Aspect of Entropy, "God of Chaos", Exalor's Perspective
The wind rolled low across the stone plains outside the eastern gate. It carried the scent of dew-wet metal, early campfire smoke, and the breath of livestock already tired before the sun had fully risen. The grass whispered with a sound like old regrets.
I walked slowly toward the caravan.
Rows of covered wagons, thick with lacquered wood and steel-riveted wheels, sat in long lines. Men and women buzzed around them, tightening straps, testing weapons, slapping harnesses onto grunting beasts.
Humans.
Fragile things. Yet some of them had managed to impress even me.
The ones in black coats.
Demon hunters. They never used the name, but I knew what they were. The pattern was obvious. They always moved in threes—two magic swordsmen and one barrier specialist. They didn't pray. They didn't wear relics. And they didn't hesitate.
They didn't need divinity to kill what they called high demons.
I discovered they were my children. Our children.
Unholy, malformed offsprings of my return corrupted by my siblings. Side effects I never asked for. Not even I could control what leaks out when I'm banished and dragged back, again and again, across the folds of broken reality. Filth I must banish from this world.
I could not allow them to reach the Church.
I was nearing the caravan outside the eastern gate when my thoughts were interrupted by a young voice.
"Where's Ban?"
I slowed my pace. A blond-haired boy, barely grown into his armor, glanced around expectantly.
Another young man—pale skin, white hair, and sharp red eyes—answered. "He left early. Said he had to be on time for something. Got Alliyana's permission."
I studied him.
So... he's the one who's going to slay me. He didn't look it. None of them ever do.
It would be easier to kill him now. Quietly. Cleanly.
"Don't."
Somnira's voice brushed against my mind. Whispered, exhausted. Always watching.
"Don't do anything rash. I won't be able to suppress your divinity."
He wouldn't even see it coming, I thought. One moment, and it's over.
"And then what? More corruption. More suffering. You know how this ends."
My gaze lingered.
The pale one, and the brown-haired girl standing next to him—shorter coats, but cut from the same fabric as the black ones. The way they stood, the way others glanced at them in passing. Not subordinates.
They're tied to the hunters. Allies. Maybe superiors.
So be it.
I opened my palm and looked at the badge they had given me. A piece of darkened steel stamped with a silver wolf—the emblem of their quiet pact. A symbol that said I was one of them, if only in name.
As long as I carry this, the others will recognize me.
I won't act.
Not yet.
I tucked the badge away as the wind tugged gently at my coat.
Let them walk their paths. Let the boy grow into his blade.
"Attention, everyone!"
A man's voice. Projecting.
I turned.
A makeshift stage had been set up, nothing more than stacked crates and an iron railing hastily bolted in. Standing atop it was a tall man in ceremonial armor—not for battle, but for appearances. His voice was confident, his smile thin.
Count Bedra.
Beside him stood a blonde woman, calm and distant. Sharp features. Poised. Familiar.
The count continued, arms raised.
"We give our gratitude to the mercenaries who will be accompanying the Trade Guild on this journey," he said. "You're not only protecting cargo—but also our beautiful benefactor."
He gestured to the woman beside him. There were scattered cheers. I watched her closely.
She didn't wave. She didn't smile. Just stood there, regal and untouched by the noise.
So that's why the count came in person.
Not to give thanks. To posture. To impress the Guild, to claim association with her.
A moment later, he turned to another group.
"And of course, congratulations to the five who helped slay the demons two nights ago. Please, step forward."
The crowd of mercenaries and merchants parted, murmuring as five figures walked up.
They bowed.
The applause was light—curious, not yet reverent. No one knew the truth.
None of them know he's the chosen one.
Not yet. But they will.
I made my way toward the two in shorter coats.
The pale one—white-haired, red-eyed—stood with the brown-haired girl who wore her authority like armor. They noticed me before I spoke. Not because I said anything, but because of my size.
Or maybe the mask.
It rested beneath my hood, smooth and dark. It didn't hide everything, but it kept enough shadow on my face to let their minds fill in the rest.
They straightened slightly as I approached.
I stopped just a pace away and pulled the wolf-emblazoned badge from my coat.
"Talis," I said, voice low, frayed at the edges. "That's what I go by."
They exchanged a look. No questions. Just recognition.
The pale one nodded. "Ethan."
The woman followed, polite but curt. "Alexa."
Efficient. Measured.
They had seen enough in their time not to waste words on ceremony.
Before I could step back, another figure approached from the side—blond-haired, blue-eyed. Brash posture. Too upright for someone with real experience.
The hero. He introduced himself, then gave the names of the rest of his party. I nodded through them, offering no warmth, no challenge. When he was done, I bowed.
Then turned to leave. And walked straight into someone.
The contact was slight—a brush of fabric, a shift in weight—but it froze the world.
Blonde. Her eyes met mine for only a second. It was enough.
She wanted to kill me.
Not metaphorically. Not subconsciously. Fully awake. Intent sharpened like a dagger in an empty room. Pure, unfiltered execution.
Then, just as fast—it vanished.
"I'm sorry," she said gently, stepping back with a shallow bow. Her voice calm. Perfectly controlled.
I mirrored the gesture. "No—my fault. I wasn't paying attention."
She gave a polite nod and walked past without another glance.
I turned and walked to the rear of the caravan, the dry grass whispering underfoot.
Somnira, I called inwardly.
She answered slowly, like someone stirred from half-sleep.
"Yes?"
The blonde woman. Who is she?
There was a pause. A soft mental shrug.
"Probably some noble's daughter. Bedra's circle is full of them."
That was all.
She hadn't noticed. But I had.
Whatever she was… she wasn't ordinary.
And she wasn't afraid of me.