The rain grew heavier, hammering against my skin, pounding on the walls like it was trying to get inside and wash me away. But I couldn't move. My body stayed frozen in the wake of her touch.
I stared down at my hand.
These were the hands of Reygir. Once carved by war and calloused by years of training. The scars still lingered. Proof of a life lived hard. Reygir was powerful. Strong. Immovable. He carried the world on his shoulders and never flinched.
I wasn't him anymore.
Even calling myself his shadow would be a lie. His shadow would crush me in an instant.
These hands? They were soft. Weak. My muscles? Wasted. Tav had tried to tell me. I wouldn't regain what I'd lost. I'd been lying to myself, clinging to a fantasy.
This was who I was now.
A weakling.
Old Reygir wouldn't just be disappointed. He'd hate me.
"That was my Holy Mandate: Sacrament of Submission."
Her voice slipped into my cracked mind like a whisper carried by thunder.
I flinched as her fingers grazed my face and tilted my chin upward—soft, but inescapable.
Her hand.
Her hand—I could finally see it.
Light, chestnut skin. Graceful, almost regal fingers. I followed the trail upward—her wrist, her neck, the curve of her jaw.
And finally, her face.
She wore the same plain brown garment as everyone else. No jewelry. No halo. Her hair was shaved to the scalp. Her hazel-brown eyes glowed with warmth, and her full, pink lips stretched into a smile—too wide, too cheerful for her narrow, middle-aged face.
A stranger.
And the most dangerous person I'd ever met.
"I apologize if I didn't introduce myself earlier while you so valiantly declared your name, Sir Bondyek." Her tone was syrupy sweet, but it dug like a thorn. "I am Domitia Paxis. A humble servant appointed as the Heavenly Virtue Priestess of Humility."
She turned her head slightly, addressing the room.
"We're all glad to have you here, aren't we?"
The crowd, frozen during the confrontation, finally exhaled in unison. One by one, they began stepping closer again, the way people return to a room after a storm has passed.
I wasn't a threat anymore.
Just another convert waiting to happen.
That was the truth.
I was a fool. Arrogant. To think I could take down the Heavenly Virtue Priestess of Humility with a dull knife and broken strength. This was my reward.
The prayers began. Low at first. Like murmurs rolling through fog. They were welcoming me. Thanking the Virtues for my "conversion." Saying I'd been freed from pride. That I'd overcome the old Reygir.
That I was now... better.
Better?
The blade lay just inches from me on the floor—mocking me. I didn't reach for it. Couldn't. Wouldn't.
Instead, I remembered something I hadn't thought about in years.
A boy, barefoot, hands torn open by work. Sitting by a weak fire, being told to stand taller, to harden up, to earn his worth.
A boy who learned that respect came through fear. That strength was love. That crying was a crime.
Even that boy could beat me now.
If I wasn't Reygir Bondyek anymore, then what the hell was I?
Nothing. A ghost. A hollow shell. An echo of something once mighty and now pathetic.
My heart clenched like a fist. A bitter, festering pain.
I was worthless. Disgraceful. I didn't deserve food. Or clothes. Or shelter. Or breath.
I didn't even deserve this mock ceremony they were doing for me.
I don't deserve anything.
If anything—I owe the world.
For every life I took. For every time I spat on someone weaker. For every ounce of pride I weaponized.
I need to repay my debt. I need to rid the world of... me.
My head spun. My twisted hand throbbed. My cuts burned. But I stood.
And I ran.
Away from the tenth floor.
Down the stairs.
Out of the church.
Through the maze of same-looking houses.
No one stopped me. Why would they? They were glad to see me go.
No—that's wrong. They didn't even care. Because I meant nothing.
I ran through the storm. The rain was punishing now, drowning my skin, soaking me through. But I didn't stop until I reached the cliff.
The edge of the town. The edge of everything.
The drop was deep. Jagged rocks below.
A part of the cliff broke beneath my feet. Crumbled and fell, shattering on the rocks far below.
