Reawakening: Primordial Dragon with Limitless Mana
Chapter 45: Past(2)

Chapter 45: Past(2)

Eighteen years ago, Quintessa and Trevon had just arrived in town. Her husband had recently been granted the noble rank of Count, and they were still basking in the warmth of their new life together.

Newly married, the two often went on dates—not grand or elaborate, just strolls through the marketplace, trying out random street food, laughing at small things. Simple moments, but precious all the same. It was the time spent together that mattered.

One such evening, as the sun dipped below the rooftops, casting the sky in hues of orange and gold, Quintessa tugged on Trevon’s arm.

"Can we visit the church today?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "The church? It’s quite far from here."

Still, seeing the spark in her eyes, he gave in with a soft smile. And so, they walked.

Quintessa talked most of the way. Trevon mostly listened, chiming in here and there with short replies. But she didn’t mind. She never did. His quiet presence was enough for her, and even the long walk didn’t feel tiring.

But fate had plans for them that night.

Just as they reached the church’s grand wooden doors, someone burst out from within—bloodied, panicked, stumbling.

It was the head priest.

Alarmed, the couple rushed to his side. Trevon steadied him, while Quintessa asked, "What happened?"

The priest, pale and trembling, answered, "Yesterday... someone left a child at the doorstep."

"A child?" Quintessa echoed, confused.

The priest’s eyes flicked toward the back of the church. "Come with me," he said, voice tight.

They followed him, and what they saw would remain carved in their memories forever.

The grassy clearing behind the church was soaked in blood. The bodies of several cattle lay scattered—half-eaten, grotesquely torn apart. The stench of death clung to the air.

And at the center of it all, lay a baby. Covered in blood and gore. Sleeping peacefully, as if none of it had happened.

Quintessa gasped, covering her mouth. Trevon froze, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"He’s a demon..." the priest whispered, his voice filled with more fear than faith.

It was shocking to hear those words from someone whose duty was to show compassion to all beings. But the priest had reason to be wary.

"When I tried to stop him," he said, lifting his arm, "he tore this from me."

A deep, jagged wound ran across his forearm—flesh torn away in a savage bite. Blood still oozed from beneath the bandages. Quintessa, the only one with medical knowledge nearby, quickly treated him.

At the time, most of the other priests had left to visit their hometowns. Only three people knew of the child’s existence: the priest, Trevon, and Quintessa.

A child, barely a few weeks old, who had devoured six cattle and radiated a dark, choking miasma. His skin bore a faint red hue, and just being near him made others instinctively step back.

The priest looked to the Count, his expression grim.

"The decision is yours, my lord. Whatever you choose... will be the child’s fate."

Trevon stood in silence for a moment. Then, his eyes narrowed with resolve.

He had already made up his mind.

This creature—whatever it was—would grow into something far more dangerous.

He had to kill the child.

Trevon had decided to do the deed in the graveyard.

But fate, once again, had other plans.

Just as they left the church with the child in his arms, the town was suddenly thrown into chaos. An infamous group of assailants launched a full-scale attack—targeting none other than the newly appointed Count.

Trevon had rejected their offer for cooperation weeks ago. And now, they were here for blood.

He knew instantly—he couldn’t let Quintessa be caught in this.

They had surrounded the town, cutting off every path of retreat. If he was going to fight, she needed to hide.

He turned to her with urgency in his eyes, pressing the child into her arms.

"You have to do it, Quin," he said firmly. "You’re brave. I know you can."

They had trained under the same swordmaster. He trusted her strength, her resolve. Even if the child held demonic powers, he believed she could do what needed to be done.

That was the first time she held the baby in her arms.

He was warm.

She still remembered that moment—his tiny face close to hers, the soft breath that tickled her skin, the faint movements of his closed eyes as he slept peacefully. As if unaware of the chaos he had caused.

Following Trevon’s instructions, Quintessa hid in the church’s underground storage room—concealed behind overgrown bushes and old stone walls. It had enough supplies to last a few weeks. Enough time to let the chaos outside pass.

And time enough to do what she was told.

She was supposed to kill him there.

To end the life of a creature that had already taken so much without even understanding what life was.

Anyone would have agreed with Trevon. The child needed to disappear before he became something worse.

But...

"You didn’t kill me," Hades said softly, looking at his mother.

Quintessa’s eyes dropped to the ground, her voice low and heavy.

"I tried... On the second day, when you started stirring in your sleep—I tried to pick up the knife."

She paused, drawing a long breath as old memories crashed back in.

"But just as I raised my hand, I felt something."

Her fingers trembled as she remembered. "Your tiny fingers had wrapped around mine. So small... but they were gripping me. As if begging me... not to do it. To give you a chance."

She looked up at him then, eyes red with years of unspoken guilt.

"How could I pick up the knife after that?" she whispered.

"How could I have killed you?"

Hades’s throat felt tight as he stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his mother.

Quintessa leaned her head against his chest—and then, finally, the tears came. Quiet, broken sobs that she had held back for far too long.

And as she wept, Hades understood.

He understood why the Count had always looked at him with cold eyes. It wasn’t because Hades wasn’t his real son.

It was because Trevon had known the truth.

That Hades wasn’t human.

He was a demon—something that should have never been allowed to live.

Yet, Trevon didn’t strike him down. He let that monstrous child grow under his roof, beside his own wife.

Not out of kindness. But out of love—for Quintessa.

Rather than resentment, Hades felt something else stir in his chest.

Gratitude.

The man could have ended his life back then. And had every reason to do so.

Instead, he chose restraint.

And his mother... there was no word big enough to describe what she had done.

She had seen the child drenched in miasma and blood. She had known what he was. And yet... she chose to save him.

Because of that decision, he was here.

Alive. Breathing. Hugging the woman who once cradled a blade over his heart.

In a voice no louder than a breath, Hades whispered,

"I will never forget what you did for me, Mother... Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance."

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A/N:- I made a few changes in this Chapter...to not make it too dark. Well, thanks for reading.