"It's alright, Scar. Just close your eyes…"
"Shh… everything will be alright. Mommy is here."
In a shadowy room lit only by the crimson moon and the explosions tearing through the world outside, a pajama-clad child crouched behind the window curtain, gaze fixed downward, hands clutching desperately at his ears.
He was terrified, but not of the Scarlet Kin, the Catastrophe-level threat destroying everything. Not of the giant clown monster with its scythe through the window behind him, cutting down people like it was handing out party candies. What terrified him was the destruction happening before his very eyes.
Before him stood a woman, tears in her eyes, who kept hugging him while simultaneously trying to push him toward a curtain to hide behind.
She appeared to have made her decision, but the way she clutched his shoulder and wept suggested otherwise.
At the entrance behind them stood a dark-haired man, wildly swinging a rusty sword at three men in suits… men who effortlessly sidestepped his futile attacks.
But this man's eyes spoke of rage, hatred, and the desire to protect his family.
Even so, it ended in an instant. Lightning flashed, and suddenly the man was reduced to nothing more than a battered red paste.
Terror gripped the space. The child's golden eyes bulged impossibly wider as he stared at the crimson, not the familiar red of the scarlet moon, but something else.
He yanked at his dark hair in panic. This was thick, liquid blood, spreading across the floor in his direction.
His mother immediately thrust him behind the curtain, rising to face the men who'd dared enter her home. She trembled, but at least she could move—unlike the child, frozen by such terror he couldn't make a sound or process his emotions.
It all happened so fast. One second, a sound like the one that had ended his father's life. Next, he was clamped under someone's arm, body jerking violently, too numb to even scream.
And that night… changed everything.
Years had passed since that night of blood and fire. Now, sixteen, the child faced the world again. Older, faster, and carrying the burden of his Inheritance.
"Tsk. Smiling again? Kids these days."
The figure approaching had a crooked back beneath his black robe, walked with a cane, possessed grey hair, and wore a face that seemed to have survived the Stone Age itself. This was Isaac.
With lazy irritation, Isaac's gaze found the young man sprawled on the couch. Dark-haired and golden-eyed with a fit frame, wearing black tactical gear and boots tough enough for solar terrain. He grinned as he tucked away a photograph. Scar Rover.
Scar's smile turned into a big laugh the moment he saw Isaac approach him.
"The way you ran that day cracks me up every time I remember it. I was terrified, but you were ridiculously slow. Funny how you broke your back."
Eight years had passed since Scar's parents were killed, murdered on the same day the Catastrophe threat Scarlet Kin ravaged the land. The creature was unlike any the continent had seen in years. Utterly unique.
Fortunately, Scar had been saved by Isaac, the very man his father had gone to for help before the tragedy occurred.
Isaac sneered.
"You little brat. Before the Red Day, kids your age were barely learning to walk. Hell, back then, women didn't even have the right to speak."
Scar laughed even harder.
"Sure… but I still could've outrun you that day, old man."
Isaac neared Scar and took a swing with his walking stick, but the young man dodged effortlessly, weaving in ways that threatened to worsen the elder's crooked spine.
"I'm not wasting my breath on you… you'll only kill me before my time."
Scar's expression darkened.
Scar didn't like hearing that. Despite their playful banter and his constant teasing, Isaac was all he had left. The thought of losing the old man never sat well with him.
Scar reached for his upper pocket, where he'd tucked away his parents' picture. All he could do was hope Isaac lived longer. That he wouldn't die.
THUD
Isaac repositioned his walking stick and smacked Scar's head. The strike had enough force to crack a bone. But Scar wasn't fazed, he just put on an exaggerated display of pain.
"I know that look. Don't blame yourself. You have an Inheritance now, enough to protect yourself. Don't worry about me. Eighty-three years… I've lived plenty."
Scar let out a heavy sigh, his heart beating at a confused rate.
'Inheritance, huh?'
