Why?

  I couldn’t stop asking myself the same question. For three days now I’ve been repeating it to myself.

  I’d never repeated it this much.

  The cave was silent.

  Not cold. Not comforting.

  Just silence.

  The only sound was the dull echo of my breathing, bouncing off the walls I had created with my own hands.

  It’s not a hard question to ask. The hard part is finding the damn answer.

  That guy… one of the most powerful beings on the planet. He could alter reality on a whim. One of the most dangerous abilities, in my opinion.

  The concept of reality.

  And yet, there I was, chatting with him like he was an old acquaintance. Like I… trusted him?

  I remember his arrival.

  No noise, no distortion. He just walked in, with no apparent warning.

  I couldn’t even detect him before he appeared.

  He simply arrived and did whatever he wanted.

  His voice sounded calm, almost friendly, as he offered me a deal.

  And I accepted.

  I don’t trust anyone. Not for years.

  But with him, something made me drop my guard. Was it the way he looked at me? Or was I just tired of being alone?

  It couldn’t be that, right?

  "It was probably his power." That thought stabbed through me, giving me a false sense that I’d found the answer.

  Yeah. His power. With his ability to alter reality, he probably made me drop my guard. That’s why I talked. That’s why I accepted the deal. That’s why… I trusted him?

  And worst of all, he reminded me of Elric.

  The most powerful in the world. The other damn bastard who bent me without even using the name of his ability.

  That same casual tone. That same humiliation.

  “How pathetic,” I told myself.

  I didn’t know her. She owed me nothing, and I owed her nothing either.

  I remember the filthy street, the peeling walls, and the concept of misery spreading like a living shadow over everything.

  She was sitting against a wall, with two kids clinging to her sides. Worn clothes, smeared makeup. A prostitute, maybe? A mother. Definitely.

  Her eyes looked at me with a kind of exhaustion I hadn’t seen in years.

  I could’ve kept walking and saved myself the trouble. But I didn’t.

  No.

  I stopped.

  I gave her more than food or money.

  I remember my hand touching her head—her core, her concept.

  An impulse. A permanent boost to her talent, like I’ve done so many times.

  No one ever thanked me for it.

  In fact, I almost always end up being treated like a criminal.

  Why would this time be different?

  Why help her?

  Just because I saw her kindness?

  It wasn’t the first time I’d seen guards abuse their authority to do whatever stupid thing they wanted.

  Always ending the same way.

  Two uniformed men, shouting and swinging at each other in the middle of the street over a slice of pizza, wrecking everything in their path.

  Around them, panic.

  In my arms, a baby was trembling, eyes full of fear.

  Everyone’s fear.

  And I killed them.

  I raised the temperature of their blood. Two bodies on fire.

  Simple, the way I like it. Even if it was anything but easy.

  But as always, my actions brought trouble.

  But what else was I supposed to do? Or better yet—why did I do it?

  It’s not like anyone in that dumpster didn’t deserve it. So why intervene?

  Why kill them?

  I could’ve avoided them, slipped away, let them pass.

  But I didn’t.

  They’d set a trap, waiting for the next prey to sacrifice.

  And I knew I wouldn’t make it to the teleporter.

  I knew that goal was slipping through my fingers again.

  So I threw myself at them with everything I had.

  Every strike, every death, the terror I inflicted—it wasn’t just to win.

  Was that me? Or did the frustration of losing the teleporter get to me?

  Was it to empty something I’d been carrying for far too long?

  Or was I just too tired?

  I knew it was hard. My instincts told me it was impossible.

  That damn escape point was there. I could feel it—the mark told me it was there.

  Only this time it was too far.

  Still, part of me believes that if I’d pushed harder, I could’ve made it.

  But I didn’t.

  I didn’t move.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  I stayed.

  And I killed.

  Just because I was too much of a coward to boost my speed.

  What was I so afraid of?

  And the thing that was eating me alive the most.

  She… was nobody. Just a Rank 1 baby, abandoned among the rubble of a ruined city.

  How could I forget that destroyed city, with the blue rain chasing me?

  If it weren’t for my sensitivity to concepts,

  finding her would’ve been impossible. Someone so insignificant.

  I found her lying in the rubble. Left there to die.

  I picked her up and carried her out.

  I protected her. I even negotiated on her behalf.

  Why?

  Why give so much for a girl I didn’t know? It made no sense.

  I’d left her in the care of that Mirae, with the promise that if they dared touch a single hair on her head, they’d regret it.

  All while I took my rest, checking every so often that they stayed in line.

  But the question remains. Why did I rescue her?

