Just a heads up.

I will almost never be leaving Author's Notes for my side stories. If I do, it's to point something out that matters to the story itself.

I also won't be keeping track of the views that my side stories receives directly within these same side stories. I already do so on my main stories, and I'll do so there.

That's about it.

[Insert disclaimer about respective copyrighted and referenced properties not being my own and OCs and fictitious storyline being my own here.]

Diverging Chapter 1: Eduardo's Life in Banishment

Location: ?

Date: 59 A.D.

Time: ?

Wandering (Hyouhaku)/Naruto Shippuden Original Soundtrack II/Toshiro Masuda

(Song Begins)

The life of a banished soul is a lonely one. The life of a soul as powerful as mine is also a lonely one.

My Elemental Aura abilities, because they deviate from the norm, has led to me being shunned from most areas of human civilization that I've come across, at one point or another, with only as many as I have fingers on my hand actually welcoming me for who I am.

But even then, my time in any other community isn't enduring, nowhere near as much as my childhood back in my home village, before I even knew of my Elemental Aura abilities.

My time is spent wandering aimlessly from one corner of the world to the next, rolling along like a stone that gathers no moss, and instead erodes itself over the years. My body and abilities didn't succumb to this over the years and instead have only grown stronger and more prominent, like an island that continues to grow from the hardening lava of an active volcano. But my emotional state has worsened over the years.

For the most part, the lack of social activity has left me bitter, quiescent, appreciating very little in life and growing pessimistic of anyone that I encounter, even if they show me hospitality, even if they know of my heroic actions, even if they know I'm generally a good person, even if they know that I've become an enemy of Rome. After all, Roman soldiers have sought me out from time to time, ever since they caught whiff of the blood of 999 slain soldiers.

Is it possible that they've returned to my home village? Did they "interrogate" those that knew me into giving them information about me? Did they ever locate the entrance to the underground laboratory that I left behind? Is it also possible that they've ransacked the place and done away with my brothers and burned the remote place to the ground?

All of those questions seldom enter my mind during my travels, because the solitary thought that I'm banished from ever returning to that village keeps thoughts of home away. As a result, I've long since abandoned my past, even coming close to forgetting all about it from time to time.

Thoughts of an abandoned past, possession of mysterious abilities that isolate me from humanity, an ongoing pursuit by an established Roman Empire, and my progressively worsening mental constitution have all incrementally made me less and less concerned over my wellbeing, to the point where I find myself traveling farther distances without stopping in between, especially if the place to stop at is a city.

This has resulted me in collapsing out of sheer exhaustion on more than one occasion. And in one of those occasions, when I woke up, I found myself moving, albeit being carried somewhere that I didn't originally intend to go to.

The people responsible for taking me with them were a small group of wandering nomads, having apparently found me collapsed in the middle of nowhere, and no doubt thinking that they were fortunate to have located me, to have picked me up in my time of need, before I had apparently died of starvation or something and was at the mercy of the scavengers.

I slipped back into unconsciousness soon afterward, and found myself cycling between consciousness and unconsciousness at least a few times, likely out of severe exhaustion, dehydration, starvation, etc. I found myself carried from the wasteland I was walking about, onto a cargo wagon drawn by a camel and its owner, into another remote village, and finally onto a bed.

(Song Ends)

"Don't get up yet! You're still too weak to stand!"

With my mind still in a starved daze, I failed to realize my face impacting the floor when I collapsed from fatigue after toppling over my second step. Then I felt my body grow light and supported back onto the bed I woke up from seconds earlier, positioned into a sitting posture by a grizzly older man and his child.

Perhaps they were a grandfather and a grandson? I don't know. My vision is still in a haze, and the headache I now have in conjunction to my weakened state didn't help me process information as well as I normally could.

"Where…where am I…?" I slurred my speech.

"You're in Solitudo, boy." The older man spoke to me again, his tone of voice clearly widening the gap between our ages and, to his knowledge anyway, our levels of wisdom. "A fitting name for a desolate village in the middle of nowhere?"

"Solitude…Solitudo…?" I repeated, finding his words to sound distorted through my ears but still recognizable nevertheless.

"Yes, Solitudo. It's Latin, boy." He continued to apparently undermine my knowledge and my youth. "Did your parents ever teach you Latin before you taught yourself how to wander about a wasteland without a camel or even a sense of direction?"

"…" His words certainly stung, but not as much as my entire body right now.

