Chương 2: The Road to Past Life

While the battered survivors of Rhertia limped toward Samae beneath a sky heavy with unspoken grief, the fires of war continued to rage across Bener's borders. News of the great clash at the Danubius traveled faster than our weary column, carried by swift riders and carrier birds. Simultaneous Reports from the Fronts: • South Flank — Robert Vogel and Battalion I achieved victory with almost no resistance. Losses: 7%. Enemy losses: 89%.

• North Flank — Erderich Finkel and Battalion II crushed their opposition with ease. Losses: 9%. Enemy losses: 78%. • River South Border — Franz Heuerling and Battalion III fought a brutal engagement. Losses: 27%. Enemy losses: 97%. • River North Border — Gero Brandung and Battalion IV held the line at great cost. Losses: 19%. Enemy losses: 93%. The most shocking report came from the main assault force: • Battalion Spezial Wolke/Beast — Total annihilation. Losses: 100%.

Bener's estimated enemy casualties in that sector: 70%. In the grand war halls of Metia, Lord Heinrich Himmel received the news like a thunderbolt to the chest. His face twisted with fury as he learned that both Reggente Wolke and Domestico Riegen, the two commanders he had personally charged with destroying Rhertia's economy and crippling Bener's ability to hire more mercenaries, had been utterly wiped out along with their entire elite force.

Himmel slammed his fist onto the massive map table, scattering markers everywhere.

"One entire army… gone!" he roared, his voice echoing through the stone chamber. Yet even in his rage, he praised the other battalions for their superb offensive.

"Lay waste to every field, every mine, every village before you march deeper into Bener. Cut their resource lines and nutrient lifelines until their backbone is broken and their people starve!" Then his voice dropped to a dangerous, icy whisper.

"Bring back my strongest weapon from the eastern campaign. Form Battalion Zero. They will march on Samae themselves." The officers in the chamber shivered visibly. They knew exactly who that "weapon" was, a young and unpredictable figure many had prayed would never return to Metia. Whispers spread like poison: "That weirdo again…"

"After what he did during the rebellion… killing Sebastian Himmel the Usurper in one swift stroke… because of boredom." In uneasy unity, they sighed, knowing the storm they were about to unleash once more. Back on our side of the story, Father and I sat together in a temporary tent pitched outside the walls of Samae. Exodus folk like us were not permitted to live inside the fortress proper, so we camped on the cold ground like outsiders even after victory. The fire crackled softly between us.

I sat on a makeshift bed of straw and wheat sacks, my small hands trembling with exhaustion and curiosity. Finally, I could hold it in no longer.

"Father," I asked eagerly, my dark red hair still dusty from the journey, "it is time. Please tell me about your Vestuto… and about Mother. I want to know everything. Can you please explain it?" Sacrume looked at me for a long moment, his light reddish hair glowing faintly in the firelight. He nodded slowly, his pale face serious.

"Yes, my son. It is time. The age of peace and safety is over. You must know the truth." He leaned forward and began his tale with a voice heavy with memories.

"My story begins thirty-nine years ago in the so-called Holy State of Latiume. It was neither holy nor the shining spark of the Imperium where the greatest Kaiser sits on the biggest throne for the people to watch over them. No… I saw the darkness the holy Imperium tries to brush behind its Glory Capital Remoria, as if only that shine mattered and the rest was dirt to it. I grew up in the slums of Aequiculi, a smaller and filthier city than the golden Remoria. My so-called father was a soldier of the high state.

I never knew him or even met the man. My mother was a Proseda, one who entertains adults for coin. From birth, I slept in a shed with the swine. My mother had hoped to be with my birth father after telling him she carried me. He was not fond of the idea. He paid her to disappear from the illustrious city of opportunity. I was a baby, so I remember little until we reached Aequiculi. Mother hated me, yet she still fed me. To this day I do not fully understand why.

Perhaps a small spark of motherhood remained in her broken soul, and that alone kept me alive. That did not stop her from punching me every time she came to the shed. She had so many guests that she ignored her only child. When I turned six, the real hell began. I played in the slums with hoodlums, punching each other in corners for a few copper coins. I had no supervising mother or loving family member, but I wanted to make money even at that young age so I could surprise her and finally earn her smile.

"It was the 18th of August, Year 987. I came home with a copper ring I had won and wanted to give to Mother so she would smile at me once and validate my existence. I opened the door… and there she stood, happy to see me for the first time, smiling with a devious grin. Slave merchants grabbed me. Mother waved goodbye with 28 gold coins in her hands. She had sold me so she could move forward in her ambitions.

