16 years ago...
Life is not worth living as a non-godblood, but we have to strive.
Those were the words Martha told herself every morning.
In the kingdom of Ostina, a great divide existed—godbloods and non-godbloods. A mighty wall, built of stone and pride, separated their worlds. On one side, grace and glory. On the other, struggle and shadows.
---
Strike. Spark. Smoke.
A cigarette lit the dim room.
"F*ck… You weren't entertaining today. I'm not paying full price," he said.
His face was smeared with sweat and satisfaction, wearing that smug grin they all wore—the godbloods. Always too proud to admit a non-godblood pleased them. Praise was beneath them. Especially for someone like me.
I answered coldly, "But your face says otherwise."
I knew what was coming. A day didn't pass without their violence, they claim to be children of God, but show no hesitation to sin.
The slap came hard. Then another. And another, until signs of blood showed.
Blood ran from my lip. My eyes swelled shut. The sting was familiar.
Then he threw it—the silver coin—right at my face. It hit hard, leaving a mark on my cheek like a scar of shame.
"You're right. I enjoyed it. But you—you're a non-godblood. Nothing more than a devil… a cheap wh*re."
Kinisha—a neighboring state to Ostina—didn't build walls between godbloods and the rest. But the divide was still there, woven into the minds of its people. Social. Mental. Unseen, but deeply felt.
Many of us crossed the border from Ostina each day, hoping for scraps. Hoping for dignity.
Me? I followed the same path. At seventeen, with no family, no schooling, and no money—this was all I had. Survival wrapped in shame.
Prostitution isn't easy. But neither is starving.
---
As I followed the trail back to Ostina, I saw someone who was like a father to me—Godot.
His craftsmanship was top-tier—so much so that the nobles of Ostina facilitated an underground market just to purchase his creations.
Unlike most non-godbloods in Ostina, Godot didn't need to traverse the rocky mountains to cross the border into Kinisha for trade—he had everything he needed right at home.
"Oh heavens," he said as soon as he saw me.
The injuries on my face were obvious—and terrifying.
"What have you gotten yourself into? This work you're doing... it'll lead to your death. I'm not wishing you ill, but those people—the godbloods—they're not like us.
They hate us. They see us as devils.
They take joy in slaughtering our kind.
Some use us as sport—practice targets to test their aim and abilities," he said.
"Don't worry. I won't let them get the best of me," I replied.
"How's work been going?" I asked.
"I haven't been doing much trade lately," he said.
Shocked, I asked why.
"For the past few months," he explained, "I've been working on a way to bypass the curse. To use machines that can proportion and store the mana burst that occurs when we dismember a part of our body."
I was both impressed and worried.
This kind of technology... it could only worsen the already fragile tension between godbloods and non-godbloods in Ostina.
---
Shots fired—bullets embedded with mana.
That's what woke me up on a sunny afternoon.
I looked through the window. I saw them.
Godbloods.
To be precise, Mage Knights of noble bloodlines,
Wielding manaments—guns that fired mana-infused bullets.
"Come here, you stupid devil," one shouted, dragging a little girl.
"Bring more! I need practice targets—gotta hone my skills," another yelled.
Too scared to watch any longer, I ran to the basement,
Afraid for my life.
But not all non-godbloods were like me, too frightened to fight.
I heard explosions—mana bursts.
Some non-godbloods fought back.
But what could they possibly do against Mage Knights?
Door creaks.
My heart jumped.
Someone had entered my home.
I looked around frantically for something sharp to defend myself.
Then I heard a voice calling out to me.
"Martha... Martha."
It was Godot.
I recognized his voice.
I rushed out of the basement to meet him.
But then—I saw blood dripping.
His hand—gone, dismembered.
"So, it was you," I said.
"You cut off your own hand... to save that little girl."
"Hurry, get me the first aid," Godot said.
I dashed to my drawer, grabbed the first aid kit, and tended to his injury.
The bleeding stopped.
He stood up, ready to continue fighting.
"STOP!" I cried.
"Why? Do you want to die? What's the point of all this fighting?"
He looked me in the eye and said,
"If a lion leaves the jungle, even a crow can claim to be its king.
