Three months had passed since Caelan rescued Seraphina Corvus, the girl fated to become a machine of human extermination in ten years’ time. He had spent those months diligently, and his efforts had paid off: he had located the second of the Sins. Now, a month after that success, Caelan was in his study as Gareth delivered a report. “As you instructed, my lord, I rescued the child from the illegal slave market. He has been sent to the orphanage under Seraphina’s care.” “And you treated him well? As I instructed?” “Yes.” “No trouble on the way?” “None whatsoever.” Accustomed to Gareth’s concise reports after nearly half a year of service, Caelan gave a satisfied nod. But Gareth lingered, shifting his weight. “…My lord, may I ask you something?” “What is it?” “Why did you send the child you took such pains to acquire to an orphanage? I hesitate to say so, but this child, like the last, possesses an extraordinary talent.” Caelan understood immediately. He nodded thoughtfully. Not just extraordinary, he thought. A talent capable of ending the world. The boy Caelan had just rescued from an illegal slave market in the Kingdom of Calidia was none other than Deus. Deus Valerius. In ten years, he would be known as the “Calamity of Sloth,” one of the five bosses in Maledictum known as the Five Calamities. Like the Calamity of Wrath, his arrival on the world stage would be marked by the complete annihilation of several allied kingdoms, including the Kingdom of Astoria. And he would do it in the most monstrous way imaginable. Even as a player, Caelan had been sickened by the gory depictions. On the Maledictum community forums, some players had visceral reactions to the mere description of his atrocities. And for a Calamity of Sloth, he certainly knows how to hold a grudge. That was precisely why he’d ordered Gareth to treat Deus with the utmost care. Realizing his knight was still waiting for an answer, Caelan offered a vague excuse. “It’s the same reason as before. The time is not yet right.” “The time…” Watching Gareth mull over the cryptic answer, Caelan thought, He asks so many questions. Truthfully, Caelan would have preferred a knight who followed orders without a word. But he had no choice in the matter. Or rather, that ship had sailed half a year ago when he’d hired Gareth. Gareth was a notable character in Maledictum. While not a protagonist, he appeared as a supporting character on several routes. More importantly, he was a top-tier subordinate; once a certain level of trust was established, he was unflinchingly loyal to the end. In a fantasy world where betrayal was a daily currency, having someone who would never stab him in the back was an invaluable asset. So when Caelan had encountered him passing through the territory, he had hired him without a moment’s hesitation. “…I understand.” While Caelan had been lost in his thoughts, Gareth gave a firm nod, as if the pieces had finally clicked into place. He then posed another question. “When do you plan to meet those you’ve rescued?” “I have no plans to.” “…But wouldn’t it be better to meet them? At least once?” “Hmm.” Caelan knew his knight had a point. Ideally, he should be cultivating a close, personal relationship with the future Five Calamities. Direct interaction was the best way to build that kind of rapport. But there was a powerful reason he kept his distance, communicating only through sponsorship: their personalities. From what he knew of the game’s lore, the Five Calamities were dreadful people long before they acquired their titles. One only had to watch the flashback cutscenes after defeating them in Maledictum to see the truth. Their personalities were so vile that Baalazar and Belial would have applauded from the depths of hell. Of course, the paths that led them to become the Sins were even more horrific. Caelan considered this for a moment. Well, I did save them before their personalities could completely deteriorate, so it shouldn’t get that bad… But I only managed a partial rescue. They’re still damaged. In conclusion, the Sins’ personalities were bound to be twisted, regardless. That gave him pause. “…Perhaps in five years.” By then, Gareth would have gathered enough data for him to make an accurate assessment of their dispositions. As Caelan offered this vague timeline, Gareth nodded. Just then, the study door burst open. “Well, well, if it isn’t Caelan!” Caelan’s brow furrowed at the sound of the familiar, grating voice. He let out a quiet sigh. He knew its owner all too well. “What’s my illiterate little brother doing in here, hmm?” He turned to see a man sauntering toward him with a sly, unpleasant grin. “Shouldn’t you respond when your elder brother speaks to you?” It was Torvin, the second son of the Devereux family and one of the infamous scoundrel brothers of the Count’s house. He casually rested a hand on Caelan’s head, pressing down. It was a blatantly demeaning gesture. “I was just looking for something.” Even as Torvin leaned harder, sending a dull ache through his scalp, Caelan answered calmly, betraying none of his irritation. Here we go again. This