I am different

The spade sank into the earth with a dull thud as Nero leaned heavily on it, catching his breath. Sweat rolled down his temples, evidence of the morning's relentless work.

"Is this the new guy?"

The unfamiliar and amused voice made him flinch. Startled, Nero turned around and spotted a woman framed in the shed's entrance, a bucket balanced casually in one hand.

Her honey-brown eyes were curious, and a teasing smile played at the corners of her lips.

She moved towards them playfully while her figure drew his eyes in without trying.

She was slightly shorter than Rafaella, and her oval face framed by a cascade of wavy hair highlighted her magnetic honey-brown eyes. Her cheeks bore a natural blush that deepened as she smiled, accentuating her delicate nose and full, inviting lips. There was no blemish on her face except for a small mole on the right side of her chin, which only added to her charm.

As she appeared in her late twenties, Nero's gaze instinctively flicked to her neck, noting the wedding necklace resting against her collarbone. The only other piece of jewelry she wore was a small nose pin on her left nostril. 

Her navy blue shirt tucked into a matching long skirt clung to her body in a way that made Nero's mouth dry. The tight skirt flared from her hips, outlining her curvy figure and narrow waist.

Yet what captured his attention most was her tits. He swallowed hard and fought seriously to keep his eyes on her face. But the more he looked at her, the more he found his gaze returning to them. The size of those things was perfect. Not too absurd or unappealing, but solid milk jugs that made him certain they'd spill if he cupped them in his hands.

He was so engrossed in his appraisal that he didn't notice Rafaella's sharp gaze boring into him.

"Done yet?"

Rafaella's sharp voice sliced through his reverie like a whip. Nero stiffened and straightened himself.

"Yeah, I'm done," he mumbled, hastily reaching for the hose to clean his boots and the spade. But even as he busied himself, he couldn't resist stealing another glance at the newcomer.

She caught him but didn't seem to mind. Her smile only widened, and her magnetic gaze held his with a boldness that sent his heart racing.

"Raff, you didn't answer my question," the woman cooed, her tone sweet as honey. "Introduce us properly."

Rafaella rolled her eyes. "Oh, what is there to introduce? I told you about him already, didn't I? Lissy, this is Nero Orias. Child of senior Orias, current priestess of Agroville. He's staying with us for a year before heading to the academy. Nero, meet Mrs. Lissy, my best friend, and the dairy's tamer. She'll be your coworker, so get used to seeing her around."

Lissy's smile widened, and her gaze brazenly swept over Nero appraisingly. "Oh, we sure will be seeing each other a lot. So, how do you like Crafts Wood so far, Nero?"

Surprised by her boldness, Nero fumbled for a matching response, but Rafaella pulled curtains to the show before he could even open his mouth.

"Hey, save the pleasantries for later. He will be here all day from now on. Get to work. We got delivery in an hour," Rafaella exclaimed, playfully turning Lissy around and nudging her towards the beast inside the shed.

Lissy giggled, glancing back at Nero as Rafaella ushered her inside.

"I would rather take my time and enjoy things," she added with a subtle edge to her words. Nero swore she shot him a sly look before disappearing into the shed.

Rafaella walked out of the shed, instructing Nero to feed the beasts.

Inside, Lissy had already begun her work, cleaning the udders with practiced ease before crouching beside the botaurs to milk them.

Nero's breath caught as he watched her. 

Her skirt clung tightly to her thighs, offering an ample view of her shapely contours. From his angle, he could see the gentle curve of her ass as she leaned forward, her movements deliberate and unhurried.

Lissy's shirt strained again, and her rounded milk jugs squashed against her thighs as she sat squatted. Each pull of her hand on the teats sent a matching soft ripple through her heavenly bosom, leaving him unable to tear his eyes away.

Nero found himself drooling and his lower head standing up in admiration at the sight. Part of him was gathering the courage to step closer and fully appreciate the view. But before he could take a step, an icy voice called out behind him.

"Nero."

He turned to see Rafaella standing there, holding a large churn with a faucet attached.

Her expression was unreadable. No more glares or black lines were forming on her face. Rather, her hazel eyes were still as water as he gazed into them. 

"There are glass bottles in the kitchen that I cleaned. Dry them off and load them into the cart."

The chill in her voice made him nod wordlessly, and he rushed out without a protest.

In the kitchen, he found the bottles neatly lined up and began drying them. The repetitive task allowed him to clear his mind. Once he finished loading the bottles into the cart, he returned to the shed where Lissy had completed her task and Rafaella was securing the milk churn.

Lissy chatted with Rafaella, her tone light and friendly, but Rafaella's gaze seemed distant, her thoughts elsewhere. When her eyes finally landed on Nero, her expression hardened.

She gestured for him to take the left side of the heavy milk churn's handle while she walked deeper into the shed and tugged one of the hulking Taurus's straps gently with her right hand to guide it. Her hand on the Taurus seemed unnecessary as the beast obediently followed without her even using any force as if used to the routine.

Together, they hauled the heavy milk churn towards the cart with the massive beast in tow. Nero loaded the churn into the cart as Rafaella hitched the beast.

