As I looked down at the Sethrak writhing on the ground, my mind returned to those images etched into the cold walls of the ruin, to that tragic story.

A child abandoned by his family, branded as cursed from the moment of his birth. He had been condemned to a fate he never wanted, never even granted the chance to choose.

He had not chosen to become a monster. And yet, he had been treated as one his entire life. A vile creature. A stain on his family's honorable name.

Involuntarily, I saw myself in that bloody, helpless form. That ostracism, that hatred... it had left deep scars on my own soul as well.

I gripped my katana tightly. I knew one strike was all it would take. One strike to end it all. One strike to end his suffering. And... one strike to claim his powerful abilities.

But I couldn't do it. My blade remained suspended in the air.

Fredrinn sighed deeply, as if he understood my state, my profound hesitation. His muffled voice spoke from behind his black helm. "You don't have to do this, Cassian. If you want... I will."

"NO!" I shouted. My voice echoed through the ruined hall.

Fredrinn took a step toward me. "Cassian, I understand that look in your eyes. You're hesitating. You pity him. But you are wrong. He is a monster! You saw it yourself, he just split you in two without a moment's hesitation!"

"I can see what he is! You don't need to tell me!"

I focused my mind and called inward, to the depths of my soul.

"Nivelle are you there?"

"Yes, brother. I'm here." Her voice was anxious.

I gestured to the Sethrak lying on the ground, no longer in his Berserker state, just a pitiful, dying creature. "Do you think can we help him?"

Nivelle paused for a moment. I could feel her spiritually scanning the Sethrak's aura. "I don't know, brother. The curse has been steeped into his soul for so long. Perhaps thousands of years It will be very difficult to do anything for him."

"But not impossible? Right?"

"Yes but it's very dangerous, brother. His soul is so corrupted that if we try to touch it, that darkness could pull us in too."

"So, will you help me? No one knows more about souls than you."

I felt Nivelle sigh. "I suppose I have no choice... But when this is over, you are buying me those lemon cakes you promised!"

"Of course! As many as you want!"

In that instant, one of my eyes began to glow a pure golden color with the power of Holy Mana, while the other shone emerald green with Nivelle's Primal Fey power. Seeing this sudden change, Fredrinn took a startled step back.

I slowly placed my hand on the Sethrak's canine like, bloody head.

On one hand, I was summoning Holy Mana in its purest form, trying to cleanse and burn away the ancient curse that enveloped his body and soul.

On the other, with Nivelle's guidance, I was forming a green shield to prevent his soul from being harmed during this purification. It was an incredibly meticulous process, mostly under Nivelle's control.

The slightest mistake we made would cause the Sethrak's soul to shatter forever, leading to his true death.

Intertwined waves of golden and green mana illuminated the entire chamber. The Sethrak's body began to tremble violently at the touch of these two opposing forces.

Finally, just as we began to break through the thick shell of the curse and reach the Sethrak's true soul, Cassian's consciousness was pulled into a vortex of dark memories.

It was like a dream. I was watching everything from a bird's eye view, like a god.

Thousands of years ago... In those bloody times when the wars between the Dark and Light Gods still raged...

Young Herson, lord of a minor dynasty, had overthrown his father who had chosen to remain neutral in the war, and had taken leadership of the dynasty at a young age.

He led his people, taking a stand against the dark gods on the side of the Light Gods.

A portion of his people opposed Herson, some because they feared the wrath of the dark gods, and some because he had killed his father and broken the dynasty's oath of neutrality.

Herson, seeing the only way out of this internal rebellion, turned his sword on his own people.

He cut down everyone who opposed him, one by one. He solidified his throne with the blood of his own subjects.

To those who agreed to bow to him, he showed his merciful side, giving them rewards and protecting them.

He joined the army of the Light God worshipers, alongside the rulers of that time.

Together, they fought against the Demon Empire, against the dark monsters overrunning the world, witches, and the avatars of fallen gods.

Herson won victory after victory in these wars. His fame spread throughout all realms. "The Crimson General." His armor, stained with the blood of those he killed, had earned him this title.

When the war ended, he had managed to turn his minor dynasty into a Marquisate over the years, thanks to his heroism.

He had married a beautiful and noble woman. With her, he stepped into a life full of love, and they had children.

His first child was Mordret, blessed by the Light Gods, chosen as the Avatar of the Holy God Radiar. Their second child was a girl, Vexana, born with the potential to be one of the greatest mages of her era.

Life was going perfectly well for them. Herson had elevated his small dynasty to a Marquisate, and not only that, he had been blessed with the two most talented children one could have in the world.

He was a perfect man who achieved everything he wanted. Their every day was spent in the happiness and peace of a won war.

One day, his wife became pregnant again. Herson was overjoyed when he heard the news. A new child... A father would, of course, be happy for this news.

The whole family was joyfully celebrating the news. Until they noticed the abnormality. His wife's belly, despite being only in her second month of pregnancy, was as large as a four month pregnant woman's.

As soon as they realized this strangeness, Herson consulted all the healers in the Empire. He was ready to do anything for the well being of his wife and unborn child.

The healers, however, told Herson the terrible truth he did not want to hear: the thing in the woman's womb was cursed.

Their research had confirmed this. The healers offered to help the woman have a normal delivery, but there was nothing they could do for the child that would be born.

Herson was devastated. It was as if the world, as if the Light Gods he had fought for, were mocking him.

"The Crimson General" Herson, who had fought evil his entire life, was now to be the father of pure evil, of a curse. This was an unacceptable shame for him.

Months passed. By the time the woman was in her fifth month of pregnancy, her belly was abnormally large, as if it would burst at any moment.

Even the healers were powerless. One day, the woman went into labor with a sudden, terrible contraction.

When Herson heard the news of his wife's labor, he rushed to her room immediately. But by the time he arrived... it was too late.

The bed was soaked in blood. His wife's eyes were wide with the horror and pain she had experienced, bloodshot. Her cheeks were wet with tears. It was clear from every part of her that she had suffered greatly.

In the room, servants were collapsed on the floor, their heads bowed, trembling, not knowing what to say. The head healer approached Herson and gave his report.

"Lord Herson... I offer you my deepest apologies but... your wife... Lady Pharsa... We did everything we could for her but... it was impossible to save her."

Herson stood at the head of his wife's still warm corpse, closed her eyes with his hand, and stroked her hair one last time. "Did she... suffer greatly?" Herson asked the healer with empty, soulless eyes.

The healer paused for a moment at this question. "...Yes, my lord. Unfortunately... she suffered a great deal."

"Show me... the child."

"My lord... I do not think you want to see this. Please, let us take care of the child."

"I said show me the child!" Herson roared.

The healer helplessly accepted the request. "Follow... follow me."

They left the room and entered another one at the end of the hall. The sheets on the bed were stained with fresh, still wet blood. And on the bed... there was a baby, resembling a human body but in some parts looking like a monster. Its head was like a mixture of a dog's and a human's.

Its limbs were larger and longer than a normal baby's. Its body was slightly hunched. Small, sharp claws were already visible on its fingers.

Herson approached the baby's cot. He placed his hand on the edge of the cot and involuntarily gripped the solid wooden board.

His knuckles turned white. His mind was filled with rage, pain, and hatred. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Right now, his entire mind was focused on one thing: this baby in the cot. This monster that had taken his wife from him.

He knew the child was innocent, that it had not chosen to be born this way. But the burning hatred within him had blinded his eyes.

All he could see right now was a vile monster that had taken the woman he loved from him.

Herson pulled his hand away from the cot. He turned his back and commanded the servants and the healer in the room.

"Make sure this child lives."

He spoke these cold words and left the room.

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