"I was not a good house slave. After six months of being traded from slaver to slaver, I was tossed into the Arena Grande to become a Secutores, a battle slave for entertainment, for only 50 silver per battle. There I thrived. I learned quickly thanks to my past experiences. I won 26 bouts out of 26. My mentor was one of the six champions of the Grandurium Pillars, Scorpi Affermi, a strong and wise man who carried a real legacy of 62 wins out of 65 battles. I still miss him and hope to see him again one day."

Father's eyes grew teary as he spoke.

"After the 26th bout, I could not stand it anymore. The crazed cheers of the audience that I once adored now filled me with total hatred. I had lost someone very dear to me in that fight, a true battle brother. The operators thought it would make the arena explode with excitement, and it did for them. But they told me afterward that they would not let me go free. I needed more bouts… more fights… the coin that they earned was too much to let me go."

He exposed the old slave mark burned into his right shoulder blade. The design of the slave crest was burned deeply into the skin, a permanent stigma visible whenever the bearer was shirtless. It consisted of a magnificent golden sword branded into the flesh, rendered in a stylized gladius design. The sword was straight and double-edged, with an elegant detailed cross guard and pommel. The blade itself shimmered in metallic gold, standing out vividly against the skin.

Across the center of the golden sword, the word "SALVO" was burned in bold, harsh capital letters, meaning "healthy."" Una volta schiavo, sempre schiavo, finché la morte non ci separera".... i did not understood the Language he just spoke, so he explained its meaning: "Once a slave, always a slave until death parts us." So I ran the very same day after my victory, vowing never to return and declaring myself a free man after all those years of entertainment they had received from me.

"On the run, I had received much needed support from your mother. Without her, I would not be here with you, nor would she have had you. And before you ask about Vestuto, this is what Signore Affermi told me: Vestuto is like the clothes you wear over your body. Everyone can wear them, but not everyone will. It is about having a great spirit level within oneself. It is a hard process. Some receive it through bloodline, some through dangerous expeditions or battles, some even through deep meditation of the mind.

But most achieve it only through the harshest training imaginable." I listened in silence, my heart aching for the boy my father once was. I understood now why his life had been so harsh, with so little love or happiness. In that moment, I swore silently to be more obedient and to make his burden lighter. Father saw the determination in my eyes and smiled.

"It is good that you want to listen, because what I am going to ask of you is of the highest importance to me, and it will make me very happy."I nodded eagerly, accepting before I even knew what he would say. Father pulled me into a tight hug.

"I want you to go to the mining fields in Hagea, south of the capital. You are a talented miner. Use your potential to help the people of this country the best way you can. Before you think of changing your mind and staying with me… I cannot have you here, son. You are not strong enough... yet for the war that is already ravaging the land. You need to do your job well and grow stronger. We will see each other again after all this is over. I promise you that."

Even though I had sworn to be obedient, part of me desperately wanted to stay and train together. But I nodded, fighting back tears.

"I will do it well," I said, looking into his eyes with passion.

"You will see. I am going to train hard too, so you have to train me… Master!" Both of us erupted into laughter. Father grinned.

"Don't get too full of yourself. Though once this is over, I think I can finally take a student suited for the spot." He sighed.

"But I just don't see anyone worthy… except my son." We spent our last day together in that tent, knowing that tomorrow we would separate. The thought hurt both of us deeply. The next morning, I climbed into the merchant cart heading for the mountains of Hagea. Father stood tall, arm raised high, and shouted with all his strength: "Son! I can't wait for our reunion! Until then, get stronger, my son!"

"Father!" I called back happily, my voice cracking with emotion.

"You will see. A man you can be proud of!" After the emotional farewell, Sacrume walked into the city hall of Samae to meet Ventrix, who had healed quickly and returned to his former strength, to enlist as an Exodus soldier and help fight off the invaders. Days passed on the road. I befriended another boy named Quadi, who also dreamed of helping his country. While the caravan rolled through peaceful, lush countryside, we played and tussled to keep ourselves occupied.

The journey to Hagea would take roughly eleven days. Eleven days later, we arrived at the mining camp. Other wagons joined us, forming a large caravan. At least two hundred new members had reached Hagea. As we climbed out, an older miner climbed onto one of the carts and bellowed: "ATTENTION MINERS! NAME'S QUASE! YOU ARE HERE TO WORK AND THE WORK STARTS NOW! GET YOUR PICKAXE FROM THE BARREL AT THE CAVE ENTRANCE AND YOUR HAMMER! WE HAVE A HEAVY QUOTA TO FILL!"

I grabbed my bag and sprinted toward the cave entrance with an enthusiastic cry: "Yuhuuuuu!" Quadi laughed and ran right behind me. I chose the harder bypass line near the entry. Quadi said he would compete with me on rare finds. And so my new life in the mines of Hagea began, with fire in my heart, a pickaxe in my hands, and the promise to my father echoing in my soul.