my own boon

My boon allows me to create two copies of myself… but they're more than just copies. They're me in their own way. Each has a fully independent Rhu Core, their own thoughts, their own emotions. But… they know. They know that they're not the original. They know they can never go against me—not even in their dreams. 

But they aren't identical. One is physically superior but lacks mental prowess. The other is intellectually superior but lacks physical strength. Their paths are diverging more and more. The first is reckless, straightforward. The second? He's sharp. Manipulative. Cunning. 

My boon isn't without its flaws. Whenever my copies are out, my Rhu is reduced to just 20% of its original amount, and my physical abilities take the same hit. It doesn't affect my daily routine much, but training or working out? Impossible. And for some reason, I need to sleep even more. 

Strangely, my intellect remains untouched. My mind stays sharp—it's only my body that suffers. 

But the real downside? When I pull them back in and fall asleep, everything they experienced—their knowledge, their pain—I go through it all as a dream. Except it's not just a dream. The suffering, the agony... it feels real.

His copy broke the silence. "So… why did you call me here?" 

Zed's gaze turned ice-cold. "I need you to do something for me." 

His copy smirked. "Anything for myself." 

Zed leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"I want you to…" 

He explained. 

His copy's smirk faded. Then his face drained of color. His eyes widened, his breath hitched. 

"Zed… that's too much. I think—No, I know this is a bad idea—" 

Zed's expression didn't change. His blue eyes glowed like ice, his voice dropping to a chilling tone. 

"You do as I say. Am I clear?" 

A cold sweat ran down the copy's back. His fingers twitched slightly—an instinctive response, as if his body wanted to refuse. But he couldn't. He could never refuse Zed. 

His throat felt dry. His voice came out quieter than before. 

"Yes." 

Zed's gaze didn't waver. "Good. Then get it done." 

His copy swallowed his hesitation. "…Understood." 

And then, in the blink of an eye—he vanished into thin air.

Zed sat there for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the wooden desk. His mind replayed the last few minutes—the hesitation in his copy's voice, the flash of doubt in his usually unreadable expression. 

Something about it felt… off. 

He exhaled, leaning back in his chair. 

"Why do I feel like I'm the one being manipulated here?" 

The thought was unsettling, creeping into the back of his mind like an itch he couldn't quite reach. But then, just as quickly as it came, he pushed it aside. 

"Who cares?" 

He had more important things to focus on.

meanwhile deep in the forest 

"…And that's how you can have your revenge in front of all the nobles who mocked you," Zander concluded, his voice calm and composed. 

Habil Greyrat sat there for a moment, stunned into silence. Then, as the realization of the plan set in, his face twisted into excitement. He shot up from his seat, barely able to contain himself. 

"My god! This kid is a genius! He may even be on the same level as that prodigy from the Valmont family!" he exclaimed, his voice bordering on hysteria. 

Zander gave a measured bow, his expression unreadable. "I'm glad you approve of my plan, Lord Greyrat." 

Still caught in his excitement, Habil turned to Roadie, his eyes gleaming with greed. "Roadie! Where did you find this boy? Let me have him! Name your price, and I'll pay whatever you want!" 

The moment those words left his mouth, a suffocating pressure filled the air. 

Roadie didn't move, but the weight of his presence alone sent a violent shockwave rippling through the forest. The ground cracked beneath his feet. The wind roared like a beast let loose. Even the bandits stationed far away felt it—a deep, primal fear gripping their chests. Conversations stopped. Laughter died. 

Habil took an instinctive step back, his excitement turning into unease. 

Roadie's voice, low and razor-sharp, cut through the heavy silence. 

"Habil… not everything can be bought with money. Remember that." 

His eyes bore into Habil, daring him to speak further. 

The noble swallowed hard, his bravado from moments ago nowhere to be seen.

"Calm down, Roadie. I was just teasing, that's all. You can keep him if you want," Habil said, forcing a chuckle, though his face betrayed his unease. 

Roadie didn't even spare him a glance. "If you like your head to stay on your shoulders, don't joke around me like that." His voice was flat, but the threat in it was unmistakable. 

Without another word, he turned to leave, his heavy steps crunching against the dirt. "Zander, take care of the deal and meet me later," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

As Roadie disappeared into the trees, Zander turned to face Habil, his expression unreadable. "Well then, Lord Greyrat, shall I assume you're on board with our plan?" 

Habil's tension melted away, replaced by excitement once more. "Oh yes, yes… I'm in." 

