Chapter 1420 (1/2)

By the end of her story, Gertrude Collins could barely suppress the tremors in her body. Underneath her shirt, thick drops of sweat were trailing down her spine. The combination of using the Mana for the illusions and doing her best to imbue them with poignant images had completely depleted her Willpower. She was even a little bit dizzy.

As she let the final image fade, her smile was bitter. I can see why the Order Ducis insists that we train our bodies as well as working on the images… it’s not enough just to be able to conjure a clean image if you cannot wield it… Ooof, I need a chair...

Of course, she didn’t have the chance to sit down. The surrounding kids surged forward, bright-eyed and full of questions about the characters in the story. The bitterness in Gertrude’s expression vanished and she turned to each child in turn and tried to explain her own thoughts on the story. Secretly, Gertrude felt quite a bit of pride at their interest; to see the children so enthralled with a story that she had written herself was an amazing feeling. It was sufficient sustenance for her to endure her exhaustion. By the end of it, she probably had a little over two hundred kids of various ages gathered around to listen.

But as the groups of children started talking amongst themselves and conversations drifted into her ears, Gertrude’s eyes twitched.

“If I was the fire, I would have just stayed as a cold flame,” One girl insisted stubbornly. “So what if it made other people cold? I love the snow. Snowball fights are so much fun!”

“It was dumb to switch,” an older boy agreed. “Much better than being a fire made entirely of light like she ended up at the end. Even if the fire could then be with the candle without melting him as light, what’s the point of just being light?”

“My dad has light Skills and they are actually pretty powerful. Light can be cool.” A chubby boy cut into the conversation. But this action of speaking just seemed to draw a target on the boy’s back.

“Oh shut up, orphan.”

“We know he’s not your real dad.”

“Don’t try and act cool just cause you got lucky who adopted you.”

The boy in question reddened and looked toward the ground. There was a young girl with red pigtails next to Gertrude that was asking her a question, but most of Gertrude’s attention was focused out of the corner of her eye on that particular interaction amongst the kids. Her heart ached. They can’t just be let to run wild like this… for all of the good in Kharon, it doesn’t understand the travesty that is happening underneath its nose.

So many of them orphans. Maybe even most of them. Yet there is a part of them that hates themselves for that...

If they don’t step in, these children are going to develop into gangs. There are already rival factions that fight against each other. It’s all play fighting now, but as soon as one person gets seriously injured… this could escalate into something dangerous. Why would the Order Ducis allow this…?

After balling his hands into fists, the boy that was ridiculed for being an orphan turned around and fled from the crowd of children. With the laughter of his peers at his back, he pushed his way out of the gathering. Some part of Gertrude wished she could help him, but another part of her knew that a teacher’s comfort was exactly not what the kid needed now. Plus she had come to this park to instill the spark of curiosity by showing them images. To address all the internal problems-

Yet as she saw him run, all she could think about was Tim Moss, and when she had previously failed as a teacher-

Gertrude Collins blinked. Because as that sad child charged out of the group, he ran directly into a man that rather suddenly appeared in his path.

With his lowered eyes that were probably tight with tears, he wasn’t paying attention at all; he bounced off the man and fell on his butt. With a trembling lip, he looked upward. The man became the center of everyone’s attention and the surrounding laughter died as was though he had come and devoured it. The man squatted down in front of the kid and smiled at him. “What’s your name?”

For a second the kid was silent. Everyone was silent. Because rather than the kid’s name, everyone in the surrounding area was thinking of the name of the man crouching down and smiling in front of them. They stood transfixed, held captive by the force contained in that simple question. Someone, everyone knew that it wasn’t their place to speak when they were not the subject of that man’s attention.

But finally, something in the child’s chest stirred him to move. This time, he had been chosen. “...My name is Paine.”

“Nice to meet you, Paine,” Randidly Ghosthound said softly. But even if his voice was pitched low, the surrounding children all heard him. Even Gertrude could barely pull her eyes away from him as he crouched there in front of young Paine. There was something about him that seized attention. He offered a hand to Pane. “And it doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from. You are here now. And therefore a citizen of Kharon. And that means that you get to decide who and what you are… and who your family is.

“Kharon is the place for bold choices. That’s why I made it so the city could move. Don’t let anyone tell you what you are or aren’t.”

Then the Ghosthound stood. He was taller, taller than Gertrude had been expecting, and covered with wiry muscle. His metallic left arm moved as naturally as though it was flesh as he turned to regard the surrounding children. His black hair was unruly across his head, a testament to his wild nature. His eyes were a bright emerald color that was captivating yet somehow chilling as his gaze swept the surrounding area. “Toward your fellow citizens… you should always have respect for their choices. Have I made myself clear?”

The children all nodded as one. Gertrude even heard someone gulp audibly.

Then the Ghosthound spread his hands wide. Above his two palms, different images flickered to life. There was a brief scene of light filtering through heavy emerald leaves, then there was an image of light turning milky and swirling around a dark marble. Then there was a chilling dawn rising over a wasteland, its rays both a relief and a curse to the creatures that had been struggling to hide in the darkness.

Gertrude’s skin tingled as the image seeped into her body. The image was so powerful that she even felt like she could smell the dust of that wasteland. It left her in awe. True, she had exhausted herself for weeks to improve her images to the point where she could just barely pass the Order Ducis’ tests, but that was nothing compared to this. Her skin was warmed by those rays of light. This was Randidly Ghosthound. This was why he was the most powerful man in the world.