Darian walked up the small dirt path, sore from battle, his shoulder still bandaged, his stats a little stronger—but his mood... lighter.
"Almost home... Hopefully they didn't burn the house down," he muttered, a smirk twitching across his face.
He pushed open the door.
Silence.
He stepped inside. The pot was still there. The plates were still on the table. But the food was untouched.
"Kids?" he called out.
No response.
He checked the bedroom. Empty. He checked behind the stove, under the bed, even in the hay stack out back.
Nothing.
"No. No, no, no..."
His mind raced. He sprinted out the door and stormed toward the village center, grabbing the first old man he saw by the tunic.
"Where are the kids?! My kids! Where are they?!"
The old man spat at his feet.
"Your kids? You mean the ones you used to beat like dogs before you started acting 'weird'? The loan men came for them this morning. Told 'em they were collecting your overdue debts. Said it was collateral. Nobody stopped them. Nobody wanted to get involved with your mess."
Darian's face twisted. His veins pulsed.
"What debts?! I didn't make any—"
Then it hit him.
"The old owner of this body… damn it…"
He looked around. The other villagers avoided his gaze. Some whispered. Some smirked. Most just walked away.
"How long ago?"
"Hours ago. Maybe before noon."
Darian clenched his fists. He didn't have a sword. Didn't need one. Not right now.
"Where. Did. They. Go?"
The old man sighed.
"Probably to the Greyfang Mines. The slavers run out of there when they're not operating on the black trail. That's where they take kids when they want to 'break them early.'"
Darian's jaw locked tight.
"I swear... if even a hair on their heads is touched—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Perspective Shift: The Son
My name is Ren.
I'm… not sure how old I am. Maybe six. My sister, Rin, was born a few minutes after me. She's always been the brave one. I'm the one who hides behind her.
For as long as I can remember, this world has been cold. Not because of the weather... but because of him. Our father. At least, that's what the villagers call him. To us... he was more like a monster.
We never understood why he hated us so much. Maybe it was because we were born. Maybe we reminded him of something he wanted to forget. Maybe... he just hated being alive.
Ren remembered the look in his father's eyes—dead, hateful, and tired all at once.
He remembered the broken bottles.
The sharp sting of words.
The bruises Rin tried to hide from him.
And the way every night, they'd huddle in the cold corner of the room and whisper stories they made up, pretending to live in a better world.
I didn't want to be scared of him. I wanted him to love us. Just once. Just one time... to smile. Or say our names like they meant something.
The Night Everything Changed
It was just like every other night. Dark. Silent. Cold.
They hadn't eaten in two days.
Their father stumbled in, the smell of something bitter and sharp on his breath.
He held a bottle in his hand—his favorite weapon.
"You two little curses..." he mumbled, standing over them in the corner.
Ren held his sister's hand. Tight.
He braced for the pain.
But—
Their father stopped.
His grip on the bottle loosened.
His eyes widened.
He looked around the room like it was the first time he'd ever seen it.
Like he forgot where he was.
The bottle slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.
He stared at them for a long, quiet second…
Then turned away… and walked into his room.
Without another word.
That night, Ren and Rin didn't sleep. They just… stared at the door.
The next morning, they woke up on a bed.
His bed.
Not the floor. Not the cold.
We didn't know what was happening. Did we die? Was this a dream?
Their bellies rumbled.
The smell of food lured them into the kitchen—cautious, quiet.
There, on the table: two plates of warm food. Stew and bread. Steam still rising.
Beside them, a folded note.
Just scribbles to them—they couldn't read—but… they knew.
It was from him.
For the first time in our lives… we ate. We smiled. We cried. We felt… warm.
They didn't see him for three days.
And then—
The Men Came
The door burst open.
Men in dark clothes stormed in.
Rough hands grabbed Ren and Rin before they could run.
They screamed. Kicked. Bit. Clawed. Cried.
"Your father's debt has come due!" one of them shouted.
Darian stood in front of them, fists clenched. Bruised. Bleeding.
They beat him—held him down.
"We warned you, didn't we, freak? Time to pay."
