Shadow Slave: Kindness

The morning sun rose slowly over the gleaming city, its rays cascading like golden silk across the smooth pathways and towering buildings. The scent of damp earth lingered in the grass from last night's watering, mixing with the sterile purity of filtered air. A rare thing in the high zones — clean, crisp, and artificial, yet somehow refreshing.

A girl jogged quietly through the waking streets, no more than eleven or twelve.

She had striking grey eyes that shimmered faintly under the morning light, and short, dark hair that bounced gently with each step. It was the kind of face people would one day stop to admire — delicate yet fierce, the type to steal hearts without meaning to, and perhaps break more than a few.

But this morning, her face was pulled tight in a frown.

This was Nephis of the Immortal Flame.

Daughter of the Broken Sword and Smile of Heaven.

And she was annoyed.

Part of it was last night's gathering — a high society affair she had been forced to attend, dressed like some pretty ornament, paraded around in silence. No one had spoken to her unless required. No greetings, no warmth. Not after everything that had happened to her clan.

The Immortal Flame had fallen from grace, and people made no effort to hide it.

Even her grandmother, still regal and formidable despite her years, had been met with polite coldness. To see her — the once-adored matriarch — ignored by those who used to bend knee, it made something inside Nephis churn.

Her feet pounded lightly against the pavement as she ran, jaw clenched.

And it wasn't just the party.

The ambush from the Valor and Song clan agents last week still sat heavy in her memory. A failed attempt, yes — but a bold one. One that should have never happened to begin with. The message had been clear: the Immortal Flame was no longer untouchable.

And that thought... it stung.

Her grandmother's words echoed in her head:

"Strength is no shield if the world believes you've already bled."

And her instructor's colder warning:

"You will not be forgiven for your name. You will be tested because of it."

Nephis gritted her teeth, speeding up.

Her mother's absence still weighed heavily on her — a shadow over her childhood. And though her father had been present in name, his neglect had made its own mark. But even with all that, she hadn't been left adrift.

Her grandmother had trained her with love and fire. Her instructors had taught her with severity and respect.

She had been forged, not raised.

Every morning jog, every stretch of her blade, every breath —

—all of it had purpose.

At least, was supposed to have a purpose.

But...

Nephis didn't care.

Let the world burn with its power games and bloodlines. Let the clans devour each other with smiles on their faces. She wanted none of it.

Not the politics.

Not the glory.

Not the throne her grandmother quietly expected her to rise to.

All Nephis ever wanted — if she was being honest — was to run. Run far from the bloodshed, the betrayals, the lies. The pain still sat deep in her chest, heavy and unmoving. She remembered the betrayal of her nanny, the woman who raised her, who had once braided her hair and kissed her bruised knees.

Who had tried to kill her.

She had been only a child.

She still was, in many ways.

Everyone expected her to become something more. Something legendary. Her grandmother still spoke of destiny. Her instructors sharpened her like a weapon. Everyone around her placed their bets on her back and said it was for her own good.

But they never saw the shaking in her hands.

They didn't see the way her blade trembled when pointed at another person — not because she lacked skill, but because she lacked desire.

She didn't want to kill.

She didn't want to be a weapon.

She still remembered the ambush — the flash of steel, the chaos of footsteps, the voice of her grandmother ordering the execution of traitors. She remembered her instructor, calm and brutal, cutting down assailants with terrifying ease.

And she remembered herself... frozen.

Useless.

Too stunned to strike.

Too scared to accept that someone so trusted could turn on her without a moment's hesitation. The same warm hands that once tucked her in, now wrapped around her throat.

She hadn't even resisted.

Not because she was weak.

But because she couldn't believe it.

Couldn't believe that someone who once smiled at her like a daughter could look at her with such cold eyes. That trust could shatter like glass in the blink of an eye.

Even now, the path she jogged was watched — cameras, drones, eyes both seen and unseen. Her own home monitored more for threats than for comfort. Bodyguards in plain clothes. Traps hidden in planters.

And none of it brought her peace.

Friends who once played with her in quiet courtyards now spoke in rehearsed pleasantries.

Allies wore grins that didn't reach their eyes.

Every greeting might be a test.

Every silence, a judgment.

Such was the life of Nephis of the Immortal Flame.

A life she had never asked for.

A life she wanted to escape.

Because she didn't have the heart for war.

And she never had the will to rule.

All she wanted — truly — was to live a quiet life. Alone. Away from everything.

Away from this legacy that had cost her everything.

Because at the end...she didn't have the will.

It took Nephis a moment to realize something was off.

The city around her had changed. Gone were the polished walkways, manicured hedges, and spotless drone-patrolled sidewalks. The wide, clean streets had narrowed into cracked concrete littered with rusted signs and broken street lamps. The air wasn't filtered anymore. It was heavier. Greasier. Real.

She slowed her jog, breathing steadily, eyes sweeping the surroundings.

"…I took a wrong turn."

No, that wasn't quite it.

She hadn't turned. She'd just… kept going.

Running, walking, thinking, not really caring where her legs took her.

And now?

She was in the Outskirts.

The edge of the city.

Where the buildings leaned like tired men and the wind carried smells it shouldn't. Where cameras didn't always work and no one wore their clan badges out loud.

It was the kind of place the elite pretended didn't exist.A part of the city swallowed by shadows — lawless, lifeless, and forgotten.

Nephis stood there, perfectly still.

She knew this was dangerous.

But… it was also open. Exposed. No tight alleys. No ambush points.If someone tried something, she'd see it coming.

So, she kept walking.

The silence was almost comforting. She didn't feel watched here. Not because there were no eyes — but because the eyes didn't care who she was.

For once, her name didn't matter.

She was just a girl in worn sneakers and academy-issue sweatpants.

But then — voices. Shouting.

She turned her head sharply, instincts taking over.

Down the street, a group of older teens — boys with makeshift weapons and too much confidence — were chasing someone. A kid.

Scrawny. Short. Clothes torn. Hair black and matted with dirt. Pale skin, a little sickly. His eyes were by his hair.

He looked about her age. Maybe younger.

He darted between dumpsters, stumbling but fast, desperate.

She didn't think.

Nephis moved.

By the time the first thug raised his bat, she was already there. Her foot snapped out, cracked against his knee. He screamed.

Two others turned, startled — but not fast enough.

She struck fast, surgical. A broken wrist. A kick to the ribs. A clean elbow to the throat.

They weren't trained. She was.

But it wasn't clean. One had a knife, and her side flared white-hot as it sliced through her jacket and into skin.

She hissed through her teeth, kicked him in the jaw, and dropped him cold.

Then it was over.

The gang scattered, moaning and limping down side alleys like rats.

She stood over them, breathing hard, side bleeding through her shirt.

"…Tch."

She turned to the kid.

He hadn't run.

He was standing a few feet away, breathing like a cornered animal, eyes locked onto her like she was the monster in the alley.

Onyx-black eyes coldly stared at her.

His fists were clenched.

She opened her mouth to speak—

Spat.

The glob hit the ground just shy of her foot.

"What?" he snarled. "Want a thanks, bitch?"

Nephis blinked.