Derek was born into a... stranger family than most. All of his cousins, uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, and all of his living bloodline lived under one roof: the Gilded Estate of the Adyr Family.
The Adyr Family held deep beliefs in earning one's place in the world—earning your strength, your wealth, and your wisdom. No gifts would be handed down to new generations except for two things: knowledge and training. Everything else had to be fought for.
Derek was a quiet child in a house filled with noise. While his cousins competed in the courtyard, screaming over duels and drills, Derek often wandered the family’s massive library, tracing his fingers over old sword manuals and battle journals. He learned the theory before he ever picked up a blade. That made him slow to start—but frighteningly precise once he did.
He earned the nickname "Lazarus" after a duel at age sixteen, where he was struck down and left bleeding on the marble tiles of the training grounds. But as his opponent turned away, Derek stood—barely conscious, body trembling, face pale—and won the fight with a single, perfect strike. “You rise too late,” his opponent had muttered. “No,” Derek whispered back. “I rise in spite of you".
Years passed, and Derek balanced two lives. By day, he served as a part-time librarian in the city archives, quietly tending to dusty tomes, helping scholars, and transcribing lost histories. By night, he fought in duels both formal and forgotten—tournaments, alley brawls, whispered contests behind shuttered guildhalls. Not for money. Never for glory. He fought for understanding. Each duel was a lesson. Each opponent is a teacher.
But his greatest lesson came during a duel against a rival swordsman—one who fought not with technique, but with conviction. Derek's blade shattered in that fight, broken into five jagged pieces on cold stone. He lost. Badly. But the shame didn’t burn. The doubt did.
Rather than replace the blade, Derek gathered its pieces. He traveled for nearly a year, seeking out old forges, forgotten smiths, and rare metals. With every shard reforged, he asked one question: What do I believe in? The final answer came not from a book or a master, but from within.
He named the new sword Truth—a weapon made of failure, rebuilt with honesty. It was not perfect. It didn’t gleam like legend-forged steel. But it was his, and it cut cleaner than anything he had ever held.
Now 26, Derek still works in the library, shelving knowledge and curating rare texts. Some mock his simplicity, but those who know better understand that Derek "Lazarus" Adyr is a swordsman of terrifying clarity. He doesn't fight to win. He fights to understand.
And every time he draws Truth, another lie dies.