The bright sun shone down through the window panes onto a desk filled with pages. Yura sat in his seat, his eyes glowing like those of a child receiving a birthday gift. "Hmm… yes… a half-decent story always has a good villain," he mumbled to himself as he continued to write, his mechanical pencil drawing letters elegantly with no wasted movement.
"Master, if I may—shall I assist the Red Auction raid? Kran is capable, especially with Lady Clara on his side. However… his target in particular right now is someone he has had personal ties to. I believe it unwise to expect him to win," Void Eye remarked, standing in front of Yura's desk, his visage still shrouded in assassin attire.
"No, it's quite alright. This battle will be a test of resolve for Kran. Besides… I want to gauge the strengths of each of the four newcomers; they all interest me, as it turns out," Yura replied as he looked up to meet Void Eye's gaze, his golden eyes mimicking the sun itself.
Yura smiled gently yet condescendingly before asking: "However, enlighten me—what have you uncovered about Laticia's background?"
Void Eye smiled beneath his mask as he walked closer and performed a respectful bow. "Yes… Master Yura. I shall tell you all I know, though much of this information is bought and thus is not completely reliable," he answered.
***15 years ago***
"Another failure?" a man asked. He was dressed formally, with a cloak shrouding his back as he looked forward to meet the gaze of a woman lying in a bed, cradling a little girl.
"Y-Yes, my lord… we ran tests, and it seems that your third daughter, Laticia, is incompatible with the Batterius Alma," a scientist behind the man said, holding a clipboard.
The woman gripped the sleeping child; tears flowed endlessly from her eyes as she pleaded, "She's only six years old, and she's your daughter! Please! Let me keep her! Don't throw Laticia away like our other children!"
Her cries were only met by the uncaring gaze of the man who stood before her. His hair was crimson red; his eyes looked like two blood-red moons. "Shut it. Do you know what I invested in her? The time and money? Can you even begin to understand the betrayal I feel when I hear that I've produced another that has my Sendorlitch blood running through them… only to know they can't follow my ambition?" he replied, his anger evident in his piercing voice.
The scientist behind him spoke up, looking arrogantly toward the woman. "You should feel honored in being the spouse of Azmith Sendorlitch. Please do not speak out of place."
The man, Azmith, scoffed at the woman before opening the door to leave. Before doing so, however, he peered back with one final sentence: "That daughter may be permitted to live in the shadows for a while—that is, until I can find a suitable client to sell her to. She's no longer of any use to me now. And ensure no one knows that she carries my blood. Do you understand me, Stella?" he asked, staring death into the petrified eyes of the woman cradling young Laticia.
Laticia would grow up confined and hidden from the sight of others, as if she were a shame. In that time, only her mother, Stella, would show her any form of affection through her years of neglect.
The Sendorlitch clan was an influential and powerful one that had dealt underground in the art of human trafficking, drug trafficking, and many other crimes of historic proportions. They began to be known as the lineage of evil across nations. It was no surprise to anyone, however, that Azmith, the final heir, would one day orchestrate a massacre of the clan, selling their deaths as tributes to the unknown side of the Cryoharian government, which in return would fake having saved innocent lives and take credit, allowing Azmith to live on.
Three times, he attempted to birth a child of his blood capable of absorbing the Batterius Alma—an ancient artifact from the Age of Discovery that was said to hold the power to generate an infinite amount of energy for civilization as long as it had a human host. Whether through trading or inheritance, the Sendorlitch family grew to be in possession of the Batterius Alma. Azmith made it his goal to produce a spawn that could host the legendary device, so he could claim it as his forever.
Laticia lived her childhood as a hidden shame, exposed to the blemishes of her father.
***Within a small kitchen***
Stella, Laticia's mother, worked endlessly, cleaning and managing parts of the interior like a slave, adorned in a maid outfit despite being the lord's spouse.
"...Mama, what are those marks on your body from? Do they hurt?" an eight-year-old Laticia asked, her small form seated atop a bench.
Stella struggled to stand. "..N-no, sweetie, of course not! They're just scars… nothing to worry about," she said, an attempt to assure her daughter. In truth, the scars were from endless wounds Azmith had delivered to her to vent his frustrations across many years.
Laticia looked down, clutching her stuffed and worn teddy bear. "Why does daddy ignore me? He always acts like I'm not there; he shoves me to the side; he gets embarrassed when I show myself… am I an embarrassment?" she asked, tears forming in her eyes.
In an instant, hearing the sentiment of her daughter, Stella dropped her mop and ran to Laticia, embracing her in a warm hug. "Of course not; don't think like that, sweetie. You're a Sendorlitch; people would commit crimes to be in the same family. Daddy… is busy. He truly cares for you, believe me, and he loves us. You'll be able to spend as much time as you want with him once he's achieved his goal and finished his work," she said, her voice shaky and coated in pain.
