As Walter's grip tightened around Vani throat, cutting off his air, he realized he was going to die.
Vanit vision blurred. His body felt heavy, like it no longer belonged to him. As the world began to slip away, memories flashed through his mind.
Warm memories.
His mother, standing in the kitchen, humming softly as she cooked, her bright smile making their small, broken home feel warm. She always told him to wait patiently, to be a good boy while she made dinner. Even though they barely had any money, she always tried to get him the things he wanted. She always put him first.
When he was younger, and there was no one to watch over him, she would take him to the brothel where she worked. While she was busy, she'd ask one of her friends to look after him. They never refused. They never treated him badly.
Even Eve… the one who betrayed her.
She used to sneak him candies when no one was looking. Sometimes, she'd pull him aside and tell him stories. Stories about the capital, the grand cities beyond, and the distant lands where people with long ears lived for thousands of years.
After his mother caught an old man trying to give him alcohol, she forbade him from going near the brothel again. He listened. He never went back.
But sometimes, late at night, when she thought he was asleep, he'd hear her whispering to herself. And every now and then, she'd mention Eve.
"She was asking about you again today," she had told him once, running her fingers through his hair.
"She said she wanted to come visit, to see how you were doing."
But she never came.
The last time he saw her was five years ago.
And yet, she was the one who betrayed his mother.
He couldn't understand it. He didn't want to believe it.
She had once told him to grow into a strong man, one who would take care of his mother when she was old. She had told him to protect her.
But that didn't matter anymore.
His mother was dead. And he would be next.
Anger burned inside him, but his body refused to move. His eyes shut on their own. Every time he forced them open, his vision blurred even more. His body felt weaker and weaker.
He was at his limit.
And then...
A voice echoed in his mind, like it were his own thoughts.
"Congratulations, you've awakened your energy core."
"Due to your energy core awakening, Essentia is now beginning to flow through your body."
"You are now a Novarion. A path once closed to you has been unlocked."
"Good luck."
As the voice faded, his mind drifted between consciousness and darkness. His body was heavy. His thoughts, scattered.
What…? I awakened? Novarion? Path? And what was that voice?
No, I don't have time to think about that now. If I've really awakened, I should be able to use Body Strengthen or a spell. But how?
Then, a memory clicked into place.
Back when he was young, whenever his mother had no one to look after him, she would take him to the brothel where she worked. The place was always loud, filled with laughter, drunken voices, and whispered secrets. The women there knew everything, trading rumors like currency.
He remembered one night, his mother sat at a table with a group of them. Their voices rose and fell between gossip and laughter, until one woman leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
She spoke about the third king... the man who had defended the kingdom when enemy nations invaded.
With a single wave of his hand, he summoned black lightning, and everything in its path was erased. No bodies, no weapons, no blood... just ashes.
A spell so powerful, so absolute, it wasn't just magic. It was destruction itself.
Vani had been fascinated. His eyes were probably shining with excitement, his young mind racing with images of the legendary spell.
But before he could ask more, his mother cut in, her voice sharp.
"What the hell are you telling him?"
She scolded the woman, her words quick and angry. She probably thought he'd be scared... that he'd have nightmares about kings turning people into ash.
But he wasn't scared. He was thrilled.
That night, when they got home, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Shadowbolt. The name echoed in his head.
For days, he kept chanting it under his breath, whispering it when no one was listening. He didn't know what magic was back then... he barely even understood what the story meant. But he remembered the name.
And now, as he lay there, his body broken, his mind fading, that memory came rushing back.
That's right. I remember.
His trembling hand moved toward Walter's chest. His surprise was obvious... shocked that Vani was still clinging to life. Vani middle and index fingers barely touched him, nothing more than a weak tap.
Walter smiled. He was enjoying this. Watching Vani struggle.
Vani didn't care. With the last of his strength, he whispered.
"Shadow... bolt."
The air shuddered.
A low, crackling hum filled the room... not the sharp, violent crash of normal lightning, but something deeper, heavier. The kind of sound that crawled through the bones. Black sparks flickered around Vanity's fingers, cold and controlled, before suddenly bursting outward.
