The Strongest Wingless Gargoyle prologue 1

Aa…….

For a long time, my mind was shrouded in nothing but fog; and my body refused to obey, no matter how I willed it. And then it did. That was the day my mind cleared.

And a pair of long, narrow ashen-grey arms and deplorable stocky legs moved.

The war between Demon Lord, Larne, and Demon Lord, Beria, ended with Larne’s demise. As ruler and master, Larne’s death meant the rescission of his slave magic – a sorcery that had kept me bound for a very long time.

For years, all I did was live for him, serve at his pleasure.

My name is Albert, and one of the many that had been forced into a tragic life. And as you’ve noticed, although I am a gargoyle, I have a human name. One that is often used by the n.o.bility as well as royalty. Want to say it’s not fitting? Then go complain to the one that made me. They’re the one’s that gave me that name.

Though he did die years back.

Well, for years my soul was bound, but I was by no means born that way.

My creator and G.o.dparent was a demon that lived in a small, unmarked town who was killed by Demon Lord Larne.

To Larne, I had become something like ‘a spoil of war’, and was had been forced into slavery with the use of his magic as the enforcer.

Slave magic was particular in the sense that anyone affected by this magic would have their free will robbed of them and become nothing but a puppet which served the caster of said magic.

But Slave Magic wasn’t all powerful. It could only work on those with an immature state of mind and or also had a low resistance to magic. When Larne took me, I was only a year old. How could a year old child have any resistance to magic? And like that, I was bound.

As a slave, I had to comply with all the orders I was given. Slaves were nothing disposable objects with a short life expectancy…. Fortunately, I was a lucky one.  I survived long enough to see Larne die.

After what he did, I am supposed to not feel grief. And I don’t. I’m glad he’s dead.

All I had was this vivid memory of abuse.

Fighting, getting wounded; healing slightly before having to fight again. And like that, fifteen hundred years had gone. That’s how long I was bound. That’s how long I had served him against my will.

I wanted to ruin Larne. I wanted revenge. But Larne is dead.

Now, I must move on. I need to live my life as I have already lost most of my years.

I want pursue my dreams.

It’s funny how when you speak of dreams, you think of something grandiose. Like becoming a hero? Owning a castle, maybe? But no, I dream of the common things. To sleep when I want to. To eat what I like. Although it seems like nothing, it’s the world to me.

Uu….., how long do I waiting for this day?….

You might be thinking, why can’t I do as I wish now? Well… I maybe free, but I have no money, no authority, no prestige. I have nothing except one thing, and that is a chance.

Freedom.

I wish for true freedom to be within my grasp. Not just freedom from being under Larne’s thumb, but freedom to do as I wish, to be who I want to be.

Real freedom, aaah…how splendid would that be?

So no matter what hards.h.i.+p I must face, I will pursue my dream.

It has already been 1500 years. 1500 years of h.e.l.l. Now I’ve been released from that h.e.l.l. If it’s for that freedom, a thing such as hards.h.i.+p is nothing.

Finally, I can start again. I will live freely! And no one will get in my way!