And then…
They were dragged away.
Through the woods.
To darkness.
To cages.
I don't know where we are now. My sister's trying to be strong, but I see her shaking. And me…
I keep waiting for him to come.
I don't know why. Maybe I'm stupid. Maybe I'm just a kid.
But something changed that night.
Something in his eyes.
Please… Dad... come find us.
Perspective Shift: The Daughter — Rin
My name is Rin.
And I hate my father.
Not the kind of hate you hear in stories. I mean the kind that rots your chest from the inside. That kind of hate.
He was never a father.
He was a drunk. A monster. A coward with fists.
He didn't raise us—he broke us.
I don't remember a time before the bruises. I don't even know what it's like to feel safe.
But I remember fear.
The way Ren clings to me every night like I can protect him.
The way we flinch when the door creaks.
The way we whisper lies to each other in the dark—"Tomorrow will be better."
It never is.
That Night
He came home late again.
Staggering. Cursing. Holding another broken bottle.
He always came for us when the bottle was half full.
And I always moved in front of Ren.
"Fucking kids…" he muttered, swaying like a dying tree.
I glared at him.
If I had magic… if I had a knife… I swear I would've—
But then...
He stopped.
Like something hit him.
His hand trembled. He looked around—like he was lost in his own house.
Then, without saying anything, he dropped the bottle.
It shattered across the floor.
And he just… walked into his room.
No yelling.
No fists.
Nothing.
The Next Morning
We didn't sleep. We couldn't.
But when we opened our eyes, we weren't in the cold corner anymore.
We were in his bed.
It smelled like him. Bitter. Sour. Ash.
Did he move us? Why?
We ran to the kitchen the moment our stomachs screamed.
And there it was—two plates. Food. Real food. Warm.
And some stupid folded piece of paper with scribbles on it.
A note?
What, does he think food makes up for everything?
I didn't care.
I hated him.
But Ren… Ren smiled. Like a dumb puppy.
I wanted to be angry at him too.
But then he started crying. And then… so did I.
We ate like animals. We didn't even talk.
Three Days Later
No sign of him. He vanished like a ghost.
I thought maybe he left us.
Part of me hoped he did.
But then the door slammed open—
Men. Big. Loud. Mean.
One of them grabbed me by the hair. Another punched Ren in the gut.
"Where's the freak?" one shouted.
And then...
They took us.
They dragged us through the dirt, into the forest, into some dark place with cages.
I don't know where we are now.
Ren keeps hoping he'll come for us.
He's an idiot.
I don't care what he did that night. You don't get to be a monster for years and erase it with a warm meal.
He's not my hero.
He never was.
But…
If he does come for us…
If he really comes through that door…
I might believe… just a little… that monsters can change.
The cave stank of mold, blood, and fear.
And then — chaos entered.
A man stormed in, a sack slung over his shoulder, bulging with axes.
His face twisted, blood splattered, a black vein pulsing across his temple like a snake.
It was Darian.
The very sight of him made the kidnapers panic.
"THOSE ARE MY KIDS!" he roared, voice like a demon's howl.
And then —
The axes flew.
One. Two.
Miss.
Crack — a skull.
Miss. Miss.
Thunk — buried in a man's chest.
Half of them missed, slamming into walls, sparks flying.
But with every throw, something ignited inside him.
New skill acquired: Throwing Weapon (Lv. 1)
"About damn time," he muttered.
He grabbed more, like a butcher at war — until the sack was empty.
Then came the bow.
Rough. Unbalanced. But it worked.
Twang!
Screams. Blood. Collapsing bodies.
New skill acquired: Archery (Lv. 1)
"Still got it..."
But he didn't bring enough arrows. He never does.
And when the last shaft flew…
He gripped the hilt of his sword. Alone. Surrounded.
Only twenty left.
The Twins' Perspective — From the Cage
Rin's mouth hung open, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Is… is that him?" Ren whispered, voice shaking.
"He looks… different."
Their father was screaming, bleeding, swinging wildly — and yet…
He wasn't falling.
