She refused immediately. The cake would be made by her. Alone.
He swallowed and lowered his head in silence. Shaphira crossed her arms and broke into a satisfied smile, showing her teeth slightly. It's good to see him like that, obedient.
Then she left. Her firm footsteps echoed through the whole library until they faded into the next room.
Slady slowly raised his head again. He got up from the chair and headed to the second floor. But halfway there, his body seemed to lose its strength. One hand pressed against the wall before he fell to his knees.
The voices. The memories. The truth. Everything crashed down on him at once.
That was temporary. None of it would be forever. It would end.
Slady shook his head and kept walking toward the room. Still, his own body felt smaller. More bent than before.
He pulled some formal clothes from the wardrobe. Then he blinked.
The whole room was overtaken by reddish stains. A woman's scream cut through the space like a gust of wind. Slady immediately covered his ears and fell to the floor. His teeth clenched as he begged, in thought, for it to stop. It was already enough.
Then everything went silent.
But when he looked up again, there was a body before him. Shaphira. No eyes. No mouth. Empty.
Slady tried to pull away, but the creature's limp arms slowly wrapped around him. Its deformed mouth began to open as he desperately pushed the figure away. His back felt lighter and lighter. Giving way.
Then he was swallowed.
And he fell. He fell through an endless abyss.
Knocks on the door broke through the darkness. Shaphira's voice called him, letting him know the cake was ready.
Slady woke up abruptly again, pulling away from the floor as his hand shot up to his chest.
Thump thump thump thump thump!
He drew in a slow breath. Held it. Released it. His heart gradually found its rhythm again.
From the other side of the door, Shaphira called him again, reminding him of the time. Slady answered with an apology, claiming he had gotten distracted tidying the room.
A little later, Shaphira was carefully focused on a braid. Her tongue peeked slightly between her lips as she narrowed her eyes, absorbed in the delicate work of tucking small flowers among the dark strands of Slady's hair. Then, without warning, she gave a light tap to his head and announced she was done, pushing him toward the mirror.
Slady raised his hand slowly and touched the petals fixed in his hair. He stroked them. A small smile appeared on his face.
It felt strange. Even Shaphira agreed, remarking that a man dressed so darkly wearing flowers in his hair made for an unusual sight. She was even considering forcing him to wear brighter clothes.
Slady refused immediately. In truth, he admitted finding a certain beauty in the flowers, and asked her to style him that way more often.
Shaphira's eyes lit up. She hugged him without hesitation, saying she would do it gladly.
Slady breathed deeply. He closed his one open eye. Then he squeezed her hand. Their fingers slowly intertwined.
Later, they walked through the streets. Shaphira carried the cake carefully, protecting the warm pan with a cloth held between her fingers. Slady walked beside her, arms crossed behind his back.
From time to time, he cast discreet glances toward her. Shaphira noticed and asked why he kept staring. Slady looked away on reflex, apologizing first. Then he admitted he had never seen her look so beautiful, that she deserved praise for having worked so hard.
Her lips curved into a subtle smile. Her forehead rested against his arm as she quietly thanked him for the compliment.
When they reached La Taberna, the bells on the door rang through the room. The place was empty, the clock marking the start of evening. Even so, two figures remained in front of the bartender, talking loudly and carelessly. A man. A woman.
The voices stopped immediately at the sound of the door opening. Slowly, both turned their faces.
Faller. Victoria.
The silence lasted long seconds. Slady watched the couple's expressions, who looked at him with the same calm as before.
Victoria saw the man, and the young girl beside him, sensing a presence, a reddish aura. Her hands trembled against her leg, the air growing more humid, as though particles were being replaced, little by little, with water.
Faller touched the hilt of his sword. His muscles tightened, his mind raced, his body nearly moved aggressively, but he stayed in place, fingers gripping the wooden counter firmly.
Raizer lowered his glass. His lips, raised before, fell. His brows furrowed as he set the glass on the table, asking for calm, the friend he had spoken of so often had finally arrived, and he had even brought his little princess along. The couple nodded slowly, with Victoria agreeing that yes, she really did look like a little princess.
Shaphira walked toward them without rushing her steps. Faller and Victoria stepped aside, and she reached the middle, handing the cake to Raizer, who smiled, asking what she had cooked up. She answered it was a promise she owed Elisa. He then pointed toward the stairs, telling her to keep her friend company for a while, promising they would call the girls to eat soon. For now, the adults needed to be alone.
