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Chapter 3: Meaning To The Vow

If you fear, Your claws and teeth will chip oh-so-easily. 

If you feel worthless, 

I'd simply embrace you within my arms. 

Yes, I am the human within you, 

Coward and timid.

As if the world itself shuddered with every roar, the two beasts clashed outside, their violence shaking the earth beneath El Ritch. He pulled at the broken planks of wood with one hand, his other clutching the boy close. The house groaned with each impact, the walls threatening to collapse at any moment. 

We'll get out, El Ritch thought, forcing himself to believe it. We'll get out, and I'll give you the best life possible— 

A searing pain tore through his back, and his grip faltered. The boy tumbled to the ground as El Ritch spun around. 

Above him, four bipedal creatures emerged from the darkness, their cackling echoing like nails against stone. They'd been hiding, waiting for prey to stumble into their lair. 

Damn it... His thoughts froze as panic clawed at his resolve. 

The creatures lunged, jaws snapping at the air, and El Ritch let loose a guttural scream: 

"Grrughhh!" 

He meant to shout *Run,* but his voice was nothing more than a desperate growl. 

The creatures swarmed him, their saliva hissing as it splattered and burned his skin. He struck back with all the strength he had left. In a frenzy, he crushed two of their thin, wiry necks with his bare hands. Blood gushed from his mouth as he wheeled the limp body of one into the third, puncturing its neck. The final creature shrieked, claws slashing wildly, but El Ritch slammed it against the broken timbers until it fell silent. 

He swayed, his vision blurring, knowing he'd never survive this. But there was still one thing left to do. 

Turning back to the boy, who had curled into a ball in a corner, El Ritch tapped his shoulder. His voice was gone, his throat shredded, but his touch was firm. 

The boy looked up, trembling, his face streaked with tears. "I—I'm sorry," he whimpered, his words broken by sobs. "I'm sorry, Master. I'm not worth it. I'm not worth your sacrifice. I... I was born an orphan. If someone has to die, let it be me. At least then, I wouldn't be alone..." 

Each word cracked under the weight of his despair, and El Ritch's heart ached at the sound. He wanted to speak, to comfort him, but his body betrayed him. Instead, he reached out, patting the boy's head with a trembling hand, his touch gentle despite the pain that consumed him. 

I will live for you, El Ritch thought. 

He pushed himself to stand, but his legs buckled as a sudden blow tore through his throat. 

One of the creatures had survived. 

Its claw ripped into him, tearing his neck open. Blood gushed from the wound, spilling down his chest as he collapsed. The creature shrieked, snapping its jaws in the air triumphantly as El Ritch crumpled to the floor. 

He couldn't breathe. His lungs filled with blood, drowning him, and his vision darkened. The boy's screams faded into the distance, muffled and indistinct. 

---

With my life and beyond, 

The soul of mine, I give up. 

Grant me strength in this final hour, 

By death do I abide, and let this child receive all blessings of life. 

El Ritch closed his eyes.

He will live. 

All went still. 

 THE BOY

What are monsters, beasts, or animals? By what authority did we dare to make distinctions among them—and conveniently exclude ourselves? God is neither merciful, kind, nor all-knowing. The horrors that unfold in His domain are hidden even from Him as Man ascends to play God in His stead.

The boy stood amidst the ruins, flames licking the crumbled remains of what was once a village. His chest heaved, but not from exertion—it was something deeper. Rage boiled in him, raw and uncontrollable. 

He had no name, no story of his own, no recognition in this world. The only person who saw him as something more than nothing lay lifeless before him. "You dare?!" His voice in cold rage, humming through the village even in such cacophony as he turned, his piercing glare locking onto the bipedal monster that stalked nearby, its grotesque form twitching. 

"You, a beast born out of the misery of a chicken," the boy spoke in distaste. "Do you even comprehend what I've lost because of you?" 

The air grew heavy, an invisible force pressing down on the beast. It screeched, clawing at the ground, but it could not rise. 

"Kill yourself," the boy commanded coldly. 

The monster's body ruptured instantly, its insides splattering across the charred walls and debris. Blood and bile rained down, yet the boy barely flinched. He wiped the mess off his face with a slow, deliberate motion, his gaze fixed ahead. His hands trembled as they began to glitch and flicker like static. 

I don't have much time. 

The two remaining beasts, the bird-like monstrosity and the uncanny human-faced horror, had ceased their fight. Both had torn limbs dangling uselessly from their bodies, but their glowing eyes now followed the boy. Wariness crept into their movements. 

"Who... who... who... who are you?" The human-faced beast mimicked speech, its voice a horrifying mockery of humanity. 

