Dawn's Inheritance: The Sword Forged in Endless Hatred
The inheriting boy gripped his sword from the early dawn. Even as his body crumbled, his form grew disordered, and his breaths came in ragged gasps, he never stopped swinging. If mana ran dry, he'd wield the blade itself. If he couldn't unleash sword aura, he'd draw on qi instead. Through rain, snow, and the sun scorching his flesh, he swung without rest. His body ached with exhaustion. He dragged that deathly heavy frame onward. Yet the boy's eyes never wavered, sharp with unyielding hatred and obsession. Revenge was everything.
No one stood beside him. He couldn't even recall the faces of the party members he'd gathered to slay the Demon King. Demons alone filled his vision. Friends? Comrades? Were those at his side truly allies? He'd doubted it. To the boy, the sword was all. It was the meaning of his life, the extension that would crown his end.
"My childhood... yeah. The oldest memory."
"I know. You're me."
"Right, we know better than anyone."
"No way I'd forget. Back then, I couldn't even see their faces. Hatred was all there was. No shapes, just the path to Pandemonium."
"That's right. Remember? I first saw Mio's face two years after we met."
"Yeah. Her face then, and the emotions I felt..."
"The day rain finally fell on my parched heart."
It was a rainy day. His comrades were weary, the earth cracked, and demons' howls filled the air. The boy had become a youth, standing amid the screams. He was the scream. He killed and killed and killed and killed and killed and killed and killed until the word "pain" escaped the demons' lips. Seeing them up close, he couldn't hold back. He'd sworn revenge, but he hadn't known hatred this fierce would consume him. Those red faces weren't just repulsive—they'd shaped his rage into form. Dust-choked earth, creaking bones. Muscle pain dominated his body, yet the youth swung his sword.
He couldn't use magic. His knowledge outstripped all, but his mana was less than a commoner's. People told the youth:
"You're hated by mana. That's why you swing the sword so fiercely."
He wasn't completely unable to use magic. By breaking down mana, he could manage weak spells. So he stuck to support magic without punch. The youth, honed by ceaseless swordplay, was a prodigy. The sword talent of history's greatest hero, Rian Rose. It had passed intact to his son, the youth. By the time foes moved, Rowen's blade had already severed their necks. He'd resolved to butcher the demons. He swung at them, carving flesh and entrails.
But...
"When I snapped out of it, nothing was left."
"Devoured by hatred, I kept swinging even after slaying them all."
"That's why Abel and Uba were exhausted."
"Remember? Lea sweated as she healed us all."
"You were raging."
"...That was you. I'm Rowen now."
"The past doesn't vanish."
The boy knew what he'd done and wailed. He hadn't shed tears since his father's death. But now, he wept.
"Sorry..."
He apologized.
"You idiot. Don't cry."
The red-haired girl offered faint comfort with a smile. No one raged. They knew Rowen's past, understood his pain. Those children had formed a team. And all became heroes. Tears welled. The boy's dry emotions began to moisten again. Like parched earth meeting water, forgotten feelings resurfaced one by one. He saw his comrades' faces at last. Lea. Mio. Abel. Uba. The boy was saved.
Rumble! The scene shifted. A familiar backdrop. The Demon King's castle summit. Red lightning devoured the sky, the abyss calling demons. Red-moss-covered crumbled walls, nether plants oozing acid in the darkness. A white humanoid like a four-legged spider grotesquely scaled the wall. This was no mirror reflection. The pitch-black abyss. The youth before him became his conversing past self, the landscape the abyss.
"Tch..."
"Don't hate it too much. It's where we raced to the end."
"No way I could like it."
"I never said like it. More than that, I hate it. Fuck, don't you think about the me trapped inside you, always suppressed?"
"I don't. You're just an illusion anyway."
Rian smirked. He tilted his head up, staring straight at Rowen. Rowen cocked his head at the gaze heavy with meaning. Rian murmured low:
"The day Belzebub pierced my skull, at the border of life and death, I chose to live. Breaking free of the Goddess of Fate's compulsion."
"What're you talking about?"
Chose to live? Bullshit. He knew better than anyone—he'd died and reincarnated. Rowen couldn't grasp why such words emerged. He decided to listen.
"Your next life. You're my reincarnation, right?"
"Oh, that?"
"Yeah."
Thud! Traces of demonic energy rippled from the sky. But this too was a memory's illusion. Not real.
"You weren't supposed to be born with memories."
"...What?"
"Back then, I wanted rest. But the gods' meddling didn't end. Because I was the hero?"
