The night air was sharp against the boy's face as he ran, his breath ragged, his muscles burning. The walls of Vash's fortress blurred past him, shadows twisting in the moonlight. He had escaped. He had his cloak. He was free.

  And yet, his feet slowed.

  His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but it wasn't just from exertion. It was something deeper, something clawing at his mind. His body begged him to flee, to disappear into the night, but his thoughts refused to let him go.

  More will come.

  Vash wasn't just a monster to him, he was a parasite, feeding on the desperation of others. How many others had been like him? How many had been taken in, used, discarded? If he left now, Vash would find another. And another.

  His fingers tightened around the edges of his cloak. He wasn't a hero. He had done horrible things in Vash's name. But if he walked away now, he would be no better than the man himself.

  The boy turned back.

  Vash stood in his chamber, frowning as he examined the cloak's patterns more closely. Before, he had dismissed them as mere decoration,intricate swirls, elegant shapes that shifted when the light hit them just right. But now, as his fingers traced them, something itched at the back of his mind.

  The markings were familiar.

  He pulled a book from his shelf, an ancient tome bound in dark leather. He flipped through the pages until he found it, a crude, hand-drawn sketch of a similar pattern. His breath caught in his throat.

  "This... this is the symbol of the God of Protection," he murmured. "But that god was slain... devoured by the those Godbutcher."

  His hands trembled slightly. The divine did not leave remnants behind. Their power either faded or was consumed. So how, how had this boy come to wield something that should not exist?

  Then, a sound.

  Footsteps. Steady. Approaching.

  Vash snapped the book shut and turned.

  The boy stood in the doorway.

  For the first time, Vash saw something different in the boy's eyes. Not just anger, not just defiance, something deeper. A presence that did not belong to a mere mortal. A weight in the air, thick and suffocating, pressing down like the wrath of a forgotten deity.

  "You should've run," Vash said, forcing a smirk. "You had your freedom."

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  The boy didn't answer. He took a slow step forward.

  Vash wasted no time. He thrust out his hand, fire bursting from his fingertips, a roaring inferno surging toward the boy. The flames licked at the edges of his cloak

  And then they vanished.

  No, not vanished. Absorbed.

  The fabric shimmered, drinking in the fire like water in dry soil. The patterns on the cloak pulsed, shifting, almost as if they were waking up.

  Vash clenched his jaw. Fine. Fire wouldn't work.

  He slammed his hands together, summoning a surge of wind so sharp it could carve through stone. The gust howled through the chamber, tearing through furniture, sending books and debris flying

  And yet, the boy walked forward, unharmed. The wind wrapped around him like a protective veil, bending to his presence instead of fighting him.

  Vash's smirk faltered.

  He stomped his foot on the ground, sending spikes of jagged earth erupting beneath the boy's feet. They shot up like spears, meant to impale, to tear, to end him

  But the moment they touched his cloak, they crumbled into dust.

  Panic prickled at the edges of Vash's mind. He reached for the water in the air, the moisture pooling from the humid night, twisting it into blades of ice, but as they shot forward, they melted before they could even touch him.

  Nothing was working.

  Vash took a step back.

  And for the first time in his life, he felt it.

  Fear.

  The boy didn't speak. He only continued walking, his presence growing heavier, more oppressive. The air around him shimmered, warping, reality bending to his will. His cloak billowed unnaturally, not moved by the wind, but by something else—something greater.

  Vash gritted his teeth. "You don't understand what you are," he spat. "That thing on your back, it's not just some weapon. It belonged to something beyond us. Do you even know what you're wielding?"

  The boy finally spoke.

  "I don't need to."

  He raised a hand, and Vash felt it, an invisible force tightening around his throat, lifting him off the ground. He kicked, struggled, gasped for air, but it was useless. The power that surrounded the boy was not magic, not something Vash could counter. This was divine. A fragment of a god long forgotten, now resting on the shoulders of a boy who should never have had it.

  Vash clawed at his throat, his vision darkening. His life flashed before his eyes, his rise, his empire, his control over so many. All of it, slipping away at the hands of a boy he had once controlled.

  No.

  He refused.

  With the last of his strength, he summoned every ounce of magic left in his body, channeling it into a desperate explosion. The force shattered the walls, the windows, sent shockwaves through the fortress itself.

  The boy was thrown back, releasing his grip.

  Vash collapsed to the floor, coughing, gasping. He tried to stand, but his limbs trembled. He looked up, his vision blurry, sweat dripping from his brow.

  The boy was still standing.

  His cloak moved on its own, the patterns glowing, alive. The very air around him thrummed with energy. He was no longer just some runaway mercenary.

  He was something else now. Something unstoppable.

  Vash's chest heaved. His body screamed for him to run. To flee, to disappear, to survive. But he knew there was nowhere left to go.

  The boy stepped closer, and Vash did something he never thought he would do.

  He begged.

  "Wait-"

  The boy's eyes burned.

  And then, everything went dark.

  The fortress was silent.

  The boy stood amidst the ruins, his cloak draped over his shoulders, its patterns still glowing faintly. He felt... lighter. As if a weight had been lifted from his soul.

  Vash was gone. His grip over others, his empire of manipulation, it was over.

  But the boy did not feel victorious. He did not smile.

  He simply turned and walked away.

  To be continued.