He was winning.
Every slash cut deeper.
Every block came faster.
Every growl sounded less human.
He's fighting for us.
Even Rin didn't know what to say.
She'd never seen him like this.
Not once in their short, painful lives.
He wasn't a monster.
He was a storm.
The Final Blow
The last kidnapers charged with a warhammer.
Darian was limping. Barely breathing.
One eye was swollen shut.
His body looked like a broken mess.
But as the warhammer came down—
Darian caught it with his bare hand.
His sword plunged into the slaver's throat.
And then—
LEVEL UP!
You've reached Level 20
Class unlocked: BERSERKER
The world shook.
A pulse of dark-red aura erupted from his body.
The air vibrated. The ground cracked under his feet.
His wounds still bled—
But he stood taller.
Stronger.
And his eyes burned red.
Rin didn't know whether to be afraid… or to cry.
Ren was already sobbing.
"He came for us… Rin. He really came…"
And for the first time, Rin didn't stop him.
Smoke from the final skirmish curled upward in the dim torchlight of the cave, the smell of blood, sweat, and scorched flesh lingering in the air. Darian dropped to one knee, panting, body trembling from blood loss and exhaustion. Around him lay broken bodies—scattered limbs of those who dared lay hands on his children.
His rusted sword clanged to the stone floor.
He didn't even hear the system screen that flashed:
🎉 Class Unlocked: Berserker
Unleashed when the soul boils and rage becomes strength.
+Bonus: Attack Speed, Pain Resistance, Adrenaline Surge
+Passive Skill Gained: "Frenzied Onslaught"
But Darian wasn't thinking about stats or bonuses. He was staring at the cage.
His legs wobbled as he approached. The boy looked at him, trembling, his bruised face pressed against his twin sister's. The girl glared at Darian—not with fear, but with open hatred.
"...H-hey," Darian muttered, voice rough as sand. "Sorry I took so long."
He yanked at the lock, but the thing wouldn't budge.
"Damn it," he growled, rising to his feet and driving a foot into the iron latch. A crack, then a snap. The door burst open.
The kids flinched.
He kneeled in front of them, carefully pulling the ropes off their wrists and ankles, his calloused fingers awkward against their small frames.
The boy looked at him, eyes wide. "...Father?"
Darian winced.
"I... I don't know if I deserve that title," he muttered. "But yeah... it's me."
The girl pushed his hand away as he reached for her wrist. "Why?" she spat.
"What?"
"Why did you come?"
Darian paused. "Because I'm your—"
"You weren't our anything before," she snapped. Her voice was shaking. "You beat us, you screamed at us, you let us starve. We were garbage to you."
The boy tugged at her sleeve, quietly. "Rin…"
"No," she said, eyes not leaving Darian's. "I want to know why."
Darian sighed, lowering his head. "...I don't have an answer that will fix everything. I don't even know what the hell happened to me before I woke up in this world. But if there's anything—anything—I can do right... it's this. Saving you. Protecting you."
He looked up, blood still dripping down his brow.
"I can't change the past. But I'll make damn sure the future's different."
The boy reached out, gently placing a hand on Darian's shoulder. "You're different... You're not like before."
The girl turned her face away, biting her lip.
Darian stood, holding his side where a rib might've cracked. "Come on. Let's get the hell out of this place."
The sun had dipped low by the time Darian left the cave. The orange glow filtered through the treetops, casting long shadows over the dirt path. He didn't care. The roads were dangerous at night, but danger was something he'd grown numb to.
What mattered—what only mattered—was that they were with him now.
One child over each shoulder.
rin, stiff and silent. Arms crossed, face turned away, refusing to even look at him.
Her brother—his name would come to Darian eventually—had fallen asleep against his neck, small arms looped around Darian's shoulders, head resting quietly with a faint wheeze of a snore.
They were so light. Too light. The kind of weight that said they hadn't eaten enough in weeks. Maybe months.
