On a scorching afternoon that should've been like any other, I stood over a heap of burning bodies. For most, this was their worst-case scenario. For me, it was business as usual.
I was Victor Zefar—King of the Slayers and Commander of Humanity's greatest army. We swore to serve humanity's greater good. People often wondered why achieving world peace required war. I usually had a thousand answers. Today, I had only one: this was personal.
My Slayers—my sons, were my true brothers in arms. They never questioned my orders, even when doubt filled my heart. For the first time, my victims weren't enemies of the state.
They were animals, the ones responsible for taking my love from this world. Their screams still echoed in the smoke, but I felt nothing. I kept walking, cloak skimming ash-scorched earth, mask hiding a face marred by agony vengeance could never repay.
I had failed her. I loved her too much to chain her, so I set her free, losing her forever.
A charred rose lying amid the ashes made me pause. A sad smile tugged at my lips as I remembered the first day I saw her. Sold to me by foreign traders, she'd gleamed like a black diamond, too proud to bow. I offered her marriage—an honor in my world. She spat in my face:
"I am Rose Oma, princess of the proudest Tropic tribe, and I will not be a tyrant's trophy."
At her words, my son Hunter lunged to kill her on the spot. I caught his arm. Rose's glare burned hotter than any blade. I should've felt anger. Instead, I felt intrigue. She was the first to speak truth to me in years. I dismissed Hunter, ready to enjoy the company of this wild woman.
"Lady Rose," I teased, voice low, "is that how your queens speak?"
She hesitated, then whispered back, "Lord Zefar, will you slay me yourself? Is your pride too fragile for the boy to see?"
"That boy is my son," I said. "And no, I won't kill you."
We walked through Babel's gardens in silence until she finally asked, "Then what do you want? They say you never let things go."
I chuckled. "Rumors are simply lies spread by common folk. Any woman of royalty would know that." I expected her to take offense, but her gaze dropped.
"You're right. I judged without truly knowing you. I was ripped from my home, a princess reduced to a slave. I suppose I owe you thanks... even if all you saw was a pretty face."
I stopped in my tracks, forcing an apology. "I'm sorry you felt that way. You're more than beautiful, Lady Rose. You're the boldest woman alive."
Her smile was shy, almost sad. "So what now? Do I marry you or become your slave?"
"No," I said softly. "You'll do neither. I want you to know me, the real me. Who knows what tomorrow might allow. Hate, tears, or love are yours for the taking. But first... do you want vengeance?"
She heard me say love and was going to reply until she heard the rest.
Her eyes widened. "You'd do that for a stranger?"
I met her gaze. "The traders call me wicked. I love happy to prove them right."
She rushed into my arms. "Thank you!
But, no. All I want, is help to find my people."
I drew back, peeled off my metal mask, and showed her my real face. For the first time in years, I revealed myself to a stranger. I proceeded with an oath, "If that's what you want, I swear I will."
And I did. I found her tribe and set her free. She almost fled without good-bye, terrified I'd change my mind. Maybe I would have-if I hadn't seen the way she looked at the man sent to bring her home. Unfortunately for me, she loved him. So I let them both go, even though my heart pleaded otherwise.
I did it for love:a foolish, reckless choice. An emotion I'd never feel again, because my heart died with her.
Lost in memory, I wandered into a nearby forest alone. That mistake left me exposed. I heard the snap of a branch, then a figure leapt at me, axe raised. It was him—the Apex—the man I'd sent my Slayers to find, the one who'd cost me Rose's life.
His axe swung. Time slowed. Then a thunderous crack.
My son, Hunter, emerged behind the attacker, holding the first gun ever made by Babel's Intellects. A single shot tore through the air. Apex crumpled, the bullet finding his chest.
I knelt beside him. "Tell me," I rasped, "how did she die?"
He coughed, blood trickling from his lips. "Go to hell."
I ripped off my mask and let him see my grief, my rage. Hunter finished him with another shot. Still, no peace came.
He'd seen her last. Her final moments wasted on this imbecile.
I needed to find her final resting place-if it existed, if they'd spared her grave or left the body. Tracking a broken trail of clues led me to a lonely cabin deep in the woods.
We broke her cousin to get the last hint.
He was strong and stubborn like Apex, but the threat of hunting a man's wife and kids turned him talkative.
In that cabin, Apex was hiding the truth of Rose's death. I decided to go and find out alone. I left Hunter to bury Apex, a job he had to finish with his bare hands. Without such an ordeal, my loyal son would hover around me all day.
As I entered the cabin, a sudden knife-thrust caught me by surprise. I struck back and froze.
The attacker was a five-year-old boy.
His eyes mirrored hers. The truth hit: Rose hadn't been killed in some ritual. She died giving birth—to him. A child born in blood, a natural Slayer, her legacy hiding in a cabin far from the world.
Now I faced him, the boy Rose would've called son. I could almost see her ghost pleading with me on behalf of the child: "Zefar, stop this madness. You promised to let me go. You're not to blame for my death
and, neither is he."