As her mother continued her work, Laticia sat on the balcony, peering down at the busy streets below the large mansion she lived in. She saw a family of three walking down, but what caught her eye specifically was how the boy sat on the man's shoulders, giggling—a connection she thought she just hadn't earned yet.
Needless to say, Stella Sendorlitch, Laticia's mother, would pass away not too long after her daughter turned eight from a heart attack, leaving Laticia on her own.
One night, Laticia walked through the bright living room of the mansion toward Azmith, who seemed to be in the middle of conducting business with clients. "D-daddy, can I help—" She was unable to finish her sentence; in an instant, Azmith swung his fist, knocking the child into the wall.
"SILENCE! And do not address me as a parental figure; it's embarrassing to know you're my spawn!" he shouted, his rage and frustration at a boiling point.
"Mr. Sendorlitch, so that's the failed experiment—incapable of fusing with the Batterius Alma, is it? She's a bit too young but would make a fine slave. May I purchase her?" the man whom Azmith was speaking to prior asked. He wore sunglasses which obscured his eyes and a grey top hat, accompanied by a formal attire and an office handbag.
Laticia's eyes widened; she'd never heard of such a thing, but Azmith's did not. Plastered on his face was a creepy grin, as if he'd been offered a life-changing deal.
"You may certainly! This pest has been roaming my home as if she owns the property—a truly ungrateful wretch," Azmith exclaimed as he proceeded to kick Laticia down in a single strike.
"AHH! Daddy! Stop! It hurts!" Laticia cried, her small hands trembling as she struggled to stand, her eyes a teary mess—though it garnered no sympathy from Azmith.
"I don't care. I didn't ask. It doesn't matter what your feelings are; only mine matter. You're a property piece, an expendable object. I am powerful and strong; thus, I deserve to rule over you. Don't you understand that yet?" Azmith rhetorically asked. It was at this point that the horror had reached her heart, as she stared into Azmith's eyes—eyes that were devoid of any form of compassion.
Just then, acting swiftly, the client kicked Azmith from behind, pushing him into the wall as he shouted in agony. Laticia was shocked, yet she didn't feel the slightest remorse. Remembering the times she'd watched Azmith assault her mother and belittle Laticia, she smiled; watching her father in pain was the first time she truly felt happy.
"GAHH!!! Who are you, you bastard?? What is the meaning of this?!!" Azmith shouted, glaring at the man.
"Azmith Sendorlitch, you have something I have an eye for," the client said, removing his sunglasses.
Azmith's expression shifted to a hybrid of fear and shock—not from his client's sudden outburst nor his sudden change in demeanor; he knew exactly who it was as soon as the glasses came off.
"I-Impossible… you're… Erenor Kran! The major master of thieves who once infiltrated several museums, stealing priceless artifacts. They say it was like you bent space to your will, storing every stolen item into a separate dimension entirely…. I see, so you're a marked one," Azmith said.
The claim had no retaliation from Kran, who smirked arrogantly. "Then you're aware what I'm after, right? I'm here for the Batterius Alma. Where is it?" Kran asked, his eyes demanding.
"OVER MY DEAD BODY! It belongs to me!" Azmith yelled as he looked to Laticia, who stood shaking beside a table which had a pistol in clear view. "Bring the gun to me this instant, Laticia! Do as your owner commands!" Azmith commanded in aggression.
However, Laticia did not. She did indeed pick up the pistol, but in that split second, Azmith saw a demented, hateful expression as Laticia fired the pistol. The bullet shot through Azmith's chest as he fell to the ground.
"You—you…" he was unable to even finish his last words.
Kran stood watching with a neutral face. From observing Laticia's expressions and the intel he had snuffed out earlier, he had predicted something like this would be the outcome.
The young Laticia walked over to her dying father. She didn't show a sliver of remorse, only a pleasurable smile. "THIS IS WHAT YOU GET!! You're not above anyone! You held onto power like it was your right; you kept me beneath your foot as if I were an insect. Well, then, how does it feel? HAH!!!" Laticia taunted as she continued to fire three more times at her father, her rage and frustration all releasing in a single flurry—to a point even Kran was off-put.
"Enough. You make too much noise; you're lucky the staff of this place have all left," Kran said as he walked past Laticia, opening a secret door that appeared to lead into the basement.
"W-what.. is…?" Laticia mumbled; she was still shaken from what she had done.
"Quiet," Kran commanded as he walked down the staircase into the basement.
There, he came face to face with a glowing object—a spherical metallic construction the size of clenched fists. It beat gently like a heart, suspended in a display tank held in clear glass. Laticia could feel the energy of it radiating as she stared at it; there were textures of complex mazes and intricate design, though it was clearly artificial.
