"Swing faster!" the instructor shouted at the eleven-year-old boy, striking his arms with a stick. The boy grimaced in pain but nodded, trying to suppress his anger and fear as he gritted his teeth and continued swinging his sword.
Half an hour later, he was lying on the floor, breathing heavily, his body drenched in sweat and his arms bloodied from being hit so many times.
"Stand up, young lord… and pick up your sword. We're not done yet." the instructor said coldly. The boy instantly got up, fear tightening his chest.
He took a deep breath and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. In truth, he was wiping away his tears as quickly as he could so the instructor wouldn't notice, and beat him again. At least… not as harshly.
The next hour was spent training in real combat. The boy was impressive for his age, but the instructor was always dissatisfied with his fighting style. And the boy was always beaten badly.
"Why are you always running? Face the enemy head-on instead of circling around like a coward!"
This combat instructor was like those strict music or dance teachers, you could never do anything well enough to satisfy them.
Still, the boy had no choice but to fight as if his life depended on it. Though sometimes, he felt that it might have been better if he had never been born at all.
After training ended, he left the dojo to take a bath. The warm water finally made him forget the pain, and his aching body slowly began to relax.
For a moment, he felt at peace, and he didn't want to leave the bath at all. He wanted to stay there forever, because he knew that once he stepped outside, all that awaited him was scorn, impossible expectations, anxiety… and suffering.
I'm tired… he thought, curling in on himself like a worm. He pursed his lips, refusing to cry. At this point, he didn't even feel like crying anymore. What was the point? If someone saw him, he'd be beaten up again, because an Heir had to be strong and firm, someone others looked up to, not some crybaby.
When he finally dressed, he stepped outside to get some fresh air. He was supposed to join his family for dinner, but he preferred to go hungry rather than see his father right now.
Watching the other children play nearby, he felt a sudden urge to join them, but he couldn't bring himself to express it. He was the heir of the clan, after all. He had to maintain his honor and dignity. He could never give anyone an opportunity to mock him for childish behavior. He represented the clan, humiliating him was the same as humiliating the clan itself.
Why can't I have fun like the other children?
"Young Lord… your father is asking for your presence." a servant said from behind.
The boy flinched, looking over his shoulder instantly. After a brief hesitation, he simply nodded and followed without speaking.
Walking through the mansion's quiet, oppressive hallways, he stopped before a large wooden door, knocked, and entered a moment later.
Inside stood a man with brown hair and sharp eyes, his expression tense as he studied a map spread across his desk. He didn't look up at first, but when he finally did, his gaze landed on the boy with a flicker of anger.
Without a word, the man walked toward the window, staring out at the garden where a handful of children were playing, and scoffed.
"You are the heir of the Han Li Clan. You are not supposed to fool around like those mongrels, or do anything that might disgrace our clan. Understand?"
"Yes, Father." the boy replied quickly. Then he fell silent, not daring to breathe too loudly.
"Hmm…" His father returned to the map, eyes gleaming with ambition. "What you must do is train hard, gain a powerful Aspect, and lead our clan to glory. That is your destiny, Caster."
His cold smile widened slightly, filled with feverish greed as his eyes lingered on the map of the Dream Realm.
"I understand," Caster said quietly, his small hands clenching at his sides. "I have to be perfect."
No... I need to be perfect...
But inside, he knew it was impossible.
His father wanted the Han Li Clan to become one of the strongest in the world. And Caster… He wasn't even confident he could survive his next training session.
Not to mention… Caster's father wasn't even strong. He was only a Master. So he pushed all his dreams, ambitions, and responsibilities onto an eleven-year-old boy because he couldn't achieve them himself.
And so, Caster had to carry those insane expectations on his small shoulders. Even though all he truly wanted was to play with the other kids. He wanted to be free, explore the world, and have fun… but he couldn't.
Yes, Caster was ambitious too but not in the same twisted way as his father. He wanted many things, but he wasn't confident he could pursue them. Not because he lacked talent or ability, but because none of his dreams were what his parents wanted for him.
They wanted glory. They wanted power.
They wanted a future for the clan, and Caster was the tool they chose to forge it.
