(Part 2) Him
Once upon a time, in a peaceful corner of this country, there lived a husband and wife who shared a life of quiet harmony.
Their days were simple yet filled with the warmth of mutual respect and love.
The rhythm of their life was steady and comforting, like the gentle flow of a river.
One day, the couple was blessed with a son. The joy they felt was immeasurable, and they couldn't wait to name the child who would carry their hopes and dreams forward.
"What do you want to name the child, my dear?" the wife asked softly, her voice laced with affection as she cradled their newborn son.
The husband smiled, his eyes alight with excitement. "I've had a name in mind for months! This time, it won't be ridiculous anymore."
"Then?" she urged, her curiosity piqued, her eyes shining with anticipation.
"Arche... that's his name," the husband said, gazing down lovingly at their son, whose tiny fingers curled around his father's hand.
"Arche, huh...?" The wife's voice was gentle, as though testing the sound of it.
"That's a good name... dear." Her smile warmed his heart.
As I listened to the story, I couldn't help but feel a sense of shock.
Arche?! That Arche?! I was stunned, unsure of what to make of this connection.
When Arche first opened his eyes, both parents were filled with happiness and awe, their hearts swelling with love for their son.
"He has your eyes, my dear," the wife whispered, her voice full of wonder.
"Those emerald eyes.. vivid and clear, just like his father's."
The husband smiled faintly, his face softening with pride and a touch of melancholy.
"Those emerald eyes... really passed down to our child, huh?"
There was a brief pause, a moment where the past and present seemed to converge.
The husband's smile faltered for an instant, and a shadow of concern passed over his face.
"I hope he doesn't end up in the criminal world like me..." he muttered under his breath, the weight of his past haunting him for a fleeting moment.
The wife, sensing his worry, reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm.
Her voice was calm, filled with reassurance. "Don't worry, he will be a good boy. He's nothing like you."
The husband, once a bounty hunter with a reputation as "The Emerald Hunter," had left his dangerous past behind to live a quieter life as a baker.
His bakery was renowned for its mouthwatering pastries, a symbol of his new, peaceful life.
His striking emerald eyes, which once gleamed with the coldness of a hunter, now shone with a gentler light as he kneaded dough with loving hands.
The wife, once a brilliant lawyer known for her sharp mind and unwavering sense of justice, had left her career behind to raise a family.
She had become a homemaker, dedicating herself entirely to the well-being of her family.
Her nurturing spirit balanced the former bounty hunter's fierce resolve, and together they created a home filled with love and harmony.
Arche, as a child, was innocent and full of wonder, his small hands trembling slightly when he was faced with new experiences.
Arche was a gentle soul, with a kind and innocent nature that stemmed from the care his parents had put into raising him.
His fears were small, yet vivid-he was afraid of heights, the sound of popping balloons, and clowns.
He couldn't bear to hurt any living creature, even the tiniest bug.
His life, from the outside, seemed like a peaceful melody, each note harmonious with the next, thanks to his parents' loving guidance.
I was taken aback when I first learned of his fears, remembering the day I met Arche atop the towering bell tower.
He had seemed so composed, yet it was clear there was a fragility beneath his confident exterior.
His love for humor often led him to act like a clown, but there was always something a little off about it-like he was trying to distract himself from something deeper.
Though he carried bombs in his equipment pants, a reminder of his adventurous nature, he never seemed to wish harm on others.
He would injure his opponents but always stopped short of taking their lives.
His was a life of joy, of harmony-until it was shattered on his fifth birthday.
After a birthday celebration filled with cake and laughter, Arche had gone to bed, lulled by the warmth of the day.
But in the dead of night, he woke to the sound of raised voices.
The quiet serenity of his world was torn apart by the shouting from the other side of the door.
"What are you saying, Iris?! Why do you want to leave?!" his father's voice thundered.
"I have no other choice! What do you think I should do?!" his mother's voice, full of pain, responded.
"I'm sorry... but I have to leave here," she said, her words trembling with finality.
Arche, still a small child, was bewildered.
He had no understanding of what was happening, only that something felt wrong.
He ran to the door, his little hands trembling as he tried to turn the handle, but it wouldn't budge.
He knocked on the door with all his might.
"Mom! Don't go! Please! Don't go!" His voice was desperate, the sound of his small fists against the door echoing in the quiet house.
On the other side, his mother's voice came through, cold and distant.
"Arche... I wish I never gave birth to you."
Those words sliced through him like a knife. Arche took a few shaky steps backward, his heart sinking into the depths of confusion and sorrow.
His father's voice, full of anguish, called out for his mother, but it was too late. Iris had already left.
She had walked out of their lives, leaving Arche and his father behind in the silence of the room.
I paused, overwhelmed by the weight of the story. I turned to Grandma Rosa, my heart aching, and let her continue the tale.
One year had passed, and in a few days, Arche would turn six.
But his father's health had worsened, his body ravaged by overwork and stress.
Lying weakly in bed, his father looked at Arche, his voice strained. "I'm sorry, Arche... for making you take care of me."
Arche, still young but carrying the weight of the world on his small shoulders, gently placed a damp cloth on his father's forehead.
"It's okay, Dad. After Mom left, it's just me here. I'll take care of you."
His father, struggling to keep his eyes open, smiled faintly at his son's words.
"Dad... Mom will come back someday, right?" Arche asked in a soft, almost hopeful whisper.
The question caught his father off guard, but he smiled warmly, though his eyes betrayed his doubt.
"Of course, she will. She'll come back." He tried to sound reassuring.
"And if she doesn't... I'll make her come back!" He chuckled weakly and patted Arche's head.
Arche smiled, his young heart still holding onto the idea that everything would be okay. "Okay, Dad! I'll wait for her!"
His father stroked his son's hair lovingly. "You're a good kid, Arche. Stay a good boy... you said you wanted to be a hero, right?"
"I'll support you in becoming a hero, Arche," his father said, his voice hoarse as he coughed weakly.
"Dad, don't talk too much... you're sick," Arche scolded, concern lining his features.
When Arche's birthday arrived, things had not improved.
His father's illness kept him bedridden, unable to celebrate his son's special day.
The weight of the previous birthday-the day his mother had left-still hung heavily on Arche's heart.
But his father, determined to make this birthday different, had a plan.
Despite his failing health, he brewed a potion that could heal him instantly, hoping to be strong enough to celebrate with Arche.
It was early, just before dawn. The sky was still dark, but his father was driven by a singular purpose: to make this birthday memorable for Arche.
"Anything for Arche..." he muttered to himself. "I'll make this day special for him."
But his body was weak, and despite his best efforts, he struggled to focus on the potion. When it was finally ready, he felt a brief flicker of hope, only to collapse in exhaustion.
As he tried to move, he fumbled, knocking over the bottle. The potion spilled, and the floor caught fire.
Panic gripped him as the flames spread quickly.
"Shit!" His voice was hoarse with fear as he scrambled to put out the fire, but it was futile. The fire spread too fast.
In a desperate bid to save his son, he scooped Arche out of his bed, the boy still half-asleep.
"Dad...? Why are you running?" Arche mumbled, confused.
Arche's eyes widened in shock as he turned to see the flames chasing them. The house was burning, collapsing under the heat.
"I'm so sorry, Arche..." His father's voice cracked with regret.
"I love you so much... but... maybe this is my punishment for all the things I did in the past..."
His father's words were heavy, haunted by a past he couldn't escape. "Retribution for all the lives I took..."
"Your mom and I love you... more than you know." He took a deep breath before throwing Arche out of the house.
Arche landed hard on the ground, his body bruised and aching.
He looked up, his heart sinking, as the flames consumed the house, taking his father with it.
