Chapter 2

Standing in a cemetery in light clothing on a hot spring day, Menno... or Freo, looked at two graves. The names suggested they were his parents' graves... only he knew for sure, and felt, that they were just empty coffins. No one was there. A mere formality. Pure symbolism...

"Last time, I didn't even know my father, but that was okay because I had a brother and a loving mother. With them, I lived a happy eleven years. And they were killed. This time, I had everything. A wonderful home. All the necessary things. Money... But most importantly - a complete family. A mother who loved and cared for me, and a father who was proud of me, no matter what. Anyone who dreams of a family would acknowledge this as one of the ideals. Heh-heh-heh-heh... and they were killed. But this time, I couldn't even enjoy life with them. Not a single moment. You know," the boy turned back and looked at the man standing in fear, whose forehead was already covered in sweat that could trickle down any second. But this was not due to the heat... "now, looking at my actions from before from... let's say, a different point of view... more naive, peace-loving, I realize I've longed for a family for so long. Azula and the children. But then I missed the chance - I was in prison. Then my death... somewhere on the edge of consciousness, hope flickered that being reborn, I would get a new family, could love it, live a happy life, and if necessary, protect my happiness from almost any encroachment. My dream... how ironic fate is. I got what I wanted... but it wasn't me. I slept and only received memories. Just a couple of days... two... pitiful... days were missing!" With each word from the boy, his hair, or part of it, seemed to turn into white flame, and it noticeably warmed up around him. "And some freak didn't give me even a couple of minutes of happiness! Is that too much to ask!? Do I want too much!? Is it such an unattainable wish - to have simple(!) family(!) happiness!!?" the boy looked again at the man who had fallen and was sitting on the ground, shaking with fear, which made him lose control over his bowels and bladder, creating an incredible sight - an officially dressed guard, nearly two meters tall, muscular, assigned by the police to a child, having soiled and wet himself, trembling on the ground and shedding tears in front of an eleven-year-old boy. "Anyway, sorry for rambling in front of you, pouring out my soul... I've noticed that sometimes I need to vent like this. To speak out. So someone would listen to me. Hm... last time I left such a person alive, and it came back to haunt me years later, so unfortunately, you won't survive this hour. Goodbye."

The man wailed, he couldn't scream, but he could moo, and loudly at that. But his mooing didn't last long - with a wave of his hand, the man, like a puppet, rose to his feet and approached the boy, then leaned closer to his face. It seemed they might kiss, but the man froze, and then something strange began - both the boy and the man opened their eyes and mouths wide, as if in fear or astonishment, after which droplets of blood began to seep from the man's mouth and eyes, quickly turning into small streams and beginning to flow into the boy's mouth. In a matter of seconds, the fairly large man began to dry out and shrink in volume, his skin wrinkled, and he turned into an ancient mummy. About ten seconds of this gruesome, quite disgusting process passed, and a completely dry corpse fell to the ground. A slight stomp of the boy's foot and the earth parted, the roots of the small grass unwound, revealing bare ground, which buried the sinking corpse, and everything immediately returned to its place. Not a single trace of the man's presence remained, even the urine absorbed into the soil.

"He will try to stop me and prevent me from coming to my parents' graves. Thank your lucky stars your death was painless..." the boy said, looking at the bodiless spirit now present here after the body's death.

Usually, souls linger in the body much longer before becoming disembodied, except in cases where the body is too severely damaged - crushed flat, cut into several different-sized pieces, or dissolved. Or, as in this case, turned into a mummy.

"It's still unusual to see the dead and spirits... I need to get used to it," the boy muttered and turned his gaze back to his parents' graves, where stood ordinary stone tombstones of small size with names and dates carved into them. "Even though they're not here... not even their souls... they definitely deserved more."

The boy raised his hands, clenched them into fists, causing the tombstones to disintegrate into dust, which was immediately carried away by a gust of wind. His palms, now straight, slowly moved down, then his fingers pointed to the sky, and his palms began to rise.

Along with this, two large, about a meter high, beautiful tombstones slowly rose from the ground. There they halted their growth, and Freo simply waved his hand and the stone changed abruptly. What was once just beautiful granite with an interesting shape now instantly became smooth, with farewell words for each of the deceased, their detailed portraits, and life dates carved on its surface.

"I can't do anything more nice and good for you..." he said and turned around, walking away from the cemetery. "But I'll make myself very happy by tearing apart that piece of trash who deprived me of you, into little pieces!"

Freo's face was lit with a smile, so rare on his new face. Because this face, its expressions, had been accustomed to smiling out of joy, happily and joyfully. Now, it was a new smile, the smile of a sadist, a maniac, and a bloodthirsty killer.

Heading into the city, Freo pondered how to live on. That is... he fully understands the need to develop! He regained his bending! Bending with which he fought on equal terms with the Avatar! Bending that was taken from him! But now it's back with him, in full force! And that's not the only thing he learned. Previously, as he once realized, the only things that couldn't be easily taken from him were his Bending and himself. Life and Bending. These two components. To deprive him of his Bending, the avatar had to reach the peak of his abilities to defeat him and lock away the Bending. And when Freo was left with only life... he elevated it to an unprecedented height! Alas, in the previous world, he could live only with one thing. More precisely, only with life. And this... Freo felt incomplete because of it. Taking a risk, he gave up everything he had left and everything he had cultivated, to regain it all. He took a chance.

And here he is, walking through the streets of Sonthofen, a small town with a population of about seventeen to eighteen thousand people, parentless, an orphan without a penny to his name. Fun, isn't it?

"What do I need?" Freo asked aloud, transitioning to an internal monologue - "The primary task is to find and brutally kill the murderer of my parents in this world. From this follows the next tasks: seeking information. My father told me... me... yes, me, about many spirits, shamans, practices related to them. But I never heard about such... individuals. And what's this! It was clear that my visitor was someone from Asia. Chinese, Japanese, Korean, maybe even a Russian Buryat. And about his spirit, I've heard something. Rather, I read about a spirit that, by description, matches exactly the one that devoured my parents. Humanoid, disproportionately long arms, disproportionately wide towards the end, small, narrow, one might say, lanky legs, two straight and long horns growing out of the head, the tips of which are worn and rounded. And also this symbol on the head - a triangle. As well as the fact of controlling fire. Even if the size doesn't quite match what I read in the description of this spirit, and the appearance is slightly different, I am almost sure that it is the Great Spirit of Fire. And it was kidnapped many centuries ago. By whom? I don't know. I didn't read that. However, whoever it was had to be a very powerful shaman to catch and control such a spirit. And such people don't just die.

The second guest. I can't say for sure, but his age seemed about comparable to mine, and there's a suspicion that a child of such age can't possess enough strength to have such a spirit at his beck and call. Unless appearances are deceiving. It could be that behind this appearance hides a powerful soul, using the same method as I do - reincarnating from life to life, or using another method - rejuvenating to a child's age upon reaching a certain age. This would explain why a youngster of my physical age controls such a weapon of destruction as a spirit of such power. After all, as I remember from my father's stories, there are only five such spirits! So, I need to find out who kidnapped this spirit several centuries ago, and I will, presumably, find information about who visited me.

I need to find other shamans. All the information I had access to was destroyed with the house, and I don't have information about the residence of other shamans. If so...

"I need to go somewhere else, as there are no shamans left in the city. At least, my father knew nothing of them."

Somewhat resolving something for himself, Freo started to walk more purposefully.