I didn't flinch.
I'd sent so many men to their deaths. What made me so special?
This was what I deserved.
I stepped forward. Then another. Then again. And again.
Until there were no more steps.
My right foot landed on nothing. And my weight pulled my left foot down.
And for one fleeting moment... I was weightless.
What did my life even amount to?
I had fought. I had killed. I had grown strong. I'd lived with pride.
Was that it? Was that all there was to life?
I had never really asked myself that question before. Maybe because I was afraid of the answer.
But none of it mattered anymore.
I was falling. The wind roared past my ears. I could already imagine the way my bones would snap—jagged splinters tearing through skin. My neck twisted. My mouth open, eyes blank. My last breath caught in a gurgle as my life slipped out of me—
"Yo. I figured I'd find you out here."
My body jolted mid-air.
Not because I landed. Because I stopped.
A force yanked the back of my hood. My limbs flailed as I was pulled up, my feet scraping violently against rock. I hit the ground hard, my mind scrambling to make sense of it.
Why? Why would anyone stop me?
The answer stepped into view.
That same bright yellow gown. The pink heart stitched dead center on her chest. Hair plastered to her face by the rain. Storm clouds churning behind her.
Veraque Mitis.
She stood over me like I hadn't just tried to end my life.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," she said with a weak, lopsided smile, brushing wet strands from her cheek.
The first face I'd seen when I woke up in this nightmare.
And now, the face I was supposed to see before I died.
"Why won't you leave me alone?" I rasped. My throat burned.
She blinked, then tilted her head slightly, like the question genuinely confused her. "Because I'm the freaking Heavenly Virtue of Kindness," she said, her voice light but not mocking. "What kind of person would I be if I didn't try to help?"
"So that's it then," I muttered. "You're just doing your job."
"No—wait, hold on!" she said quickly, taking a step closer, hands raised. "That makes it sound like I'm just punching a clock or something. I do care. Really. It's just that—"
She paused. Then scratched behind her ear awkwardly. "Uh… what's your name again?"
I closed my eyes.
I wasn't even strong enough to crawl back to the cliff and finish the job.
Who was I kidding? I didn't want to die. Not really. That was just a wave of something sharp and unbearable.
Deep down, I still wanted to live.
Even in this shattered, humiliated, pitiful state.
"When I woke up," I said quietly, "you were the first face I saw."
I looked up at her. She met my eyes.
"When I tried to die… you were the first one to stop me."
"Why?" I asked. Not with anger. Just… a hollow, aching kind of confusion. "Why me?"
Vera's eyes softened.
"I don't… really know," she said after a moment.
She turned her face to the rain, staring out toward the distant cityscape—Synbard, swallowed now by Domitia's domain. The water ran down the sharp edge of her nose, across her lips, down her chin.
"I knew you were headed to Humility's domain," she murmured. "And her way of doing things… yeah. It can be rough. She believes in breaking people down to rebuild them. So, we hung around in case something went wrong. And it looks like I was right. You fell victim to her Holy Mandate."
I didn't reply.
The truth carved into me like a jagged blade. I turned my face away from her, toward the cliff. Toward the void. Rainwater mingled with the heat on my cheeks.
And for the first time since I was a baby—I cried.
"It's okay," Kindness murmured.
Her voice wasn't light now. It wasn't teasing. It was warm. Firm.
She lifted my head and guided it gently against her chest. Her gown was soaked through, her body trembling slightly from the cold. But her arms stayed around me like an anchor.
"You can cry," she said softly, stroking the back of my head with one careful hand. "There's no shame in that. I'll… we'll help you rebuild. No matter how long it takes."
I didn't resist.
Couldn't.
The tears came slow at first—just tremors. Then whimpers. Then sobs. Loud, ugly sobs. My throat tightened. My body shook. Her chest grew wet from more than just the rain.
And for the first time in a long time… I wasn't trying to fight it.
This was it.
From the strongest warrior in the North…
To this.
A broken man, weeping in the arms of Kindness.