She waved frantically and ran to the stairs, her tail swaying, brushing against the wooden railing. The detail made the couple's eyes widen, their necks turning slowly toward each other. There was no delay before the question rose between them. was that girl a demon?
Slady let out a sigh through his nose. He regretted that they had found out so soon, and corrected them. not "was". She is a demon.
Faller stood up, weapon gripped tightly. Victoria tried to stand as well, asking the man not to lose control, but Raizer held her back, whispering in her ear that Faller wouldn't be capable of attacking Slady, especially after what he had revealed.
Victoria swallowed hard.
Faller stood before Slady. He breathed deeply, his chest swelling. He knelt to Slady's height. He wanted to know how he had been capable of that. It was his question, and also something that impressed him and, at the same time, made him afraid, especially over the risk that having Shaphira around might be dangerous not only for Slady, but for the world at large. A trained demon. Intelligent.
Slady told him to be quiet, demanding he never speak of his daughter that way again. He held his gaze, hands clasped in front of his waist. He said the fact that she was a Renkai Creature did not frighten him, that he knew her, that he himself had trained her. And that, if she ever attacked someone, it would be him who should bear the punishment.
Faller kept his eyes open as he listened, then rose to his feet. He considered that honorable, worthy of a good father. He glanced at the room for a moment, his dominant hand still close to his sword, but he controlled himself and extended it to Slady. He said he was grateful for everything Slady had done up to that point, and that, for that reason, the only logical thing was to trust that Slady knew what he was doing. So it was only fair to trust him, and that handshake would seal that trust.
Slady looked at his hand, sweaty, trembling. He returned the grip, matching its strength.
On the night when the wind made their clothes fly, Faller covered his wife with his coat. She thanked him. At the same moment, with her eyes reflecting the lights of the lampposts wrapped in vines climbing up from the grass and curling around the bulbs, she asked about the evening they'd had. The man. The girl.
The girl, surprisingly to Faller, had been very polite. He admitted wanting to get to know her better, but his instincts still warned him to neutralize her. Victoria's shoulders dropped as she remarked that living through so many battles was what made them strong, but that any strange difference set off their survival instincts. It was exhausting to live that way.
Faller laughed. That was just reality.
Then Victoria, resting her head against her husband's chest, asked about Slady. His steps slowed, the arms around her tightened. It took a long second before the answer came, but when it did, it was certain. Shaphira was an anomaly in a world that feared demons. Slady, from what he'd heard from Raizer, was worse than any demon.
Later, Slady asked Raizer what he had told the couple about him. Raizer denied having said anything serious, claiming he had only mentioned, to defend himself, that they themselves already suspected him, that they found him strange. Slady wanted to know in what way. Raizer answered, in every way. Regretting that, Slady insisted on knowing what exactly had been said about him. Raizer went straight to it. he had told them about the day they first met. Slady called him an idiot.
Back on the bed, in the library, Slady lay down beside Shaphira, who purred, saliva escaping her mouth while her sharp claws rested on her full stomach.
Suddenly, beside him, Truth's ghostly figure returned, sitting on the edge of the room's table. She asked for forgiveness. Why? She hadn't done anything. Truth insisted she had, that she had not been fair to him, that she had lessened his suffering over what he would become. She said it didn't matter how grand it was, he was the one in command, he was the one who suffered, and that was why she apologized.
Slady answered that he couldn't run from it, and that, if she wanted his honesty, he didn't want to risk waking Shaphira with whispers. He asked her to leave and let him be. Truth murmured that she still hadn't been forgiven, and vanished like mist scattering into the air.
Slady got up, gently touched the eyepatch on the table, and put it on.
In the kitchen, he leaned his arms on a chair, lowering his head. The past Raizer had mentioned ran through his mind. A familiar cry. He knocked his own head against the chair, producing a low echo.
Suddenly, the smell of smoke filled his nostrils. He raised an eyebrow, walked through the kitchen checking every electrical connection, and ran to the library's entrance, opening a panel and pressing every switch. Darkness took over everything.
But the smell remained. Growing stronger.
He turned the lights back on and went outside the library. His eye widened.
A wave of smoke rose in the distance toward the sky. The distance between that place and his home felt too familiar. Could all that fire be coming from La Taberna?
He ran back into the city. Flames climbed from the floor to the ceiling of the tavern he knew so well. Slady rushed inside. The sight that followed made him freeze, a tear crossing from his eye socket down into the fire.
Raizer.