"Dad..." Arche whispered, his voice trembling. But he couldn't move. He was frozen in shock, his young mind unable to process what had just happened.
He lost his father. On his birthday.
The weight of the loss crushed him, I found myself shocked as Grandma Rosa's voice continued, carrying the story forward.
That's why Arche struggles so much with making potions.
Every time he tries, those painful memories come rushing back.
The weight of loss, the fear, the anger-it all resurfaces.
I could only sit quietly, listening, waiting for Grandma Rosa to continue the story.
After the fire had finally been put out, Arche, though still a child, gathered his father's bones.
He didn't have anyone left to help him, so he did everything himself.
He buried his father beneath a banyan tree in the forest, a place that felt both peaceful and lonely.
He carefully placed a stone over the grave, large enough to bear his father's name: "Richard."
The name was etched there, worn and imperfect, just like the boy who had carved it.
I paused, shocked. It hit me all at once. The grave I had visited earlier, the one beneath the banyan tree-it was Arche's father's grave.
The realization struck me like a cold wave, and a deep sense of sadness settled in my chest.
After losing everything—his mother, his father, his home—Arche had no choice but to live on the streets. The cold, unforgiving streets.
Life there was brutal, unforgiving. Arche was shunned by the people around him, a small, homeless boy.
He had no money, no family to turn to, so he was forced to steal just to survive.
One day, he found himself in an alley, caught red-handed by a baker.
He had stolen a loaf of bread, bread from his father's bakery—bread that had been taken from him by someone else.
"I'm sorry, sir... I haven't eaten for three days. I'm so hungry..." Arche's voice trembled, desperation in his eyes.
But the baker, enraged, had no mercy. "Trash like you doesn't deserve anything!" he shouted, hitting Arche, causing him to stumble.
That was when Arche's survival instincts kicked in.
Desperation flooded his veins. His heart raced, and in that instant, he stopped the baker's hand.
He grabbed a nearby glass and drove it into the baker's hand, then spun around and stabbed him in the back.
The pain from the baker's injuries made him slow, unable to defend himself properly.
And that was when Arche, trembling and on the verge of tears, did something he would never have imagined: he ended the baker's life.
The glass pierced the baker's neck, and Arche, now sobbing, stepped back as the life drained from him.
The story had taken a darker turn. The cruelty of life on the streets was overwhelming, and I could feel a knot form in my throat as Grandma Rosa continued.
The weight of that moment-the agony, the sheer horror of what Arche had to do to survive-it was painful to imagine.
To think of a child, so innocent, being forced to take such a drastic step.
I could feel the sting of his despair, the crushing loneliness in his heart.
The cruelty didn't end there. Arche, now just a boy, was often kidnapped, sold, and traded from country to country, each new place offering him nothing but pain and suffering.
It seemed like he couldn't escape the cycle of abuse.
At the age of seven, Arche found himself caught in a slave trade, surrounded by other children, all of them bound by chains of despair.
Some of the other children spoke to each other, trying to find some comfort in their shared misfortune.
Two children, a boy and a girl, were sitting together. The girl, her voice soft but determined, spoke first.
"I'll call you Aeon!" she said brightly, her eyes gleaming despite the hardship they were enduring.
"Aeon? Why Aeon?" the boy, his voice cautious, asked.
"Because that name suits you," she replied confidently, a small but genuine smile crossing her face.
The boy nodded slowly, his eyes searching the ground before he responded.
"Then your name shall be Chronia."
The girl's face lit up, her eyes sparkling for the first time in ages. "Chronia? What a beautiful name!"
Chronia. I froze, startled by the name. I had heard that name before, and it dawned on me with a bitter twist of fate—Arche and Chronia had crossed paths long before, though neither had recognized the other at the time.
Meanwhile, Arche, as always, remained silent. The cries and wails of the other children filled the air, but not him.
He had long since become numb to it all.
He had been kidnapped so many times that crying no longer served any purpose.
What was the point of making friends, he thought, when the cruel hand of fate would just rip them apart again?
A harsh voice echoed through the air, the sound of the slave trader barking orders.
"Everyone, please be quiet!" he shouted.
A woman entered the room, her gaze sweeping over the children. When her eyes landed on Arche, she stopped, her gaze narrowing.
"What's your name?" she asked, voice flat, disinterested.
"...Arche," he replied hesitantly, his voice barely a whisper.
The woman's lips curled into a sneer as she stared at him, her tone condescending. "Ew... What kind of name is that? It's so weird."
She pointed at him, her finger like a dagger. "I choose him."
And just like that, Arche's fate was sealed.
His neck was bound with an iron collar, as if he were no more than an animal, and the woman held the iron leash, dragging him away.
"I'll change your name later," she muttered, dismissively.
The woman bought Arche, but she didn't see him as a person. To her, he was nothing more than an object, a tool for her to use and discard.
Every day, Arche was subjected to her cruelty. The woman, a sadistic figure, took out her frustrations and perversions on him, her twisted desires leaving him broken.
And when her money ran out, when she was no longer able to satisfy her own selfish whims, she sold Arche again, trading him to the next cruel master.
For a year, Arche was bought and sold, his life a series of endless transactions, his soul hollowed out by the abuse.
It was a harsh reminder of how the world could be so cruel to those without a voice.
At the age of eight, Arche found himself once again caught in the horrors of the slave trade, auctioned off to the highest bidder.
His small body, covered in filth and bruises, bore the marks of his painful past, and no one seemed eager to purchase him.
He had been discarded so many times, his spirit barely clinging to life.
But then, a man in red clothing stood up in the crowd, his voice cutting through the silence. "200!" he called out, his offer ringing in the air.
"Sold to that man over there!" the auctioneer shouted, pointing to the man who had spoken.
Arche could barely process what was happening, the exhaustion from years of suffering overtaking him. He collapsed, his world fading to black.
When he awoke, the cold emptiness of the room seemed to suffocate him.
His body ached, and his mind was foggy with confusion.
He struggled to piece together what had happened. The room around him was bare, the walls empty and oppressive.
"You're awake, huh?" a voice spoke, sharp and cold.
Arche's eyes slowly focused on the figure standing before him—a man in red. His smile was unsettling, his demeanor cold and calculating.
"My name is Valtherion, but you can call me Sir Valth," the man said, his voice smooth and detached.
"You will be my 'student' now," Valth continued, his eyes gleaming as he observed Arche, who was still trembling, uncertain of what awaited him.
"S-Student...?" Arche stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the very concept of being someone's student felt foreign and terrifying to him.
Valth's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it.
"What's your name?" he asked casually, as if it were a simple question.
Arche froze. For a moment, he couldn't remember.
His mind was blank. When he was a slave, his name was always changed, erased by each cruel master who claimed him.
His true name had long since been lost.
"...My name...? What... is my name?" Arche muttered, his voice shaking.
Valth raised an eyebrow, surprised by the hesitation.
"Oh? You don't have a name?" he asked with feigned interest. "Well, you don't need your real name here."
The words hung in the air like a weight. "Because I'm going to give you a code name," Valth continued.
He paused, noticing Arche's still confused expression, before a malicious glint appeared in his eyes.
"Your name is now Zero Four."
Arche's heart sank. "Zero Four..." The name felt foreign, like an object, not a person. It was not his own.
Valth's smile spread wider, an unsettling grin. "Welcome to the Human Perfection Experiment! Zero Four."
Arche's mind raced as the words sunk in, but the meaning was too much to process. Valth spoke again, his voice full of pride.
"Now, you are in a special place. This is where I work to create the perfect human to dominate this world."