When Rafaella climbed into the driver's seat, she turned to him with a look that froze him in place.

"Nero," she began, her tone laced with both bitterness and fury, "I don't know what's happened to you, but you're nothing like the boy I used to know. Do you even remember what we were? You were like a little brother to me, always running around with a bright and carefree smile, eagerly looking up at me. And I treated you like family. But now…"

She hesitated, her voice faltering for a heartbeat before gaining a sharper edge.

"Now, you've turned into someone I barely recognize. Your gaze, your behavior—sniffing at me, ogling me—it's disgusting, Nero. You're tarnishing the trust I had in you. I can't even look at you without feeling sick." 

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes burning with cold fury. "I let yesterday's incident slide because I kept telling myself you're still that little brother I knew. But now? I see you looking at a woman you just met the same way, and it's repulsive. If you keep this up, I won't hesitate to set you straight, even if I have to slap some sense into you. I won't let you be a filth like them."

Her hands gripped the reins tightly, her knuckles whitening under the tension. With a sharp exhale, she went on, her tone now softer, showing her fondness for him beneath the stern voice.

"There's hot water for you in the bathroom. Wash the dirt away from your vessel and mind. And while you're at it, think about what kind of man you want to be. Because this," she gestured toward him with disdain, "isn't it!"

She didn't wait for a response. With a flick of the reins, the cart jolted forward. Nero stood there, frozen, watching the cart disappear into the distance. 

His fists clenched tightly, his jaw locked as he fought back a surge of rage.

Lissy approached him later in a friendly voice, trying to strike up a conversation. But Nero barely acknowledged her and stormed toward the bathroom in anger.

Hot water poured over his head, soaking his raven hair and sending steam curling into the air. He scrubbed his skin hard with sharp, aggressive motions. But no amount of scouring could erase the sting of Rafaella's words.

Disgusting. Filth. Can't even look at me without feeling sick, huh?

Each of her sharp voices echoed in his mind, fueling his dislike more.

Who does she think she is? 

His thoughts churned as the sponge squeaked under his hand.

I've been here barely 24 hours, and she's already treating me like her servant. So what if I looked at Lissy? She didn't care. She smiled! Hell, she probably took it as a compliment. 

Isn't it normal for a man to appreciate a beautiful woman? Am I supposed to gouge my eyes when I see a good-looking woman?

She is acting like I'm some predator who invaded her perfect little world. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be dragged here or to play her obedient helper.

How did I freaking forget she and Alvin are perfect for each other? 

Two pious little sheep, too blinded by empty ideals they were fed since birth. They will never see past the walls they built around themselves. They think their narrow worldview is the truth. What right does such a person have to judge me?

What does she know about the real world?

His grip on the sponge tightened until his knuckles ached.

I am different. 

I am someone who has seen through lies and deceit of two worlds. How can I be judged by Rafaella, who has probably seen less than half of Aodh at best?

He leaned back against the wooden tub, the warm water lapping at him and soothing him down. His anger simmered, as he felt vented out, but doubts crept into the void where anger left. 

Was I really that different before? Someone with a bright and carefree smile. Was that how I used to be before I distanced from her? 

Should I stop now? These urges are all effects of my bloodline. If I keep advancing my Incubi bloodline, it will only worsen with 'Baron of Corruption' in the mix.

He submerged himself under the water, seeking clarity in the silence beneath the surface. But the heat did nothing to quell the icy knots of doubts in his heart.

However, as he struggled to breathe, and felt weakness overcome him, he surfaced with a scowl, his purple eyes gaining a more luster.

No... This is a dog-eat-dog world. This world doesn't forgive weakness. 

What happens to those who remain powerless in this world? The ones screwed at birth with mediocre talent and no resources in hand.

One beast tide, one powerful monster, and everything is over. 

The home built from savings of years, the family you cherish and dedicate all life to, the people and place you grew up in, all razed to the ground. And that's monsters outside. What about the ones hiding in human skin? The powerful Ascenders and Nobles who walk freely, cloaked in strength and unchecked by laws?

You could be an honest man, someone who gave up Ascension to live a simple life, only to come home one day and find everything you love destroyed, your family butchered, your home in ruins. And why? Because some Ascender had a bad day. Could you fight back? Would authorities serve justice?

Maybe they will sweep everything under the rug by accusing your family of the bullshit they came up with or choose to let the culprit off with a slap on the wrist to show the public. 

The best case scenario? The bastard gets enslaved by authorities to serve as a tool for the Divine. If he ever becomes an excellent tool, the same authorities will rewrite his crimes into some grand tale of the hero's redemption. Meanwhile, you're left with ashes and grief.

In a world where wealth reigns supreme and justice bows to the weight of money, it is a sin to be poor. In a world where strong rules and fairness are determined by strength, it is a sin to be weak.

Those who don't progress higher by clinging to their ethics and morality are fools. These people wear their chains like trophies, dragging others into their misery. Living with the belief that others would act righteous if they obeyed rules like sheep deserve it when monsters rip them apart.

