Tower of Karma
Vol. 1 - Prologue (1): Birth of the White Avenger

Caution:- Depiction of Cruelty and a hint of Canabalism

The Kingdom of Arcadia.

Meaning ‘Utopia’ in the ancient language, it remained true to its name, wielding considerable power among its neighbors.

It held a distinguished status as one of the monarchies constituting the seven kingdoms of the Laurentian continent. Adorned with a rich history and heritage, it stood as a paramount force, excelling in military prowess, and flourishing as an economic and cultural beacon.

Nestled in a corner of Arcus, the royal capital of Arcadia, existed a bleak and dismal area, a sharp contrast to the beautiful and well-kept streets that surrounded it.

The inhabitants were filthy, wearing the grime of hardship and the air hung heavy with a sense of stagnancy. Most of them were from the lower rungs of society, belonging to the slave class. They were devoid of their freedom, living in a neglected part of the city.

“Sister Arlette,” said a young boy, carrying a loaf of bread in his hand, “I got some bread from the church.”

“Oh, did you?” replied the elder sister, turning to him with a smile. “You didn’t forget to thank them properly, right? You’re such a good boy.”

“Of course,” he assured her. “And don’t call me that. I’m your knight, remember?”

“Yes, yes. Then let’s split the bread in half. My little knight.”

“Yeah!”

In this country, a strict class system prevailed.

The system could be roughly divided into the classes of nobles, commoners, and slaves, with the king reigning supreme.

The classes were fixed, and acquiring a different status came with a hefty price tag.

Whether it be a slave wanting to become a commoner, or a commoner wanting to become a noble, none of their wishes could be fulfilled unless a miracle happened.

“It’s delicious, sister,” he remarked, savoring the taste.

“Yes, yes,” she nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across her face. “It’s very delicious. We must thank the priest.”

The siblings, a brother and a sister, were slaves.

Born to a mother ensnared in a life of prostitution, they lost her shortly after the birth of the younger brother.

With their mother gone and their father unknown, the only semblance of family they possessed was each other.

“Sis, sis,” he exclaimed excitedly, “let’s buy an egg tomorrow. I saved up some money.”

“Okay,” she replied with a grin, “then let’s add my money as well and buy two.”

They finished their modest meal of moldy bread, hoping for a better tomorrow.

Just living was an uphill struggle. From dawn till dusk, they worked tirelessly, barely receiving a ration of bread, water, a thin soup, and sometimes an egg as a treat. Such was the life of the slave class.

“Now, now, let’s go to bed. We have to wake up early tomorrow.”

“Umm, then sing me a lullaby. Then I’ll sleep with sister.”

“Alright, fine.”

Even young children had to work if they were slaves. The notion that child labor was evil, was only for the privileged. The children of farmers helped with farm work, while children of merchants or craftsmen observed, experienced, and learned their parents’ trade. As for the children of slaves, they were just slaves, incorporated into society as the labor force.

Education was a privilege only for the upper classes.

“Sister, the lullaby!”

“Yes, yes.”

Putting out the short candle, the small family squeezed into the narrow, thin bed, hugging each other so that they wouldn’t fall off.

The thin cloth they used as a cover allowed even the slightest of chills to seep through, and the bed was too shabby to be called one. Still, the two were happy.

“Sister, you’re warm,” the boy said, snuggling close to his sister.

“Hush my dear, close your eyes,

In forgiveness, love softly lies.

Robbed or stolen, let it go,

In Mercy's arms, sweet dreams will grow.

Forgive, forgive, in the moonlit night,

A lullaby of grace, stars shining bright.

Sleep, my treasure, in love's gentle embrace,

The world forgives, find solace and grace.”

Enveloped by the soothing melody, the brother basked in his sister’s warmth.

“Si…ster,” he said, holding onto her tightly, as if to never let go. They were a lonely family of two, ones who couldn’t bear to be apart.

“Goodnight, Al. My little treasure,” the sister murmured, holding her brother close, as well. It was as if he were the most precious treasure. Enveloped in warmth and love, the little boy drifted into a doze.

Slaves were human as well, yet the world refused to acknowledge them as such.

༺༻

“Stop slacking off, you brats!”

