Mentality
Personal history
Most people who ask about my background expect me to know my family history.
Truth is, I can’t say I truly know my father.
All I have are the stories my mother told me. She said he was a “handsome dark knight”, a mysterious warrior who saved her one night from some monstrous creature she never described. He protected the village, and in the aftermath… they spent one beautiful evening together. According to her, he stayed with us until my twin brother Kiba and I were about four years old.
And when I say “we,” I mean me and Kiba. We also have a little sister, Ishizu, who’s two years younger than us. So we know our father was definitely around for a while.
Mom did everything she could to raise the three of us. Then everything changed when Kiba and I turned ten.
One night our home was attacked — raiders, cultists, something in between. I couldn’t see much from the distance, but they wore black and blue cloaks, and as they approached I saw a strange glowing symbol stitched into their backs: a stylized magical hand, arranged in an arcane pattern.
Mom grabbed me and Ishizu and shoved us into a hidden room reinforced against magic and scrying. Ishizu was crying. I held her close as we listened to chaos erupt outside. Mom ran out, searching for Kiba. We heard magical blasts… and somewhere in that mess, my brother shouting.
We stayed hidden. We waited for someone — anyone — to open the door.
The next morning, the door opened at last.
We stepped into the worst sight I’d ever seen.
Kiba was gone.
Mom was dead — placed on her own bed, her body arranged like part of some kind of ritual.
I covered Ishizu’s eyes and ran.
After that, we were placed in an orphanage, where we lived for the next four years. I protected Ishizu. I survived. And from that day forward, my only goal was simple:
Get strong enough that nothing like that ever happens again.
Those four years blurred by. Ishizu grew into her calling — she joined the Church of Pelor, devoted to healing, protection, and compassion. She barely inherited our devil blood. Other than her deep red hair, almost no one realizes she’s a tiefling at all. No glowing eyes, no fangs, no pointed ears. Just one unique trait from our father:
She can generate and resist electricity.
Meanwhile, I got into a fight with some older boys who were bullying the younger orphans. One even set a dog on the kids. Without thinking, I conjured a patch of darkness to disorient the dog, then tied it up with a rope dangling nearby.
That’s when I met Renard Sedro, an old elf who had been watching the whole thing. He said he was impressed — not just that I stepped in, but how fast I thought on my feet. He introduced himself and said he’d been looking for a pupil.
I told him the only person I cared about was my little sister. Renard offered to adopt us both, but Ishizu was committed to the church. She promised we’d stay close regardless. That was enough for me.
So I agreed.
At first I thought I’d be learning normal skills, maybe becoming an adventurer.
I was wrong.
Renard’s idea of training involved preparing me to hunt dragons. Not the wild beasts that raid farms — the legendary ones. Sentient. Cunning. Dangerous. I thought he was insane.
Turns out? He was brilliant.
He taught me swordsmanship, marksmanship, crafting, survival… everything I needed to survive anything with scales and wings. For six years, I trained nonstop, growing stronger each day. I even started forging my own gear because, as he taught me, every material in the world has unique properties — and if you learn to use them, you can create something truly your own.
Crafting felt natural. Like it was in my blood.
One day, on a field mission, Renard took me into goblin territory to test my scouting skills. While I followed a tunnel alone, I saw someone I never thought I’d see again.
Kiba.
Alive.
Older.
Stronger.
Standing beside a devil… and one of those cultists.
He greeted me like nothing had happened.
I asked him why he was with them.
His answer chilled me:
He intended to unlock his “full potential” — to become a full-fledged devil.
I told him he was insane. That we were who we were, and that was enough.
He gave me a familiar look — the one we shared before sparring as kids.
We fought like demons in the dark. Magic and steel clashing in tight tunnels.
He was stronger. He channeled magic directly into his weapon.
He beat me. He could’ve killed me.
But he didn’t.
He leaned in and whispered:
“If you really think you’re right… get stronger, brother. Then we’ll see who stands at the end.”
After that, I begged my master to teach me how to fight devils. He didn’t know much, but we studied, trained, and adapted everything we could.
When I told Ishizu, she went pale. She told me never to speak of Kiba again.
To her, he was dead.
And maybe she was right.
Maybe he was the reason Mom died.
I trained for another year before Renard finally said it was time.
Time to forge my own path.
To seek my own strength.
To make my own name.
He gave me my first pistol — a gift to start my journey.
And the first sword I ever forged under his guidance.
And now… the rest of my story begins.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Renard Sedro Master and adopted father thought little strange and off for High Elf
Family Ties
Mom Dead
Dad Uknow
Kiba twin bother with cutus and demon rival Magus
Ishizu 2 year yonger sister in the Church of Helreginn clearic loveing and caring