Chapter 2: The Wingless Crow

Nemerus Balmung.

Proud lion of darkness, envoy of Death, extinguisher of Light and many other monikers, this man of great renown had it all.

The founder of our family, this same Nemerus Balmung was a man whose legend defied all understanding. Especially when considering his more than unimpressive origins.

He was born to a no-name father and a no-name mother. In a world like ours, this simple fact would have been enough to forever prevent him from reaching prominence. Still, his talent couldn’t be contained and soon enough everyone had to acknowledge him.

It wasn’t all easy, though.

The first thing he saw should have been his last. His obsidian pupils reflecting the angry eyes of his crazed mother. Her partner and the father of her child had left her without a word and had never looked back.

The news of her pregnancy — that was supposed to deepen their relationship — had axed it. And the only remaining traces of that relationship were boundless anger.

That, and that “thing” in her womb.

For her first child, that should have received love and care, the only feelings she could muster were abhorrence. This is why, as soon as he took his first breath, it had already been decided that it would be his last.

The mother had isolated herself in a shed, in the forest of Nightmares; a place far removed from any village due to its proximity to the Crossroads of Blood. A forbidden area at the junction of the territory between humans and non-humans.

Right next to her was a basin filled with water...

Her sinister plan would have succeeded if it wasn’t for the ruckus she made during labor and the lively cries of the babies having been heard by a wandering adventurer.

The adventurer traumatized by the gruesome death of his companions by the Three-eyed clan was thinking of ending it all. He himself wasn’t in good shape and had only escaped by a hairbreadth.

So it’s at first to prevent lives from being lost, a final good act before ascending, that he ran to the shed in a hurry.

When he saw her, though, his face warped in disgust and anger.

[…]

Long story short, he dragged her to the nearest town, making sure that the baby was well-fed, and gave her to the authorities along with the testimony of what he had seen.

That adventurer adopted the toddler, and the mother was executed for attempted infanticide.

Fast forward a few years, and this Nemerus had now grown to be a fresh and pretty young man. Perfectly suited to face the age of turmoil and conquest — The Great Expansion.

Having learned the sword from his “father”, and being more than decent at it, he could easily defend himself. His mana control was relatively poor since his father was not a mage and thus could only teach him the very basics — things like mana reinforcement and sword armament.

Even so, coupled with his precise swordsmanship, no one among the recruits was his match.

A genius, so to say.

He only went from genius to genuine monster when his innate talent for magic exploded as he was fighting for dear life and his affinity with darkness manifested itself. Nemerus had never formally been formed to become a mage, and thus everything he used was learned and inferred on the spot from the crumbs his benefactor had fed him. He quickly made a name for himself on the battlefield and became called the Wing of Death, so named after the unique darkness skill he had manifested to fly through the battlefield and bring death to his enemies.

Becoming the first generation of what would later be called “Magic Swordsmen.”

His prowess was such that he flew through the ranks quite literally from mere foot soldier to respected honorary general in the span of a few campaigns. Officially, he didn’t have any real decisional power, after all, he wasn’t a strategist; but his status as an ace in the hole and a headpiece to motivate the troops still gave him untold powers.

A few years later, after toiling hard and having made his name heard throughout the continent, the emperor Bavaroth rewarded his outstanding accomplishments. This man of illustrious heritage requested for him to become his escort and envoy. This is where he obtained that name: Balmung.

He was then known by many names; no matter how he was called, the consensus was that he was the strongest amongst the humans, and with him as a member of the Avdarth empire and envoy of the king. The empire was able to grow and become unrivaled on the continent of Grimslark. During conquest missions, the strongest fortified cities would open their doors and capitulate as they heard of his arrival. It was fair to say that his rise to power by itself put an end to the age of warring and conquests among humans, and that his existence was the main reason why the human empire became a unified front against the non-humans.

He then married into the royal family, became a noble and from him originated the strongest of the strongest families, the Balmungs.

Our family grew quickly to become powerful.

All from one man of low birth.

Blood ties, and power lead to the relations between the royal family and the Balmungs becoming tighter, being almost inseparable. The Swords of the emperor and the Children of darkness. These were the two names given to us.

This man easily the most influential figure in the history of this continent, a man whose existence explained the current position of the empire, was my ancestor, and his glorious blood ran through my veins.