was far from the first time one of his older brothers had treated him this way. They had openly bullied him since the day he’d arrived in this world. The original Caelan must have endured this harassment constantly. But Caelan let it slide. As infuriating as it was, his desire for a quiet, noble life outweighed the satisfaction of retaliation. If I tangle with these bastards, it will derail my plans before they even begin. If his opponents were merely the Count’s scoundrel sons, Caelan would have loved nothing more than to crush them. But their depravity ran far deeper than that. Dealing with a drug lord and a king of pimps is a delicate matter. Caelan glanced up. Torvin, who ran a drug cartel in the underworld under the grand name “Avarice,” gazed down at him with a naked sneer. The cartel was hardly a continental power, its influence limited to the kingdom. But the current Caelan was powerless against a piece of trash who could snap his fingers and have a dozen underworld assassins erase him without a trace. And even if he somehow managed to eliminate Torvin, he would then have to face the eldest son, who ran the prostitution rings and was locked in a power struggle with his brother. The eldest was pathologically sensitive about the line of succession; he would never allow Caelan, the upstart who took out the second son, to go unpunished. Reacting now, Caelan knew, meant crossing a point of no return. “It seems my elder brother wishes to use the study. I will take my leave.” “At least you know your place.” Caelan gave Torvin a respectful bow, ignoring the scorn plastered on his brother’s face, and left the study. With Gareth in tow, he returned to his room. Once there, Gareth handed him a letter. “This time, I brought it personally.” “Did you?” Since her rescue, Caelan had exchanged monthly letters with Seraphina. Their contents were usually simple: greetings and updates on their daily lives. It had been Caelan’s idea to correspond in the first place. She might feel closer to a pen pal than to someone she’s met only once. Recalling friends he’d made in online chat rooms who had felt closer than those in real life, Caelan opened the letter and began to read. “Hmm…” It contained nothing out of the ordinary. As usual, Seraphina offered a brief greeting and shared stories about a few of the orphans. A boy named Damian was exceptionally good at “war games,” and a girl named Fiona was a master of “hide-and-seek.” Reading through the mundane stories, Caelan pondered his reply. He decided to faithfully recount the day’s events. Sharing some of his worries, he reasoned, might build more psychological intimacy than a letter filled with pleasantries. With that in mind, Caelan wrote about his encounter with his brother and sent the letter to Seraphina at the orphanage. It was just another ordinary day. At that same moment, Seraphina was observing Deus Valerius. “Hmm~” His eerie, violet eyes seemed utterly void. On the surface, he looked fine. His limbs were whole, and though his body was a canvas of abuse, he seemed to have no lasting physical injuries. But that was only on the surface. Anyone else would have been convinced the boy was broken. His body might be intact, but his eyes, which should have held a soul, were empty. He simply stared into space, a doll whose mind had been shattered by some foul sorcery—expressionless, motionless, vacant. He was the very picture of a broken man. Seraphina, however, smiled. The marks left by that thing… To allow him his own revenge… you truly are considerate. Understanding perfectly why Caelan had sent Deus to her, she spoke a single name. “Black Goat.” “!” One phrase. That was all it took to draw a reaction from the boy who had been little more than a living doll. The emptiness in his eyes was instantly replaced—not with awareness, but with pure, undiluted hatred, rage, and fear. Seeing this, Seraphina smiled. “Don’t you want revenge?” At her question, Deus’s hollow gaze snapped to her. His eyes burned with murder, hatred, and a flicker of curiosity. Seraphina noted the shift and said no more. Instead, she simply released a faint pulse of mana. It was the power Caelan had granted her, a power meant for one purpose: to confront the black ones. “Congratulations. He has chosen you. Now, you will receive power.” She didn’t elaborate. There was no need. This second chosen one possessed a talent so profound it required no lengthy explanation. “All you must do is remain loyal to him,” Seraphina said, her smile never wavering as she looked at Deus. “And you will have your revenge.” A week after Deus’s arrival, Seraphina received another letter from Caelan. She read it, and a knowing smile touched her lips. “I see.” A year passed. Deus remained at the orphanage, and Caelan and Seraphina continued their ordinary correspondence. But Caelan was nursing a growing headache from his failure to locate the third Calamity he needed to save. It was then that a piece of news reached his ears. “…The scoundrel is dead?” Torvin, the second son of the Devereux Count’s family, was dead.

Chapter 2: You Gathered The Calamities