Cassian's last words hung in the silence of the study.

The body of that thirteen-year-old boy seemed to have sucked all the air from the room with the inconceivable weight of the story it carried.

For a moment, Fredrinn was at a loss for words.

The fear and mistrust he had felt toward the being before him now gave way to a complex and unsettling emotion.

It was not pity; rather, it was a profound astonishment and anger at how cruel the world could be.

It was Fredrinn who finally broke the silence. His voice came out huskier and more sincere than usual.

"You've lived a hard life," he said, choosing his words with care. "I would offer you comfort, but... I'm not good at comforting people."

"Though," he added, looking into Cassian's red eyes, "I don't suppose you're in need of any comfort."

The boyish expression on Cassian's face vanished, replaced once again by that familiar, indifferent smile.

He shrugged as if he hadn't just laid bare the darkest corners of his soul.

He reverted to his adult, black-haired form and lounged back in his chair.

As if nothing had happened, his hand reached for the fruit basket on the table, this time plucking a plump bunch of grapes.

An odd, unspoken truce seemed to have been declared between them.

While Cassian leaned back, slowly eating his grapes, Fredrinn tried to collect his thoughts and returned to the paperwork before him.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were the scratching of Fredrinn's quill on the parchment and the faint pop of each grape Cassian put in his mouth.

It was Cassian who broke this strange tranquility.

"Can I ask you something?"

Fredrinn answered without lifting his head from the pile of papers, trying to act as though his attention were entirely elsewhere.

"If it's something I can answer, yes."

When Cassian spoke this time, the careless tone was completely gone from his voice. In its place was a serious and lethal timbre that made the hairs on Fredrinn's neck stand on end.

"After acquiring some of Nerath's powers... do you ever feel like someone else? Like you're not who you are... Experiencing things like different, darker desires than normal?"

"An involuntary urge to create chaos, to kill someone, to take pleasure in the suffering of others."

The words squeezed Fredrinn's heart like an invisible hand.

The hand holding the quill froze, his eyes fixed.

Ink bled from the nib, forming a slowly growing black stain on an important document, but Fredrinn didn't care.

He understood perfectly well what Cassian was getting at.

Ever since they had returned from that ruin, he had felt that something was wrong inside him.

At first, he had attributed it to the fatigue of battle or the psychological stress he had endured. But as time passed, he realized it wasn't returning to normal.

A foreign sense of hatred and anger, one he couldn't define, had taken root deep within his chest.

Sometimes, he would feel a disproportionate rage at the slightest thing; other times, cruel thoughts would cross his mind as he looked at the people of Veythral.

He didn't know who these feelings were directed at or to whom they belonged, but he was certain of one thing: they were not his own.

Cassian, seemingly getting the answer he wanted from Fredrinn's reaction, rose from his chair.

He began to walk slowly around the table, like a wolf circling its prey.

"Judging by your reaction, you're already experiencing what I described," he said, his voice cold and analytical. "Let me give you a piece of advice, Fredrinn. Don't let your heart be filled only with that foreign hatred. Sooner or later, that hatred will be your end."

"Find something to occupy your mind. Something you can value... Someone, or a purpose, to bind you to this world, to remind you who you are."

"If you focus your mind solely on finding your friend Julian, I assure you, you will perish long before you ever reach that goal."

Cassian stopped walking and placed his hand gently on Fredrinn's shoulder.

The touch of that hand was as scorching as a hot coal and as cold as a block of ice. His voice was as sharp as the steel of a dagger.

"Otherwise, a partner possessed by an evil god wouldn't be very useful to me. In the best-case scenario, I'd have to kill you with my own hands. And that is a situation neither of us would want. You understand me, don't you?"

These words were less a threat and more a declaration of an inevitable future.

Fredrinn flinched under the pressure of the hand on his shoulder, and a sudden flame of pride and anger ignited within him.

He roughly shoved Cassian's hand away.

"Thanks for the advice," he hissed, "but I can take care of myself. And if you ever threaten me with death again, that head of yours won't stay on your shoulders."

A flicker of surprise appeared on Cassian's face at this bold defiance, which then gave way to a scornful laugh.

"Hahaha! That wasn't a threat, partner. Those were just facts."

As his laughter echoed in the room, his body became covered in black feathers, and in an instant, he transformed into a raven-black crow.

Fredrinn watched him with anger, speaking inwardly.

'You say I should occupy my mind with something I love...' he mused mockingly. 'But do you have such a thing, Cassian? Can someone like you, whose soul is blackened with hatred, truly value anything?'

The movements of the crow-form Cassian paused for a moment.

His mind had snagged on Fredrinn's question.

Something he valued...

The first thing that came to mind wasn't war, or intrigue, or power.

It was the unique being who shared his troubles with him in the silence of the night, who made him forget all the world's sorrows, if only for a short while.

The Moon, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen, anyone he had ever known... The way it illuminated its surroundings, shining like a silver dagger that tore through the darkness of night... He could watch that sight for the rest of his life without ever growing tired.

Cassian's crow form transformed back into his red-eyed self.

On his face was a sincere and almost melancholic smile that Fredrinn had never seen before.

"Yes," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. "I have the most beautiful thing in the world. Something I've wanted to be mine alone for my entire life... The only thing that has ever given me true peace."

After this unexpected confession, he turned away.

"Anyway, partner. I won't trouble you any further with these dark thoughts. I wish you the best of luck."

As soon as he finished his words, he turned back into a crow, glided out the open window, and soared high above Veythral until he became a mere speck in the sky.

.......

As evening fell like a blanket over Veythral, Cassian glided toward one of the city's back alleys.

He landed in a dark side street where he was sure no one could see him and returned to his human form.

His height stretched out once more, his hair and eyes blending into a black that matched the night.

He then mingled back into the crowd, walking aimlessly through the wide streets of Veythral.

He bought two skewers of meat from a street vendor and began to eat as he walked.

His thoughts drifted to his mana core.

Weeks had passed, and despite all the battles, he was still at the First Star level. There was so much he needed to improve.

Moreover, many of the abilities he currently possessed were flawed and incomplete because of that silver-haired bastard.

He had plenty of time until the next ruin expedition, and he intended to use it to the fullest.

As Cassian continued to walk, he realized he had reached a part of Veythral he had never been to before.

The atmosphere here was completely different from the vibrancy of the city center, filled instead with hopelessness and despair.

The streets were crowded with male and female slaves with rusted chains on their necks and wrists, and with scorned demi-humans. Vicious beasts, sealed in narrow cages, snarled at potential buyers.

Larger, more ornate buildings were auction houses where "higher quality" slaves were sold.

A different kind of misery and pain was on display at every corner.

Cassian observed his surroundings with curious eyes. He felt no pity for them.

After all, slavery had become an immutable, accepted part of this world. The weak became the property of the strong; this was the most fundamental law of nature.

And yet, there was an impulse in Cassian's chest that he couldn't understand, couldn't rationalize.

He felt a faint sense of sorrow emanating from the depths of the slave market, pulling him toward it.

It was an indescribable feeling.

It was the pain of another, yet for some reason, it resonated within his soul, as if a piece of his own being were in agony somewhere in this very market.

Though his logic told him to walk away, his feet continued to carry him involuntarily in the direction of that feeling.

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