Rael walked the battered village road, shoulders hunched but gaze unwavering. Born into poverty, he was born with tragedy: the boy died three minutes after birth, leaving grief in a house too small to shelter hope.
But death was just the beginning. In the void, Azrael, the Demon Lord who had ruled nine worlds and sacrificed all for peace, found a door to a quiet life. He slipped into the lifeless child, promising himself: no more war, no more kingdoms-just a simple life.
Years passed. Rael grew into a polite, silent youth, doing odd jobs and tending fields. His words, rare as starlight, carried the weight of a king's decree:
"The land belongs to all. I am only its caretaker."
The villagers respected him instinctively, not knowing why his calm made them listen to him. He had tamed his power so very deep inside himself that he even forgot what true strength tasted like-until the world started to change.
The mana that overflowed from him seeped into earth and sky, calling out to the ancient monsters. The strongest found their way to his door, drawn by the promise of power to devour.
One evening, a wild ogre horde settled near the mountain caves, their king poised like a warlord. Rumors reached the village that monsters were hunting for the source of new energy, and Rael comprehended the cause.
Standing at the entrance to the cave, Rael frowned at his hands, weighing possibility. He whispered, "So it's true. Even after a thousand years, monsters go to high mana zones to become stronger… But what happens when that power belongs to me?"
He hesitated, loath to call upon Breseark, his soul-forged katana. He tried holding back even further, pushing his mana deep, but it almost seemed pointless; the ogre king and goblin king circled like vultures.
The monsters inside the cave were in a frenzy, struggling to inhale the power but choking on the pressure emanating from the suppression of Rael's aura. He watched quietly as every breath he took sent waves of dread throughout the horde.
Rael's mind started wandering back to ancient battles, the lifetimes he had spent giving peace a chance. Now, he was but a boy who valued restraint above all.
But the monsters didn't care for restraint.
I don't even have my full power. but I need to contain what I can, Rael thought, eyes reflecting resolve and sorrow.
He raised his hand, guiding a sliver of suppressed mana. In one smooth motion, full of dignity, all threats resolved into nothing. The cave was vacated, silent as the grave.
He let out a deep sigh. "I don't believe it… Even after suppressing my mana, it's enough to summon kings. I need to get rid of half at least, or they'll keep coming."
He closed his eyes and pressed harder against his own power. Everything around him stilled as the flow of mana quieted. He looked skyward, his heart warmed by nostalgia.
"It's been a long time since I saw my old friend," Rael mused, voice wrapping the air in gentle comfort.
His hand extended. From a faraway planet, where guardians were watching over Earth, it came like a black streak, a katana chiseled out of souls. Breseark landed neatly in his hand.
"How have you been, Breseark?" Rael asked.
The voice of the sword flooded his mind-loyal and warm. "Master, I waited a thousand years. I see happiness in you, a peace not seen since the worlds were young."
Rael nodded. "Peace suits me, my friend. But there is one thing you must do for me—take half my mana and seal it away. I want to live quietly for as long as the worlds will allow.
Breseark pulsed, soaking up the request, sealing in Rael's immense power. Over the star-filled mountains, another legend stirred: Kael, the reborn Hero, awoke to his true form, ready for battle. But tonight, Rael was relieved by silence, thankful for the peace he carved from the ruins of destiny.