The construction site echoed with shouts, as slaves toiled away as carriers. Children with lower prices were especially favored for such simple work.

The dangerous nature of the work didn’t matter much. After all, if they were injured or crushed, they could always be replaced.

“Hey, Al. How about meeting up at the usual spot for lunch break?”

“Sure thing. Let’s work hard until then, Kyle.”

Two young slaves exchanged a few words in passing as they continued their labor.

Any hint of slacking would earn them merciless whippings from their employers. To them, slaves weren’t human.

“Didn’t I tell you not to slack off?!”

Beside a child getting whipped, the boys carried stones as usual.

༺༻

“Man, I wish the next buyer would be a bit kinder to us.”

“These temporary places sure are tough. But if you’re owned by a rich old man, it’s probably… “that”, right?”

“Ah… I hate “that”. It makes my ass hurt just thinking about it.”

There were various types of slaves. Or rather, the work and role they did depended on who bought them. Al and Kyle were temporary laborers hired by a construction company.

“Would you rather be a personal helper?”

“That’s no good. Then I’d have to leave my sister.”

“There goes the siscon.”

“Shut up!”

Slaves had no right to choose their work. They were sold to a place and worked there as mere existences. Yet, the unpopularity of these construction sites—due to their dangerous work conditions—caused difficulties for the slave traders.

So, the slave traders provided ‘incentives’ to the slaves who chose to work in such sites, such as granting their demands and providing a higher degree of freedom.

Al had willingly asked the slave traders to sell him to these sites, all to avoid being separated from his sister.

“You’re different, though. You live with your family even though you’re a slave.”

Kyle was from a faraway country. Al didn’t know if he had any relatives in his already ruined country.

All he knew was that after his country lost the war, he was taken as a prisoner of war. He later became a slave and was bought by someone in Arcadia.

“Well, there are quite a few cases where whole families get bought.”

“You’re not one of the lucky ones… It must be brutal for you guys.”

“Well, yeah.”

“…I wasn’t talking about you,” said Kyle, looking away from Al.

Al tilted his head, his gaze drifting toward a different direction.

“She’s late, she should be here soon.”

Al glanced around anxiously, as if trying to catch a glimpse of someone. Yet, there was no sign of anyone.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Suddenly, a small stone, the size of a fingertip, struck Al's head, its impact more surprising than painful.

"Ow!" Al exclaimed, staggering back slightly.

And on top of the stone wall, stood their friend.

“Favela. You’re late.”

Favela peered down at them, their expression void of emotion, yet distinctly different from a stern demeanor.

At first glance, she appeared to be a dark-skinned boy, but upon closer inspection, one would realize she was actually a girl.

“Sorry. It took me some time to lose them,” she said, tossing two bright red fruits towards them.

“Oh, what’s that? Apples, sweet! Thanks for the snack!”

As they ate the apples with frantic speed, Favela joined them, eating her apple calmly and neatly, yet matching their pace.

The poor ate fast.

“Phew, that was refreshing. Thanks, Favela.” Al expressed his gratitude, receiving a silent nod in response.

Her movements were mechanical, yet they somehow grasped her subtleties. They may not have been together for that long, but they got along quite well.

“Being a thief is not easy, huh. We can eat apples like this, but I wonder if the risk is worth it.”

“It doesn’t matter. If I get caught, I’ll just die.”

“But that is a huge problem, though?”

Thievery was a severe crime. If she were to get caught, she wouldn’t just get away with compensation.

She would be beaten, kicked, and marked with the label of “Thief” on her identity card, something that would remain for as long as she lived. This would have a negative effect in various situations, and she would never be seen in a positive light ever again.

“Besides, I don’t make mistakes. I’m a pro.”

Favela was not a person of this country.

She was born in Arcadia, but her parents were from a clan of thieves from the Far East. They had entered the country illegally and given birth to Favela.

In other words, this country did not recognize Favela’s existence. She had no nationality or status. Therefore, Favela had no human rights. She didn’t even have the bare minimum that slaves had. Even if she were to be killed, it would be no different from killing a bug or a beast.

“Well, you’re a member of the Thieves Guild at this age, so you’re different from the other thieves.”