"…Nah, you probably know more than you're letting on," He believed. "You could've ended up where those wandering nomads found you for one reason or another. Were you running from something, from someone?"

While the overwhelming fatigue of my body would cripple most people and have them wish to rest first and ask questions later, I wasn't most people and could endure it for as long as I could sensibly need to. That being said, I didn't know this man well enough to respond properly to his question and simply gave him this as an answer.

"I just…felt like…walking."

Clearly, the old man was wise to my ways and believed I was hiding more than what I was letting on. But he also displayed respect for me, for my current state of being, and decided to hold off on his inquiries until I was in a better state of mind to answer them.

If I decided to answer them.

His posture and words may have withdrawn, but his grandson was just as curious.

"You're dressed funny. Where are you from?"

"Spero!" The grandfather began to scold. "That's not how we welcome strangers!"

It's at this point that my still hazy gaze lazily glances over at the child that I now realize is standing a bit too close to my personal space. And were it not for the child's grandfather's sudden reprimand, I wouldn't know the child's name.

Though at this point, hope is the last thing I need.

"…" For a moment, I stare at this child, his positive countenance clearing through my foggy perspective. But then I decide to close my eyes and fall back in my bed, absolutely exhausted and in no mood to answer any questions to people I don't entirely trust.

Location: Solitudo

Date: 59 A.D.

Time: Early Afternoon

The next day, when enough of my strength comes back to me, is the day I was put to work, as both compensation for their actions in nursing me back to health yesterday, as well as for the overall good of their community, as they themselves worked on mending broken ends of their village here and there.

They quickly decided to put me to work on mending the roofs of some of their older houses. They handed me a ladder, a hammer, a small collection of crude nails, and enough wood to work with. The only thing that they didn't give me was a means to cover my head from the ever intensifying sunlight. Luckily, I circled around this problem by making due with tying a piece of loose cloth over my head, discreetly taken out of my S1-GS device.

"You know, you never answered my question yesterday."

Before becoming a carpenter for Solitudo and picking up a hammer and nail, I'm met with Spero once more, as he perched himself like a sparrow on the most stable corner of the roof.

"…What question?" I responded flatly, feigning forgetfulness and keeping an eye on my hands and actions instead of him.

"You know, the one about your funny clothing and where you came from." He reminded me, his childhood naïveté making him blind to my obvious indifference.

"…Why does that concern you?" I respond blankly, before taking a nail and driving it through the wood with a few precise strikes of my hammer.

"Because when I grow up, I want to travel the world."

I actually flinched upon hearing that, and almost struck my thumb with the hammer as a result of that. Now this boy has some of my attention, but for all of the wrong reasons.

"…Kid, you're probably too young to understand this…but…" I began to explain to him with a shard of concern beginning to take shape within me for someone else that isn't me.

"But…what?" He responded brightly. "Adventuring isn't all that is cracked up to be? There are dangers to be found all around, from the environment, the wildlife, and even the food?"

"…Yes." I found myself muttering, taken a bit further aback by the fact that he appears to have already heard those common responses before.

"Well, it sure beats staying here and keeping myself to one way of life."

"…That's true, I suppose…" I mumble, discreetly agreeing with him, but still opting to remain a closed book before him as I'm grabbing and positioning a new slab of wood for the roof and hammering it in place.

"So, are you going to tell me where you're from? What you wear? Why you're here?" Spero persisted enthusiastically.

"No." I responded almost automatically, before coming down the ladder and walking away.

"Why not?!" Spero raised his voice as he saw his biggest source of answers walk away.

"Well, for starters, I'm already done with the roof." I pointed out without looking back or stopping. "Made some improvements to it too."

Spero glanced at the roof, not only realizing that I finished it in record time, but seeing that I cut some corners by doing only some work on it, upon first glance anyway. He proceeds to walk on top of it, jump on it, trying to do his best to make it collapse below him without even an ounce of fear or concern for his wellbeing. But it doesn't, despite the fact that it is exposed and appears like a skeleton of a roof instead of the flesh and blood of one.

In short, what I did to the roof made it look like something foreign to him, and yet has more strength and rigidity than the ones this village has been hanging over their heads.

He ultimately sat down on the roof and watched me wander off towards a different corner of Solitudo, to see if they needed me to do any other jobs since I finished mine so quickly.

"I want to know." Spero talked determinedly to himself. "I want to know more about you."

