Finally, when it was all over, you left—but never truly left.
Your castle has always been with you. You can summon it forth at any time, and it will answer your call without question—because you are its king, its monarch. Your mother made sure of that. The legion of shadows is yours to command, bound to your will.
You left, but never left.
You simply stepped into the world beyond, but at any moment, you could return. That's why your mother didn't stop you. That's why your sister didn't stop you. They knew this was only the beginning.
Yet, when you finally left the castle—your home, your empire—you realized something brutal.
Finding worthy shadows to claim for your legion was far harder than you expected.
The era of the gods was almost over, their influence fading into obscurity. The only ones still kicking around were the Norse gods, a few lingering Egyptian deities, and the rest? Gone. Either wiped out or retreating into the Reverse Side of the World, leaving nothing behind but old myths and forgotten temples.
And that left you with a problem.
You couldn't take on Odin alone. Not yet. Then there was Ra and the rest of the Egyptian pantheon—half of whom you couldn't even be bothered to remember. You had never given a shit about them before, and you sure weren't about to start now.
The only gods you ever cared about? The ones from Greece.
Because there, you could insert yourself into the story. There, you could imagine standing as Zeus, living his legend, reveling in the power and the incest. When you read his myths in your past life, you felt something real—a connection. A reflection of every asshole, every douchebag hero and god from those tales. They were fucked up, but at least they were entertaining.
Unlike Odin.
That old bastard loved to run his mouth, spewing wisdom like he was some enlightened sage—only for shit to fall apart the moment he put his words into action.
But contemplation was a waste of time.
You wandered across the Earth, hunting for a suitable shadow, something—someone—worthy of being consumed. You needed to kill, to devour, to level up, because with every death, you absorbed their power, their knowledge, their very essence. But the weak?
The weak were nothing.
There were too many of them—frail, pitiful mortals who offered not even a fraction of your power. After experimenting by slaughtering five humans in Ancient Rome's territory, you discovered a cruel truth:
Not all souls were worth taking.
What did you gain from them? A lifetime of suffering, useless farming skills, and the miserable memories of their wretched existence.
There was no power in them.
No worth, no strength, nothing but trash.
And from that moment on, you knew—killing the wrong person was a fucking waste. It did nothing but pollute your mind with garbage memories and pointless experiences that dragged you down instead of lifting you up.
So you kept moving.
This time, your path led you into an endless sea of grassland, the wind howling like the cries of the dead. And there, in the vast emptiness, you saw it—
A capsule.
Unopened. Untouched. Waiting.
Without hesitation, without a single moment of doubt, you stepped forward and tore it open.
When your eyes met hers, you froze—not out of fear, but out of sheer fucking disbelief.
Sefar?
She stirred, her eyelids fluttering open as if your presence alone had triggered something inside her. Maybe it was the capsule's internal mechanisms kicking in, some ancient-ass technology that woke her up the moment you broke the seal. Or maybe it was just pure chance. Not that you gave a shit.
Your knowledge of Sefar—of Attila the Hun—was sketchy at best. If you remembered right, she was supposed to be asleep in the Mooncell or some other cryptic bullshit, only to be found by the Huns. But whatever. That lore was convoluted as fuck, and only no-life nerds obsessed over that kind of detail. You weren't here for a fucking history lesson.
But something didn't add up.
Sefar was supposed to be an alien. White-skinned. Otherworldly.
So why the fuck was Attila the Hun standing before you with tanned skin, tribal markings, and a body that looked more like a savage warrior goddess than some extraterrestrial conqueror?
It was a mystery, one you didn't have an answer to—not yet.
Her eyes, still adjusting, locked onto yours. Confusion flickered in those sharp, predatory irises. But it wasn't just her that was confused—you were just as thrown off.
The two of you stared at each other, neither saying a word.
Then the real question hit you.
Should you kill her?
If she became part of your Legion of Shadows, you knew exactly how much she was worth in raw power. The stats, the growth potential, the sheer fucking upgrade she'd bring to you—it was tempting.
But was she more valuable alive or dead?
Was she just a power boost, a stepping stone for your own evolution?
Or was she something more?
Something greater?
The thought made your blood run hot. You weren't sure what was more exciting—the idea of consuming her or the possibility of taming her.
You'd find out soon enough.
She delivers, indeed.
"Sefar?" She mimicked your question, her voice laced with uncertainty, her expression mirroring the confusion of a newborn—wide, uncomprehending, almost innocent.
But you knew better.
She wasn't some clueless child. She wasn't naive. She was older than the stars themselves. The White Titan, the Anguish of the Stars—titles that didn't come from nowhere. She had existed since before countless civilizations had even drawn their first breath, her very existence a nightmare written across the corpses of planets and the ashes of dead stars.
Who knew how many worlds had been reduced to nothing beneath her hands?
If you really treated her like a newborn, you'd be so fucked.
For a long moment, you didn't say anything—maybe because you were too lost in thought, or maybe because your brain was still trying to process the absurdity of standing before a being like her.
But whatever the reason, she took matters into her own hands.
With unexpected grace, she stepped out of the capsule, landing lightly on the ground, her movements eerily fluid for someone who looked like she had never walked before.
Then, she pointed at herself.
"I, Sefar?"
Your brow furrowed. "You… don't know?"
She tilted her head, then shook it.
"I don't understand. But…" she paused, taking a long inhale, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You smell good civilization."
...The fuck?
Okay… I thought you were gonna say bad civilization.
Silently musing over her words, you let out a breath and nodded. "Then come with me. I'll teach you a lot of things."
She hesitated for only a second before nodding, stepping forward, falling in line beside you.
After a while, you glanced at her and spoke again. "What do you think about this place?"
You gestured toward the vast grassland stretching endlessly before you. She stopped, gazing across the rolling fields, deep in thought. Then, with quiet certainty, she answered:
"It's good civilization."
A small smirk tugged at your lips. "You want to make it home?"
She nodded.
Without hesitation, you reached out and took her hand. Soft. Way softer than you expected for someone who looked so primal, so untamed—like some tribal war goddess sculpted from ancient, brutal perfection.
You liked her appearance as Sefar, sure. But this version of her? This strange, blank-slate Titan standing beside you? You weren't about to turn that down either.
She didn't react. No flinching, no hesitation—she just let it happen, completely unbothered, as if your touch was nothing more than a passing breeze.
Feeling emboldened, you ran your thumb over the back of her hand, rubbing it a few times, taking in the warmth, the texture—the softness hidden beneath the raw power.
She still didn't react.
And so, side by side, the two of you walked through the empty, endless grasslands—seeking something worth seeking.