Having such a man as my ancestor, everything should have been but formalities. right?

For me a proud descendant of the Balmungs, luxury, opulence, and success should have been a given... right?

[…]

I knew I was different at 5 years old. My dad with his obsidian mane, contrasting with his pale face and his usual dazzling smile looked at me in horror. He then looked at the evaluator and broke into a nervous laugh.

“Haha, I laughed, now stop your jokes,” He said disconcerted.

My mother a beautiful lady with a soothing face and a voice like a skylark was holding me tightly in her arms, caressing my head and telling me it was going to be okay. Even that young, I could read the mood and I felt a crawling pain in my stomach as I realized something was wrong with me.

My anxiety started rising mirroring my father’s.

“D- Duke Nathanael, I wouldn’t dare play pranks on you—” The inspector carefully said.

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His white robe trembled along with him, as droplets of sweat escaped from his face down his cheeks.

It was clear the aura that my father exuded took a toll on him.

“The results of this test can’t be faked, and these are the most sensitive Energy Balls I have”

This man was a favored servant of the emperor. While he didn’t have any decisional power, and his power in the empire was basically inexistent, his presence here was proof of the emperor giving us face. After all, being confidants of the emperor, it was clear nothing would be spared to please us.

It also went without saying that our family —having a reputation of giving birth to powerful mages and warriors throughout the ages— the news of me having no sensible energy at this age was taken extremely seriously, so there would be no way they would come all the way from the capital to lie.

So it was obvious that, that this energy reading device was real and functioning correctly. However, to take no chances my father requested another ball.

“This can’t be possible”

And then another.

“Hahaha, Bring another one”

And then another...

“By the gods, this doesn’t make sense!”

As I touched the ball, no light congealed and the transparent ball remained clear.

Every new ball, my desire for there to have been a mistake and for the next ball to solve the misunderstanding increased.

And every failure made my heart sink deeper and deeper in my chest, as this crawling pain in my stomach intensified.

“Your son... as surprising as that is, doesn’t possess even an ounce of magic energy.” The evaluator foolishly chanced, “He seems to be a genuine broken ves-“

“SHUT IT!” My father yelled.

The inspector swallowed his words, and instantly regretted opening his mouth as the pressure he felt coming from father increased.

In a low and furious rumble.

Vases that were standing on nearby tables shook and crumbled as if broken from inside while expensive art pieces that were hung on the wall fell with resounding uproar. The tables supporting them didn’t fare better, as they too crumbled to the ground. The glass balls on the table shattered sending shrapnels of glass throughout the room, one narrowly missing the left eye of the evaluator to instead cut his ear. As the pressure rose, the room became darker and darker, darker and darker.

Dark like a night without stars.

My father seemed deep in thought, his eyes closed, head hanging low and hands behind his back. One could see a purplish fluorescent smoke coming out of his head as if proving how complex his thoughts were, and maybe how furious and confused he was.

A low and furious rumble.

The pressure rose and rose until it suddenly disappeared. The suffocating pressure that was making all of us uncomfortable disappeared without a trace.

Silence.

A few seconds passed. The energy was gone, but the tension was so thick no one dared to move.

Soon, he broke the silence and said to the inspector, “I see...”

My heart dropped.

I could feel from his words, even as a kid, that my father was giving up on me.

And as I tried my best to rein in my tears as droplets were already starting to form in the corner of my eyes.

He said to the inspector, “Pack your stuff... make sure to come see me before you leave”

He then looked at me; eyes filled with both concern, disgust, guilt, and a smile that showed he was trying his best not to show it.

He then looked beyond me at the swelled belly of my mother and left the room silently.

The guest room now resembled a battlefield. Broken fine pottery scattered on the ground. Wood chips and torn canvas littered it too. Broken crystals scattered across the room. It was clear, that I wouldn’t have been unscathed if it wasn’t for mother exerting her own aura.

I couldn’t contain myself; tears and emotions overflowed as everything came to a term. the inspector could only look at me with disdain a stream of blood falling from his mouth and from his left ear before he went to gather his tools and prepared to leave.

At this moment, the only one who still looked at me with eyes full of warmth, with eyes filled with concern and affection, with the eyes one would use to look at a fellow human, was my mother.

She then lied,

“Everything is going to be okay...”

Tears streamed profusely.

From this day onward, everything changed.

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