A few days have passed, and every moment feels like a battle just to stay alive.
Experience has taught me one brutal lesson. In this world, strength is everything. The weak don't belong—they're left behind or destroyed.
This world has only been cruel to me.
So why not reciprocate that feeling?
Every day is filled with the same routine.
Kill to eat.
Kill to sleep.
Kill for territory.
Kill to survive.
My hands are stained with blood, and the bodies keep piling higher with each passing day—until the heap stretches so far upward, I can no longer see where it ends.
Men who have families.
Women who bear a child in their stomach.
Children who were full of dreams, eagerly working hard to see them through.
Dead.
All by my hands.
I had no other choice.
Kill to eat.
Kill to sleep.
Kill for territory.
Kill to survive.
Someone has to pay the price for what I suffered.
I'm alone in this world.
Nobody to help me.
Nobody to guide me.
Alone.
Not even a cry for help could stir a glance. My world had gone deaf to pain.
It's raining.
The raindrops slammed into the ground with such force that they drowned out every other sound, leaving only the relentless roar of the storm.
A man staggers through the downpour, limping, his face smeared with blood and his left arm bent at an unnatural angle. He screams for help, voice raw with desperation—but the rain is deafening, swallowing his cries like they never existed.
"HELP! PLEASE, HELP ME! ANYONE! SOMEONE! HELP ME!"
He turns his head, eyes filled with raw panic, as I approach him with deliberate slowness, every step I take pulling me closer to his inevitable fate.
"No… No! NO!" he roars, his voice breaking into a bloodcurdling scream. "STAY BACK! STAY BACK!" His eyes are wide with terror, his body trembling as he backs away, desperation dripping from every word.
It's futile.
I let out a deep sigh and pointed my finger out.
Zephyra.
A flick of my finger unleashes a sharp gust of wind, concentrated and lethal. It streaks toward the man with unimaginable speed, and the impact is violent—his body splattering into pieces, a gruesome spray of blood and flesh scattering around him.
I walk over towards the fleshy corpse and go through his pockets, searching for money.
Pulling out the coins, I count them.
"Only two bronze coins, huh?"
I lift my gaze to the sky, letting the cold, relentless rain wash over me, each drop a fleeting touch against my skin. As I step forward, the world around me blurs, the rain a curtain of obscurity, while my mind stays focused, hunting for my next victim.
More days pass, and I garner the attention of soldiers who take notice of my constant killing.
Day and night, I try to fight them off, but their numbers overpower me, leaving me with no time to rest and injuring me badly, to the point where I could barely walk.
It's the middle of the day, and I could hear soldiers scurrying along the streets, as they shout, in search of me.
Limping, blood veiling one eye, and clutching my side where a rib grinds beneath the skin, I stumble through the shadows, desperate to hide in some isolated corner, away from prying eyes.
I make it to an alleyway and spot a perfect place to hide myself in the distance.
As I moved toward shelter, a sudden blade tore into me from behind, slicing deep into my left arm. Pain surged through me, and in an instant, the limb went numb, useless, hanging dead at my side.
I sluggishly turn around and prepare for the next attack as the soldier who struck me raises his sword, swinging it down even harder.
I barely manage to dodge the attack, grazing past, and in the same motion, I seize his face, my fingers digging into his skull as I grip his head in my palm.
Healing.
His face caves in beneath my hand, bone shattering as his body begins to disintegrate, fading into the air like smoke caught in the wind.
I let the head fall and try to press on toward shelter, but my strength gives out. I stumble, and my body crashes to the ground with a heavy thud, limbs refusing to respond—paralyzed, broken, and drained.
Fuck, I'm out of mana.
My body didn't fully heal.
Constantly using magic and utilizing other people as catalysts has greatly drained my energy, as well as my mana, which I found out that I apparently had an abundance of.
Lying on the floor, I welcome any fate that comes my way.
I'm sick of this.
Just kill me already.
There's no point in living.
Suddenly, footsteps echo from the distance as they get closer.
"Are you okay, mister?"
A boy who looks to be about six years old crouches down and looks at my wounds.
"That looks like it hurts!"
Get away from me.
The boy stands up and runs back off into the distance, "I'm going to go get my mama and daddy! You just hang in there, mister!"
I want to shout, to scream, "No, stop it!", but my body betrays me. The pain is too great, and all that comes out is a broken whisper.
I lie motionless on the ground, eyes fixed on the vast blue sky above—so calm, so distant, as if mocking the chaos within me.
Is this where I meet my end?
Being caught by a mere child's parents?
It's shameless, really.
A few moments pass before I hear multiple footsteps as they grow closer.
