Josen ran in, all excited, eventually crashing into a bunch of artillery.
"Ugh—ow, that seriously hurts. Who keeps weapons right by the door?"
"Watch yourself, young man," his grandfather said coldly.
A chill ran down his spine. "Ye—yes sir."
As the hot water ran down his body, his thoughts wandered to the last few days—how quickly everything had changed. How no one fought for him. Not those 'friends' who always paraded around him, singing his praises. They laughed and mocked him the moment he was branded a Defector. That bitter feeling of betrayal burned in his chest.
"You're wasting water," Grandpa said.
"Yes sir," Josen replied, hurrying out and quickly dressing.
Ha... I wonder what he knows. The first Defector of the Malkador family. He must've suffered his own hardships.
Walking through the house, Josen stared at the paintings and monuments on the walls. The polished nature of everything shocked him.
I wonder how he paid for all this... Didn't he get banished?
He eventually made his way to the living room. His grandfather was there, already waiting.
"There you are, my boy. Come, sit. Hmm, so—let's get this started."
"I knew you would be a Defector."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then Josen shot forward, grabbed the old man by the collar, and hoarsely shouted, "What? Yo—you knew??"
"No," his grandfather replied calmly. "A better phrasing would be: I hoped you would be one."
Josen released his grip and slumped back into the chair.
"Being a Defector isn't a curse," Augustus said. "It's a blessing."
"Being a Defector means you're not bound by the gods and the constellations. Your power can grow endlessly. Infinitely."
"But that hasn't been discovered by most. That's why they give up. But in truth, it is the greatest gift," he continued.
"The story goes like this: long ago, there was a god. A being that existed before everything—and knew everything. All that has happened and all that will be. He created it all."
"He started with the constellations. Beings of godlike existence with varied powers and personalities. He gave them life—and eternal souls. They, in turn, went on to make their own creations and worlds."
"But eventually, those gods got bored. And so, they made us. Humans."
"They gave us life—but shackled us. We couldn't grow endlessly. We were bound to mortal bodies, fragile souls. We were made for one purpose—entertainment."
"But that will change," he said, pausing.