Hearing Al’s words, Favela silently puffed out her chest. She had immense pride in being an expert thief.

The Thieves Guild was one of the dark guilds in this country. It was a professional group that people who worked in the underworld could join if they gained a certain level of trust.

There were various benefits and advantages to joining, but at the same time, one also had to pay a considerable amount of tribute. Favela’s whole family belonged to the guild.

“Thanks to that, we can get apples like this.”

“Yummy!”

“Delicious.”

The children sat on the fence next to each other. This place, where one could see the beautiful scenery properly, was quite the hidden gem. So much that there were even occasional disputes over the spot.

“Mm, the view is amazing, it’s even more amazing when you eat an apple.”

“Yeah, you can even see the palace. Ah, I bet those people over there can eat as many apples as they want. And they can gulp down stew from barrels too.”

“No, you dummy. They don’t drink stew from barrels. Also, I don’t think it’s that great over there. I’d rather not be in that place. I prefer it here.”

“Really? I’d like to go there.”

Al’s gaze wandered to the grandeur of the palace and the beautiful districts surrounding it. Meanwhile, Kyle grumbled discontentedly, his mouth wide open as he chewed thoughtfully.

Occasionally, Al found himself casting envious glances towards the other side, his thoughts drifting to a recent illness that had left him teetering on the brink of death. His memories were hazy, probably due to the fever.

Kyle finished eating first and sat down on the cool ground, beneath the shade of the stone wall. Al and Favela soon followed suit, their stomachs full.

“I’ll give you your sister’s share later, after work. It’s for the flowers the other day.”

“For my sister too?! Thank you, Favela! You’re the best!”

Al smiled brightly, looking far happier than when he got his own share. Seeing his smile, Kyle couldn’t help but sigh whereas Favela remained expressionless, as usual.

“Man, your sister sure is beautiful.”

Kyle stared at Al and said,

“You two really look alike, man… you don’t look like a man at all,” said Kyle, his gaze fixed on Al.

Al frowned.

He had a slightly androgynous appearance and beautiful black hair, similar to his sister. He was skinny, but that was probably due to his poor diet. Al may have looked more feminine than Favela, but he was still a boy.

“Shut up. I’m going to protect my sister. I won’t let nasty bugs like you get near her!”

“Hah?! You have some nerve to call me a bug, you skinny runt!”

Kyle jumped on Al and mounted him in an instant, pulling his cheek. Seeing their childish behavior, Favela snorted for a moment, but no one noticed.

“So? What were you saying again? Who’s gonna protect who?”

“Pshud uf (shut up)! I fwav pshick (I was sick)!”

“Geez, you’re all talk.”

Kyle let go of Al’s cheeks, leaving Al with only a sulky expression.

“Huh?”

The sound of a bell echoed throughout the work site. It was the bell that signaled the end of the break and the start of their grueling hard work.

Kyle and Al got up with unhappy faces.

“Well, the fun is over. See you later, Favela.”

“You better hurry or you’ll get whipped. See you later.”

“Got it.”

Two of them went to the work site, and the other one vanished into the city. All that remained in that quiet back alley, far from the eyes of the crowd, were a few apple seeds.

༺༻

Al ran.

Clutching an apple and an egg to his chest, he hurried toward his beloved sister.

He couldn’t help but wonder what her reaction would be after seeing the apple. Would she be happy, glad, or perhaps a little angry? And then would she hug him? His thoughts overflowed, a smile tugging at his lips.

He saw his house.

It was a shabby house, a ragged hut full of gaps; but for Al, it was the happiest place in the world, the most precious place.

“Sister, I’m home!” Al called out, pushing open the door.

Inside, he saw his sister, her long, beautiful hair cascading like obsidian. That alone filled Al with immense joy.

“Today, I have an egg and, ta-da! Favela gave this to me. It’s an apple, an apple!”

Al eagerly awaited a response. His sister turned to him, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

“Welcome back, my cute knight.”

At the sight of her smile, Ai burst into happiness.

“Huh, today’s dinner is stew?”

Al looked at the food laid out on the table with a puzzled expression. He understood why there were two eggs, the bread was understandable as well, it was either from the church or because the flowers had sold well today. But the stew was not the usual thin stew; it was made with a lot of ingredients, something he had never eaten before.

