A few days had passed since the agreement.

For Cassian, these days were an endless cycle.

A stretch of time where moments flowed like sticky mud, and boredom tightened around his throat like a noose.

He spent his days either wandering aimlessly through the labyrinthine, muddy, and crowded streets of Veythral…

…or standing before the blacksmith's forge, where the city's noisy heart beat.

Each time, the same scene repeated itself.

He would step inside.

He'd approach the blacksmith—a man who stood like a mountain with his massive frame and muscular arms.

"How is my sword?" he'd ask.

And each time, the soot-faced master would bring his hammer down on the incandescent iron one more time, sending sparks dancing through the air.

Then he would turn to him and scold him in a booming voice.

"Patience, son, patience!"

"Good steel, like good wine, takes time."

"Try to rush it, and all you'll have left is a bent piece of metal."

"Now get out of my sight and let me focus on my work!"

Cassian never said a word to these rebukes.

He would simply turn his back and merge once more into the grayness of the city.

This waiting, this meaninglessness, was exhausting him.

Now, he was sitting on a stone step on the edge of a narrow street.

He was watching a few children chase after a worn leather ball.

Some of the children were twelve or thirteen, the same as his own body.

The others were younger, their steps still clumsy, their laughter oblivious to the weight of life.

The pure, unfiltered smiles that appeared on their faces as they chased the ball, dodged each other, or jumped for joy after scoring a goal…

It left a strange ache in Cassian's heart, a feeling he couldn't name, both sweet and bitter.

This simple scene before his eyes was a merciless mirror of his own existence.

While his peers were savoring the precious treasure called childhood, growing up with the love of a warm family hearth… he had been forced to fight for survival from the moment he was born.

His first memories were the smell of blood.

The clang of steel.

The coldness of the survival instinct seeping into his bones.

Even in those fleeting, false moments when he thought he had found happiness, the World had reminded him of the bitter truth with a slap.

He did not have the luxury of living an ordinary life.

He did not have the right to be happy.

He did not even have the right to simply 'live'.

For a moment, his mind drifted to his days in the Dukedom of Inferna.

The life he had lived there, looking back now, seemed like a sweet dream, too beautiful to be real.

The difficult yet enjoyable training sessions with Evelyn and Elara. The warm friendship of Iris, and the peaceful moments they spent together. The affectionate motherly love Duchess Seraphine had offered him. The Duke's distant but understanding, silent acceptance.

It all flooded his mind in a torrent of memories.

An ache filled him.

"I wonder how they are now?" he whispered to himself.

"Do they miss me too?"

As he watched the children play, the emotions inside him swirled like a vortex, unsettling him.

Sometimes, such dark, such terrifying thoughts crossed his mind that he doubted his own humanity.

To just kill one of these children and take his place…

To assume his identity, join his family, play with his friends, and worry about his simple troubles…

The thought sounded nauseatingly pleasant and peaceful. He could live the life of an ordinary boy.

But then the cold claw of reality would grip his mind.

If he did that, he would have betrayed the last shred of humanity left within him. He would have erased with his own hands the thin line that separated him from the other monsters.

Besides, he didn't have the chance to spend his life in hiding.

The fate of this world rested on his shoulders.

If this course was not altered, the end would be absolute destruction not only for him but for those smiling children as well.

Cassian turned his thoughts to the true hero of this world, that bright and blessed one.

"I wonder what he's doing right now?" he thought with a sneer.

"Probably playing with wooden swords in his village, dreaming of becoming a great hero."

How had he managed to be defeated? Despite all the blessings from those stupid Ten Great Gods of Light, despite all the powerful allies supporting him?

How had he lost with such an advantage?

It was a level of stupidity that Cassian's mind could not comprehend.

"If our paths cross one day," he muttered in a voice no one could hear, "I don't know if we'll be enemies or allies."

"But if he gets in my way, he'll be no different from any other obstacle I need to kill."

Even this thought did not comfort him.

"Though I'm not even sure I could kill him. The gods who protect him wouldn't let their 'chosen one' be spent so easily."

He thought about his own situation.

He had supporters too, yes.

But one was a mysterious goddess whose intentions he could never fully grasp, who spoke in his mind with whispers.

The other was an ancient and wrathful chaos dragon with whom he had made a contract of blood.