"So I was born with memories? The god forced my fate to wield the holy sword?"
"Yeah."
Rowen scratched his head. Talking to his past self felt weird, and he couldn't follow the story. Then Rian spoke:
"Another me. Don't you think something's off?"
"...Like what?"
"Why, despite all that training and newfound mana, you can't approach your past power."
"Ah."
Come to think of it, yes. He hadn't reached his sixteen-year-old past self's realm. He'd gained black sword aura at fifteen. The holy sword helped, sure, but not nearing it was odd. He'd wondered briefly, but the merit of magic use overshadowed it.
"Because you wanted it."
"What bullshit is that?"
"A life without battle. Wanting ease tugged fate's thread."
"...So I subconsciously forgot my power upon reincarnation because I wanted comfort?"
"Slightly different... but yes."
"Fuck."
That meant he'd basically lost his power. By his own doing. Was past-me a moron? Rowen wanted to punch that version of himself if he could go back.
"..."
Wait, wasn't that idiot right here? One punch couldn't hurt.
"You were the problem. Because of you, I'm suffering now...!"
With that power...
He wouldn't have lost Snowfall. He would've fought, not fled. No one's fault but his own. Past-me was a moron!
"...You can't hit me."
"What?"
"I'm literally a form. And hear people out to the end."
"...Tch."
"Things have changed. You reincarnated in a vague state, true, but you didn't forget the power."
What? Rowen frowned.
"Watching a struggling 'me' hurts. I'm you, the shadow of the past. All of Rian Rose—experiences, memories, archived."
"You don't mean—!"
"Yeah. I'm the aggregate of power you hid deep. A byproduct of experience."
His past realm, literally.
Clank! As Rian moved, fate's chains constricted him. But he pressed on. Suppressed or not, Rian did as he pleased. Since meeting Yuria, in the abyss, he'd pondered. Reaching one answer.
"Power you can't use is mere decoration."
He extended his hand naturally. The hero's crest gleamed white. Here, where he'd met death, where history began...
Rowen grasped Rian's hand.
"I'll link you to my past realm now. But my wish for rest before death? Won't happen."
"...For real?"
"Not to your liking?"
"No... just, regaining it this fast? Feels off."
"I'd like that too. But your body needs adjustment time. You can't wield it freely yet."
"Doesn't matter. If it's reclaiming power..."
Well, since vowing revenge for brother and father, that wish was doomed anyway. Rian knew. He'd watched everything.
Rowen felt it. This 'self' was a past specter. Yet for his future self, it shed emotional husk in the abyss, resolved.
"I'll cheer you on. Fulfill the wish I couldn't."
"Moron."
"...What the fuck."
Pfft! Rowen laughed. That reaction proved it was truly him.
"Not me?"
"Haha. Right. Then, leave it to me, 'me'."
"Yeah. Watch from here. We'll avenge family... reclaim our home."
White light from their clasped hands illuminated around them. Pandemonium's red sky crumbled, whitening everything. When he opened his eyes, fate's chains binding Rian were gone. No wounds, no demon sword. Just a dashing youth wielding the holy sword.
A rectangular space. Rian's reflection faded with a faint smile. It dissolved into mist, flowing into Rowen.
... Thump thump! His heart raced. Holy sword energy caressed his arm. Instinct told him. The constant emptiness? A piece of himself missing. No more. Now, perfectly whole.
Rian Rose. No, Rowen smiled.
"Forgot about this."
Merging brought forgotten fragments. No pain. Like fitting the final puzzle.
"This sensation. A precious one I mustn't forget."
Rowen clenched and unclenched his fist. Black flames in tiger form ignited.
Whoosh! They dwelled in the holy sword's form. Black sword aura from qi assimilated. The final light in holy sword form merged with angelic blessing, revealing the fragment's place. Deep in his heart. He felt his divided past self there. Core spun madly, frost rampaging. Pale blue ice lightly cloaked him, forming sharp armor. Ice Blade howled, dense with mana. Black sword aura embedded in the blade. Not all power fully returned yet. But it would, gradually.
Rowen thought: If he reclaimed past realm and bloomed the Mana Flower?
Could he kill the unkillable? Arrogant, maybe. Demon Kings were sealed because they wouldn't die. But...
"Belzebub feared my sword."
That meant...
"Stronger than then... I can kill him?"
Revenge. A feral smile twisted his lips at the word. Rowen wouldn't stop. Stopping meant the end. He'd press toward his goal. Ever forward.