Time: Night

In Solitudo, it has become routine for these people to sleep shortly after sundown and wake up shortly after sunrise. But because of my life before entering this village, as well as my somewhat irregular sleep schedule in comparison to their own, I didn't feel the need to go to sleep yet. In fact, I didn't even feel tired.

Instead, I felt like sparring in the middle of an open field, believing that my swordsmanship has rusted lately after months of peaceful respite.

Once I found an appropriate training area, an area full of tall grass that these people have been meaning to level down, I scanned my surroundings to make sure no one was watching me, withdrew two swords, both of which had two blades parallel to each other, and began to practice my swordplay by cutting down the tall grass.

In the middle of my high-speed hacking and slashing, I heard the sound of rustling grass nearby me and reacted quickly to the situation. I crouched down into the grass, making myself nearly prone as I almost slithered over the dirt like a snake, holding both of my swords along the lengths of my arms. And when I homed in on the source of the sound, I pounced by springing up and holding both blades against the neck of the intruder.

And then I pulled both blades away when I realized who it was that I had just threatened.

"Spero? What are you still doing up?" I asked with an abnormally casual tone of voice.

"…" Spero was statuesque, perhaps traumatized from what I could tell just by looking at his backside. But then he turned around to face me, and had a look of amazement etched across his countenance, rather than one of apprehension or spite. "…How did you do that?"

"Do what? Sneak up on you within an area that makes crinkling noises with your every step?" I questioned back, quickly dismissing the emotions I half-expected from him. "Or is it my swordsmanship, because I'm assuming you were spying on me this whole time."

"…" His brief pause and meek look answered my assumption for me, and then his youthful gaiety returned seconds after. "Both!"

For some reason, having a child take a liking to me made me feel more willing to talk to him and answer his questions. The way he stared at me, having to crane his head up slightly to look me eye to eye, it was almost like he associated me as his father. And I don't necessarily blame him for that, since all I've seen that he has as family is his grandfather. Whoever his mother and father are, by my best estimations without asking him because it isn't my place to do so, is that they are elsewhere or dead.

Refocusing myself to Spero, I responded before displaying to him both of my foreign blades. "For the most part, I taught myself. I honed my instincts and made it my own martial art."

"Was it difficult?"

"Honestly, no." I responded truthfully. "The more I honed my craft, the more natural it felt to me, as if I had learned how to wield a sword in a past life, or had an apparent talent for the art."

"I've never seen swords like these before," He marveled the craftsmanship of my held weapons. "Did you make them yourself?"

"Yes, I did."

"How did you get the blades to separate?" Spero wondered, believing that I had broken one whole blade into two halves, and then making a sword out of those two halves by placing them parallel and within a few inches of each other.

"It's easy when you have the appropriate mold when forging them out of superheated metal."

"…May I hold them, please?"

Earlier in the day, I would've flatly told him otherwise, simply because I didn't know him, he didn't know me, and I wasn't the type of person to have an active conversation with, simply because of my constant roaming and common loneliness. But now that I've warmed up to him, and trusted him a bit more (and could easily disarm him if he attempted anything hostile), I decided to comply with his wishes and handed both of my dual-bladed broadswords to him. He took them with glee, stepped back about ten feet from me, and ducked down into the tall grass, attempting to emulate the technique I implemented for walking stealthily across this environment.

"It's all about how you maneuver your weight and how closely centered your being is." I explained to him, deliberately leaving out foreign terms like "center of gravity". "You have to remain low to the ground, slithering like a snake between the grass. Don't try to step over the tall grass because your path will be easier to see."

He appeared to take my advice to heart and radically improved his technique into something adequately similar to my own. And then I noticed how he began to inch his way closer and closer to me, until he was within striking distance with the pair of swords I let him "play" with. He jumped out of the tall grass and aimed for my chest with both swords, only to feel both swords slip out of his hands because of the dexterity of my hands, and then feel himself invert with minimal effort in my part when I gave him a judo throw.

I could hear him coughing a bit after falling squarely on his back and standing back up as I sheathed both swords back on their sheathes behind my back. We both looked at each other once again eye to eye. No aggression, no deceit, just calmness in my part and realization in his part.

"I knew you would do that." He said with a pleased smirk. "You wouldn't drop your guard, even to a child like me."

"No I wouldn't." I responded back, feeling no guilt or penitence for flipping a child like an omelet on a frying pan. "When you've been traveling the world for as long as I have, you have to keep your guard up at all times to all kinds of situations."

