Shadows of the Past

A Memory of Fire and Blood

The flames flickered in the darkened house.

Anna clutched a young Asvorn to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Stay quiet," she whispered.

Outside, the roar of her husband—Clement—shook the walls.

"Anna! You think you can hide him from me?!"

Her hands trembled as she pressed Asvorn closer.

He was so small back then, his body frail. The village called him worthless, a stain on their name. But to Anna, he was her child.

She wouldn't let Clement break him.

The door slammed open.

Clement stood there, his eyes wild, a bloodied sword in his hand.

Anna stepped between him and Asvorn, spreading her arms.

"He's our son," she said firmly. "You won't touch him."

Clement's face twisted in rage. "Our son? Look at him! Weak. Spineless. He's nothing but a disgrace."

Asvorn clung to his mother's dress, his small fingers tightening.

Anna's voice did not waver. "If you want to harm him, you'll have to kill me first."

Clement's grip on the sword tightened. For a moment, Asvorn thought he would swing.

But then—he laughed.

"Fine," he spat. "Keep your weakling of a son. But don't expect me to call him mine."

Then he was gone, storming out into the night.

Anna knelt beside Asvorn, cupping his face, tears in her eyes.

"You are not weak," she whispered. "No matter what they say… you are my son. My greatest treasure."

The Present – Lyara's Voice

"Asvorn!"

A hand gripped his shoulder.

The past shattered.

Asvorn gasped, blinking rapidly as Lyara pulled him back to reality.

Her eyes burned with urgency. "This is not the time to lose yourself. Focus."

His breath was ragged, his hands clenched into fists.

But Lyara was right.

This wasn't the past. This was now.

And his mother was still in danger.

Kaisel, standing beside them, stared at the ruined village in disbelief.

"This… this is your home?"

Asvorn didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

The destruction spoke for itself.

This once-thriving land was nothing but ashes and corpses.

Kaisel muttered, "But… you're from the Holy Capital. A land of riches and honor."

Asvorn exhaled sharply.

"That was a lie."

Kaisel looked at him, stunned.

But before he could say more—

Clement raised a hand.

"Kill them."

The Battle Erupts

Clement's men rushed forward.

Swords gleamed. Arrows rained down. The air crackled with danger.

Kaisel dashed ahead, his sword flashing in the firelight. He clashed against a dual-wielding assassin, their blades sparking on impact.

Lyara sprinted past Asvorn, her hands glowing with crimson flames.

She thrust her palm forward—

A massive fire wave erupted.

Several of Clement's men screamed as they were engulfed.

Asvorn didn't hesitate.

He charged into the fray, fists clenched.

His movements were sharp. Precise. Lethal.

A spear-wielding warrior lunged—

Asvorn caught the weapon mid-strike, snapping it in half with pure strength.

The attacker stumbled.

Asvorn's fist met his jaw—

CRACK.

The man collapsed instantly.

More enemies surrounded him.

But with each punch, each kick—

Asvorn felt himself growing.

Stronger. Faster. His body was adapting.

He was no longer the weak child from the past.

He was unstoppable.

A Challenge of Blood

The battlefield was chaos.

But Asvorn's eyes locked onto one person.

Clement.

Standing there calmly. Smiling.

The blood on his hands belonged to his people.

And his own wife.

Asvorn's blood boiled.

His voice was thunder.

"CLEMENT!"

The battle froze.

Clement raised an eyebrow. "Oh? The little runt finally speaks?"

Asvorn stepped forward.

"I challenge you to a Deathmatch."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Clement laughed.

"You? Challenge me?"

His grip tightened on the knife against Anna's throat.

Anna's eyes widened. "Asvorn, don't!"

Clement pressed the blade harder against her skin.

"Shut up," he snarled.

Asvorn took another step, his voice steady.

"If you refuse… you're nothing but a coward."

Clement's eyes gleamed. "Coward?"

The knife lowered.

His smirk widened. "Fine. Let's see if my disappointment of a son has finally become a man."

The Past – A Love Lost

Lyara clenched her fists.

"This is your wife!" she shouted.

Clement's expression darkened.

Anna gasped softly.

The words pierced through her.

Memories flooded back.

Clement—once a young man, laughing beside her under the cherry blossoms.

The way he held her hand, whispering about their future.

The night they danced under the lanterns.

The day he swore to protect her forever.

But then—

The tragedy.

A raid. Their home burned.

The villagers turned their backs.

No one helped.

No one cared.

Clement's love twisted into hatred.

And when Anna refused to share his thirst for revenge—

He saw her as the enemy.

A tear slid down Anna's cheek.

"…Clement."

Her voice was soft. Pained.

The man hesitated.

For the briefest moment—his hand shook.

But then—his rage returned.

"This world turned its back on me," Clement growled. "And now, it'll pay for it in blood."

Asvorn's fury exploded.

His scream shook the air.

And the Deathmatch began.