Under the weight of all those expectations, other people's dreams began to smother his own. Slowly, bit by bit, Caster started forgetting what he wanted. He began losing sight of his own aspirations, his own will… even the pieces of his personality that made him unique.
Instead, he became what the clan demanded. Everyone told him who he was, who he must become, and what destiny he was supposed to carry.
But no one ever asked him what he wanted.
No one ever asked who he wished to be.
Because of all that, the little boy didn't even feel like he was living. He was just… going through the motions. At first, he was happy. After all, he was talented at fighting. His teachers praised him, and his father looked at him with pride.
But at some point, he realized something terrifying: fighting wasn't what he wanted.
He wanted to enjoy life. He wanted to see the world.
He wanted to live... Not just perform.
And because of that realization, the stress started piling up. Focusing became harder. Mistakes began to appear. Failing became more common, and with failure came the disappointment of everyone around him.
Sometimes, he couldn't even tell what his real feelings were anymore. Were the emotions of his parents… his own? He didn't know, but it felt like they were.
When they were disappointed, he felt disappointed. When they were angry at him, he became angry at himself. When they mocked other families, he felt the urge to mock them too.
Even when something inside him whispered that it was wrong.
It went on for so long that he forgot who he even was. Were any of these feelings truly his? If not, then… where were his real feelings? Why couldn't he imagine himself having his own opinion? Why couldn't he feel that something was wrong, even when others laughed at another's tragedy?
Why couldn't he be himself?
He didn't know. And that uncertainty made him even more lost.
He grew numb, bleak and hollow.
Like an echo, something that existed only to follow commands. Something that wasn't living, but reacting.
"Remember, Caster… you don't know what needs to be done. This is for your own good. You have to be better than Nephis, Revel, or Morgan of Valor. Right now… you're nothing compared to them. So listen to me and do what I tell you. Time will pass, and you will thank me later." His father spoke coldly, then waved his hand in dismissal.
I need to be… better.
Caster nodded, then took a deep breath and raised his hand. "Father, can I…" he began, but as he looked up, his voice faded. His father wasn't even paying attention to him anymore, he was absorbed in reading reports.
Slowly, Caster let his hand fall. Disheartened, he lowered his gaze and turned around, leaving the office in silence.
On his way out, he accidentally ran into his mother. Straightening his back, Caster offered a small bow, his expression polite and eager. He looked up at her with a spark of hope.
I have to please Mother… maybe she'll play with me.
But his mother only glanced at him with a tired expression as she sipped her wine. Then her eyes drifted over his arms, chest, and hands, clear dissatisfaction sharpening her gaze, his physique wasn't as perfect as she had hoped.
"What are you even training for? You might as well not bother… you only make things worse, anyway."
She scoffed and walked past him, leaving him standing alone in the hall.
Caster bit his lower lip, his throat tightening as his vision blurred. Why am I always compared to Nephis of the Immortal Flame, Revel of Song, or Morgan of Valor…? I don't even know them. I just want to be… me.
No matter what I do… I'm always wrong. Why can't I be enough? Just… why?
...
"Lord Caster… your father is awaiting your return." The servant said with a polite smile, guiding him toward the office.
"I know where it is. You can leave." Caster's voice was cold as he walked through the familiar mansion. His usual carefree, humorous expression was gone, buried beneath a layer of icy detachment.
"Understood, my lord." The servant flinched at his tone, swallowed hard, bowed respectfully, and hurried away.
Soon, Caster reached the familiar wooden door. He scoffed quietly and pushed it open without waiting.
Inside, a middle-aged man looked up at him with an unreadable expression. A hint of disappointment, and simmering anger flickered behind his eyes. "You're back."
"I am." Caster replied simply with a nod.
"And where were you? You returned months ago and didn't bother to visit us?" his father growled, teeth clenched. "Is it because you're ashamed that you failed the simple task of killing that bitch from the Immortal Flame Clan?!"
Simple… my ass. What the hell are you talking about, old fart? Caster grimaced, shaking his head.