“Today, the flowers sold really well, so I decided to make some stew. Mom made it for us once, and it was so delicious.”

Hearing Arlette’s words, Al felt relieved, but he still had a question in his mind. Why today?

‘It’s not like today is some anniversary or something. Oh well, it looks delicious.’

His stomach growled, and Arlette flashed a smile, urging him to dig in.

“Let’s eat!”

He eagerly ate his meal, savoring even the taste of the moldy bread, dipped in the stew. It tasted heavenly. Was it right to feel such delight, be so happy? An uncanny feeling mingled with his happiness.

“Is it good? Did I cook well?” Arlette asked, her voice brimming with anticipation.

Al nodded vigorously. Arlette’s wry smile only deepened his joy. Every single gesture of hers brought him happiness.

‘Oh, I’m so happy.’

Happiness was not a single thing. Even if he was poor, even if he was treated as a slave, as long as he was with his sister, he was happy.

His sister was enough.

He needed nothing else. Such was the depth of his love for his sister. And she too…

“Hey, Al?”

Loved him.

“What is it, sister?”

Al tilted his head, a dribble of stew spilling from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it off in a hurry.

“You know… Al, is your work hard?” She asked, all of a sudden.

Al shook his head.

“It’s not that hard. I don’t get whipped as much as I did at the previous place, and I don’t get beaten up for fun either.”

Arlette’s face clouded at Al’s response.

Al wasn’t lying. He genuinely believed it wasn’t a significant issue. To him, it was normal.

Children of his age in the city weren’t subjected to such harsh treatment. Even the rural kids didn’t face such injustice. They weren't subjected to beatings, kicks, and full-time labor for a meager wage. But for Al, it was the norm.

He only knew hell.

“Al, what if you were freed from slavery, and became a citizen? How would you feel?”

Al smiled bitterly at his sister’s question.

“That’s impossible. I don’t have the money to buy my freedom. I’d have to toil away all my life, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Especially for someone like me, a bottom-of-the-barrel slave who only works on-site. I can’t do it.”

He had given up from the start. And that, too, was normal. This country wasn’t designed for slaves to rise up. Even a child like Al understood this reality.

It was impossible.

“But, what if you were freed?” Arlette pressed on.

“Well… I’d want to be free. But, if we talk about that, the stew will get cold. It’s a special stew, after all.”

He chose to focus on the stew in front of him, instead of such impossible dreams. With a slurp, he resumed his meal.

Had he expressed his true feelings at the moment, saying I would stay with you until the end, the future might have taken a different course.

Whether it would have led to happiness or unhappiness,

‘As long as I’m with sister Arlette, I don’t care if I’m a slave or a citizen.’

He would know that at the end of his life.

༺༻

The following day, a noble family purchased Arlette. She was gone, leaving behind nothing but a large sum of money, an amount that could buy even his freedom.

Earlier, Arlette had been noticed at the market. Despite refusing several offers, she ultimately succumbed to the enormous sum of money that was piled up for her purchase.

It was all for Al’s sake, yet he couldn’t prevent it. His sister was taken away by a burly man right in front of him.

Yet, Al couldn’t find the words.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t abandon me.”

Al was left alone.

Freed from slavery, and with enough money to live for a while.

༺༻

“Hey, long time no see, Al the freed slave.”

Kyle and Favela stopped by Al’s house on their way back from work.

Al welcomed them with a somber expression.

“Still living in this shabby place, huh? At least, clean this mess up.” Kyle said, swiftly tidying up the place.

Favela, not particularly skilled in housework, remained still. Kyle, on the other hand, could handle anything to some extent.

“Here, Al.”

Favela tried to hand an apple to Al. As he reached out to take it, Kyle slapped his hand.

“Don’t; you can’t squeeze blood from a stone.”

“...But, I stole it.”

Kyle ignored her words and glared at Al.

“I’m not telling you to work. You’re not anyone’s property anymore, and your status is now one of a freed slave. You’re treated worse than citizens, but you’re done with the hard labor. I envy you, you bastard.”

Kyle grabbed Al by the collar.