Arche's stomach churned. This wasn't just an experiment-it was manipulation, a cruel game played with people like him. And it was only just beginning.
"You are the fourth person I will use!" Valth continued, his excitement palpable, like he had just found his next toy.
"Now, you are a member of an organization called Lunar Ascendance."
The word "member" was strange to Arche. He had never been part of something, never been accepted.
The idea of belonging to anything felt so far away.
"I am the vice chairman of this organization, you know," Valth added, his voice laced with arrogance.
Arche, his body heavy with the weight of his reality, could only respond with a soft, confused, "Hm... I see."
The training began. Valth's words were a constant, his voice cold and relentless as he prepared Arche for the mental conditioning that awaited him.
"Okay, I will train your mind first,"
Valth said with a chilling smile.
"You have to be ready, Zero Four."
Arche nodded, his body moving without thought, already numb to the pain.
This was his new reality-forced into a life he could never have imagined, stripped of his identity and individuality, molded into something else entirely.
The first steps of Arche's training were brutal, stripping away his innocence,
Valth's training methods were extreme, designed to break Arche's spirit and reshape his mind into something unrecognizable.
"Now, Zero Four, I will train your mentality," Valth said with a sinister smile, his voice cold as he led Arche to the edge of a ravine.
Without warning, Valth shoved Arche into the abyss.
Arche's world spun as he fell, the ground rushing toward him.
His life flashed before his eyes-memories of his family, his father's gentle smile, the warmth of his mother, all of it slipping away as he descended into darkness.
But just before he hit the ground, a net broke his fall.
Arche's heart pounded as he lay there, gasping for breath, his body trembling with the shock of what had just happened.
From above, Valth's voice echoed down to him. "You're still screaming, huh? Now get up here, and we'll start from the beginning."
Arche didn't have the luxury of questioning Valth's cruelty. He had no choice but to obey.
His body screamed in protest as he began the long, grueling climb back up the ravine, every movement feeling like an eternity.
It took him the entire day to make it to the top, his hands raw and bleeding, his muscles aching from the strain.
When he finally reached the edge, he thought for a moment that the torment might be over. But Valth had other plans.
Without a word, Valth kicked Arche, sending him tumbling back into the ravine.
This time, Arche didn't scream. His body crashed into the net below with a sickening thud, but his lips were sealed.
His chest heaved with silent sobs, not from pain but from the realization that his only choice was to endure.
Valth's voice rang out from above, a twisted form of praise. "You did great, Zero Four! You learned from your mistakes, huh? Now get back up here."
And so, Arche climbed again.
The second part of Valth's mental training was even more horrific, an ordeal that would haunt Arche for the rest of his life.
Arche was thrown into a pool, its waters teeming with insects.
The insects weren't poisonous, nor dangerous, but they were everywhere, crawling over his skin, their tiny legs brushing against his body.
The sensation was maddening, a nightmare come to life.
Arche screamed, his mind unraveling as the insects crawled over him, their presence overwhelming.
"Help! Please!" he cried out in panic, the fear consuming him.
But Valth's voice cut through the chaos, cold and unforgiving. "If you scream, you'll be there longer."
Those words, spoken with such indifference, were all Arche needed to hear.
He fell silent, his body covered in insects, every inch of his skin invaded by their tiny legs.
The sensation was unbearable, but he knew there was no escape. All he could do was endure.
Time passed slowly in the darkness of that pool, the insects crawling over him for hours, then days.
Arche's heart raced, but he did not scream again. He had learned that lesson well.
I felt my own breath catch in my throat as I imagined the sheer terror Arche must have experienced.
The thought of insects crawling over him for hours, his body trapped in that pool, was enough to make my stomach turn. But then it all clicked.
"I understand now," I whispered, the truth of his fear dawning on me.
This is why Arche hated bugs. This was the torment that had shaped him into the person he was.
For a whole year, Valth's mental training continued, a series of cruel and senseless trials that pushed Arche beyond his limits.
Each test was more degrading, more torturous than the last, designed not to teach him anything but to break him down completely.
Despite it all, Arche survived. His body was bruised and broken, but his mind-though scarred-had become a fortress.
He had been forged in the fires of torment, each trial a painful step toward the person he had become.
"Alright, Zero Four, now I will increase your intelligence," Valth said, his tone smooth and calculating. He was always so calm, always so assured.
He handed Arche a simple question, a test of basic knowledge.
"I know you lived on the streets, but you should know addition and subtraction, right?"
Arche, despite everything, nodded. The desperation of his early years had forced him to learn what he could just to survive, and basic math was one of those skills.
Valth smiled, pleased. "Good. Then let's move forward."
From that moment, Arche's training shifted. It wasn't just about survival anymore.
It was about control, manipulation, and power.
Valth made it clear that intelligence wasn't just for academic purposes-it was a weapon.
Arche's lessons weren't confined to books or numbers; they were lessons in influence.
Valth taught him how to manipulate, how to twist words until they became something far more dangerous.
Arche grew so skilled in persuasion that, during training, he could make a grown man cry with nothing more than a few well-chosen words.
The power of speech became one of his most formidable tools. He could sway minds, command respect, and manipulate people to do his bidding.
It was a terrifying kind of genius, a genius sharpened by years of cruelty and abandonment.
Arche's intellect grew to levels far beyond his age.
He answered questions that should only have been posed to professors, impressing even Valth, though the praise felt hollow.
He had no one else to impress, no one to share his achievements with-just Valth, whose praise always came with a price.
Two years of this kind of training left Arche a changed person. His mind was a weapon, and he wielded it with terrifying precision.
At the age of eleven, Arche began his third stage of training.
"I have improved your mental and intelligence," Valth said, his eyes gleaming.
"Now, I will train your physical condition. Actually, your physical abilities have been trained quite well during the mental training, but now we will focus on improving your physical state."
Arche had no choice but to listen, his body already hardened by previous trials.
"I will teach you all the martial arts in this world, Zero Four," Valth continued with a cruel smirk.
"You could say this is land combat training. After this, I will teach you how to fight in water... and then in the air."
Arche's training intensified as he was pushed to his physical limits.
His body, already accustomed to pain, now became a weapon in its own right.
For two more years, he endured, becoming faster, stronger, more deadly with every passing day.
Valth's words echoed in his mind, constantly reminding him that he was getting closer to perfection.
"You're so close to perfect, Zero Four!" Valth cheered, pride evident in his voice.
"Just a little more, and you'll become my most beloved experimental subject-an invincible force."
Arche stood silently, his expression unchanged, his heart a hollow pit where hope used to be.
He had no room for pride, no room for joy. He only had survival, and survival meant being the best at what he was trained to do.
Valth leaned in close to Arche, his smile widening. "After all your fighting practice, I'll teach you how to train your expressions. You're too stiff, but I'll take care of that later."
It was a small comment, but it hit Arche hard. His expression, the one that had been carefully sculpted by years of training, was still too rigid, too cold.
He wasn't just being trained to fight or think; he was being trained to never feel, to never show weakness.
By now, Arche's mental, physical, and intellectual abilities were above average-far beyond anything normal for someone his age.
But even with all that power, all that knowledge, there was no sense of achievement.
He wasn't being trained to be a hero or a savior. He was being shaped into a weapon, an instrument for Valth's twisted ambitions.
"See you tomorrow, Zero Four," Valth said, turning to leave the room.
Without Valth knowing, that day marked the beginning of Arche's desperate attempt to escape.
"Then did he succeed?" I asked eagerly, turning to Grandma Rosa, who had been narrating Arche's past.
Grandma Rosa smiled softly, her gaze distant as if reliving those memories. "Hmm?" She chuckled lightly before continuing with the story.
