Chapter 2: Nero Raizen
He noticed Barak’s presence the moment he stepped into the garden, his sanctuary. He waited until Barak came closer, using the same lines he loved to employ. He had memorized the sound of Barak’s steps, the way he walked, and his scent.
"Eh, your abomination, Lord Barak, is calling you. Follow me immediately," Barak said.
Upon hearing him speak as if he were unworthy of his time, he finally opened his eyes. However, instead of seeing a clear silhouette, he perceived tangled lines. He shook his head; his eyes had been strange since he was young. Sometimes, they revealed odd visions like this one, and he had never found a proper explanation for the phenomenon. That was why he disliked opening them too often—they were burdensome and easily fatigued him. Fortunately, this phenomenon didn’t occur all the time; it was sporadic.
He stood up, dusting himself off as he followed the young man. His vision gradually returned to normal, allowing him to register Barak’s features. Knowing the purpose of the call, he couldn’t help but sigh—another beating disguised as a progress check. He was fully aware that he lacked a core and was not blessed. To others, he was as ordinary as the word itself, except for his slightly robust physique and unusual eyes. Perhaps "unique" was a more fitting term, but he had yet to explore this uniqueness and was currently nothing.
His half-brother sought to bully him, and nobody would object because no one cared about a cursed child. Labeled a cursed being for being different and unable to do what others could, he felt discarded by all. Not that he cared about their opinions; nor did he harbor resentment. There had been a time when he resented them and the world, but that was years ago. He had matured and evolved beyond his past self. Now, he lived for himself, for the mother who had given him life, named him, and loved him until her death. He had nothing to prove to anyone—only to himself. He needed to understand what set him apart from others, why he possessed these unique traits. If, in the process of self-discovery, he accomplished things people never expected of him, and they thought, "Ah, I did all of this to prove them wrong," then so be it. Everyone had their opinions; regardless of the reason, people would twist things to fit their narratives, so there was no need for clarification.
Lost in his thoughts, he and Lucca arrived at the training ground, where the atmosphere shifted the moment they entered, as everyone prepared to witness a grand spectacle.
The star of the show was seated in meditation, likely engaged in a breathing exercise. At least he was diligent. If asked about his feelings toward Barak, he would say he felt none—absolutely none. The same applied to any member of this family; they regarded him as nothing more than an eyesore, so why waste time on unproductive emotions? He truly despised that.
Standing before Barak, who sensed his presence but continued to act as if he hadn’t, he said, "I’m here at your call."
A brief statement that held no familiarity.