"I could have killed her, not gonna lie. There were plenty of opportunities. Honestly, compared to before, my fighting style isn't as idiotic anymore, I've improved. So killing Nephis wouldn't have been that hard. It would've been a piece of cake, for real."
He laughed faintly and sat down without waiting for permission, which only made his father's anger flare. Caster had never done that before.
At the same time, a flicker of confusion crossed the man's face. Caster had always tried to please him and his wife. He had always been obedient, desperate for approval.
Something had changed. Dramatically.
But what could have caused such a massive shift in behavior? He'd heard the Forgotten Shore was a harrowing region, but could it really twist someone this much? The thought unsettled him.
Something's wrong…
"And why didn't you kill her if you could!? You disgraced our clan! Disgraced me! Where is your honor!?" He slammed his fist on the table, voice echoing in the room.
But Caster didn't even flinch. He simply began spinning a knife between his fingers playfully with an almost absurd level of speed and precision.
His father blinked, stunned. Playing…? Playing!? In front of me!?
"How dare you, you damned-"
"I'll stop you right there, pal." Caster raised a hand lazily, still twirling the knife. "No need to get all sour. I just didn't feel like killing her, alright? Too much of a chore. And my friends didn't want to kill her either, she was useful. Considering the siege, it was the smart choice. We used her skills really well and cut down casualties by a lot. So what's your problem, dude?"
…What? What did he just say to me?Caster's father felt his rage spike. Abandoning the mission was one thing... But Insolence and blatant disrespect, that was something else entirely.
"You think that just because you've Awakened… you're strong enough to challenge me?" he scoffed with a sharp laugh, looking down at Caster with open superiority. "You foolish boy. You've let your hubris blind you."
That was… embarrassing. Caster covered half his face with his hand, staring at his father with a look of utter disbelief, his lips curling into a humorous smile as he lowered his hand.
"You could even say… I'm courting death, hmm?"
His father remained silent, a vein twitching on his forehead as he took a deep breath, forcing himself not to react to Caster, who was clearly trying to provoke him.
Regaining a semblance of composure, he clasped his hands behind his back and muttered coldly. "Get out… I'll think about your punishment later."
Caster merely shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. Before his father could glare at him again, he was gone, vanishing from the office like a flash.
A few seconds later, Caster appeared near the garden, sliding down toward the small pond where flowers bloomed, whistling softly.
"Kind of missed this place," he murmured with a pale smile. He often came here to avoid people.
For the first time in his life, Caster felt at peace. He didn't care about the clan, or anything else anymore.
The Caster of a year ago and the Caster of now were completely different people. Even after meeting Mr. Error, he had still carried the will of his clan, with the same mindset and the same rigid principles. Back then, he had tried to shed it… and he succeeded, leaving everything behind.
After all, he had more than a year to move on and start a new life, and that's exactly what he did.
"Life's pretty good now." He grinned. What could my father do? Cross the Hollow Mountains and reach the Forgotten Shore to punish me? Pft, that's funny.
In reality, the Han Li Clan could do nothing to Caster. The death zones separating the Song Domain and the Forgotten Shore made it impossible. Not to mention, his teacher was a saint, no one would dare challenge Mr. Jacob except sovereigns.
So, overall, his father's threats were nothing more than empty words, useless ranting that he could easily ignore.
"I see you're in a good mood… what a surprise."
Caster heard a scornful voice from behind. He blinked, then turned to see a woman strolling through the garden, her dress swaying gently. She glanced at him, her expression weary and slightly bleak.
"Who taught you that crude language, anyway? You should say, 'Life holds a certain grace now.' Do you understand?"
Caster rolled his eyes, grimacing with annoyance... Again with her nagging.
"You think I care?" he muttered.
"Of course you don't. You never care about anyone but yourself, how selfish. You don't even care whether your mother lives or dies." she said with a laugh.
Caster's expression darkened. And whose fault is that? Even the slightest show of affection would have given you guys an excuse to beat me… calling me soft, you sadistic bastards…
"Who knows." he sighed. "Maybe I would care if you died… or maybe I'd spit on your grave."