Arche had been practicing his escape plan for weeks, using nothing more than a small hairpin he had secretly kept under his pillow.
In his cell, the door was locked tightly. Outside, two guards stood watch, their weapons gleaming menacingly in the dim light.
Arche knew just how dangerous it would be if he was caught.
Arche had learned to remain silent, to be patient.
The first time he managed to pick the lock, his heart had nearly stopped in his chest.
The sound of the metal pin clicking into place was like a beacon of hope. Slowly, silently, he turned the knob.
The door creaked open just enough for him to slip through without making a sound.
The guards were too distracted, too absorbed in their own conversation, to notice him.
With careful steps, Arche slipped into the hallway.
"Did he make it out?" I asked, my heart pounding, hanging on every word.
Grandma Rosa's eyes twinkled with a touch of mystery. "What do you think?" she teased before continuing.
With a swift movement, he stepped out, one of the guards spotted him almost immediately, shouting an alarm as he lunged forward, thrusting his spear toward Arche's chest.
Arche's instincts roared to life. Time seemed to slow as he twisted his body, letting the spearhead graze past his side.
The second guard followed up with a horizontal slash of his sword, but Arche ducked beneath the blade with fluid precision, his movements as natural as breathing.
"You're too slow," Arche muttered, his voice is cold.
In a flash, Arche closed the distance between them. His fist shot out, slamming into the first guard's gut with enough force to send him reeling.
Before the second guard could recover, Arche spun on his heel and delivered a sharp kick to his knee, dropping him to the ground with a pained grunt.
The guards tried to regroup, but Arche didn't give them the chance. He moved like a predator, his strikes calculated and unrelenting.
Each punch, each kick landed with precision, leaving the guards writhing in agony.
It wasn't long before the two of them lay motionless on the ground, groaning in pain before succumbing to unconsciousness.
Arche stood over them, knuckles slightly bruised.
He flexed his fingers and muttered under his breath, "That was easier than I thought."
Without sparing them another glance, Arche turned toward the hallway ahead.
Arche took a deep breath, focusing his mind on one thing: escaping this cursed place.
After ensuring the path ahead was clear, he began to run, his steps swift and silent like the night wind.
But, of course, freedom wouldn't come so easily. Another set of guards appeared at the end of the hallway, raising their weapons with shouts of alarm.
Arche didn't slow down. He knew that hesitating now would only mean death.
The first guard swung his sword, but Arche ducked low, letting the blade whistle harmlessly over his head.
Before the guard could react, Arche leaped up, slamming his right fist into the man's helmet.
The loud clang of metal echoed, and the guard collapsed to the ground with a groan.
The second guard thrust his spear forward, but Arche used the momentum against him, twisting his body to dodge and throw the man off balance.
He struck the side of the guard's helmet with his elbow, hard enough to send him stumbling backward before falling.
Pain began creeping into his hands and legs. Punching and kicking opponents clad in armor wasn't without consequence, but Arche didn't care.
These bruises were a small price to pay for freedom.
Each time another guard appeared, Arche faced them with unyielding courage and sharp survival instincts. Punches, elbows, kicks-whatever he could use, he used without hesitation.
Even as his body started to ache and his strength waned, he kept moving forward.
"Sorry, you're just in the wrong place at the wrong time," he muttered, dropping another guard with a spinning kick to the chest.
The hallways felt like an endless maze, but Arche kept running. His eyes scanned every corner, every door, every hint of an exit.
My heart was pounding as I listened.
I wanted to ask the outcome, but I held my tongue and waited for Grandma Rosa to finish.
His steps halted when a figure emerged from the shadows-a slender silhouette wielding a pair of gleaming daggers.
"An Assassin," Arche muttered, his body tensing immediately.
The Assassin said nothing. In an instant, they darted forward, their movements like a shadow, swift and hard to follow.
Arche sidestepped just in time, narrowly avoiding a blade aimed at his throat.
The attack was fast-too fast for an ordinary person.
There was no time for Arche to think deeply. He immediately counterattacked, his fists and kicks targeting the vital points of his opponent.
But the Assassin was no less agile. Every strike Arche delivered was met with equal speed and deadly precision, turning each second into a deadly dance.
The fight was fierce. The sharp daggers lashed out from every direction, forcing Arche to stay in constant motion.
His arms began to feel heavy from blocking and striking with full force.
Yet, he remained focused, his eyes studying every subtle movement the Assassin made.
Then he saw it-the weak point. The Assassin's movements slowed slightly every time they attacked from the left side.
Arche seized the opportunity. When the Assassin lunged again, Arche feigned vulnerability, baiting an attack from the left.
Just as he anticipated, the Assassin swung their dagger, and Arche moved swiftly, grabbing their wrist with all his strength.
With a powerful twist, he disarmed the Assassin, the dagger clattering to the ground.
Before his opponent could recover, Arche delivered a crushing blow to their head, sending them sprawling to the floor unconscious.
Standing over the motionless body, Arche's breaths came in quick gasps.
"In a world like this, leaving an enemy alive was a fatal mistake." That's what he thought at that time.
"Sorry, nothing personal. Just being cautious," he murmured softly.
In one swift motion, he plunged the dagger into the Assassin's chest, ensuring their life was extinguished.
He stared at the dagger in his hand. "Lightweight but deadly," he remarked, twirling the weapon between his fingers. "I like it."
Arche ran down the long hallway, his steps came to a sudden halt when a familiar figure appeared at the end of the corridor.
There, standing with a commanding presence that was unmistakable, was Valth.
"Ah, Zero four," Valth's voice echoed, deep and calculated. "I didn't expect you to have the guts to try and escape. I'm almost impressed."
Arche glared at Valth, his right hand already gripping the dagger he had just taken. "Give me one good reason not to stab you right now, Valth."
But Valth only chuckled, relaxed as if he wasn't threatened in the least. "You've really become quite the stubborn one."
"But this isn't a result of your own doing. All that you have-your strength, your speed, your instincts-it's all because of me."
"I created you, Zero four. Without me, you'd be nothing."
Arche stayed silent, his gaze unwavering. He knew exactly what Valth was trying to do-shatter his mentality, plant seeds of doubt, make him question himself. But not this time.
"You think your words are going to break me?" Arche replied coldly.
"Yeah, you created a monster, but now that monster is free from its chains."
He added, "And I'm not here to listen to your ego trip."
Valth narrowed his eyes, his tone turning sharper. "Everything you do now is just a delay in your inevitable failure."
"You can run as far as you want, but you'll never escape what's been done to you."
"It's rooted in your blood, in your mind."
"You'll always be Zero four-a failed experiment."
Arche simply smirked, his expression dripping with sarcasm. "If I'm a failed experiment, then why do you look so worried about me trying to escape?"
"Or maybe, you're just afraid of losing the one experiment that can actually stand up to you."
Valth fell silent for a moment, his gaze now cold and calculating. But Arche didn't wait for a reply. He took a step forward, the dagger in his hand ready.
"I've heard enough, Valth. I'm getting out of this hell. And if you try to stop me, I'll make sure you don't get up again."
Arche stepped forward without hesitation, he launched the first strike-a quick kick aimed directly at Valth's chest.
However, Valth effortlessly dodged, his body moving fluidly as if in no rush.
"Still too easy for you, zero four," Valth said, stepping back slightly, watching Arche's every move carefully.
Valth retaliated with a sharp punch aimed at Arche's side.
Though Arche managed to block most of the attack, the blow was strong enough to stagger him, giving Valth an opening.
Valth followed up with a swift kick, striking Arche's leg and sending him crashing to the ground.
Before Arche could recover, Valth was already above him, trying to pin him down.