  Why?

  I was the one who picked her up.

  I was the one who pulled her out from those ruins.

  I was the one who gave her a chance to live.

  And I don’t know why.

  "Do I need a reason to do the right thing?"

  A phrase would overwhelm me whenever I thought about that baby.

  And pain would come with it.

  Three days repeating the same questions. Three days turning them over like an idiot, looking for a pattern, an excuse—something that would tell me I’m not losing my mind.

  But there’s no answer.

  Only more questions.

  Maybe I was always like this.

  Maybe I don’t want to admit I don’t know who I am when I’m not fighting for my life.

  The silence is still there, waiting.

  And I still don’t know if I want to answer it.

  I wallowed in my own uncertainty.

  In my convalescence.

  In solitude.

  Three days asking myself the same thing, without a damn answer.

  "Why is thinking so horrible?" Sitting there with nothing to do.

  Just me and my mind.

  "When was the last time I was…?"

  A few knocks on the stone wall tore me out of those thoughts.

  It was Mirae.

  I’d already seen her coming; it’s hard to get past my senses.

  But I waited. I let her get closer.

  “What do you want?” I asked without moving, sprawled on the strangely comfortable stone.

  A brief silence.

  Then her voice, muffled by rock.

  But I could see the content of her words.

  “I want to talk about the proposal I made you.”

  I still didn’t get up.

  "The proposal?"

  Did she seriously expect I’d accept?

  I looked past her, at her concepts. Sun and Victory—the latter felt a little stronger than last time.

  And that brought me another one of the questions that had been gnawing at me these three days:

  Why did I spare their lives?

  Mirae’s group belonged to the Victoria tribe. When I entered my shelter and found the remnants of a failed civil war, why did I spare them? I didn’t know them. I didn’t have to.

  And yet I did.

  "But it’s impressive they lost to the Mondo tribe." The one that rules the neighboring kingdom.

  You’d think the owners of the concept of victory couldn’t lose. And on top of that, the Mondo tribe was in decline.

  A powerful tribe, owners of the concept of World. Hence the name.

  "How original," I thought, with irony.

  Tribes were, essentially, like noble families—with a few differences.

  The main one, and the most important, was that members of a tribe inherited a conceptual ability.

  Remnants of an ancient lineage more than three thousand years old, before most empires even existed. Or at least, that’s what I heard.

  They descended from a being who possessed the ability of Assimilation and the Trait of Inheritance.

  When it died, the families kept one of the hundreds of abilities it had obtained in life.

  Each family inherits a single ability: the tribe’s ability.

  And as always, they despise those born with nothing.

  I hadn’t noticed that when I saw them the first time.

  The concept of defeat overshadowed victory by far.

  And my arrival only made it worse.

  A strange feeling tried to surface, but I crushed it.

  I had no reason to pity these people.

  I shouldn’t.

  “Sir…” Mirae called, pulling me out of my head.

  I opened the wall completely.

  “Why weren’t you answering?” she asked.

  I stared at her, not understanding the urgency in her tone.

  Then I noticed her fear; she probably remembered who she was talking to.

  The name Child of Perdition weighs on this world.

  Even if I don’t like it.

  She quickly looked away and changed the subject.

  “The baby… she wants to see you. These last three days she hasn’t stopped getting restless. She wants to see you. I’ve been trying to calm her down, but lately it doesn’t seem to be very effective. My people don’t know what to do.”

  I didn’t know what to tell her. She looked pretty nervous as she spoke.

  “I’ll be there in a second.”

  I sealed the wall again.

  And I stayed still.

  Not knowing what to do.

  Not knowing how to feel.

  Maybe I’d already wasted too much time thinking.

  I didn’t want to keep rolling around in my misery.

  I was tired of it.

  Tired of thinking.

  At least Mirae’s concept of victory kept strengthening, little by little.

  That made me glad.

  A little.

  "Even though this conversation made it wobble."

  Sometimes I hated how intimidating I can be.

  My attitude and appearance probably don’t help.

  I was in my “Child of Perdition” state—an intimidating look, for sure.

  I also noticed that cleanliness clearly hadn’t been a priority while I was recovering and thinking.

  That had to change before I went out.

  I used my ability.

  I boosted my hygiene—every detail of my body.

  Like new.

  I was already at a hundred percent after my fight with the Imitator and the encounter with Hakotane.

  A trick I use often to recover.

  I increase the acceleration of my regeneration and recovery.

  An irony, because what was damaged was my ability in the first place.

  But I didn’t care.

  I left the improvised cave without rushing.