I lay my head on the ground, eyes closed.
This is it.
"Hurry, Aengus, carry him on your back!"
"Hold on, he needs to be tended to right now!"
"Daddy, will he be okay?"
"Don't worry Jurd, he'll be just fine."
My eyes flutter open slowly, vision still hazy. Three figures come into focus—a middle-aged man with blond hair and a long, unkempt beard; a sharp-faced woman with ginger hair and a long, pointed nose; and the same child from before, standing between them.
The man brings out some bandages and wraps them around my wounds.
"Still, how can someone get this hurt?" The man questions, and a concerned expression starts to form on his face.
Once he's patched up my wounds, the man hoists me onto his back without a word. We make our way through the desolate streets, each footfall heavy, the night pressing in around us.
A few soldiers pass us, as I duck my head behind the back of the man. They don't take notice.
This fucking scum.
Just leave me be.
I didn't ask to be saved.
Just let me die.
We arrive at a house, its door swinging open with an eerie quiet. The interior is dim, a faint light spilling from within, and a staircase winds upward, disappearing into the shadows above.
"Aengus, take him upstairs," the woman says, "Put him on Jurd's bed."
The man carries me upstairs, making his way up the stairs, taking my condition into consideration and moving slowly.
A small hallway showed two rooms with doors open, as the man walked into the room on the right, gently setting me on the bed.
I look at the man, my body trembling with pain, and struggle to form words, my voice barely a whisper. "Just… let me die," I croak, the weight of my suffering too heavy to bear.
But he doesn't hear me, and he leaves the room, "I'll be right back, okay?" He closes the door behind him.
How low I've fallen.
It's almost ironic how prideful I'd been acting before.
Just to wish for death.
The door creaks open as the boy comes to my bedside.
"Hey, mister, what happened? Does it hurt? Are you okay?" He asks, rapidly shooting questions.
I try to muster strength in order to speak, "Leave me alo-" My sentence cut off by my raspy, ragged coughs.
"Here, have some water."
The boy reveals the cup of water in his hands and gently lifts it to my lips, pouring the cool water into my mouth, each drop a small comfort against the burning ache inside me. His hands are steady, as if this simple act is the only thing he can do to ease my suffering.
"Is that better, mister?" He gives me a smile.
Unlike Alice's, it doesn't seem fake.
He's a kid anyway, he probably doesn't have ill intent.
But still...
I don't want to be betrayed again.
I don't want to be alone.
Don't leave.
The woman enters the room, bringing in some sort of medicine.
Can they not use magic to heal my wounds?
Then it struck me.
Of course, they don't have a proper catalyst.
The woman brings a wooden chair over, setting it next to the boy and sitting down.
"Jurd, mama needs to talk to the man now, okay?" She gives a soft smile.
"Okay!" The boy leaves the room and slowly closes the door.
The woman leans in, her touch careful as she begins to peel away the blood-soaked bandages from my body. With practiced hands, she uncorks a small bottle of medicine, the sharp scent filling the room as she prepares to tend to my wounds.
She turns to me, "This is going to be a little painful, alright?"
As the liquid from the bottle pours over my open wounds, a searing pain erupts across my skin, sharp and unforgiving—like acid biting into flesh, as if I were being set on fire from the inside out.
My body twitches, but I couldn't even scream.
As if instantly, my wounds start to close, and the pain diminishes.
I look at my fully recovered body, but I could barely move it, still exhausted from using all of my mana.
"Now then," she begins, "What happened to leave you in that state?"
She looks at me with intent.
I avert my eyes from hers and stay silent.
"It's okay," she lets out a deep sigh and moves towards the door. "Take your time and rest. You can let me know later."
She quietly exits the room, the soft click of the door closing behind her echoing in the silence. Once again, I'm left alone, surrounded by dim light, bandaged wounds, and the weight of my own thoughts.
I'm not falling for this again.
I need to find a way out of here.
I need to escape.
I'm not going to let myself get hurt like that again.
I just can't...
Suddenly, a faint sound comes from beyond the door.
It was a knock on the front door, followed by it being opened.
There was a small pause before voices started speaking.
"Good evening, we're knights from squad 82 of the Royse kingdom, instructed to warn everyone in this area to be on the lookout for a young man with dark hair and a black cloak. He's been on a rampage for the past week, stealing and killing citizens. We were just wondering if you guys had seen him."
There's a long, uneasy silence before I hear a voice at last, calm, low, and familiar. It was the man.
"No, sorry, we haven't seen anyone of the sort near here. I'll let you know if we do find him."
"I see. Sorry to have taken up your time. Well then, if you'll excuse me."