With ease, Valth disarmed him, snatching the dagger from Arche's hand and knocking it to the floor.
"Futile," Valth said coldly, his voice full of triumph. "You think your physical strength can overcome experience?"
But Arche didn't give up so easily. Even without his dagger, his speed and agility couldn't be underestimated.
With a quick movement, he leaped backward, increasing the distance between them.
Arche stood, glaring at Valth with renewed determination.
"I don't need a dagger to defeat you," he said, his voice full of challenge.
The battle raged on, now at a higher intensity. Valth attacked with efficient-yet simple-punches and kicks, each one purposeful and controlled, a testament to his years of experience.
Every move was calculated, every strike designed to wear Arche down.
Meanwhile, Arche moved with an agility that was almost impossible for the human eye to follow.
His kicks were fast and strong, often accompanied by acrobatic flips that kept Valth guessing.
He leaped and twisted in the air, attacking from unpredictable angles, creating a pattern of offense that Valth struggled to anticipate.
Every time Valth tried to block or evade, Arche was already launching another attack, keeping him on constant defense.
However, despite Arche's impressive speed and acrobatics, Valth was far from being defeated.
He capitalized on every small mistake, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike.
His simple yet precise blows could knock Arche back, and though his body ached and grew tired, Arche refused to retreat.
Each time Valth tried to trap him, Arche fought desperately to break free, using his agility to leap or roll away, creating space and then striking again.
But Valth knew when to wait and when to attack-his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Arche's relentless energy.
Fighting Valth tested the limits of Arche's physical and mental endurance.
Every time he was knocked down, his body felt heavier, more painful. But Arche's resolve never wavered.
He knew that if he fell now, his escape would end. With each move, each strike, Arche adapted, constantly searching for an opening to turn the tide.
"It's time to end this, Valth," Arche said, his voice strained but resolute, even as his body begged him to stop.
With one perfect acrobatic leap, Arche spun in the air, slamming both of his legs into Valth's chest.
Though Valth tried to block it, the strike was powerful enough to send him stumbling back, giving Arche the chance to regain control of the battle.
Arche, already exhausted and drenched in sweat, didn't give himself a chance to stop, he continued his assault, this time using his entire body.
Every punch, kick, and acrobatic move flowed relentlessly from his nearly exhausted form.
A quick punch flew toward Valth, followed by a kick aimed at vulnerable areas of his body.
However, Valth wasn't easily shaken. He didn't just rely on physical strength but on his far superior experience.
With precise control, he dodged and countered Arche's attacks with calculated throws.
In a split second, Valth took control of the situation, using his body as an extension of his own-turning every attack from Arche into a weakness.
Valth expertly threw Arche's body to the floor, using his momentum against him. Though Arche quickly recovered, Valth was already above him.
Without giving him a moment to fight back, Valth immediately locked his wrists and neck, pressing Arche's body into the ground.
"This is your place, Zero four," Valth said coldly. "You can keep struggling, but you'll never defeat experience."
Arche, with all his strength, tried to break free, kicking and twisting, but Valth's grip was unyielding.
Every attempt to resist seemed futile. Valth was in full control, using ground control techniques to minimize Arche's movements.
His larger, more experienced body kept Arche pinned down, making it harder to breathe.
Valth made the most of this, applying more pressure to Arche's body, who was starting to feel the strain.
Though Arche knew how to fight back, he now found himself under complete control.
Valth wasn't just dominating the physical space; he was taking control of Arche's mind, forcing him to experience a helplessness he rarely felt.
"See? There's always a limit for someone like you," Valth said, pressing Arche deeper into the ground.
"You may be faster, more agile, but I'm smarter."
"You'll always lose in this regard."
Arche lay beneath Valth's grip, his body heavy and exhausted, he knew he couldn't afford to give up-this was a rare chance.
"Valth," Arche spoke coldly, though his body trembled from exhaustion.
"You always think you're unbeatable. But I don't think you understand who I really am."
Valth, still holding Arche down, furrowed his brow, dismissing the words.
"You're just a child trapped in a dangerous game. Stop dreaming," he said, his tone full of arrogance.
Arche remained unaffected by the words. Quietly, his hands moved with practiced precision, searching the floor for something he could use.
In an instant, he found a dagger lying nearby. Without a second thought, the blade was in his hand, unnoticed by Valth.
Arche didn't warn him. Without hesitation, he drove the sharp point of the dagger into Valth's back, pushing it in with lethal force.
Valth flinched, the sharp pain shooting through his body, making him stumble back as Arche continued to strike, each thrust deeper and more agonizing.
"This isn't just revenge,"
Arche said, his voice cold.
"This is a lesson for you."
With each stab, Arche's attacks were relentless, executed with a chilling calmness that left no room for hesitation or mercy.
Valth struggled to defend himself, but his body was weakening under the repeated strikes.
After a few more relentless blows, Valth managed to pull back, retreating a few steps, his pain evident.
Arche stood motionless, his face unreadable. No smile, no joy-just a cold, calculated gaze.
His eyes were filled with the quiet resolve that this was more than just a fight. This was the outcome he had decided on long ago.
"Don't think this is over just because you've retreated, Valth," Arche said, his voice devoid of emotion.
"I don't need your mercy."
Valth, still feeling the agony in his back, glared at Arche with burning fury. But he realized now that Arche was no longer the boy he could control.
The final clash was imminent. Arche's breath was heavy, but his eyes remained sharp, focused only on Valth.
He knew this battle would end now-one way or another.
With a swift movement, Arche charged forward, his legs propelling him as he dashed with speed.
Valth, anticipating the move, also surged ahead, his fist aiming to deliver a death blow-a single strike capable of knocking the opponent unconscious with precision.
The air between them crackled with the intensity of the moment.
Arche's instincts took over. He ducked at the last possible moment, feeling the rush of wind as Valth's deadly punch whizzed by, narrowly missing him.
Arche, seizing the opportunity, twisted his body and drove his dagger into Valth's abdomen in one fluid motion.
Valth's eyes widened with shock and pain, the blade sinking deep into his stomach.
His body faltered as the blood began to flow, his strength draining away.
He staggered back, struggling to maintain his balance, but the wound was too great.
With a final gasp, Valth collapsed to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the dirt.
Arche stood over him, breathing heavily but calm. The fight was over.
"I win"
My heart pounded in my chest. The end of the battle... it left me shaken, my heart torn between both satisfaction and unease.
For the first time in a long while, Arche felt something other than fear and pain.
He felt freedom, a freedom that was almost overwhelming, and it made him weak.
He ran without a clear destination, not knowing where to go or what to do, just running from the nightmare that had been his life.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him. He stumbled into a rice field, the vast emptiness of it all, and his body finally gave way.
He collapsed, losing consciousness, too drained to go on.
"Then, what happened to him, Grandma Rosa?" I asked, completely immersed in the tale.
Grandma Rosa smiled gently, as if the memory warmed her heart.
"That was the first time I met him after a long time," she said, her voice soft with nostalgia.
When Arche woke up, he was no longer in the cold, cruel place he had escaped from.
Instead, he found himself lying in a simple wooden house, a place that felt unfamiliar yet comforting in its simplicity.
"Hm..? Where am I..?" Arche mumbled, still groggy from his ordeal.
Suddenly, a grandmother hurried to his side, her face filled with relief.
"You're awake! Thank goodness! I'm so glad you're safe.." she said, her voice thick with emotion.
It was Grandma Rosa, the woman who had come to love him unconditionally.
Arche blinked, disoriented.
"Who are you..?"
Grandma Rosa's heart sank. She looked at Arche with wide, saddened eyes.