Fallen in the middle of the tavern. A heart lying beside the body, radiating reddish energy. Blood pouring from his mouth like a river. A hole in his chest reaching all the way to the floor.
And the memories he didn't want to remember came back like lightning charring a body. Her screams. The mechanical precision of each act. And, above all, that young pair.
For a moment, he was holding the tools again. The nude, opened female body, the organs shifting. His hand reaching the bluish heart, a sensation the opposite of warmth turning his fingers purple. He had told her she would become human.
And, as he turned to leave, two bodies hung by iron wires, unconscious. He reached into the pockets of the man and the woman. Cards, Lynes, identification. Raizer Fainer. Raintalya Fainer. Destruction Hunters. Impressive, he thought.
At another moment, he remembered waking them up. Seated in the chair, the man and woman stared at each other, trying to escape while he positioned the unconscious body on the table before them. And he remembered too his attempt to comfort her as she died.
That past, distant by so many years, still felt so clear. But the fire was clearer still, drowning out the image.
And a single thought came to his mind. Elisa.
He ran up the stairs, tripping over the collapsed wood. The flames spread from his shoes to his knee. He crossed through the fire. The eyepatch fell off.
Opening the door, he found a cocoon of blood. A woman's voice cried out for her father. He announced himself, calling her name through the screams. The cocoon melted, falling to the floor in pools of red liquid.
Elisa stood before him. In tears. She called him uncle.
The last thing he saw, through the walls of flame, was a man whose only visible feature, aside from his silhouette, was a red light where an eye had never been revealed.
***
Later, at the police station, they asked him his name. He answered only Slady. They wanted to know if he was aware of the incident involving the former Destruction Hunter, Raizer. He confirmed it. They asked if he also knew he had been reported as being inside La Taberna at that same moment. He confirmed that too.
They asked if he had any proof that he wasn't the one who started the fire, and especially proof regarding the disappearance of the man's daughter, Elisa Fainer. Slady explained he was an old friend of his, having known him longer than he could count, and that he even had a will proving his right to adopt Elisa should Raizer die.
They asked if he had done that. He answered that he had rescued her.
They wanted to know why he hadn't alerted the police right away. He claimed he had been busy healing his own burns and, more importantly, caring for that girl's heart.
The investigator seemed to understand, and moved on to ask, then, who might have caused the fire, since it wasn't him. Slady suggested that was exactly what they were investigating him to find out, wasn't it. He reminded her that, some time ago, he had installed a camera in La Taberna, and that, if it hadn't been destroyed, he might be able to recover the footage.
She confirmed they had the camera, handing it to him. Slady looked it over, saying it was charred, but that he could recover the files, even if it took a great deal of time to repair.
For now, they told him, he was free to go. They warned that any suspicious movement would bring him back in for questioning, and asked that he report anything relevant. They wished him a good day. He returned the sentiment, asking the investigator's name. She identified herself as Rin Yuang. He repeated the name quietly.
A handshake closed the conversation.
Leaving the station, Slady looked at the camera in his fingers. Once white, now black. He ran his fingers through his hair, muttering how irritating it was to have to present himself as a suspect. But, despite the risks, it seemed to have improved his standing as a good citizen in the eyes of that woman who didn't recognize him.
At the library, the door opened slowly. In the room, the two girls lay asleep. Elisa's pillow was damp, the moisture spreading across the mattress. Beside her, Shaphira held her close. Her tense face, even in unconsciousness, made Slady touch her hair, murmuring that she was being strong. Stronger than any young girl should have to be.
Leaving, he walked through bushes that brushed against his face. Creatures whose flesh had replaced their skin roared and lunged at him, caught by his mechanical arm and crushed beneath his fingers, blood splattering across his apathetic face, staining the white band over his always covered eye.
A path of flowers, arranged in a pattern with the petals pointing the right way, appeared before him. Minutes passed, branches striking against his arm. Then a clearing opened up, covered in flowers on every side.
Four gravestones. And, beside them, one where, beneath it, there was only dirt, not grass.
With his hands running through the strands of hair over his ears, Slady murmured that, finally, they were all together now.
He spoke to each of them, in near reverent silence. To Natasha, he remembered a time she had sat beside him on a bench and said she liked him, unable to explain why. He said that, back then, he hadn't understood it, but that now he felt he knew the same feeling she had confessed to him.
To Jonhye, he admitted they had never been especially close, and that perhaps the only real connection between the two of them had come from the training sessions Jonhye had asked him for. Even brief, they had been enough for him to see the genius the world had lost.
