The Catalyst of Power
Kazuki had been walking for days since leaving Aldoria, and the journey had been uneventful. His new appearance—ashen hair and regenerated arm and eye—was enough to make most people keep their distance, but he preferred it that way. He had no time for idle conversation or useless pleasantries. His destination was Florentia, but he had to pass through Malvora first.
As he reached the borders between the two territories, the endless walking began to weigh on him. His body, while enhanced with inhuman regeneration, still needed rest. Finding a large, ancient tree, Kazuki decided to take a break. He sat in its cool shade, the thick branches overhead providing a welcome escape from the relentless sun.
THUD! He dropped his gear beside him, resting his back against the rough bark. The wind rustled softly through the leaves, creating a calm, tranquil atmosphere. For the first time in days, Kazuki closed his eyes and let himself relax.
Four hours passed.
Kazuki opened his eyes and stared at the horizon, his body feeling refreshed. He hadn't planned on resting for so long, but it was fine. After gathering his things, he resumed his journey, his cold, emotionless expression back on his face.
As he continued walking, something caught his eye in the distance—a ruined house, standing alone in the vast, empty landscape. Curiosity sparked within him, though only briefly. Still, it was something to investigate. He approached the dilapidated structure, cautious but unconcerned. If anything posed a threat, he would simply crush it.
Upon entering the house, Kazuki found piles of dust-covered books scattered across the floor and shelves. Most were rotting, their pages yellowed with age, but one in particular stood out. It was bound in worn leather, the title faint but readable: Tale of the Hero from Another World.
He narrowed his eyes. Another world? Was it possible that someone like him had been summoned before? Intrigued, Kazuki picked up the book, tucking it under his arm. "Might as well read it during my next break. Could be useful."
Leaving the ruined house behind, he began walking again. As he journeyed on, he opened the book, flipping through its pages. The tale was somewhat familiar—the story of a hero summoned from another world to defeat a great evil.
"Keh... typical," he muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the text with disinterest.
But as he read more, his gaze darkened. The hero in the story was the fallen hero he had encountered before, the one whose slab had appeared after he defeated Ragnar. The revelation piqued his curiosity, and he began reading with more focus.
Hours passed as Kazuki walked, his eyes glued to the book. The more he read, the more disillusioned he became. "The hero, this so-called fallen hero, had been nothing special. In fact, the story painted him as weak, barely able to stand against the challenges thrown at him." Kazuki scoffed, snapping the book shut.
"What a joke. And here I thought I had gained something useful from that god."
He was about to toss the book into the dirt and leave it behind when a thought struck him. Wait... the last page. His instinct told him to check, so he flipped to the final page, expecting nothing of value.
What he found sent a chill through him.
The last page contained an important detail: when Kazuki had touched the book on the slab in the dungeon, he hadn't received any divine power at all. Instead, the book had simply unlocked his latent potential, boosting what was already there within him.
"What...?" Kazuki's voice was barely audible, but his eyes were wide with realization.
The pain he had felt, the rapid regeneration of his eye and arm—everything made sense now. It wasn't the power of the fallen god that had enhanced him; it was his own mutation. The book had merely accelerated the process, amplifying his potential to terrifying levels.
He recalled the moment when his hair turned white and his regeneration became unnaturally fast. It was all because of the orc's flesh he had consumed back in the hollow cave. The mutation had begun there, but the book on the slab had pushed it to its peak.
"So that's it... It wasn't a gift. It was just a catalyst."
Kazuki's lips curled into a cold, bitter smile. His regeneration now rivaled that of a mythical beast, but it came with a price. The wounds on his hands and fists remained, never fully healing, a constant reminder of the cost of his newfound strength.
THUD! He slammed the book shut and tossed it to the ground, the leather cover kicking up a cloud of dust. "Useless," he muttered, turning away from the discarded tome.
As he walked on, Kazuki's mind was a storm of thoughts. He hadn't been given anything by that god. His power was his own, born from the darkness inside him and the torment he had endured. The thought brought him no comfort, only a cold sense of inevitability.
The world was cruel, and so was he.
The wind picked up, whistling through the barren landscape as Kazuki continued his journey toward Florentia. His steps were steady, but there was a weight behind them now—a knowledge that he had only scratched the surface of what he was truly capable of.
In the distance, the border of Florentia loomed. His destination was close, but his path remained uncertain. Kazuki clenched his fists, feeling the sharp sting of his unhealed wounds. The pain was constant, but he welcomed it. It reminded him of what he had become, of what he had lost.
"I'll make them all pay," he whispered to himself, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Gods, heroes... it doesn't matter. I'll tear it all down."
With that, he continued onward, leaving behind the ruined house and the useless book, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The winds howled around him, as if in mourning for the fate of those who would cross his path.
And so, the journey continued.