“So how dare you look so dead? Why are you living just aimlessly? Who do you think you owe your freedom to? Huh? Who do you think sold their life to get money to buy that freedom of yours? That person took on the misfortune, so you have to be happy at least! You scum!”

Kyle’s shouts echoed in the small, ragged hut. Favela didn’t stop him.

“But, my sister is gone,” Al whined, and Kyle headbutted him, surprising even Favela.

“If you have time to complain, work! Work hard, earn money, and buy back Arlette. That’s how you repay her!”

Al widened his eyes. The thought of buying back his sister hadn't crossed his mind before. It felt too surreal, an impossible dream for a former slave.

“Though freed slaves have strict restrictions, they’re far closer to citizens than slaves. Their wages are incomparable to those of slaves. It’s not easy, but it’s not impossible. If you need it, I’ll help you too.”

“That’s right. What will you do without us, you scrawny knight?”

Al felt a wave of shame wash over him. He felt embarrassed to face these friends of his, who seemed to care more about him and his sister than he did himself. Thus, he felt a deep sense of gratitude.

“Thank you. I’ll work. I’ll work hard and buy back my sister,” a glimmer of determination sparked in Al’s eyes. Seeing that, Kyle reached out his hand to Al, who was lying on the ground, with a shy smile.

“Sorry, I went too far. But remember that you have someone to repay, so… don’t ever give up.”

Kyle was alone in the world, he didn’t even know if his family was alive or not. They were most likely dead.

Even if he wanted to repay someone, he could never. That’s why he was so strict with Al. His best friend still had a chance.

Unlike him.

“Yeah, thanks, buddy,” Al gripped Kyle’s hand firmly. Kyle pulled Al up with a “yosh”, feeling vigor in his previously lifeless hand.

“Thank you too, Favela.”

“Hmph. I’m your friend too, after all.”

Favela's face remained blank, yet not devoid of emotion. Al understood the sentiment behind that blank expression.

“Well then, buddy. How about you treat your tired friends to something after work?”

“I can, but there’s nothing worth eating here. I just have bread and water.”

“...I have some ingredients.”

Favela handed Al a bag, containing various random ingredients she had probably stolen. Al and Kyle looked at each other and laughed. Seeing this, Favela scowled at them with a silent yet slightly irritated gaze.

“Ha ha, sorry, Favela. Leave it to me, I’ll show off my skills and serve you two a delicious meal… I’ll just imitate my sister,” Al said, rolling up his sleeves. He stood in a place that was too poor to be called a kitchen as Kyle and Favela watched his back.

It was alright to fail. What mattered was that Al took action on his own. They were slaves, the lowest of the classes. They had the confidence to enjoy themselves, even if things didn’t turn out perfectly.

“Ugh.”

“It tastes… terrible.”

Al's first attempt at cooking was a disaster, with mismatched ingredients, it was something that even their tongues that could enjoy muddy water, couldn’t appreciate.

“Ha, haha. This is really shitty. Also, this fruit reeks.”

“But it was the most expensive one… that store was a scam.”

“To be called a scammer by a thief. Well, selling this stinky thing at such a high price is indeed a scam.”

“It was prickly, the skin hurt to peel, and the inside stinks. It’s just awful.”

The three of them made a ruckus around the table in the small house. The loneliness of being alone faded, and strangely, they felt energized.

There was a unique sense of harmony, one of friendship, different from that of family.

“Ha ha ha ha ha,” Al laughed cheerfully.

Perhaps, this heartfelt laugh would be the last, for the foreseeable future.

༺༻

On their way back from Al’s house, Kyle and Favela walked side by side.

“I’ll let you know, Kyle.”

“Huh, what’s the matter?”

They hardly talked to each other when they weren’t with Al. Especially Favela, it was rare for her to start a conversation.

“The nobleman who bought Arlette, Count Vlad… he is sketchy.”

“Sketchy? …hey, don’t tell me.”

“You should be prepared.”

Kyle tore at his hair, venting his frustration.

Arlette was his best friend’s sister and someone he admired. Her misfortune tore at his heart.

“There’s no way out, huh.”

The moon having been covered by clouds, a heavy curtain of darkness fell.