The door closes as the footsteps begin to fade away.
Why did he...?
Why?
Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, threatening to fall, but I hold them back.
Did they really just wish to help me?
No ulterior motive?
It's not possible.
This must be a dream.
The door swings open again, its hinges groaning softly. The man enters, calm and silent, and lowers himself into the chair beside my bed, as if the stillness between us says more than words ever could.
I begin to open my mouth, "Why did you..."
The man looks at me in shock, but his expression changes. He shows no hostility with soft eyes, "I'm sure you had your reasons to do that. What matters now is that you're okay."
This can't be.
Someone...
Finally heard me...
Was kind to me...
Didn't leave me alone...
Hadn't betrayed me...
We converse for a bit as he gives me his name and the situation that he is currently in.
The man's name was Aengus, and he had a wife named Meldith, with a son named Jurd. He was a doctor who worked for a small clinic in town when his son ran in and told him about an injured person in an alleyway.
So that explains it.
He's a doctor.
That's how he was able to have that medicine on hand.
He left me to rest up, and I lay in bed, trying to sleep.
This was the only person in this world to had been kind to me.
The only one.
I have to repay this man someday.
My eyelids grow heavy, and slowly, I surrender to the pull of sleep, the world fading into quiet darkness.
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A sudden crash jolts me awake. Muffled shouts and the sound of things breaking bleed through the door, sharp and rising in panic.
Screaming echoed throughout the house.
I force myself upright, pain flaring in every limb as I grip my aching body. Step by dragging step, I reach the door and crack it open, the screams and crashing beyond now sharp, raw, and unmistakably real.
Horrified, my eyes fall upon the living room—and I freeze. Blood is splattered across the walls and soaked into the floorboards. Severed limbs are scattered like discarded meat, twisted in unnatural positions.
My breath catches as I recognize one of them… Meldith. A scream rises in my throat, but no sound comes.
My gaze shifts, trembling, to another mangled form—and denial shatters into dread. The other... it's Aengus.
No.
A group of men stands over the bodies, their faces cold, devoid of any emotion. They're the same soldiers from yesterday.
My eyes dart around the room, heart pounding in my chest, until they fall on another soldier holding a boy by his neck, his feet dangling helplessly in the air.
It's Jurd.
He screams, "NOOO! MAMA!! DADDY!!" his small body thrashing in desperation, his arms flailing wildly, but it's in vain.
The soldier's blade flashes, slick with blood, and with one brutal stroke, Jurd's head is severed from his body. The boy's lifeless form crumples to the floor, blood pooling around him like a dark, grim halo.
Peering down from the top of the staircase, the sight below stoked a fire within me, deeper and fiercer than before. My fists tightened, nails digging into my palms, my body trembling with the force of the rage swelling up inside me.
"Why...?" The word escapes me in a guttural snarl, my anger spilling over, desperate for an explanation that can never justify the horror before me.
The soldiers' eyes shift toward me, and the one who had just torn Jurd apart smirks, his bloodied blade glinting in the dim light. He steps forward, the scent of death clinging to him as he opens his mouth to speak, his words dripping with cruel satisfaction.
"Harboring fugitives is against Royse law."
"That's it?" My voice cracks, barely able to contain the tidal wave of anger. I stare at them, fists clenched, my gaze piercing. As I take slow, deliberate steps down the staircase, each one feels heavier, filled with the weight of the fury surging through me. "That's why they had to die?!?" The words are almost a scream, raw and unrelenting.
The same soldier starts to give commands.
"He's too big of a threat, just kill him."
The moment I hit the bottom of the staircase, they rush at me in unison, their weapons raised. The sound of their boots slamming against the ground echoes, and I feel the weight of their rage bearing down on me.
I give up.
I'm done.
Sacrificing my left arm, I prepare a spell, envisioning one that reciprocates my anger.
Explosion.
A massive explosion erupts, focused and devastating, sending a shockwave through the room. Most of the soldiers are consumed instantly, their bodies disintegrating into ash, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of smoke and charred remains. The force of the blast collapses the house in on itself, the walls crumbling into rubble, leaving behind nothing but devastation.
I move towards the bodies of some of the soldiers under the rubble, their bodies deceased, but still useful.
Stretching out my arm, I use one as a catalyst.
Healing.
My arm grows back out as it begins to heal back to normal.
I look back at the bodies of the family that helped me.
Broken.
And finally, panning back to the man who was kind to me, his lifeless body, and decapitated head, still showing the horror that he experienced at the moment of his death.
A tear rolls down my cheek.
I step through the collapsed house and go on my way.
Vowing to myself to never let this happen again.