More than three hundred years ago, something inexplicable fell upon the earth. The moon turned scarlet, and animals, mammals, birds, and fish alike, turned into grotesque, powerful creatures called the Scarlet Kin.
The devastation reduced eight continents to less than one. This final scrap of land became the sole safe haven for humans and the few animals that endured.
Now each night brought the Scarlet Moon's crimson glow over all lands, while daylight only touched the human continent, leaving the rest of the world perpetually beneath the moon's red shadow.
After this strange occurrence, humans were also granted magical abilities. Only a few at first, but bearers could transmit both their power and memories to an heir, hence why they came to be called Inheritances.
"When you look up at the sky, you'll always see two lights, the sun and the moon. That means you were never truly alone. Those who share your Inheritance will keep you company."
Scar slapped his forehead. Of course. Isaac had repeated this line countless times, always using humor to deflect from what happened eight years ago, from his fear of dying and leaving Scar alone. Scar knew the routine by now. He played along.
"But you know only the moon stays out at night, right?"
Isaac cursed at him and swung his stick again. Scar avoided without much effort.
"Just shut up and listen for once. Get yourself a girlfriend or something. Two or three, even men, whatever helps you feel normal."
Having dealt with this scenario countless times with Isaac, Scar knew exactly how to draw it out and needle the old bastard about being single his entire life.
"Don't be foolish. I was the one who didn't want them. Our numbers were tiny back then, and everyone around was an old hag. Who'd want that? I'd rather do it with pillows."
After trading insults for a while, Isaac reached under his robe and drew out a pitch-black sword, compact and refined. It had no elaborate decoration, just a simple, elegant weapon in its black sheath.
Scar knew what it was immediately. He reached out for it in hesitation.
It was crafted by a weapon manipulator. Swords like this bonded with the wielder's soul, gaining power as their master did. Extraordinarily rare, even forgeries cost no less than two gold coins. Gold coins, mind you, not silver or bronze.
"Are you fucking with me?"
His eyes sparkled, and yet he couldn't fully believe what he was seeing.
"I've been saving this for eight years. Only the best of the best. Now go get yourself some chicks at the academy."
Isaac said and began laughing out loud.
Scar, however, didn't know what to feel. Isaac wasn't wealthy like his parents had been. The Rovers could have been considered nobility, given how many of them possessed Inheritances.
But after his parents' deaths, Scar had to abandon everything and even assume Isaac's surname to evade suspicion.
Isaac had raised him for eight years, and now at sixteen, the old man was still doing everything he could to make Scar smile.
'I know… I know who did it and why.'
Through his Inheritance, Scar possessed knowledge of his ability plus memories from six predecessors. He could recall even the most mundane details, like favorite dishes, daily routines, and how much they farted regularly.
He knew who murdered his parents and why… and he knew it was only going to get worse. But Isaac had already done so much. He couldn't possibly burden the old man with this.
"Thank you, old man. I truly didn't expect this. You really didn't have to go through all this trouble."
Isaac immediately interrupted Scar.
"Oh, cut the bullshit. You are my son, I don't need any other reason to do anything for you."
Scar felt warmth spread through him, touched by the gentle tenderness in Isaac's voice and how it always soothed his grief for his parents.
"Just grab your luggage and get to the academy already. Oh, and when you see the bakery woman, tell her to come give me another massage of the year. You nearly broke me, jackass."
Scar smiled.
"You forgot her name again, didn't you? Tsk. If only she'd see how much you've been using her kindness… ha."
Isaac shooed him with an annoyed look.
"Fuck off!"
Sigh.
"Remember: 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats. And your name is Scar Hide. Not a Rover, not this time. Oh, and don't come back without a girl."
The words left Isaac in a parental tone.
After teasing Isaac a little longer, Scar was dragged back to reality even before he could get his luggage.
The academy was where he might avenge his parents' deaths, but he understood he wasn't hunting them, they were hunting him.
A single misstep could reduce him to what his predecessors had become: unwanted memories and alien emotions inhabiting someone else's mind.
He just couldn't go on that path.