A beautiful sunrise illuminated an equally breathtaking view of the city and its surroundings. People roaming around the markets, parents keeping a close eye on their children and most of all, word spreading about Mercer's demise.

So many people were shocked to hear about the true nature of Mercer. Of course, many refuted the truth and demanded proof of his supposed vile demeanor, citing moments where they had seen Mercer's kindness.

After all, that was exactly why Mercer had been magnanimous; he wanted to keep those close to him under the impression that he was a kind, honest man.

A man that made sure that the people in his city were safe, that they were provided with ample care and help in their times of need.

Simply so he could be the monster he was in the comforts of his own home. After all, whom would the people believe? The man that saved them, or the slaves he owned.

However, now things were different.

Every single slave had been more than eager to prove their suffering under Mercer. Showing off the multitude of scars, recounting the harrowing tales of their past. How Mercer either blackmailed their families and held them hostage, or had simply kidnapped the women.

Those who didn't believe the slaves were more than swayed when they read Mercer's memento, the letters detailing all of his past and present actions.

The countless of people he had murdered, used and abused. Extortions, blackmailing, enslaving and selling of women and children.

Every speck of evidence I had managed to collect over the years had all been plastered across the city. Showing everyone just what a vile man they had been supporting.

No details had been spared and not a single lie was woven among the dark truth that spilled from those pages. Every single accusation had a mountain of proof behind it.

His bonds with Aakif had sealed the deal for many. No matter how hard some individuals tried to justify Mercer enslaving people, they could never justify selling children to a known predator.

And even if Aakif's true nature wasn't known before he died, rumors had spread long since his passing. People had been shocked, disgusted and outraged at the truth before persecuting everyone who was involved with Aakif's horrors.

Yet like always in this corrupt world, people were quick to look down at those beneath them and not seek fault with those that were supposedly above them.

It was only after multiple anonymous reports that the rich and nobility involved with child trafficking, had been arrested and trialed for their crimes.

Government officials, corrupt officers, merchants and even several individuals of a noble house had all been arrested on the spot. The evidence against them had been overwhelming, considering that they found multiple young children working for the nobles.

Children who were either just approaching Aakif's tastes, or just outgrew it.

As I leaned forwards to rest my arms on the banister and enjoyed the view, I couldn't help but feel slightly... empty.

My entire life after being discarded by Mercer had been nothing but plotting and executing my revenge. Days, months...years spent thirsting for their blood, to see my former masters and tormenters die at my hand...

Now that I had killed the last of my former masters and had severely mangled the slavery in the area, I didn't quite know what to do.

I wasn't so foolish as to believe I could singlehandedly eradicate slavery. Each country, each nation would always have a dark underbelly full of crimes and criminals.

It was a fantasy, a dream to think that one could destroy all evil and live in a world of kindness and purity.

There would always be more people like Mercer and Aakif. More slavers who saw people as nothing more than walking money, an easy way to get rich.

Men and women alike who looked at those with less resources in their lives, and saw nothing more than cattle ripe for the sale.

I knew that I could dedicate my entire life to hunt down slavers and slaughter them all. To free the innocent people they've enslaved and make sure they could live their lives as they wished. And get nowhere at all, as each and every slaver I killed would be replaced with the next.

Yet merely thinking of doing nothing was making me sick. Living in ignorance would be the same as aiding the slavers simply by staying silent.

A sigh slipped past my lips as I traced my heavily scarred wrists. Was this what the Elder at Ishtar's tribe meant, when I had stated my thirst to revenge?

That if I poisoned myself with rage and death, that was the only thing I'd find on my path?

Would I truly be free if I was forever shackled by this thirst that drove me to find and kill slavers? And to sink even further, where would I draw the line?

After all, I knew there were plenty of women who were trapped by the shackles of a forced marriage. Beaten by their partner and forced to perform their wifely duties whenever he demanded.

Even though I knew this wasn't the case for many Muslims, each community still had their outliers. Some men thrived on power and would wield it unjustly whenever they could.

Others sought to set an example by being gentle, warm and kindhearted people, who blessed their communities with their help and affection.

Now that I had an option to choose what I wanted to do with my life without having to look over my shoulder, I didn't have the faintest clue of what I wanted to do.