"And yet you look like you could be my older brother," Spero noted my youth. "Are you a prodigious mercenary or something?"

"Actually, no." I admitted. "But my parents are, and they did teach me some of what they knew before they…prematurely passed away. After that, most of the skills that I know were picked up over time, some more potent than others."

"Sorry about your parents…" He felt pity for me. "If it's any solace for you, my parents also died prematurely."

..I knew it.

"How did they die?" I wondered, saying my question a bit too quickly, without much thought on the repercussions of what might be a dark and distant subject for Spero to speak up about.

Oddly enough, he had no problems doing so.

"They died…from a Roman raid, about a month ago."

Solitude/Dreams & Imaginations (Disc 1 - Progressive & Evocative)/Two Steps From Hell

(Song Begins)

"…!" I felt myself reel back slightly, as if punched squarely in the face, by what Spero just said.

"It's traumatizing, I know. I made that same reaction before dropping to the ground and bawling my eyes out." Spero added somberly. "Anyway, that Roman raid, even though it only consisted of twenty soldiers, was too much for Solitudo to bear. We made the mistake of taking them in when they asked us too, and they took advantage of us before burning most of the village and killing some of the residents, my parents included, to the ground. They left soon after, to do some military business elsewhere or something. We've been rebuilding Solitudo since then. You actually came in and helped us as we were about to finish repairs. But those Romans gave us a warning that they'll be back the day after the moon disappears from the night sky."

After taking his words as fact, I looked up at the night sky and quickly noticed the telltale absence of the moon. "So they'll be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah…" He answered back with an almost forced calmness in his voice.

"Aren't you worried?" I told him, puzzled by his apparent lack of fear.

"…I'm terrified," He said, his face defying his stated emotions. "But I also know that most of my neighbors have been training against a likely second attack. Because, here in Solitudo, we don't ever make the same mistake twice."

For a child, Spero already behaves like a modern adult, likely because his live is rough and everyone in Solitudo has a job or two or three to do.

"And I also know that you'll be here, fighting alongside us." He said with hopeful eyes staring up into my uncovered right eye.

Sadly, I didn't have the same optimistic look as Spero, simply because I have the whole picture in my being, and he's only seen a few pieces of it. "…You don't want me fighting for you guys."

This made him nervous. "Why not?"

"…It's complicated." Just two words, two words that were an enigma to him were second nature to me. They made me recall the day that my Elemental Aura first became apparent to me, how I used them to take out an entire Roman legion, become banished from my nameless home village, even slay a black-scaled dragon on one occasion.

However, all they did for him was puzzle him and make him regard me as a mystery that needed solving.

"What's complicated about you?" Spero argued. "You're fit and likely wise from your travels. You've got weapons that you've made yourself, so you should have some skill with them. Not only that, but you clearly know how to fight with two blades, while most of my neighbors have struggled with just one."

"…" There's something about Spero that made me realize that children and guilt coexist in perfect harmony. "…You think of me as Solitudo's secret weapon or something?"

"I think of you as a man that can mean the difference between Solitudo remaining after tomorrow or not."

Inwardly, I was conflicted. Outwardly, I was immobile. Almost a decade of aimless wandering will wipe a man or woman clean of their countenance. But within my mind, I knew I couldn't just abandon these people in their time of need. They've done a lot for me, and I've also done a lot for them. The only issue I have is what will Solitudo's reaction be if I decided to ignite the Romans, punch holes through their hearts with my fists, make their hair stand on end with electricity, heal a lucky strike they inflict upon me, drown them, or telekinetically erase their minds. It's not the first time I've defended a village before with Elemental Aura before, but the first village I defended soon forced me to flee for the sake of my life, and most other's have mimicked the same actions, with a few being a bit more thankful before ultimately fearing me and my powers.

Solitudo will be no different. And I will be no different in not keeping my abilities under wraps, especially if my survival or the wellbeing of an individual is concerned. And when that happens, I will be the person to decide my fate, not these recluses.

"…Alright, I'm in." I ultimately decided, after mulling it over.

"What's your price?" Spero began to assume I would offer my services for a little incentive.

"…No price. There's nothing you or Solitudo have that I want." I told him, having all that I need and don't need in abundance within my S1-GS device. "And I told you already, I'm not a mercenary."

"Then what are you?" Spero wondered.

"I'm just a man, searching for answers to questions that no one has ever contemplated before."