Kran, too, was at a loss for words before he focused again. His eyes widened as he smiled with excitement. "There it is… the Batterius Alma," he said as he opened his handbag. Immediately, he grabbed the ancient construction, still bound inside the tank, as its shape distorted for a second before he shoved it into his handbag and it vanished.
"W-What was that!?" Laticia shouted as she fell to her knees.
Kran merely secured his handbag before answering. "My passion mark grants me the power to steal anything in a flash, as well as a secondary power that lets me store an infinite amount of things in my pocket dimension. It's that simple," Kran said, slowly turning back.
Suddenly, the sound of hard boots clashing against metal could be heard as several men ran down to the basement.
"YOU! Space Stealer Kran! You bastard! You impersonated me and assassinated Mr. Sendorlitch! How dare you do that to my investment! Kill him now!" a man in a black trench coat said as the two others on his sides opened fire, shattering the air and destroying parts of the walls in a flurry of shots.
Perhaps it was out of pity, but Kran grabbed the terrified young Laticia as he dodged, saving them both as he jumped to the ceiling. He planted a ticking device that seemed to be a bomb as he jumped past the shooters, up into the living room of the mansion, before kicking and smashing through the windows while holding Laticia.
"After th— wait… that… THAT'S AN EXPLOSIVE!" the man from within yelled as he and his shooters shouted and screamed in fear, attempting to escape in desperation.
It was too late, however. A second after that, the bomb exploded, leaving the Sendorlitch mansion destroyed and engulfed in flames. The sounds of ambulances and authorities could be heard ringing through the city as chaos spread.
There, on the roof of a nearby building, young Laticia stood barefoot, watching her fiery home from a distance. It was clear now—she was truly alone.
*Tck… what's wrong with me? Why would I, the master thief Kran, ever stoop so low as to save an insignificant girl's life?* Kran questioned in his mind.
Not too long after, Kran walked through an old orphanage—shattered windows and stained carpets, scared children fleeing at his sight.
"A new one, huh? What's her name?" a man asked, standing; alcohol littering his breath.
Kran stayed quiet, instead nudging Laticia forward.
"L-Laticia," she replied.
Kran adjusted his top hat before placing his hand on Laticia's shoulder—a small bit of unconscious comfort for the hell he was about to condemn her to—before he turned and walked out of the door, into the rural town outside the eastern district of Neran City.
Laticia stared at Kran's retreating back, her eyes dripping with tears that reflected a combination of malice and sorrow. She turned and looked up to the man; he immediately grinned before grabbing Laticia's hand and dragging her.
"Don't worry 'bout it, Latina or whatever your dumbass name is. From now on, you'll have a purpose," he said.
From then on, Laticia would be sold into the underground human trafficking market as a slave, forced to do bidding for the clients of the owner of the orphanage, who was an underground criminal first, orphanage runner second. Time after time, her humanity and dignity were stripped, placing her below even a mouse.
Whether Kran condemned her to this fate knowingly or as a miscalculation was unclear, but it only created more and more hatred in her heart for that man. She cursed him, hoping he was dead somewhere, rotting where no one would find his body. He had seemingly left her to a life of pain and misery—to exist only for someone else. She saw it as a wasted existence… until one day.
***11 years ago from present time (2 years later in the flashback)***
The crimson color of blood stained the surroundings of the orphanage. The other children hid in fear, their faces twisted in concern for their lives as they clutched each other, shouting words like "monster" and running—though it didn't affect Laticia, who stood in the center of the blood. In her right hand was a pistol, which she had stolen from the man.
The man himself—who ran the orphanage and had allowed her to be "rented" off him by other traffickers many times—sat in front of her, leaned against the wall. His eyes were wide as he shouted and gripped a bleeding wound on his shoulder.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!!! YOU LITTLE BITCH! I'll—" Before he could finish cursing Laticia, she shot him in the forehead, killing him instantly. Her eyes did not show even a hint of hesitance in her actions as she smiled.
"I suffered as a worthless slave for two years… it's about time I paid you back in a hundred percent interest. I'm a Sendorlitch—a person born of near-divine blood. How dare filth like you attempt to dominate me? I'm going to be strong now, so that no one can use me again. Instead… I'll use everyone else!" she exclaimed as she looked up with a gigantic, psychotic smile and broke out in laughter.
She had adopted a line of thinking: *the strong deserve to rule over the weak.*
From then on, from the age of eleven, Laticia became a dangerous hazard to society from her adopted ideology. She sold herself to many, killed them, took hostages, and slowly built herself as a queen of the underground through this method of manipulation.
Eventually, she was marked by Vesterious and granted the Mark of the Enslaver for her obsession with dominating other people. With her power and influence, her network grew. She became feared as the Witch of Chains—she who binds and controls your will.