His mother scoffed in displeasure, her umbrella swaying faintly in the wind." I see… I knew you were a cold-blooded child. But haaaaa… maybe my hopes shouldn't have been so high."
Caster shrugged, then narrowed his eyes, sneering at her. "You make me feel like everything was my fault. How pathetic. Every time I showed even the slightest hint of affection or love, you would tell Father, and he'd order instructors to 'do their job.' Wasn't that right? But weeeell… maybe I'm wrong, huh?"
His mother remained expressionless for a moment, then simply shook her head. "That never happened."
And then she left him alone. Caster had hoped his parents might change, but people don't always change. Nor did his expectations of meeting them match reality. There was no drama, no emotional confrontation... Just a brief encounter, and that was it.
Maybe I'm reading too many webtoons, huh? Returning home is always dramatic and cinematic, isn't it? So why is this… so mundane?
If he was honest, he felt a bit disappointed. He would be leaving the clan soon, and he had wanted to do it with style, with some semblance of cool. Instead, reality had slapped him hard.
"Whatever... I'm Caster Of [Insert Name Here] from now on, anyway. I'm from Moirai and part of Rose Redemption."
After Caster left the Han Li Clan's mansion, his parents discussed his behavior, the change in his personality, and how he had abandoned his mission.
"We need to put a leash on him. He's grown far too arrogant," his mother said, biting her nails nervously.
"Don't worry about that. I'll handle it. He hasn't realized the consequences of his actions yet. When Saint Jest hears of this, he'll be dragged back here and punished." his father replied calmly.
His wife nodded in understanding, letting out a quiet sigh as she glanced toward the window, then froze. Her eyes widened, and she took an involuntary step back.
Outside, hundreds of ravens perched on buildings, walls, and trees. Each of them stared at the mansion with piercing, intelligent eyes. And each bird had four eyes, gleaming with an unsettling awareness that sent a chill down her spine.
"What… what the hell is that?" Caster's father muttered in disbelief, sinking into his seat. Lightning split the sky, thunder roared, and the heavens opened in a torrential downpour. The lights flickered and went out.
His eyes widened, his body trembling for reasons he couldn't comprehend. He gulped and clutched his arm. Then a faint scratching echoed through the mansion, followed by the sickening sounds of bodies falling and choked, desperate breaths.
His wife's face twisted in horror. She stumbled back, reaching the wall, and froze. Her eyes wide, pupils dilated in sheer terror.
Lightning struck again, this time unnervingly close to the mansion, and the thunderclap roared so violently it seemed to shake the walls, drowning out all other sound.
Then, a faint sound reached them. It was a soft, delicate humming that grew steadily louder. It was beautiful, ethereal, like an angel singing… nothing threatening about it. And that was precisely why they were so horrified.
"Reality is corrupted~"
He trembled, his body drenched in sweat as he clutched his mouth. His wife kept her eyes tightly shut, refusing to look.
He swallowed hard, heart hammering. What the hell is that thing? Is it… singing? How can I save myself?
"And salvation… far away…"
There must be something he could do!
Wait… this song… can this being understand my thoughts? Maybe… maybe there's a clue hidden in the melody, he thought, a chill crawling up his spine.
"Is there something we can do~?"
Yes! There had to be something. Say it… tell me!
"Lay down and die~"
The voice answered his thoughts directly, shattering the fragile hope he had been clinging to. Footsteps approached, it was slow and deliberate. Then the door creaked open in an unsettlingly slow, drawn-out motion, revealing around twenty people standing in the hallway.
All of them were his subordinates.
What's happening…? What is this…?
One by one, they slowly tilted their heads, watching him and his wife with bleak, hollow eyes. Then, in eerie unison, each reached into their pockets and pulled out a crystal monocle, placing it over their right eye.
Every single one of them smiled. It was wide, twisted and inhumane. Their lips curled upward in the same unnatural arc as they spoke in perfect unison:
"Just lay down… and die."
Both husband and wife froze. Their blood turned to ice, their expressions collapsing into raw despair. And then...
Only horrified, sickening screams escaped the mansion.
Nothing but… screams.
***
[A/N: They got… Amon'ed, lol.]
***