"You forgot me? Did you forget him too?" she asked, pointing to a grandfather who was quietly sitting nearby, watching Arche with a distant gaze.
"I even forgot my name.." Arche's voice was barely above a whisper, his pain evident in the fragile way he spoke.
Grandma Rosa was taken aback, her face twisting with surprise and sorrow.
"Do I know you?" Arche asked in confusion.
She smiled through her tears, though they kept flowing. "We are both your Grandpa and Grandma, Arche."
The mention of his name sent a rush of memories flooding back, memories that had been buried under years of abuse and cruelty.
Arche's eyes widened in shock. For the first time in a long while, he remembered something-his name.
His name, Arche-a name that had been taken from him and replaced with others.
A name that had often been mocked, forgotten, or dismissed as strange. But now, that name felt like a lifeline.
Without realizing it, Arche's tears began to flow as he slowly recalled fragments of his past, blurry but real.
He remembered them-his grandparents-who had visited him and his parents once, long ago, even though they lived far away.
"...Grandma Rosa.." Arche whispered her name, the sound of it making his heart ache with longing and relief.
Grandma Rosa's face lit up in joy, and she enveloped him in a tight, loving hug.
"You remember me!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so glad you're alive, Arche.."
Arche's eyes shifted to his grandfather, who sat quietly smoking a cigar, looking at him with an air of stoicism.
"Why did your father die?" Arche's grandfather asked suddenly.
Grandma Rosa immediately scolded her husband. "Can you not discuss that first?!"
"Why don't you come over and hug your grandson!" She huffed, clearly exasperated but trying to lighten the mood.
Her husband merely turned away, grumbling in response. "Hmph."
Grandma Rosa chuckled despite herself, shaking her head.
"Please forgive his behavior, okay? He is stubborn and doesn't want to be honest with his own feelings."
Arche tilted his head, puzzled but finding the situation oddly comforting.
"Hm.. what do they call it.. ah! He's a Tsundere!" Grandma Rosa grinned, her teasing bringing a lightness to the moment.
Her husband gave a loud groan.
"Don't call me that."
"See?" Grandma Rosa said, a playful glint in her eyes.
Arche couldn't help but let out a small, quiet laugh, his spirit slowly lifting in the presence of these warm, kind people.
"Where are we, Grandma?" Arche asked, his voice still soft but filled with curiosity.
"The farmers found you lying in the rice field, and they brought you here," Grandma Rosa explained. "It just so happened that I was here too."
"But I'm so glad you're alive, Arche.." Grandma Rosa's voice broke with emotion as she hugged him once more, gently rubbing his back.
Arche closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the tenderness in her voice.
"I'm... home... right?" he whispered, unsure if it was real.
Grandma Rosa nodded, her tears still flowing freely. "Welcome back.. Arche."
In that moment, Arche finally felt what he had been searching for all his life-home.
For several weeks, Arche lived in the village with Grandma Rosa and Grandpa, finally beginning to feel a sense of peace.
During this time, Arche shared his harrowing past, recounting every moment of his suffering in the hands of the experimenters.
Grandma Rosa couldn't hold back her tears as she listened to the painful story of her grandson's torment.
Grandpa, on the other hand, seemed annoyed by the details, his face tight and grim.
He rarely showed his emotions, just like Arche, who appeared calm but was clearly bottling up the weight of his experiences.
The pain and trauma were still there, lurking beneath the surface.
After a while, they traveled to Aelcrest, the country where Arche was born.
When they arrived, they moved into a house that Grandma Rosa and Grandpa had ordered while still living in the village.
It was a comfortable home, quite spacious, and thanks to their good financial standing, it was well-furnished.
In this new home, Grandma Rosa took it upon herself to teach Arche the things that were never taught to him during his time at the experimental facility-simple things like how to joke, how to cook, and other aspects of life that were foreign to him.
These things might seem trivial to some, but for Arche, they were crucial in helping him regain some semblance of normalcy.
One day, Grandpa called Arche over.
"What do you need, Grandpa?" Arche asked, always eager to show respect.
"Arche," Grandpa said in his usual stern tone, "How good are you at self-defense?"
"Very good," Arche responded confidently.
"I can also do a lot of self-defense." He was eager to impress his grandfather, who always seemed so serious.
Arche also thought that perhaps, by proving himself, he could make Grandpa smile.
Maybe then, he'd feel like he belonged in this family, like he was truly accepted.
"Can you do military self-defense? Do you understand how to live during a war?" Grandpa asked, his gaze sharp and focused.
"Military self-defense?" Arche paused, thinking carefully. "No, and I only studied the theory of how to survive in war."
Grandpa's eyes narrowed. "Okay... then I will train you." His voice was unwavering, and there was a strong sense of authority in his words.
"Even though you once defeated the person who made you an experiment, you were badly injured. You're not that strong yet. I will train you."
With that, Grandpa turned and walked away, leaving Arche standing there, a little taken aback.
The sudden shift in tone left Arche feeling confused, but he also felt a spark of determination.
Perhaps this was another step toward growing stronger, both physically and mentally.
"Eh.. huh?" Arche muttered, still processing what had just happened.
"He sounds like a stiff and strict person, huh..?" I mumbled, glancing at Grandma Rosa.
Grandma Rosa chuckled softly, a gentle laugh that filled the room with warmth. "He actually really loves his family, you know."
"Huh? Really?" I asked, surprised by her comment. Grandpa always seemed so distant and stern.
"Yes," Grandma Rosa smiled, wiping a tear from her eye.
"He may not show it in the way most people would expect, but he cares deeply. He's just... his own way of showing it."
One time, when Grandma Rosa and Grandpa decided to visit Arche's family, they were shocked to find that their house was no longer there.
They then searched for where they had gone and ended up in the forest, where they saw a large banyan tree.
Beneath it, they found a grave with their child's name on it.
Grandma Rosa, seeing this, began to cry loudly, heartbroken at the painful discovery.
Grandpa Arche, who always appeared stern and kept his emotions bottled up, stood silently.
It seemed as though he was trying to convince himself that his grief wasn't real, but eventually, he could no longer hold it in and broke down crying at the sight of his son's death, something he hadn't known.
"He just doesn't want to lose his family again..." Grandma Rosa said with a sad smile, tears still flowing.
"Is... that why he's like that?" I asked softly.
Grandma Rosa nodded slowly, looking back at the memories.
"Yes, he really is a Tsundere..." she said with a small smile, even though her sadness was still evident.
I let out a soft chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, but it was clear how heavy the situation was.
The weight of it all was deeply felt, and I could sense the burden both Grandma Rosa and Arche had been carrying for so long.
One rainy day, Grandma Rosa looked outside and saw Arche standing on the porch, staring at the rain.
There was a sadness in his stance, and Grandma Rosa called out to him gently.
"Arche?"
"I hate rain," Arche answered flatly.
"Huh?"
"This rain reminds me of the times... when I lived on the streets," Arche said quietly, his voice filled with painful memories.
"I hate lightning," he added. "It always scares me when it rains..."
The revelation shocked Grandma Rosa. She walked over to Arche and without saying a word, gently guided his head to rest on her shoulder.
She didn't need to say anything-just being there for him was enough.
"I'll stay with you to face the thing you hate..." Grandma Rosa said softly, holding him close.
Hearing this, I felt deeply moved. Arche was truly fortunate to have such a loving and caring grandmother, especially after everything he had been through.
Grandpa Arche trained him with military tactics for a full year.
The training was intense and demanding, but Arche kept going, determined to make his grandfather proud.
However, one day, everything changed.
Grandpa fell ill from a long standing disease he had been hiding.
Despite the rigorous training, his body finally gave out.