I won't be like that. I will do whatever makes me strong. If that means throwing my morality to the ground and not living by the rules set by others, so be it. Let them call me whatever they want. 

Pervert. Trash. Schemer. Freak. 

It's just words. Their words. 

As long as I am strong, I can silence them. If I am not, I'll endure until I am.

He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts replay as a relentless echo steeling his resolve.

When Nero finally emerged from the bathroom, his mind was clearer, his resolve sharper. 

The dining table had roasted eggs, fried mushrooms, and warm bread. His stomach growled, betraying his turmoil of thoughts.

Alvin was serving food for Irene and Ivan with quiet efficiency. 

"Take a seat," he said, nodding at Nero.

Nero slid into a chair across from him, silently filling his plate. Ivan eyed him with curiosity as his sister whispered something into his ears.

The breakfast was a quiet affair. Alvin wasn't one to talk. While the children seemed interested in getting to know the unfamiliar guest, Nero's closed-off demeanor kept them silent.

Alvin finished. He pushed his plate aside and turned to Nero. "Rafaella will be at the temple for classes when she returns," he began his tone even. "She'll expect you at the clinic for healing lessons afterward. You have free time until then. After that, you're free to train yourself until the evening. They'll need you at the cattle shed in the evening for another delivery. I'll be patrolling in the village."

"Got it." Hearing the man list out how his day should be, Nero replied tersely, stabbing at his eggs.

When the children ended their meal, Alvin stood up and cleared the table. The trio left for their things before telling him to finish his meal.

Left alone at the table, he silently finished his meal and retreated to his room.

Nero settled into a lotus position on the floor and started using the "Baron of Corruption" technique.

This Ascension technique offered two primary abilities: the refinement of corrupted spirit mana into crystallized false cores that served as reservoirs, and the creation of binding magical contracts. Both abilities were tied to the Spirit.

The binding contract functioned by placing a latent detonating attack on the spirits of both parties involved. This attack would trigger instantly if either violated the agreed terms. However, the potency of this attack depended entirely on Nero's strength.

While the technique claimed the attack was life-threatening, Nero suspected its lethality would only pose a challenge to those at or below the Awakened stage's peak, since the technique itself only covered till there. Against higher Ascenders, the attack would likely be a nuisance rather than a deterrent.

The contract's terms were entirely up to Nero to dictate. Once agreed upon, the pact would bind both parties no matter how absurd those terms were. 

There was also an option to bring in a higher entity acting as a mediator. But the catch was that the entity could invalidate or amend the terms if they found them biased. The advantage of still doing it was that the higher entity ensured both parties upheld their vows.

For example, Nero could invoke Aldous, the God of Transactions, as a mediator. Aldous would validate the contract as long as the terms were fair. While this limited Nero's ability to enforce blatantly one-sided agreements, it allowed him to negotiate with powerful Ascenders, knowing neither party could escape the consequences of breaking the pact unless that person could afford to handle a God's ire.

Of course, this meant it would become no different from the binding contract issued by the authorities, but at least he was saving money on materials and the time of getting one.

Nero recognized this was an innate ability of the Charm demon, and his bloodline would help a lot in the task. For a creature that inherently relied on others, it was natural to have an ability designed for persuasion, alliances, and control.

The second ability, forming false cores, was far more labor-intensive and demanded extreme precision.

First, he had to absorb natural spirit mana before refining them to corrupted spirit mana. Then he had to concentrate corrupted spirit mana into a dense focal point, purging all natural mana from the surrounding environment. Next, he needed to conjure the core precisely according to the technique's specifications. Even the slightest deviation would result in energy leakage or an outright explosion, rendering the false core useless or worse, harming him.

The method required both patience and practice. Nero knew this wasn't an ability he could master overnight rather, this would be a slow grind. 

Yet, as Nero pondered the steps, worries gnawed at him. 

Mana manipulation had always been his weakest point. His ability to gather mana was mediocre, and his attempts to manifest natural mana outside his vessel were outright failures. Because of these shortcomings, he gave up becoming a mage from the get-go and focused on training his vessel to become a melee fighter.

The Baron of Corruption technique demanded exactly what he lacked. The technique's combat style revolved around unleashing an endless barrage of minor spells. These spells were individually weak but gained lethality when spammed or layered with exceptional precision. This meant success depended on rapid spell-casting and manipulating spell forms with extreme precision.

For most in his situation, this would have been an impassable obstacle. But Nero wasn't entirely without hope.

Nero's loophole was his bloodline. His Incubi heritage, ingrained in charm and corruption, should compensate for his lack of talent in mana manipulation. 

He gained alchemist as an optimal path, likely because of his high affinity towards it. This high affinity enabled him to bypass his struggles with external mana manipulation and cast all four beginner spells of transmutation magic. Similarly, his high affinity for Life Magic had made him capable of healing spells. So at least in theory, as long as he had a good affinity for corrupt spirit mana, he could use it without a problem, and this was where his bloodline came in. 

As long as his incubi bloodline progressed, his affinity would increase, fixing his mana manipulation problems. That's why he couldn't afford to stop, no matter what anyone says.

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