Normal Life
—Rexdeus (Shoka)—
<The Dream begins>
What is a normal life? As an Anathema, or as a Hybrid born between a human and an Anathema, I do not understand the meaning of the word normal itself. I was born by tearing open my own mother's womb.
What is normal?
I do not know.
Those who witnessed my birth called me a seed of disaster. No matter how tame I was, no matter how desperately I tried to restrain the madness flowing through my blood, in the end they were still afraid of me. They hated me. They wanted me gone.
That was when I understood.
I was different.
Even though my mother was human, and even though a small portion of human blood flowed through me, in their eyes, I was a monster.
I came to one conclusion. If I lived among those who were the same as me, then surely I would be accepted.
So I searched for people like myself. Rejected again and again, driven away time after time, yet I kept walking forward.
Until one day, I heard rumors about them—the owners of cursed blood who lived within the Land of Death.
I went there. The journey was horrifying, nearly impossible, but I endured it. No matter how difficult the road became, I continued to struggle forward.
Because if I could just survive and reach them, then surely they would welcome me. I imagined a warm and safe life among them.
And yet...I was wrong.
When I finally found them, there was only rejection. My human blood made me an unwanted stain. Even they hated me.
I felt nothing.
Because I understood their reasons. After all, it was because of the color of my eyes and hair, which resembled those of their leader.
The mark of disgrace—The illegitimate child of the chief they worshipped.
It's alright.
As long as I kept moving forward, they would eventually give me a place among them. Surely, all of this would not be for nothing.
When I became the strongest, despite this flawed body of mine, they began to look at me differently. Excited by that change, I became even more reckless.
Dangerous missions. Severe injuries. Near-death experiences. None of it mattered. It was fine. To be acknowledged, I would surpass my limits.
Especially by him—My biological father.
The only bond I had.
After all, we bore the same curse. To live within death, and to die within eternity.
I was not alone.
Even if the world hated us. Even if they demanded that I control the madness in my blood—the same madness that could drive me to slaughter without mercy.
It was fine.
To suppress it, all I had to do was allow my own blood to tear my body apart from the inside. I no longer felt pain. My body would recover as though nothing had happened.
It was that simple.
Yet all of my efforts became meaningless when I was chosen to become the vessel of the Dark Sovereign during the True Anathema ceremony.
Was it a heavy burden? I had long since forgotten the meaning of that word. For someone who had been chosen as the vessel of calamity, it only made me different from my clan once again. Especially when they looked at me—I could feel their fear.
Could I refuse?
No.
It would have been pointless anyway. Strangely enough, I accepted it with ease and waited quietly in exile.
As the days passed, month after month, year after year, I waited for the moment I would finally be cast aside.
The foolish part was that I still hoped for something impossible. Without realizing that my father hated me deeply.
How could I have hoped that he would save me?
He knew I admired him. So he handed me a cup of poison, making it easier to get rid of me. And as the clan leader, he announced to the world that I had been cast out.
Not only had I become utterly alone, I no longer had a place to return to. With the entire clan hunting me down and seeking my destruction, where was I supposed to run?
That was where I learned the meaning of despair. The despair that accompanied every step of my life as it descended toward ruin.
But did it all end there? The answer was no.
Fate was not yet finished toying with someone who had already given up and surrendered.
It introduced me to another path. Something called a normal life.
And for the first time, I learned that I was not alone.There was someone who sincerely reached out a hand to me without asking for anything in return. Within the warmth of her small hand, I experienced a simple kind of happiness.
Every time I returned covered in wounds and blood, she was always the first person to run toward me.
She never asked what had happened. She never stepped back. She simply held my hand and said,
"Welcome home."
It was not the luxury of possessions or precious treasures. Not gold or silver, titles, status, or power.
Simply being with her was enough for me to find peace. From that little girl, I learned that another person's life could become more precious than my own.
She became my world.
Even when I was greedy, selfish, or a monster who sometimes hurt her, not once did she become angry, afraid, or disappointed in me.
Instead...
With a face filled with worry, she would always run toward me as fast as she could and pull me into her warm embrace. For a moment, my existence seemed to have meaning.
And so I began to fear many things. Most of all, I feared losing her. I knew I should have stopped all of this.
For her to be happy, I should have let her go. Because I had no future. I possessed nothing but despair.
But what did I do? I did the exact opposite. My actions were truly despicable. I took advantage of her sincerity and innocence so that we could continue living together.
As the days passed, I no longer felt like myself. More than once, I made her cry. More than once, I hurt her.
I knew it was time to end everything. But I did not want to. And I could not. I could not accept parting with the person I cherished and loved. Without ever realizing it, I was the poison itself—the poison that killed her.
For the first time, I understood the true meaning of cruelty. The price of that understanding was paid through a pain so unbearable that I was forced to learn it firsthand.
I cannot endure any of this...It hurts so much...It feels as though I am being torn apart into countless pieces.
Sword wounds and the agony of my own blood devouring me were nothing compared to this.
This pain is enough to shatter my sanity. Crying as I held her lifeless body in my arms, I desperately tried to stop the blood that continued to pour from her wound with both of my hands.
But her warmth was gone. There was no longer an embrace waiting to welcome me home. No longer the sound of hurried little breaths after running toward me.
My hands trembled.
For the first time...I was afraid to touch her. Because this time...She would not wake up.
And within my mind, that memory returned once more. Every time I came home with a broken body and blood that did not belong to me, she was always the first to run toward me. She never asked questions. She never hesitated. She would simply take my hand.
That small hand, warm and full of life.
-|"Welcome home."|-
Her voice.
Why can I no longer hear it?
Why won't her hand hold mine again?
Why are her little fingers still...cold...unable to answer me?
It felt as though my chest was being torn apart from the inside.
I called her name.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
But the world was too cruel to return even a single word from her to me. If only... If only she would run toward me again today...I would surely tell her—I would surely—
Yet the world was too cruel to return even a single word from her to me. If only... If only she would run toward me again today... I would surely tell her—I would surely—Nothing followed. Every word rotted away inside my throat. All that remained was her body in my arms and me, the monster who always came home...
This time...No longer had a home to return to.
WHY?!
WHY?! WHY!!! WHY!!! WHYYYYYYYYY!!!!
Even though I already knew the answer better than anyone.
Because I am the cursed creature who killed his own mother at birth. Because I was never meant to be anything other than a monster incapable of understanding feelings. Because I am the seed and source of calamity itself.
And because I am—
—THE LAST DARK SOVEREIGN—