Arche didn't show the slightest sadness when his grandfather passed away.
Even with his grandfather's body lying in front of him, Arche remained silent, as if unaffected.
It wasn't until later that I realized something crucial: Arche had been struggling to process his emotions for years.
Seeing that grandma Rosa gently suggested that Arche attend school at Feohtere Academy.
"Arche, what if you went to school there?" Grandma Rosa asked one day.
"Why should I? I'm sure I won't get any smarter there," Arche replied, dismissing the idea almost immediately.
"Going to school isn't just about being smart, Arche," Grandma Rosa explained. "You can find friends your age there."
"And I'm sure that there, you'll be able to express yourself," she added with a soft smile.
Arche paused for a moment, thinking it over. "...Hm, okay, if that's your request," he said, finally agreeing.
"He sounds like he'll do whatever you ask him to do, huh?" I remarked, noticing how Arche seemed to always comply with Grandma Rosa's wishes.
"I'm the only one he has," she responded softly, her eyes filled with both sadness and understanding.
It made sense. Grandma Rosa had been Arche's only consistent source of love and care after everything he had been through.
So, Arche went to Feohtere Academy, and soon found himself placed in a class full of troublemakers.
This was where he first met Arthur. At the academy, Arche started to learn how to express himself, even though he still had a long way to go.
Though they were very different, Arche and Arthur formed a connection.
Arche, however, often used Arthur to serve his own interests, even though their bond was genuine in its own way.
In second grade, however, things took a turn. Arche and Arthur had a heated argument, their differing views pulling them in opposite directions.
Arche believed that the students should just follow his orders in order for their class to be better than the others.
In contrast, Arthur was adamant that the class should work together as a team, uniting to become stronger and outshine the other classes.
"Arche sounds so selfish, huh..." I mumbled, realizing how different their approaches were.
"He still didn't understand human feelings at that time," Grandma Rosa replied with a sigh, her tone filled with a touch of sadness.
"Then what happened?" I asked, eager to know how things played out between them.
A fight broke out among the students, divided into two factions: one supporting Arthur and the other supporting Arche.
Though Arche had only a few supporters, he managed to dominate the battle, cornering Arthur and gaining the upper hand.
However, Arthur's larger group eventually turned the tide, and in the end, Arthur emerged victorious.
Despite losing, Arche wasn't upset. Instead, he laughed.
Bloodied and battered from their martial arts match, Arche looked at Arthur, his expression filled with a strange mix of joy.
"Why are you laughing?" Arthur asked, both surprised and confused by Arche's reaction.
"Because... I feel happy. There's someone who can beat me," Arche replied with a smile. "I think I need to practice more diligently..."
"You're great, Arthur," Arche said, giving him a thumbs up. "So, you're going to kick me out of the academy, right?"
In the duel, the loser was supposed to fulfill the winner's request. But Arthur shook his head.
"No, I won't do it."
"Huh? But my request if I win was to expel you from the academy..." Arche said, confused by Arthur's response.
Arthur looked at him and explained, "That was your request... but mine is different." He stood up, his voice firm.
"I want you to stay here and follow my point of view-that we need to work together and unite to make our class the best."
"And you have to cooperate with me... no, with all the students in the class! You have to do it... as the vice class president!"
"There's no way to refuse, Arche," Arthur said, holding out his hand.
Arche was taken aback. He didn't expect Arthur to forgive him, let alone make such a request.
The realization hit Arche hard-Grandma Rosa's words were true.
He could find friends here, and now, he had found one in Arthur.
With a mix of surprise and gratitude, Arche accepted Arthur's hand. It felt like a weight was lifted off his chest.
He could feel the warmth of companionship again, something he had long forgotten.
"Okay... Arthur..." Arche said softly, his heart lighter than it had been in years.
Arche, who had struggled for so long to understand human emotions, had finally found a place where he belonged-a group, a friend.
It was a moment of growth for him, and it warmed my heart to see him like this.
Things didn't settle easily, though. In their third grade year, their teacher betrayed them, and Arche and Arthur had to team up to stop her.
Then, they had to face the principal, and more problems arose. But, together, they solved each one.
Arche began to smile more often, slowly starting to express himself and embrace the emotions he had buried for so long.
However, on graduation day, something cruel happened.
"A group of terrorists attacked the island where the academy was located, right?" I asked softly.
Grandma Rosa looked at me with a surprised expression. "Oh? You already know?"
I nodded, having heard of the tragic event. "But please, Grandma Rosa, continue. I want to hear the full story."
On graduation day, the academy was attacked by a large terrorist group, hundreds strong.
Many students lost their lives in the chaos. Arche, ever determined, fought fiercely against the invaders, but his mind was also preoccupied with something else.
"Arche, have you evacuated the students who can't fight?" Arthur asked, calling out to him as Arche took down one of the terrorists.
"I've evacuated them," Arche replied, catching his breath.
Arthur looked concerned, his voice tight with worry. "Thank goodness... but have you seen Luna? I haven't seen her."
Arche froze for a moment, realizing that he hadn't seen Luna either. "Arthur! Please handle this! I need to find Luna!"
"Okay, leave it to me," Arthur replied, taking charge of the situation as Arche ran off to search for her.
Arche ran through the destruction, the academy in ruins, until he reached a hall that had collapsed almost entirely.
The walls were cracked, and the room was a wreck. And there, in the wreckage, lay Luna.
"Luna!" Arche cried out as he rushed to her side, but his voice caught in his throat when he saw the sword blade lodged deep in her back.
For a moment, Arche could only stand there, speechless, as Luna collapsed to the ground.
His heart stopped when he saw the one responsible for the stabbing-the leader of the terrorist group.
In an instant, his anger and grief surged. Arche lunged forward, the dagger in his hand flashing through the air.
He severed the terrorist leader's arm, the man roaring in pain, but Arche didn't stop.
He took the sword from the severed hand and drove it into the leader's stomach, finishing him off.
"Did Arche really do that?" I whispered, my eyes wide with disbelief.
Grandma Rosa nodded solemnly and continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes... he did."
After the leader fell, Arche hurried back to Luna. He gently laid her on his lap, his hands trembling as he tried to administer a healing potion.
But it was too late. The wound wouldn't close. Luna's hand weakly touched Arche's cheek, her smile faint but warm.
"Arche... keep smiling... laugh... joke... be the cheerful man you used to be," Luna said softly, her voice barely audible.
"I've heard it, you know... from Arthur... about your past..."
"I cried hearing what you've been through... You're a good person... great... like helping people..."
'and sometimes you act innocent... But that's what makes me like you, Arche..."
Her voice faltered, but she pushed through. "Arche... I... I love you..."
And then, with those final words, Luna breathed her last.
"Luna, wake up! Luna, please!" Arche's voice cracked, his tears falling freely as he cradled her in his arms.
"LUNAA!" he screamed, his grief overwhelming him.
"Luna..." I whispered, my heart aching for him.
My chest felt heavy, and my throat tightened as I tried to hold back tears of my own.
After that fateful day, Arche returned to this country.
But something had changed. He had lost the one person he had grown close to, and once again, he was left with an empty space in his heart.
He locked himself in his room for days, unwilling to speak to anyone.
The pain of loss consumed him until Grandma Rosa decided to intervene.
She stood outside his bedroom door, her voice calm but firm.
"Arche, losing someone isn't the end of everything, you know," she began softly. "You're strong. You've lost your father and mother, yet you've survived until now."
Her voice wavered, but her words remained steady. "You just need to let go, Arche. Separation is a natural part of life, and as humans, we have to accept it."
There was a pause before she added, "Do you understand?"
The words seeped through the walls of Arche's self-imposed isolation.