༺༻

Al worked energetically. Being illiterate and uneducated, the only jobs available to Al were physical labor and simple tasks. Although his wages did not rise by much, he now had a goal. And a person with goals is strong.

"I will definitely get Sister back!"

With this unwavering determination, Al was resolved to save money, even to extreme extents.

༺༻

A year had passed since that day.

One particular day, a man carrying a burlap sack stood in front of Al’s house. While harboring doubts about the man, Al decided to speak up.

"Excuse me. Do you have any business with me?"

The man looked at Al with a gaze akin to looking at vermin, something Al had experienced many times before.

"Hah! Here, take this, you filthy slave brat!"

Al angrily retorted as the burlap sack was thrown at him.

"I am not a slave anymore."

"Hmph. So you think you've become a human now? Listen, you lot will never be human. A slave remains a slave. Even freed slaves are no different from slaves, they are just not owned."

This opinion was not uncommon. Probably a majority of the citizens, if not all, in this country held the same view. Al was used to such insults, but they were never pleasant.

"...What is in this bag?"

Continuing the conversation would be futile. Al asked only what was necessary. The man, perhaps eager to leave this slum-like place, did not seem inclined to insult any further.

"The count broke too many toys, and while it's one thing in the territory, in this royal capital, it's troublesome to find a place to dispose of them. So I've come to return it to where it originally came from. What a hassle."

The word 'toy' strangely clung to Al's ears. The phrase ‘where it originally came from’ was also concerning.

"What do you mean?"

The man looked at Al with an annoyed expression.

"What do you mean, my ass? You're a dim-witted brat. I've come to return the toy that Count Vlad broke. Just dispose of it yourself, that's all."

With that, the man left the scene.

Left behind, Al hesitantly reached for the burlap sack.

His heart pounded like a rapid bell. He shouldn't touch it any further. He shouldn't get any closer.

Al had already realized what was inside. He knew, he shouldn't look. It wasn't something to be seen. He should have just disposed it without looking, he could have thrown it into a river, maybe It could be buried. That's what he should have done…

But Al opened the sack. And inside was—

"O-oh, ugh. Uorggh!"

Retch

He resisted for the first few moments. But the instant he comprehended ‘it,’ which had begun to emit a faint stench of decay, Al couldn't hold back and vomited everything in his stomach. Stomach acid burned his throat, the ground becoming a watery sea of vomit.

"A-a-a-a-a..."

His broken heart cried out in agony. He was driven by the urge to throw everything away and vanish from this place. Forget it, forget everything, and live a hopeful tomorrow. With Kyle and Favela; the three of them together.

After all, Sister Arlette was—

"Ah, that's right, brat... Hey, where did you go?!"

The man had returned for some reason. Al raised his hollow eyes.

"Here's the disposal fee for the broken 'toy.' Take it."

A silver coin was tossed in front of Al, his gaze still fixed on the man.

"Why, how come..."

Watching Al mutter, the man spat at him.

"There's no why or how come. It's the Count's right to do whatever he wants with what he bought. The Count bought it, the Count broke it. It's a hassle to dispose of it, so I'm even giving you a tip. What's there to be dissatisfied about? Money? Do you want even more? This is why I hate slaves. They're worse than horses or cows that don't ask for compensation. These pieces of trash."

After spewing out whatever he wanted, the man kicked the burlap sack. From it, a dismembered corpse tumbled out. Whether the limbs were removed for transport or before death, Al didn't know. He didn't want to know.

"Come to think of it, this woman was quite beautiful. What a waste. If she had been born a noble, she would have been pampered all over. Well, can't be helped, she was a slave after all."

Saying this, the man finally turned on his heel and left.

Left behind was only Al, standing in stunned silence. ‘If only she was born a noble,’ ‘if only she was not a slave,’ these two thoughts swirled around in his mind. ‘Slaves are not human,’ Al finally grasped its meaning. What he thought he knew before; what he had been turning his eyes away from—

"...I see."

Al understood it all.

"...So that's how it was."

Al had come to realize, what it meant to not be human.

"Ha, haha, hahahahahahaha!"

He laughed like a maniac. Al's heart had shattered, broken into pieces so small they could never be put back together. Rather, he increased his madness as if to shatter his own heart.