To Raintalya, he confessed that, no matter how many years passed or how many deaths he witnessed, he would never forgive himself for having taken her life. He mourned that her daughter would never get to know the incredible mother she had been.
And finally, to Raizer, he asked himself how he hadn't sensed death standing right beside him that day. He said he had failed him, but that, wherever he was, in heaven or in hell, he wanted him to know. he would never let Elisa suffer. She didn't deserve that. He said goodbye to him as his one and only best friend.
Slady brought his hand to his own neck, undoing a necklace. A heart split into two initials, R and R, joined by curves that fit together like key and lock, inseparable. He crouched down and placed it on the man's grave, remembering an old promise, that the gift would be delivered on the day of the Second Renkai Awakening.
Now it was his. To give to the woman he loved.
Standing, Slady turned his back, cast one last glance at the graves, and his silhouette disappeared among the leaves.
Drops of water fell from the sky onto the man's braided hair. The young girl beside him hid in his coat, protected only by a red shirt beneath the tree above him.
Soldiers stood gathered around a tomb, surrounded by other large tombs. They shouted about the man who had died, raising their gun barrels above their heads before firing. With each shot, Elisa wrapped herself tighter in the coat, and the light in Slady's eye, with every deed mentioned, every life saved not only by the man but by his whole group, kept fading.
Her face hid against his chest, arms wrapped around him. Loud sobs stained his shirt. He pressed her head against himself, stroking her hair, saying he was sorry.
He placed his mechanical arm over her shoulders. The shots continued, but, as the distance grew, they turned more and more into whispers.
In the streets, they looked at what had once been a great tavern, now reduced to ash. Elisa pulled away for a moment, walking to the entrance. The door fell at the slightest touch. She lowered her hand, her head tilting as her feet stirred up dust and debris.
She said she had loved it there. That she had really loved it. And she wanted to know why everything they loved, everything they wanted to protect, died or ended right before their eyes, so quickly.
Slady agreed it was a cruel irony, a very cruel one, admitting he didn't have all the answers. But he said he truly wanted to find some optimistic conclusion in all of it. When she asked if there was any optimism in it at all, all he could answer was that he hadn't found it yet.
As the days passed, there wasn't even a sound in the library. Slady stayed locked away for countless hours in one room. Elisa, in another. Shaphira sat on the couch, curled up, hiding her face in her arms. The plates of food on the table no longer gave off any steam.
The equipment was placed back into the camera, connected to a wire linked to a computer. Slady placed both hands on a lever. He breathed deeply and pulled it down. The blue light flickered, the wire trembled. The lights, not just in the room but throughout the whole library, went out.
But the computer turned on.
Images. Countless images, from pixels to a rendering that revealed even the dust. Videos of lunches, service, arrogant customers, people being thrown out. People who had once walked on that ground. The wife, the siblings, even the newborn little girl.
Among so many images, the last recording was finally shown to him.
Raizer sat in his chair, sharpening one blade against another larger one. Suddenly, the door opened. He raised an eyebrow and pointed toward the outside of the tavern, his voice muffled by the camera. Seconds later, he slammed his hand on the table, his arms rigid. The figures, dressed in white, aimed a pistol that glowed white.
A shot, reflected off the sword, struck the walls. And the fire ignited.
Raizer moved quickly, his blade beheading a woman. Instantly, he brought a hand to his chest, breathing heavily. He tried to run out of the tavern, but a wall of ice formed. He tried to break it with his blade, without success. He then ran toward the back room, but a shot struck him, knocking him to the floor, his heart coming up through a fit of coughing.
Even with his heart outside his body, he tried to crawl, but collapsed.
The last image was of his face turning, his eyes fixed on the camera.
Slady didn't react, his hands still resting beside the computer. Slowly, he stood up, moving toward the door. But, abruptly, he grabbed the camera and hurled it against the wall, he had almost saved him!
The door opened again. Shaphira sat on the couch, watching him from within her own arms. He walked toward her, knelt in front of her, and touched her face, apologizing for having lost control.
In the room, Elisa opened her eyes, making no effort to cover herself, staring at him with deep circles beneath her eyelids.
He sat beside her. His hand found hers. She squeezed it, hard. After a deep breath, Slady said he was not her father. That he never had been, and that he could never replace him. And that, because of that, starting the next day, she and Shaphira would begin training together.
When Elisa tried to beg him not to do that, Slady cut her off.
He knew who had killed her father.
— End of Volume One: 500 Years Later. —