Slowly, he began to realize how deeply he'd let his emotions control him.
With a hesitant motion, he unlocked and opened the door.
Grandma Rosa stood there, her expression kind and warm.
"Thank you, Grandma..." Arche whispered, his voice heavy with emotion.
After that, Arche made a conscious decision to change himself. He wanted to be more like his old self-the boy who once laughed freely and brought joy to others.
Determined, he began reading books about how to become more cheerful and energetic.
"He read books to learn how to be cheerful?" I couldn't help but chuckle softly at the image.
"Yes," Grandma Rosa replied with a knowing smile, "though, in truth, he misunderstood himself."
"Misunderstood? What do you mean?" I asked, curious.
"Arche's true nature isn't to be a cheerful and energetic man," Grandma Rosa explained.
"That was just his personality as a child, back when life was simpler and less painful."
"It's why he often acts childish-he's clinging to a version of himself that feels safe."
She sighed. "He doesn't really know his true personality."
"He adopted that childlike demeanor because he doesn't know what else to be."
"Huh..." I murmured, taken aback by the revelation.
"It's surprising, isn't it?" Grandma Rosa continued, her tone tinged with sadness. "He's cheerful, silly, and funny because he's trying to honor Luna's last words to him."
"But deep down, he still struggles to understand himself."
"So... Arche doesn't really know who he is?" I mumbled, the thought swirling in my mind.
"Exactly." Grandma Rosa nodded.
After a brief silence, my curiosity got the better of me. "...Then, can you tell me about the moment Arche became a thief?"
Grandma Rosa's expression shifted slightly, a mixture of pride and sadness. "Ah..." she began, her voice softer now,
"Arche chose to become a thief because he wanted to help others without forcing good people to befriend him."
"He didn't want anyone to suffer because of him."
Even among criminals, Arche found a way to build connections, proving that not all of them were entirely evil.
His relationships with these people complicated his life even further.
Losing one of them would weigh on him, no matter their background.
"So even among the criminals, he made friends he cared about..." I murmured, feeling a mix of admiration and sadness.
Grandma Rosa sighed, closing the book in her hands. "So, what do you think after hearing Arche's past?"
I paused, unsure how to put my feelings into words. "Honestly... I don't know how to think," I admitted.
"It's a lot to take in. His past, his trauma, his choices... it's not a simple story. It's filled with darkness, growth, struggles, and sacrifice."
Taking a deep breath, I continued.
"But... I admire his strength. Despite everything he's endured, his willingness to change is admirable. He's been through so much."
However, something still puzzled me. I turned to Grandma Rosa, my expression curious. "Why did you decide to tell me all this?"
Grandma Rosa looked at me kindly, her voice steady yet warm.
"Arche is a stubborn person, you know. He keeps his feelings to himself, bottling them up." She sighed.
"I just want you to understand him a little better. Arche has already told you before, hasn't he? That you're the one who made him stop being a thief."
Her gaze softened. "I'm grateful to you, Elaina."
The sincerity in her words caught me off guard. For a moment, I didn't know what to say.
"Thank you for telling me, Grandma Rosa," I said softly. "I'll make sure to keep all of this in mind."
Grandma Rosa smiled faintly and pulled out a letter from the book she'd been reading. "This is a letter from Arche. Would you like to hear it?"
My curiosity sparked. "Yes, please," I replied eagerly.
She unfolded the letter and began to read.
"Grandma Rosa, today I went on a trip with a witch named Elaina, you know! I really enjoy wandering with other people-wandering alone always makes me lonely. I hope I can travel with her again."
A small smile crept onto my lips as I listened to his words. I could almost hear his voice, playful and genuine.
I'm sure Arche will be so embarrassed when he finds out I heard this letter.
He wanted to travel with me again.
"He wrote this?" I asked softly, unable to hide the emotion in my voice.
"Yes, he wrote this," Grandma Rosa replied, tucking the letter back into her book.
"After hearing this, I just want you to treat Arche like you normally would. He'll notice quickly if you act differently."
I nodded, understanding the importance of her words. Arche's sharp perception wouldn't let any unusual behavior slip by.
"I'll remember that," I promised.
Yet, as much as I wanted to act the same, I couldn't help but feel differently about him now.
"Then... I'll head to my room," I said as I stood, noticing the rain outside had stopped.
Grandma Rosa smiled warmly and nodded. "Okay. I'll call you if I need help with anything."
I returned the smile and made my way to my room, closing the door behind me.
"Arche's past," I murmured to myself, "it's so much heavier than I imagined."
Looking around, I realized this was Arche's old room.
"His room... huh," I sighed, taking in the small remnants of his life here-the book about self-improvement still sitting on the table, scattered items hinting at his journey and struggles.
I picked up the book, turning the pages slowly.
I couldn't help but smile faintly as I imagined him reading it, trying so earnestly to become someone better, someone brighter.
Placing the book back on the table, I sat on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Arche's past was a puzzle, each new piece revealing layers of pain, resilience, and determination.
"He's been through so much," I whispered, feeling the weight of everything I'd learned.
And yet, with me, he was always cheerful, always silly.
It felt like a mask. Was his laughter genuine, or just a shield to hide his scars?
"Act normal, huh..." I mumbled to myself, unsure how to reconcile my newfound understanding of him with the person I knew.
A knock on the door broke my thoughts. I got up and opened it to see Grandma Rosa standing there, smiling gently.
"Elaina, will you help me with something?" she asked.
I nodded, returning her smile. "Of course, what do you need?"
She led me through various tasks-organizing shelves, tidying up, and preparing food.
It wasn't until later that I realized she was keeping me busy on purpose, giving me a reprieve from the weight of Arche's story.
She knew. She knew how overwhelmed I was and subtly helped ease my mind.
I felt a little foolish for letting myself get so lost in his past. Let the past be the past, I thought.
As night fell, I sat by the window, gazing at the moon as it bathed the world in soft silver light.
A few days later, I packed my things and prepared to leave this country.
Before I left, I said my goodbyes to Grandma Rosa.
"I'm glad I got to meet you, Elaina," she said with a warm smile, her eyes filled with a kindness that felt timeless.
"Take care on your journey. Oh, and please look after Arche for me," she added softly. "He can be a bit reckless at times, you know."
Her words gave me pause. After a moment, I replied, "I can't promise I'll protect him."
"But, I'm sure he's strong enough to take care of himself. If he does something foolish, though," I added with a small grin, "I'll definitely scold him."
Grandma Rosa chuckled.
"I really hope you do."
Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she said, "And if Arche teases you, don't hold back. Tease him right back."
"Huh? Really?" I blinked, surprised.
She nodded knowingly. "He loves teasing others, but when the tables are turned, he gets embarrassed. It's quite amusing to see."
I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Okay... I'll remember that."
"Oh! And one more thing" Grandma Rosa seemed to have just remembered.
"This may be difficult, but, can you keep Arche from getting into any life-threatening danger?"
That sounds difficult, especially for Arche, "No promises" I answered.
Well.. maybe I can try.
With that, I readied my broomstick, taking one last look at Grandma Rosa.
"Goodbye, Grandma Rosa!" I called out, waving as I ascended into the sky.
She waved back, her figure growing smaller as I soared higher.
As I flew toward the next country, the weight of Arche's past lingered in my thoughts.
It was a story that had changed how I saw him, but I knew I had to act as though I hadn't heard it.
He didn't want anyone to know. He feared that people who learned his past might distance themselves out of fear or pity.
But as for me? I wasn't sure if his fears would apply.
Grandma Rosa's parting words echoed in my mind:
"If you want to be happy, don't let the past bother you. You can look back, but don't take it back."