As I decided to head back down the mountain, I saw Vhim climbing up toward me. He was sweating, but it wasn't like mine. His was light, like he'd just taken a stroll around the village, as if nothing had been too strenuous.
He approached, and I started walking toward him as well.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Aren't we going to find the next person?" He sounded curious, almost impatient.
I sighed, adjusting my posture. "I asked Grandpa last night. There's no one else who hasn't awakened like us."
His face dropped a bit. "What now?" His tone shifted from excitement to uncertainty.
"We're going to the kingdom capital. There, we'll find people for sure." My voice carried the same determination I'd felt when I decided to change everything.
Vhim's eyes lit up. "What? Then let's go now!" His excitement was evident. I could see the fire in him. It was infectious.
But I shook my head.
"We aren't ready."
He stopped in his tracks, confusion filling his eyes. "Ha! What do you mean?"
I took a deep breath, pausing to gather my thoughts. A small part of me resisted the idea of telling him, but he had to know.
I thought back to the first chapter I ever wrote—the world I'd tried to create. It wasn't supposed to be just any story. I had drawn inspiration from shows like Black Clover and Demon Slayer, hoping to blend the action and emotion into something uniquely my own.
There was a cameo I'd written at the very end of that first chapter. I'd almost forgotten about it.
But now, as I stood here at the mountaintop, I remembered it clearly.
Yes, this mountain—this place—was home to a demon. A low-rank one, but still dangerous enough. I had intended for Vhim to face it, and when he did, he would remember his past and tap into his forgotten sword techniques, blending them with his newfound breathing techniques.
But now, everything had changed.
"Come with me, Vhim." I turned and started walking down the path, my voice low but firm.
Vhim stood there for a moment, clearly puzzled, but eventually followed. There was something about him—he didn't question me further. He trusted me. Even if he didn't fully understand my reasoning.
.
.
.
I led Vhim to the cave. It took us over an hour of walking through thick trees, rocky slopes, and half-forgotten paths to finally find it.
But we did.
As we neared the entrance, a wave of scent hit my nose like a slap. Blood. Flesh. Rotting. The kind that clings to your throat, that makes your stomach twist with nausea.
I muttered under my breath, "I hate this day… Why are all the rotten smells coming one after another?"
But Vhim didn't stop. Despite the stench, he walked forward—drawn by something deeper. I stayed where I was, letting him go ahead.
He entered the cave.
A moment passed. Then another.
And then I heard the sharp gasp, followed by silence.
I finally stepped closer and peered inside.
Ten small bodies. Children. Dead. Cold. Torn apart. Blood painted the stones like some twisted artwork.
We knew them. The orphans.
The village had never accepted them. So Grandpa—kind old man that he was—built a place near the mountain for them to live, away from judgmental eyes. There was someone assigned to watch over them, a guardian.
But now… they were all gone.
Dead.
And I knew who did it.
Of course I did. I wrote it, after all.
This was the scene I'd planned—one that was supposed to change Vhim. The catalyst. The trauma that would unlock the echoes of his past.
But here's the thing: I never actually wrote this scene. I imagined it, planned it, kept it locked in my head, but never put it to words. So I didn't know what would happen now. Would this still trigger his awakening? Would it still awaken that ancient inheritance hidden in his blood? Or would things go down a different path entirely?
Ah—he's coming out.
Vhim stumbled out of the cave, his eyes wide, face pale. His lips trembled.
His expression was… broken.
"What is this, Arjun?" he asked, voice raw.
I looked at him, my tone quiet. "A demon's work."
And then he fell to his knees. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as his hands clenched the dirt. His shoulders shook. The pain was real. The sorrow was crushing.
I knew.
Of course I knew.
He could relate to those children—abandoned, unloved, forgotten. This was why I created this event. Sorrow and rage, when mixed just right, become something else entirely.
They become power.
That sadness… that fury… it would change him.
It would evolve his eyes—his pupils—and with them, awaken the memories sealed within. Memories of a past he was never supposed to recall.
Vhim's POV
I couldn't breathe.
The moment I stepped into that cave, something inside me cracked.
Ten of them.
Ten small bodies. Cold. Still. Twisted in pain.
I knew every face. Every name. Their laughter still echoed in my ears. The way they used to chase butterflies near the stream. The way they smiled even when they had nothing.
Gone.
Just… gone.
Why?
My legs trembled. My fingers wouldn't stop shaking. I stepped closer, and the smell hit me hard—like something alive was rotting in my chest. My stomach turned. I wanted to scream, but my voice was lost.
I fell to my knees.
Tears came before I could stop them. My heart felt like it was being crushed, beat by beat.
Why? Why them?
They were good kids. Better than most. They didn't deserve this. No one deserves this.
I felt so powerless. So small.
I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms.
A part of me remembered something—shadows, screams, someone reaching out—but the images were too faint. Too blurry. Like a dream I couldn't wake from.
.
.
.
My tears had barely dried when something inside me snapped.
A heat surged through my head—then my eyes. Burning. Blinding. And then… stillness.
Everything around me faded. The cave, the corpses, even Arjun—gone. Replaced by something else.
.