  Mirae was there, waiting. She hadn’t moved. She didn’t say anything. Neither did I.

  We started walking toward where the baby was. Her steps were softer than mine, but just as steady. The silence clung to us like humidity, and even though I could hear her breathing, I didn’t feel the need to break it.

  I didn’t like silence, but it was better than talking… or hearing the rain.

  I could see everything through stone, wood, metal—every wall in this shelter was as transparent to me as air. The baby was there, in the improvised room they’d prepared for her. She wasn’t sleeping.

  She looked restless.

  Three days.

  Three days thinking about what to do with her.

  Three days of questions I didn’t want to answer.

  In that time, I’d boosted her calm a couple of times. Nothing extreme—just enough so she wouldn’t cry or flail. I didn’t like manipulating a child’s concepts—least of all a baby’s.

  But she noticed. Those tiny eyes, that mind growing faster than it should. It looks like she’s been trying to get my attention.

  Perks of having an ability that improves neural connections, I guess. A rare ability of its kind. Especially this one.

  I’d never seen one like it.

  And me, meanwhile, still stuck with the same problem.

  What do I do with this troublesome tribe living in my shelter?

  The Victoria tribe. Bearers of the concept of victory.

  A powerful ability that feeds on victories and extreme self-confidence.

  That’s why their defeat against the Mondo tribe was so devastating. With a concept so dependent on winning, a crushing loss can send you into oblivion.

  The difficulties of having such a restrictive ability. Eh.

  Mirae pulled me out of my thoughts.

  “Have you thought about my proposal?” Her voice was direct—no detours—but with a hint of hope and fear.

  I didn’t look at her. I kept walking.

  Her proposal… how could I forget it. Begging me in front of all her people, voice cracking, hands trembling, to help her avenge her tribe. In exchange… for her body. And everything that belonged to her.

  The image didn’t bother me because of what she offered, but because of what it meant.

  Desperation.

  Defeat.

  Victory turned to rubble.

  “I still haven’t thought about it,” I lied. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe the truth was I didn’t want to think about it.

  “I’ll give you an answer soon.”

  That was all I said.

  Truth is, I’m not interested in getting involved in their disputes. I don’t care who took what from whom. But if I have to go to the neighboring kingdom soon, I’ll probably be forced to decide something.

  The conversation died there.

  We kept walking.

  When we arrived, everyone fell silent.

  I could see it in their concepts: fear, anguish, uncertainty.

  It didn’t matter how hard they tried to hide it.

  I saw everything.

  And I ignored it.

  I went straight to the baby.

  When she saw me, she reached out her arms without thinking. Like she’d been waiting.

  I picked her up. Her tiny core vibrated with a strange impulse. Recognition.

  “You’re getting spoiled,” I said, without a drop of humor.

  She just looked at me.

  Silence.

  The kind of silence not even the walls dare break.

  I stood there with her in my arms, thinking what my next move would be. Mirae’s revenge, the neighboring kingdom, the tribes—everything tangled into a shapeless mess.

  There was no clear priority.

  No desire.

  "And on top of that, the deal with that bastard. Why did I accept something like that?"

  I was surrounded by unanswered questions. Had thinking always been this suffocating?

  “What’s her name?” Mirae asked.

  “Who?”

  “The baby.”

  I blinked.

  I’d never thought about it.

  I had no idea what her name was.

  I didn’t know if she’d ever had one.

  "Probably not."

  I looked at the girl. She looked back with that strange calm she shouldn’t have at her age. Like she knew I didn’t have the answer. Her concept vibrated with uncertainty and… nervousness. I was nervous too.

  I didn’t say anything.

  And in that moment, I realized that even though I could give her a name right then—a random name—and be done with the problem, I didn’t want to.

  Not yet.

  And I didn’t know why.

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  With those words—and the baby in my arms—I headed for the exit of the shelter.

  Looking her over, her condition had improved.

  "Looks like they healed you well, little one. Seems that bastard’s supplies were useful."

  I could almost hear his complaints in the back of my mind after that thought. I hoped it was just my paranoia.

  “Sir! You… where are you going?”

  Mirae looked nervous as I left. They all did. Mixed relief and despair filled the place.

  “What do you care? I’ll be back. Do whatever you want with that information.”

  I’d decide the fate of this tribe once I returned from my visit to the capital. It was up to them whether they stayed or not while they waited for my answer.

  I left full of questions and no answers, with a nameless baby in my arms, to keep a promise to a demon.

  "Damn Hakotane. What the hell was I thinking when I accepted that deal?"