Chapter 10 – Birth of a Villain
The forest was still.
Only the sound of crunching leaves echoed as Ariz walked, his bloodstained robes trailing behind him. The moon hid behind thick clouds, as if even the heavens didn't dare witness what he had become. His eyes, once dull with grief, now shimmered with a strange calm—too calm for a boy who had taken lives just hours ago.
His hands were soaked in blood—Zayen's, his minions. Revenge should have felt like closure. But something gnawed at his chest. A sharp unease he couldn't explain.
A cold wind blew, carrying a scent he recognized instantly.
Smoke.
His stomach twisted. He ran.
Faster than ever, heart pounding—not from fear, but from something deeper, something darker.
When he reached the edge of the trees, he saw it.
Flames no longer burned, but the damage had been done. His home… gone. Nothing remained but scorched earth and broken timber. Ash floated in the air like black snow.
"No…"
He walked toward the ruins, slowly, step by step. His legs lost strength and he fell to his knees, eyes locked on the charred remnants of the only warmth he'd ever known.
Where his grandfather once waited with tea and stories… now only silence remained.
Ariz didn't scream. He didn't cry.
He just stared.
Then came a soft voice behind him.
"Ariz?"
He turned.
Torran stood there—frightened, small.
"You… You're not dead?"
Ariz didn't reply.
Torran hesitated. "They thought… you were a demon. After you came back from the river, people said your eyes had changed. That you moved like a ghost. They told the bishop."
"The Church," Ariz whispered.
"They came this morning. A Holy Knight… villagers thought it was unnatural. Your grandfather begged them to stop, but…" Torran couldn't finish.
Ariz stood.
The wind blew ash across his face, sticking to his skin.
"They burned him," Ariz said, voice flat.
Torran choked, "They thought you were inside, too. They wanted to kill the 'monster.'"
Silence fell again.
Then, Ariz laughed.
A short, bitter, broken sound. "A monster… That's what they called me?"
He looked up at the sky.
"I should thank them."
Torran blinked. "What…?"
"They gave me clarity." He turned to face the boy. "I was still holding back, thinking there was something in this world worth protecting. But this?" He gestured to the blackened ruins. "This is what kindness brings."
Torran stepped back, fear dawning on his face.
Ariz's voice dropped, cold and sharp like a blade. "Kindness is a lie. A mask humans wear to hide the filth underneath."
His eyes gleamed—not with sorrow, but with something worse.
Conviction.
"I tried to be good. I trained hard. I endured. I bled. And for what? To be hated? Feared? To have the only person who loved me burned alive?"
His voice rose.
"No more."
The warmth in him died with the man in that house. There would be no forgiveness. No redemption. No balance.
Only destruction.
"I will become what they fear. I will become the nightmare they thought I was."
"Ariz, please…" Torran's voice trembled. "You're not a monster."
Ariz walked past him, slowly.
"I am now."
Torran reached out to stop him.
Without turning, Ariz whispered, "You should run."
Torran froze, heart dropping into his stomach. He obeyed.
Ariz stood alone again, in the place he once called home. He raised his hand, and ash curled through his fingers like dust over a grave.
He smiled.
Not a smile of joy—but of acceptance.
This world had no place for the weak. No reward for the kind. Only power. Only fear.
And now, the world would learn to fear him.
Not as a hero. Not even as a man.
But as the villain it created.