With that, we both return back to Solitudo and proceeded to go to sleep. Thoughts of tomorrow lingered for Spero before he dreamt, and thoughts of my future in seeking answers to my questions kept me awake for longer than I would've liked.

(Song Ends)

Time: Afternoon

For every single resident in Solitudo, waking up was a bitter ordeal when you believe that today might be the last day of your lives. The Roman threat that the citizens of this village were given almost a month ago would come true today. As a result, hardly a word was exchanged between everyone, as far as I could tell. Everyone had bleak expressions, even if they were confident in their skills or not.

This was perfectly understandable behavior for ordinary folks. But at the same time, the residents here vastly outnumber the twenty soldiers that were here almost a month ago, and would likely retain such numbers. But while Solitudo might have the edge in numbers, the Romans would have the edge in experience, especially since the Roman Empire is one of the first civilizations to create, mobilize, and organize a professional army, not just a ragtag bunch of assorted sword-arms.

Which is why, even though Solitudo was braced for an expected Roman encounter today by keeping watch for any incoming forces, it still unnerved the entire village when a small force of twenty Roman soldiers began to make their march here.

At first, most of Solitudo was in a scrambling panic, the fear of death palpable with their shrieking voices. However, a few voices of reason managed to assuage them.

"We have numbers on our side!" Spero shouted.

"Do not be afraid!" His grandfather, the eldest voice in Solitudo, almost carried itself.

"We must stand and fight!" I added. "All of us!"

Eventually, all forms of hysteria quelled and a sharper mentality against the incoming Romans was set. Weapons were handed out amongst everyone regardless of age and gender, even shield and light armor, such as leather and chainmail. They may pale in comparison to the overall body armor the Romans have, but it's already better for them than wearing just clothing.

I was the only exception however. I didn't need any armor because I feel as if it would slow me down. I didn't need any weapons because I already have mine in hand.

With everyone armed and ready, we stood in formation before the incoming Roman militia, watching them draw closer and closer with every march, until they company halted about twenty feet before us.

Fiesta de Guerra/Bleach Original Soundtrack 3/Shiro Sagisu

(Song Begins)

The centurion in their squadron stepped forward, and stood between his own army and the enemy.

"My name is Veritas." Their centurion addressed himself formally before us, as if negotiating with us. "You denied us hospitality one month ago and we are here now to keep true on our promise of punishing you invidious lot. Do you have any last words for us before we rend your throats?"

No actual words were spoken against the centurion Veritas. Only shouting, the battle cry of Solitudo as they all charged forward against his small legion.

In response to that, Veritas simply stepped backwards into a more strategic position, just as his own soldiers charged forward to meet the villagers in the middle, right where he once stood. And alongside him, I remained in the back of this fracas, simply because I knew that the most formidable enemy in this squadron is the centurion, and he had to die first.

With all nineteen of Veritas' soldiers occupied with the villagers, clashing blades with them and holding their own against greater numbers, I targeted Veritas vindictively and approached him. He did the same to a man he saw as an upstart for selecting to fight him and only him, and drew both of his swords to meet my own.

Our blades clashed harshly and we were in a standoff, staring ourselves dead in each other's eyes. My unpatched right eye was full of hostile intent, while his were full of confidence.

"Look at you, young upstart!" Veritas began to taunt me. "You opted to go for me instead of my squadron. You either have a death wish or believe yourself to be the strongest warrior in this village!"

"I don't think of myself as the strongest warrior of this village!" I stated for him. "I know I am!"

Slowly but surely, Veritas realized he was losing this standoff by beginning to slide back against the loose dirt terrain, as well as feel his sword arms quiver from overexertion. In response to this, he pushes my swords out of the way and steps back before I could strike him back. And the look he gave me, after I formed a defensive battle stance, was a look of subtle bewilderment.

"You certainly are stronger than you look," He praised me briefly. "But strength alone won't be enough for you to survive."

"Of course not," I already knew that and didn't need a Roman telling me that. "Skill and strategy wins battles."

With that, we both collided into each other again, swinging our swords dexterously at one another, attempting to exploit a gap in each other's guards that would spell our utter demise. But because both of us were aptly skilled, our dual wielding sword duel became akin to a physical chess match between two equally experienced masters.

But as the sparks flew from our blades before our eyes, the edge in this battle was incrementally creeping up in my favor, simply because I had better weaponry and, as he soon found out, greater endurance.