"We're not human, isn't that funny, sister? Look, I have red blood flowing in me too!"

Al clawed at his upper arm as if embracing it. His nails gouged the skin, and blood oozed out.

"We stand on two legs, we have both arms! Five fingers, two eyes. A nose, ears, a mouth, everything's the same, yet we're not human!!"

Al screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Tears of blood flowed, and white strands mixed into his jet-black hair. Hatred, anger, resignation, despair, various emotions swirled, creating a face of extreme agony. Al was broken. Perhaps his sister had become the same. Beyond human, turning into a beast—

"...That's not right."

But Al stopped himself at the last moment. It wouldn't do to become a beast. A beast might be able to destroy a person, but a beast couldn’t destroy human society. Becoming an outcast discarded by civilization would be useless.

"That would mean admitting I'm not human, right, yeah."

Al intuitively understood this.

"Yeah, I'm calm now. I am human, yeah. At least, we have to think of ourselves as such for it to mean anything. Right, sister?"

He embraced his sister, who had changed beyond recognition, as if nothing had changed.

"Sorry for throwing up earlier, sister. I was so happy to see you again, I just couldn't help it. Ahaha, it's funny, isn't it? Don't worry, sister, you're the most beautiful in the world."

Her limbs torn off, teeth broken, breasts severed, ears sliced, eyes gouged out, her face in the throes of death was the epitome of agony, and some time had passed since her death, enough for the stench of decay to begin to waft. But to Al, she looked beautiful. His most beautiful sister had returned.

"Welcome back, Sister Arlette. Let's go home. We have to be together; we can't do it alone. Together, we can surely—"

Al carried Arlette into the house.

He left the silver coin behind. He couldn't accept it. It was different from the money Arlette had earned with her resolve. The disposal fee for a toy. He couldn't degrade his sister to a toy for a mere silver coin.

"Are we really not human? Or are we human? I want to know. I need to know. So—"

Al closed the door. Inside, it was just him and his sister. The nostalgic family, alone in a hut. Walls full of gaps, a shabby dining table, and the narrow bed they always slept in together, where he gently laid his sister.

"Watch over me, sister."

And then Al slowly opened his mouth—

"From within me,"

Al bore his first karma.

༺༻

"Al?!"

Al's house was ablaze. The fire roared, easily engulfing the tiny shack, reducing all memories to ashes.

"Kyle? Don't shout like that."

As Kyle turned towards the source of the voice, he saw a seemingly unfamiliar man standing there. A beautiful boy with hair as white as chalk, shining in the flames, stood before him.

"Is that you, Al?"

Kyle asked timidly, to which the boy chuckled.

"Of course, it's me. You're acting strange, Kyle."

Kyle was trembling. He had a rough understanding of what had happened. Favela, who had been keeping tabs on Al’s sister, had gathered information through the guild's network about Count Vlad's vicious habit of killing slaves. A beautiful slave with black hair. His sister had died. Al's sister, undoubtedly his most beloved, yet—

"Oh, Favela’s here too. It's been a while. I have been busy recently, so I was lonely without you two."

Yet Al was terrifyingly normal. He was calm. No, not just calm; he was serenity itself. Without a single tremor, Al stood there.

"It's about time. I've been thinking of moving somewhere else. After all, I do have a fair amount of money."

He said that, as if to say that's why he set it on fire. Calm, yet unmistakably insane.

"I want to achieve my goals. For that, staying as I am won't suffice. I need more knowledge. More power. It's no good remaining a child. So, you see—"

Al looked at his own home, at the burning remains.

"I have to say goodbye. Isn't that right, sister?"

Al stroked his own belly, as if something were inside. Kyle watched this gesture in shock. Neither Kyle nor Favela could ask where he had put his sister's body. If it was as they imagined, it would be an abhorrent act.

"What is this goal you want to achieve...?"

Kyle squeezed out the question. Al responded with an innocent smile.

Al, with his white hair flowing, declared with the flames, his birthplace, his memories behind him.

"I want to rise to the very top. To find out if we are truly human!"

The flames blazed triumphantly. Kyle realized that the Al of old was dead. The kind little boy, with the same lush black hair as his sister, was dead. The Al standing here now was—

The White Avenger