I've spent so long being a slave that I hardly had any aspirations of my own. Too long had I spent being suppressed and being told what to do that, now that I had the choice.... I was just an empty void.

Fingers drumming on the banister, I observed the people below the balcony. Families who were preparing for their day, children laughing as they chased after one another.

A smile slid on my face at a pair of young boys darting after one another, barely avoiding a loose hen that clucked and bolted like her life depended on it.

They reminded me so much of myself and my old friend. A friend who's memory was growing fainter by the day...

Even the memories of my parents, as treasured as they were, had been slowly fading away. No matter how much I tried to remember them, keep their memory alive, I was starting to forget things.

I didn't want the years of torment and slavery to be the liveliest memory I had in my lifetime. I wanted to make new memories, better memories.

Memories that would make me glad I lived my life the way I wanted and not fill me with regret on my deathbed.

What do I want to do with my life?

It was a thought that had troubled me well into the night and roused me from sleep. How was I going to continue from this point on?

Watching the couples with their children made me yearn for a life similar as theirs. To go back to and enjoy the simplicities of daily life.

Not worrying about the troubles and horrors of the world but instead, enjoy the time spent with your partner. To grow happy, grow old together and then start the next journey in life.

Nothing was stopping me from that simple happiness, except myself. My self-doubt and wonders if I was allowed to have happiness after I've personally slain multiple people.

After all, murder was still murder. Even if those bastards I've killed were vile, despicable men...

Some of them had a family to go home to. Children that waited eagerly for their father to return, a wife who was preparing the food with kindness, sneaking in their partner's favorite meal.

The men I had slain had been someone's father. Someone's husband, someone's child... A loved member of the family.

And I took that away from them.

Justice was such a warped and twisted thing. Eagerly held aloft by people who idolized its principle, yet all seemed to forget all the horrors that had been done, all in the name of justice.

People have been tortured, murdered and even raped, all in the name of justice. Innocent lives had been claimed, ruined and defiled due to some people's warped sense of justice.

Blood would always stain my hands, whether the cause was right or wrong.

Perhaps I should explore the world. See what the rest of the world had to offer for me before I settled down.

After all, I hadn't taken any time to explore, to truly enjoy life. Now was just a good a time as ever.

I may not know what I wanted to do with my life now... But traveling the world and seeing more would certainly give me a better insight.

Plus, I didn't want to linger into any of the areas that reminded me of my enslavement. I wanted to be free, live life the way I wanted to live it and experience the world through new eyes.

Perhaps Carson and his men would be willing to guide me for part of my journey. Help me find purpose and reason in this world, instead of falling into a never-ending spiral of blood, vengeance and hatred.

Even still, I would always rise unto the call, fighting for the beat and the broken until they could stand on their own two feet.

I wasn't going to let the slavers run freely, to let them ruin other lives simply for monetary gains. Nor was I going to dedicate my life to slaughtering anyone who stepped a toe out of line.

Perhaps I could train people, help improve the security at settlements that were easy targets. After all, slavers could be dealt with in several ways.

Deal with the slavers themselves... or make sure they can't get their hands on their precious merchandise.

Which meant informing remote villages, boosting their security and making them aware of a slaver's behavior. Getting rid of slaver outposts and save havens by amping up patrols, perhaps even make it more profitable to hunt slavers instead of slaves.

It would be a rough job with years of effort. But who would be able to think like slavers better than myself? Someone who has spent their lifetime among slavers, had seen them work up close and knows how they think.

That would be my legacy, I decided as I pushed away from the banister and took a deep breath. Hunting down the slavers and make sure justice was victorious.

After all, I didn't need to kill them. If anything, I needed to make the people aware of the actions of slavers that were hiding amongst them.

They would do the rest.

I would make it my duty to teach and educate people about slavers and their tactics, but I wouldn't become a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth for a taste of blood.

Because if I did that, Mercer would still win. And if anything, I was too stubborn to allow him any resemblance of victory, even in the afterlife.

No, I would defend the people and keep them safe. Develop security teams, mercenary services that could be trusted and wouldn't backstab others to get rich.

I can do this.

Pushing through the doors, my feet instantly found their way through the growing crowd, as they knew their heading. With my small amount of belongings on my back and a smile on my face, I headed my way towards Carson.

Towards my future.