"I promised her I would find and protect her daughter," he thought with a pang of guilt. "But I haven't even started looking for her yet..."

Somehow, this new reality was far more dangerous, far more unpredictable than the original story he remembered.

Every step was a step into the unknown.

Cassian slowly rose from where he sat to dispel the dark thoughts in his mind.

Leaving the children's joyful screams behind, he began to walk aimlessly through the streets once more.

After a while, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps behind him.

When he turned, he saw the blacksmith's young apprentice running towards him, out of breath.

"Master Cassian!" the boy called out, panting. "My master… my master said your sword is ready! If you want… you can come and get it!"

A rare expression appeared on Cassian's face.

A momentary, pure anticipation.

He nodded at the apprentice and began to follow him.

The blacksmith's workshop was filled with the usual suffocating heat.

At the forge, the master blacksmith was hammering a piece of iron with his usual rhythmic force. The sweat rolling down his forehead mixed with the soot on his face, creating little rivers of mud.

It was clear he didn't have a moment to rest.

The moment the blacksmith noticed Cassian, he dropped his hammer and wiped his hands with a towel. He had a tired but satisfied expression on his face.

"So you've come," he said in his booming voice. "I was actually going to wait for you to show up, but then I remembered how impatiently you were waiting for the sword, so I sent the apprentice to find you."

The man reached for a long, black object hanging on a wooden shelf on the wall.

In his hand was a scabbard of exquisitely crafted black wood.

Cassian's eyes lit up the moment he saw the sword. A different kind of longing than what he had felt while watching the children filled his heart.

He took the sword from the blacksmith's hand.

For a moment, he was like a child who had just received a new toy.

He slowly slid the scabbard off, revealing the steel within.

The sight took his breath away.

The sword was as black as night; it didn't reflect the light but seemed to absorb it.

Etched upon it were faint and elegant runes, visible only when viewed from a certain angle.

The hilt was wrapped in a non-slip material that fit his hand perfectly.

He weighed it. It wasn't too heavy, but it wasn't as light as a feather either. It had the perfect balance to become a deadly extension of his arm.

The blacksmith watched Cassian with a pleased smile, born from the appreciation of his work.

"So, do you like the sword?"

Cassian, his eyes still fixed on the black steel, collected his voice. "Yes. I can say it's just what I wanted. Even… better."

"I'm glad to hear that," the blacksmith said. "That steel was forged for three days and three nights without pause and quenched with the finest oils. It won't let you down."

Cassian sheathed the sword and turned his gaze to the master.

"So, what's the total cost of the sword? How much do I need to pay?"

The blacksmith smiled slightly. "As for that… Lady Rose already made the payment for you yesterday."

Cassian paused for a moment.

Rose… that mage woman who never left Fredrinn's side. At first, he couldn't quite place her, but then the image of red hair and inquisitive eyes formed in his mind.

The blacksmith continued. "Oh, and before I forget. She said she's waiting for you at the 'Cold Apple' tavern this evening."

Cassian's brow furrowed.

'Why would she want to meet with me?'

There was something strange about this. Fredrinn's people weren't supposed to be very fond of him. Especially that mage girl; she had been particularly suspicious of him.

'Whatever,' he thought to himself. 'I'll find out tonight. At least it works in my favor that a sack of gold stays in my pocket.'

He sent the katana to his dimensional portal.

He shook the blacksmith's hand. "Thank you, master."

After bidding farewell to the blacksmith, he left.

Until evening, he wandered aimlessly through the city's streets again, this time with the weight of his new companion felt not in his hand, but in his mind.

As the sun set on Veythral's grimy horizons, he directed his steps towards the Cold Apple Tavern.

He took his first step toward the tavern and went inside.

The interior was noisy and smoky. Adventurers, merchants, and vagrants filled the tables, clinking their mugs.

Most remained indifferent to Cassian's presence; strangers like him, cloaked and with their faces in shadow, were common in this city.

Only a few curious glances turned his way before his attention was drawn to the group sitting at a large table in the corner of the tavern.

Rose and Fredrinn's other trusted men were there.

The moment they saw him, the murmur at the table ceased.

All their eyes were locked on him, like a hunter sizing up its prey.

Their faces didn't look particularly friendly.

On the contrary, one could read a cold interrogation and an unconcealed hostility in their expressions.

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