Child Of Gedeon

The last time he was subjected to pain beyond what he could tolerate was when he was caught by one of the western side of Mospria's gang-lord's henchmen for allegedly stealing a purple crystal he knew nothing about. He had been tortured for two days before the true culprit was caught. How bad was his luck really? All he did that day was decide he'd use a shorter route to return to the orphanage and happened to walk through the scene of the crime and it didn't help that he so happened to share the same hair colour as the culprit. He was only fifteen at the time and the officers did nothing after he filed a report. Two days after the report was filed, he was attacked and beaten on his way to one of the floral plazas after being sent one of the caretakers. The law seemed to be so much looser in the outskirts of Cestane's capital.

Another stifled roar escaped Casimir's lips as the intensity of the pain increased. He looked down at his cuffs the shone with the same red light the engravings in the ground. The pain kept increasing and his face was becoming a visage of pain, a silent scream plastered on his face. He was losing consciousness. The world around him went black and the pain stopped.

'Have I died?'

The pain had subsided but he could no longer feel. He sighed.

'I have lost once again.'

For the first time in a while, he had felt defeated. He was upset with himself. He had just let it happen there was no struggle, there was no conniving youth, no genius. He had just let the clock run down and he was ultimately destroyed. How many times had he used his so called "brains" and things worked well? He was beginning to doubt, and why not? He had stumbled when he needed to stand tall.

"What could you do child?"

He stopped his inner monologue and this time the voice that came to him was not the same as the breathy one the last fragment of death had. This one was raspy, bitter and pained.

"Your power was sealed with those cursed metal things, your people gave up on you and branded you a traitor even after all you did, your inheritance stolen from you by the one that sold you to be a weapon of those faceless bastards… THEY BETRAYED YOU WHY MUST YOU ENDURE SHAME?"

The voice got louder and louder. Casimir began to speak but it interrupted him.

"What would you have done child? Where would you have gone if you were me child? That is my question… you wish to claim my origin? Then prove your worth child, prove your wisdom to be greater than mine and I will grant you what you are looking for."

Casimir remained silent. Was this his trial? Being questioned by the memory of the past? Was it even sentient? and what did origin mean? As the questions kept pilling, he began to feel as though something was wrong. The vision felt like he was the one experiencing it, like he was the one living it, but every time he tried to do something it didn't happen. Was he truly in control? No, he wasn't and he realized that. He had been subjected to experience the consequences someone else's actions. It made sense, his uncharacteristic panic and failure to compose himself on occasion. Had his emotions been affected as well? So, was this the trial? To speak of how he would have done things differently?

Casimir was beginning to dislike the voice even more now. He was coming to his conclusion. Those that weren't powerless but did nothing to save themselves disgusted him. He disliked them beyond their refusal to use logic. He despised them because they had choice, they had power to claim freedom, to argue justice and if they didn't use that power then what good were they? Others would sell their souls for such power, yet they refuse to use what the gods gave them.

"You are a coward you deserved to die that way; I however did not deserve to be subjected to your suffering."

The voice did not respond and Casimir continued.

"Shame on your people for what they did to you, shame on your inheritance if even those that do not deserve it can claim it, but shame on you for not using what power you have to make it right by yourself."

The darkness dispersed to reveal a blond fair skinned man with rough features that possessed awkward handsomeness. His blue eyes were filled with sorrow but he had a pleasant smile on his face. He seemed to be at peace.

"I see…"

The man's gaze shifted downwards and Casimir followed. Beneath his feet he saw a vast stretch of land. On it he saw soilders marching, all adorned with silver armors, swords and spears of various lengths and sizes. They marched toward a what looked like an enemy stronghold. The army grossly outnumbered their enemy. He knew the result would be obvious if the enemy did not have a hidden ace up their sleeves.

"I had surrendered myself so my soldiers may live but that was what they wanted, I could have fought and lost a good number of men but not without have crippling them in the process. We could've lost this battle in order to win the war but ultimately, I did not possess a character and sound mind befitting a general with soldiers under him."

Casimir remained silent waiting for the warrior to continue.

"As fate would have it, they extracted most of my soul's essence and they crafted a blade capable of fighting my people and the tide of war changed… we lost."

"Most of it?"

"Yes, the remaining one is the little the gods took but I'm sure you know not for what"

Casimir pondered on what he heard. So, the gods seemed to have began creating this system of sorts with glyphs long before their deaths were nigh. Almost like a doomsday device for civilization to be able to orderly rebuild and not be over run by monsters, which he still didn't know how they came to be, when they perished. But it still didn't answer why those that failed trial turned into abominations, and if the trial was in such a format then wasn't it a possibility that whoever was administering the trial could fail them on purpose.

The blond man looked back to Casimir as the events played out beneath their feet and he spoke

"You are worthy of my Origin, may you be fate greater than your misfortune."

The world around them began to fade out. Casimir looked at the man for one last time as he spoke his last words

"May you carry this power with the pride it deserves, child of destruction, do not make cowardly choices like I did… Fight or be forgotten."