His boots crunched against loose stones as he trudged uphill toward the outskirts of the village. The road was familiar, burned into his memory, but the way back home had never felt so heavy. Every step, his muscles screamed. Every breath, his ribs ached. His armor was battered, dented, and slick with dried blood. His sword hung useless at his hip, cracked and chipped.
But he held them close.
"I'm sorry," he muttered to the wind. "I should've been better from the start."
Rin's voice was a whisper, muffled behind clenched teeth. "Then why weren't you?"
He didn't answer. What could he say? Because I wasn't myself? Because this world is a cruel joke and I was dumped into the role of a monster?
None of it would matter to a little girl who'd gone to sleep hungry and bruised too many nights.
They passed the hill crest, and the broken fence that marked their lot came into view. The old shack they called home looked even worse now—weather-beaten, missing shingles, windows smudged with grime and dust. But it was shelter. It was a start.
Darian stepped up to the door. He hadn't locked it when he left—it wasn't like they had anything worth stealing. But this time, it mattered. This time, it's going to be different.
He nudged the door open with his boot.
The inside was as cold and lifeless as always, but to Darian, it was the first time it felt safe.
He gently lowered the boy onto the bed. Then looked at rin.
"Put me down," she said.
He hesitated.
"Now."
He obeyed.
She stood there, arms at her side, still glaring. Still furious.
Darian sighed and stepped toward the cabinet. "I'll make you both something to eat. It's not much, but... better than nothing."
rin didn't respond. She just sat on the floor, back to the wall, hugging her knees.
From the bed, her brother mumbled in his sleep. "...warm…"
Darian smiled faintly, rummaging through the cabinet until he found some leftover stew and hard bread. Not enough. Tomorrow he'd need to hunt again—or take another quest.
But for tonight... they were together.
And for once, that was enough.
The stew simmered slowly over the low flame.
It wasn't much—mostly root vegetables, dried meat, and a pinch of seasoning he found buried in the back of the pantry—but the smell of it filled the small home like a lifeline. It was the smell of effort. Of trying.
Rin sat by the far wall, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, chin tucked down. She refused to look at him, refused to speak, but her ears twitched slightly every time he moved.
Darian ladled out the food into the chipped bowls—one for each of them. He set them down gently on the wooden table, trying not to make a sound that would seem too… commanding.
He wasn't their boss. Not anymore. Not after everything.
"Dinner's ready," he said, glancing toward Rin. "You don't have to eat it, but it's here. No tricks, no yelling. Just food."
Her brother stirred on the bed, rubbing his eyes. He was still groggy from sleep and half-dreams of dark cages and screams echoing in stone halls.
"...Rin?" he asked, sitting up. "Are we... home?"
Rin didn't answer right away. She just nodded. Barely.
Darian stepped back from the table and sat down on the floor with his own bowl, crossing his legs like a guest in someone else's house.
"Eat," he said softly. "Please. You need it."
The boy slid off the bed and picked up his bowl with both hands. He sniffed it first—suspicious, careful—but his stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. In a moment, he was digging in, quietly but urgently.
Rin stayed still for a long time.
"Rin," her brother said between bites. "It's... it's real food."
She looked at the bowl. Then at Darian.
He didn't meet her eyes. He was too busy chewing, pretending to be casual. But the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. She could tell he was waiting.
She stood, walked to the table, and picked up the bowl. Her hands trembled slightly as she sat down next to her brother.
The first spoonful was mechanical. The second slower.
By the third, she was crying—but trying desperately not to let them see.
Her brother glanced over at her with concern.
Rin wiped her eyes roughly with her arm. "Don't... don't say anything."
Darian said nothing. He just kept eating, his own eyes focused on the bowl as if it held all the answers he needed.
But inside, something broke. Something heavy that had sat on his chest for what felt like years.
It was small. A meal. A quiet moment.
But it was a start.
After dinner, the kids dozed off on the bed again. This time, Darian sat nearby, watching them with a sword resting across his knees. The house was quiet. For once, it didn't feel cold.
He didn't know how long this peace would last. The world was still cruel. He still had debts, enemies, scars.
But tonight, they were safe.
And as he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, sword across his lap, he made a silent promise:
Never again.