If we don't fight, they'll see us as weak—unworthy, unable to resist.
More will come, claiming to be kings and lords over us."
He continued,
"And this is the perfect time to test my creation—The Augmentor.
Mechanized limbs capable of storing and manipulating mana outbursts
Triggered when a body part is dismembered."
I looked away as he used the scissors from the first aid kit to cut off another hand.
He screamed—cried from the pain—but he persisted.
The sound of flesh being sliced, the gushing of blood, the cracking of bones...
I heard it all.
I cried for him, as if I were the one being cut.
He ran to my basement and brought out a box—pure steel.
It looked like something from the future, from another world.
As he opened it—The Augmentors.
Mechanized limbs.
I was stunned to realize that thing had been hidden in my basement all this time,
As if he had planned it from the very beginning.
"Help me," Godot said.
"Place the Augmentors—both of them—on my shoulders. They'll attach automatically when they detect mana leakage."
As I held the Augmentors, words couldn't explain what I felt.
How could something Godot claimed was so powerful be this light?
The material—it was foreign to me.
Click—nice.
That was the sound they made.
They locked onto Godot's shoulders.
Amber light glowed from the ovals in the Augmentors.
I could feel it—mana being absorbed and stored.
As he turned to leave, I made one last attempt to reason with him,
To urge him to choose life over death.
"A tiger will flee in the face of a dragon," I said,
Trying to convince him that running doesn't make one less of a man.
He responded:
"It's not about my pride.
It's about the pride of my race, my people—my family... you."
I was moved by his words.
I submitted to his bravery.
And I prayed for his safe return.
Too scared to watch, my eyes turned away from the battlefield.
The sounds of mana blasts and weapon clashes echoed from afar.
Curious as I was—my fear was stronger.
Moments later, Godot returned,
Carrying the heads of the two Mage Knights—gripped by their long, glossy hair.
He shouted to the crowd,
"Let the weak rise—for we are strong together!"
Cheers and praises erupted.
Godot had claimed victory in battle.
---
Months later...
My pregnancy persisted.
The weight of my work finally caught up with me.
I always knew something like this would happen.
I'm grateful to Godot—for taking care of me through these nine long, painful months.
"How are you doing?" Godot asked.
"I'm fine," I replied.
"Something's been troubling me," he said.
"I want you to abort this child."
A storm of emotions filled my heart.
Was it anger?
Or sadness?
I couldn't tell.
How could someone I saw as a father say something like this?
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Take a look around," he said.
"Do you really want this child to grow up in this world?
This suffering? This curse? This bloodline?
I know I always sound strong... but the odds are against us.
Look at Tumedia—there isn't a single non-Godblood alive there.
They were wiped out hundreds of years ago.
What makes you think Ostina won't do the same?"
"This isn't like you... father," I said.
His expression changed.
For the first time, I called him father.
He had lost his only child—his daughter—during a Mage Knight raid, years ago.
I continued, "I was always the one with the gloomy look, the negative thoughts.
The one with no faith in our race.
But I've also been troubled.
I don't think I'll survive this pregnancy.
I feel like I've outlived my time on this earth.
I want you to take care of the child.
Accept it as your own.
Love it, tend to it, cherish it.
If it's a boy, name him Arios Edward.
If it's a girl... name her Arios Edward as well.
That's the name my father bore."
Tears filled Godot's eyes.
He accepted the request.
---
It was time.
She was in labor.
I called the midwives.
Screams filled the air.
"Oh Martha... I know you said you wouldn't survive this pregnancy,
But please... hold on.
You're my daughter," I muttered to myself.
But then the screams changed—into shrieks of fear.
It wasn't Martha screaming anymore... it was the midwives.
Panic overtook me.
I burst into the room.
I couldn't believe what I saw.
Martha's abdomen had been torn open—
Her organs strewn everywhere.
It was as if something had split her apart from the inside—
For something... or someone to emerge.
To the left, I saw what looked like a lifeless baby.
But it wasn't ordinary.
It had no arms... no legs...
It looked like it had been dismembered at birth.
"What heavy curse is this?" I whispered.
"Is this you... Arios Edward?"