So when I managed to catch both of his dulling blades within the gaps of my own, then twist my wrists a little to lock his swords in place, and see him attempt to release himself from my metal grasp, Veritas began to realize just how much more formidable I was to him.

"Who taught you how to fight?" He couldn't help but utter, in unexpected marvel of my skills.

"…Myself." I told him almost reluctantly.

As soon as I said that, a sharper turn of my hands tweaked my broadswords even further against the short swords that I caught, causing Veritas' weaker weapons to snap in two from the stress of warping unnaturally. And as he was reeling back from seeing a human being actually break metal with metal, I drove my left sword to his chest, through his feeble armor with better metal, and right into his heart.

Through my left sword, I could literally feel his life draining away, and not just from seeing his arterial blood squirt out of his chest and hemorrhage onto the ground. I could feel his body tremble across my blade, across my left hand, even when he dropped down to his knees and feebly coughed up blood.

"W…who…are…you…?" He weakly muttered his final words before I held my right sword grimly against his neck.

"…A bane of Rome."

Those were my last choice words for Veritas before one mighty horizontal swing of my right sword caused his head to hit the floor and his decapitated body to follow shortly after, once I no longer held it upright with my left sword anyway.

(Song Ends)

With the kingpin of this Roman battalion already done away with, the remaining Roman soldiers that the villagers haven't killed were easy pickings for me to finish off in one continuous swoop. I ran towards the remaining five or so soldiers still standing, stabbed them in the back or cut against their necks when they weren't looking, and saved a few villager's lives in the process.

In the end, after surveying Solitudo for any remaining foes, I noticed that villager casualties were kept at their absolute and ideal minimum.

Zero.

"Spero…? Spero?!"

But the grandfather's voice of pure despondency turned my attention instantly over to his location, where I saw him kneeling over his grandson, as he was prone on his back, pale as a corpse, trembling in shock, and holding his abdomen with both hands, as blood still found its way through his fingertips.

A Roman soldier unquestionably drove his sword deep into Spero's abdomen, just as many other Roman soldiers succeeded in doing with a handful of the other villagers in other areas of their body, but couldn't exactly kill anyone because the villager's numbers were just too great for them to properly handle. That being said, if immediate medical attention wasn't given to them within the next hour or so, they will most certainly bleed out, and the Roman scum clinging onto the walls of hell would feel some satisfaction in having successfully killed even a few of the residents of Solitudo.

But instead, the only satisfaction they'll have here is inadvertently driving me out of yet another village, once I'm forced to literally show these people my true colors.

Wordlessly, I sheathe my swords and walk heavily towards Spero and his mourning grandfather. I try my hardest to silence out the elder's incessant bawling, and kneel down on the floor to reach Spero with my bare hands. I take note of how vacant his countenance is becoming, and know that I must work fast in order to save his life.

I close my eyes, inhale and exhale deeply, rhythmically, repeatedly a few times to focus my energy. Then, I open my eyes and clasp my hands together, rubbing them like two sticks for a campfire, until they ignite Green (Healing) Aura and envelop my hands in its supernatural wonders.

Spero's grandfather doesn't notice this until I've set aside Spero's hands from his abdomen, and put mine there in his place.

"What…? What are you…? How are you…?" He was understandably at a loss of words, more so because of blood loss.

"I can do things that no one else can." I told him bluntly, never looking away from Spero's midsection, even though his open wound was already sealing away at a noticeable pace. "…My name…is Eduardo."

"Eduardo…?" Spero's grandfather repeated, searching his mind for previous utterances of that name. "Wait a minute! You're that same boy who‒!"

"Yes, I am." I knew what he was going to say that I've heard hundreds of times before over the years since my banishment.

Once I noticed Spero's abdomen was sealed, I put his hands back over his midsection and stood up, disregarding his blood on my hands as my Elemental Aura slowly peeled it away. I turned my attention towards all of the other villagers of Solitudo that were injured by the Roman legion, and tended to their wounds accordingly. And appropriately, not one of them withdrew themselves from me as I approached them individually. They welcomed me like lungs do oxygen, after seeing what I did for Spero.

Once everything was said and done, I looked off one random corner of Solitudo and slowly began to make my leave from here. No one stopped me, no one wished to stop me, and therefore no one was in disagreement with my choice of actions.

I leave with the mentality that, for the first time since my banishment, I have decided for myself whether I should stay or go, instead of having others decide for me.

"Individual human beings are all tools, that the others use to help us all survive." —Orson Scott Card (35) ("Ender's Game")