Shadow of the Past

A Memory That Never Fades

The room was silent.

Eric's words lingered in the air like a curse.

"Clement is your father."

Asvorn felt his chest tighten, his breath slowing.

His father…

A man he hated.

His vision blurred, the present fading away—

And just like that, he was back there.

Years Ago – The Cold Reality of Bloodline

The city of Draymoor was a place of filth and crime.

Among the slums, one name ruled above all others—Clement.

Leader of the most feared bandit faction, his name alone made people tremble.

But for Asvorn, Clement was not just a name.

He was his father.

A man of power.

A man of cruelty.

And a man who never once acknowledged him.

A Worthless Son

Asvorn had always been different from the rest of his family.

His father and brothers were strong, ruthless, and cunning.

They could fight, steal, and lead without hesitation.

But Asvorn?

He was weak. A disgrace.

He couldn't fight.

He couldn't even lift a sword properly.

"Pathetic," his eldest brother sneered one day. "You sure you're one of us?"

"Maybe Mother cheated," another laughed.

"No, he's just broken."

His mother had tried to protect him, but even she feared Clement.

One night, Asvorn overheard his parents talking.

"Clement, please, he is still our son—"

"No, he is your son," his father spat. "He carries my blood, but he is nothing. The world does not need the weak. He has no place in my legacy."

Asvorn was seven years old when he heard those words.

From that moment on, he stopped calling him 'Father.'

The Day He Learned the Truth

When Asvorn turned twelve, he was forced to join a raid.

His father said it was to prove himself.

But Asvorn knew the truth.

It was a test.

One meant to break him.

They stormed a merchant caravan, slaughtering anyone who resisted.

The air smelled of blood and fear.

Asvorn's hands trembled, his sword heavy.

A wounded merchant crawled toward him, eyes filled with terror.

"Please… I have a family…"

His father stood behind him.

"Kill him."

Asvorn's stomach twisted.

"I… I can't—"

SLAP!

His father's backhand sent him crashing to the ground.

"Weak. Useless. You shame me."

Clement turned, raising his own blade.

"Watch carefully. This is how a real man acts."

Slash.

Blood splattered onto Asvorn's face.

The merchant stopped moving.

Asvorn vomited.

That night, as they celebrated the successful raid, his father looked at him with pure disgust.

"Leave."

Asvorn blinked. "W-What?"

"Leave this place. You are no son of mine. Do not return."

No sadness.

No regret.

Just cold dismissal.

His brothers laughed as they threw him out.

And that was how he ended up alone.

Back to the Present

Asvorn's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms.

His breath came in short, sharp bursts.

He hadn't realized he had started shaking.

Lyara's voice broke through the silence.

"Asvorn… are you okay?"

He exhaled slowly.

Then looked up.

"I know Clement well," he muttered. "And I know exactly what he's capable of."

Eric nodded, arms crossed.

"Then you understand why this mission is so important. Clement has grown stronger. His influence is spreading. If we don't stop him now, he could become an even greater threat."

Asvorn's jaw tightened.

"…What do you need us to do?"

Eric glanced between them before speaking.

"The guild is forming a special team for this mission."

His next words made Asvorn tense.

"Kaisel will be accompanying you."

Silence.

Asvorn nodded.

"I see."

But—

"Absolutely not."

Lyara's voice was sharp.

Eric blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I don't trust Kaisel," she said, crossing her arms. "After everything, why would we work with him?"

Eric sighed.

"I understand your concerns. But this mission is bigger than personal grudges. Kaisel is one of the strongest adventurers we have. His skills will be valuable."

Lyara scowled.

"But he's a self-absorbed jerk!"

Eric chuckled.

"Yes, but he's a self-absorbed jerk who gets the job done."

She turned to Asvorn.

"Asvorn, say something!"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

"Look… I don't like Kaisel either. But if this is about my father, I don't care who I have to work with."

Lyara looked at him, frustration clear in her eyes.

"Asvorn—"

"Lyara," he cut her off gently, "this is my past. I need to face it. Even if it means working with someone I don't like."

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Then, after a long pause, she exhaled.

"Fine." She pointed a finger at Eric. "But if he gets annoying, I'm punching him."

Eric chuckled.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Mission Accepted

Asvorn stood up, his expression unreadable.

"When do we leave?"

Eric met his gaze.

"Three days from now. Prepare yourselves. Draymoor is not a place for hesitation."

Asvorn nodded.

As he and Lyara left the guildmaster's office, he took a deep breath.

For years, he had tried to forget his past.

But now, it was pulling him back in.

His father.

His hatred.

His fear.

But this time—

He would not run.