Walter was launched backward. His body slammed into the far wall with a dull, echoing thud. Black static crackled along the path he flew, the remnants of the Shadowbolt still clinging to him, hissing and burning against his skin.
It was weak. A weaker version of Shadowbolt, barely scratching the surface of its true power.
But it was enough.
Walter, a Novarion for over a decade, lay paralyzed, his smile long gone.
No way… It actually worked. I really had awakened.
But there's no time to think about that. Walter's still alive.
I have to kill him before he can move again.
Vani pulled the knives out of his leg and shoulder. A sharp pain ran through him, but something felt different. His body… it was healing. Slowly, but he could feel it. The wounds weren't as deep as before, and the bleeding had already started to slow.
He had heard rumors about this... about people who survived wounds that should have killed them. Some said a man was nearly cut in half and still lived because his body healed itself. He always thought those were just stories.
But now he knew they were real.
He pushed himself forward, step by step. His body still ached, his breathing was rough, but he could move. That was enough.
Walter was lying on the ground, barely able to move. His eyes met Vanity's, and in that moment, he saw it... Walter knew he was going to die.
The smug look, the confidence, the joy he had when torturing him... it was all gone. Now, there was only fear.
Vani crouched beside him, resting his arms on his knees, holding Walter's own knife in his hand. Walter's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He was too stunned to speak.
Vani pressed the blade to his throat, just enough to break the skin. A thin line of blood ran down Walter's neck. He squeezed his eyes shut.
But Vani didn't move the knife. Instead, he spoke.
"Tell me where Gerald is. Right now. And I'll let you live."
He let the words sink in before continuing.
"But if you lie… or if your answer doesn't make sense… I'll kill you."
Walter's eyes widened, and for a second, Vanity saw hope in them. He thought Vani was bluffing.
"He's at the brothel, on the third floor," Walter coughed. "Told me to finish quick and report back."
His voice was weak, full of pain. He had taken more damage than Vani thought.
"Is Eve there too?"
"Yeah… she should be with Gerald." Walter replied.
Vani nodded.
"Thanks."
Walter let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing.
And then, Vani pushed the knife into his throat.
Slowly.
Walter's eyes widened again, but this time, it wasn't hope. It was pure terror. His lips trembled as if trying to form words, but nothing came out except a weak, wet gasp.
"Why?" he managed to choke out.
Vani didn't answer.
He just kept pushing.
The knife slid deeper, inch by inch. Blood poured from Walter's mouth, his chest convulsing as he desperately tried to breathe.
Tears mixed with the blood on his face. His eyes flickered, struggling to stay open, to hold on.
Vani wouldn't let him.
He grabbed Walter's face, forcing him to look at him.
He wanted to be the last thing Walter ever saw.
And then after a few more seconds, Walter stopped moving.
Walter was dead.
It was the first person Vani had ever killed, yet he felt no regret. He deserved it.
After a few seconds, Vani eyes shifted to his mother's body. He started walking toward her. It wasn't more than ten steps away... he knew that. But with every step, his chest felt heavier, like something was pressing down on him. It was hard to breathe. The closer he got, the clearer her face became, and the harder it was to keep moving.
Finally, he reached her. Her pale skin, her lifeless body… and her eyes. Still open. As if she had been struggling to say something in her last moments.
Then, something small fell onto her face. A tiny drop of water rolled down from the corner of her eye, tracing a path down her cheek. It almost looked like she was crying.
More drops followed, landing near her face, on the floor beside her. Vani vision blurred. He wiped his eyes, only then realizing... it wasn't water. It was his own tears.
His legs trembled. Strength left his body. He fell to his knees.
"I'm sorry, Mother."
"I'm sorry."
"Maybe if I had come home sooner..."
"Maybe if I had been stronger..."
"I could have protected you."
He cried until there were no more tears left to shed.
When he finally stopped, he reached out and touched her face. Gently, he closed her eyes.
"Rest in peace, Mother."
He got up, turned toward Walter's body, and walked over. He stopped, grabbed the knife still lodged in Walter's throat, and pulled it out without care. His body collapsed to the floor with a dull thud.
Then, without looking back, he left the house.