With a smug grin, he stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You know… you don't have to stay here with these lowlifes. Come with me, and I'll give you a life far better than anything these mugs could dream of. Wealth, fame, power—whatever you desire." 

Zander bowed slightly, his face betraying nothing. "I'll consider it. But for now, let's focus on eliminating Zed Ravenhart. Once that's done… we'll see about this matter." 

Habil smirked, patting Zander's shoulder before turning away. "Smart kid. Don't let emotions cloud your judgment." 

With that, he strode off , humming to himself, unaware of the cold glint that flashed in Zander's eyes as he watched him leave.

The night was calm, the sky an endless stretch of dark velvet, speckled with shimmering stars. A cool breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves like a lullaby for the weary. Roadie sat on a boulder, his broad frame illuminated by the soft silver glow of the moon. In his hand, a half-empty bottle of wine swayed gently as he admired the night sky.

Footsteps crunched against the dirt behind him. He didn't have to turn to know who it was.

Zander wordlessly took a seat beside him, his usual smirk softened by the quiet atmosphere. Roadie passed him the bottle without a word. Zander took it, tilting his head back for a sip, wincing slightly as the burn spread through his throat.

After a moment, he spoke. "I've never seen you lose your cool like that before." His voice was casual, but there was curiosity beneath it. "What happened back there?"

Roadie exhaled through his nose, his gaze never leaving the stars. "I don't know," he admitted, the words foreign on his tongue. "I never thought I had a part of me that cared for anyone. Even I was surprised to see this side of myself."

Zander took another sip, then chuckled, his voice tinged with amusement. "Did him trying to buy me off piss you off that much, huh?"

Roadie turned his head slightly, a sharp glint in his eyes. "Watch your tongue, kid," he warned. "I don't want your blood on my hands."

Zander merely laughed, but his balance was already betraying him. The alcohol hit him harder than he expected. He stood up, wobbling slightly, his legs weak beneath him like overcooked noodles. His face was flushed, and a lazy grin stretched across his lips.

"Oh, look at this," he slurred, spreading his arms wide as if embracing the night. "The man with no emotions… is starting to care for someone."

Then, he leaned down in front of Roadie, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "Guess what? That bastard gave me an offer."

Roadie remained silent, watching as Zander staggered back to his feet, arms stretched wide, looking up at the endless sky. "He says I can have all the wealth, all the luxury in the world. And all I have to do is go with him." He turned, his grin widening. "What do you think?"

Roadie's response was immediate, his voice calm, unreadable. "Not a bad deal. You can go if you want. No one's stopping you."

Zander turned to face him fully now, expecting some hint of resistance. But all he saw was Roadie's back.

The moonlight carved shadows into his strong figure, but something about it felt… lonely.

Zander's smirk faded. His head tilted slightly. His voice dropped lower, almost contemplative. "Are you… sad that I might leave you?"

Roadie scoffed, still not turning around. "Do you really think I care whether you stay or go?"

But there was something off about the way he said it. Something hollow.

Zander took a slow step forward, his wobbly stance momentarily steady. His voice was softer now, no longer teasing. "Don't worry… I'm not leaving you." He smiled faintly, eyes drooping from the alcohol. "I'll be with you… till the end."

Before he could finish his thought, his body gave in, and he collapsed.

Roadie caught him before he hit the ground, cursing under his breath. "This idiot…" he muttered, carefully picking him up. He carried Zander to a flat rock nearby, laying him down with an ease that betrayed his usual roughness.

Then, for the first time in a long while, Roadie looked at someone—not with calculation, not with suspicion, but with something else. Something he thought had died long ago.

He sat back down, staring at the stars once more, but his thoughts were heavy.

Why did it bother me so much?

A bitter chuckle left his lips. I think I understand now. I've grown to like this brat.

He exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples. No, that's not it. It's because… we share the same past. That's why I cared. That's why I felt sympathy.

His fingers curled into a fist, his jaw tightening.

I thought that part of me was dead. The part that cared. The part that felt anything for anyone. But this kid… this annoying little bastard… somehow dragged it back out.

He turned his head slightly, watching as Zander snored softly, his usually sharp features relaxed in sleep.

Roadie sighed, shaking his head.

"Can't even handle a few sips of wine and talks big…" he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

For the first time in years, Roadie allowed himself to sit in silence—not as a warrior, not as a killer, but as something else.

Maybe… just maybe… he wasn't as dead inside as he thought.