The boy cocked his head slightly, unamused. "So you can mimic humans. Although, Of course, since you've feasted on enough humans to learn the sounds." 

He walked with eerie calmness, dragging El Ritch's corpse behind him. The flames around them flickered brighter, as if bowing to his presence. His steps stopped in the center of the carnage. 

"I had one person in this forsaken world who recognized me. Do you know what that means?" His voice softened, breaking ever so slightly as he knelt beside the lifeless body of his master. 

"I am nothing now. Nothing except what he believed me to be." His fingers brushed against El Ritch's cold hand. 

The beasts tensed, sensing weakness. They lunged together, claws outstretched, but froze mid-air, as if caught in an invisible grip. 

"Because of you both," the boy whispered, standing slowly, "I am cursed to live unknown. I am nothing, but I will ensure your deaths are far worse." 

The world around them cracked, folding into itself. Space unraveled, dimensions becoming meaningless. Height, depth, volume—everything dissolved into the incomprehensible. The boy's form seemed to stretch and fragment, a glitch in reality itself. 

"You, who possess sentience and yet no empathy for a lesser being, have no right to exist as you do. But I will grant you a gift—knowledge, power, and the universe itself. Your deepest desires will become your truths." 

[Scenario taking place outside observable pathways. Dimension warping sequence not possible. Scenario located: Crash! Crash! Crash! Not located.]

[Scenario located: Village Edhan]

The boy sat motionless, waiting for the inevitable—his demise. Without recognition, without a tether to this world, he was nothing. Powerless. Soon, he would simply vanish, only to begin anew. But that wasn't what gnawed at him. It wasn't the vanishing. It was the memories he'd lose. Born an orphan in this place, he had lived a brief, unremarkable life. Yet even the smallest moments felt priceless now, most of all those spent with El Ritch.

The words came to him clearly, carried on the wind, defying the chaos and the flames that engulfed the village: 

"With my life and Beyond, 

The soul of mine, I give up. 

Give every strength that I need, 

By death do I abide and give this child all the blessings one shall receive." 

His breath caught. He recognized the words immediately, and horror flashed across his face. "A Vow to the Heart?!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling. He knew what that meant, what such a vow required. It had to be stopped. 

"You are cruel to allow this!" He looked to the sky, his voice rising in desperation. "He is but a mortal! Cancel the vow! You are wrong for this—cancel it!" 

The moon, once radiant, now hid itself behind thick, brooding clouds. Lightning crackled, and sparks danced across the blackened sky. 

"This isn't what his path to chose?!" he cried, his voice raw and pleading. "The laws binds me and you but there you can break, make an exception, this is a cruel fate! He is a good man. A good man.

The sky gave its reply in silence. The lightning ceased. The clouds stilled. The connection was severed. 

"No!" the boy screamed. 

His skin tore as El Ritch's body, lifeless and broken, began to unravel, fragments of the man's very essence seeping into him. The boy clawed at himself, but it was futile. He could feel the pain of another's sacrifice coursing through his veins. 

"I will protect you—" 

The words resounded in his mind, not in his own voice but in El Ritch's, clear and unwavering. The boy collapsed, his body trembling, shifting, reshaping under the weight of the vow. 

The remnants of El Ritch's final act surged through him, melding with his being, leaving him something... someone else. 

"From today, whatever your name may be... You are El Ritch. Live your life to the fullest. Marry, have children, and in time, give the answer to the question I asked you." El Ritch gave a toothy grin before melting away.


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
DaoistpMEI89 DaoistpMEI89

A new author so please do comment, I'd feel motivated positively if someone's reading it, and sorry if the english is not good. It is not my first language

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Chapter 4: The beginning after the end

It had been a day or two—perhaps longer—the boy couldn't recall. He sat propped inside a makeshift tent, his body swathed in ointments and bandages that clung to his skin, holding it together as though it might fall apart at any moment. The agony was unrelenting, a sensation as cruel as being burned alive. But worse than the pain was the emptiness: the boy couldn't remember why he was there, nor who he had been before. 

A group of people had arrived, calling themselves Hunters. He overheard their purpose—they were there to ensure something—but what that was, he couldn't grasp. His curiosity was smothered by the searing pain coursing through him, and he stayed silent, even as nurses and doctors came and went, their hands cool and impersonal, their words offering no solace. 

"—A beast could've done this—" 

"—Scares me to death—" 

"—Could return and be dangerous for—" 

The whispers drifted in and out of his consciousness like scraps of wind, never lingering long enough to make sense. Then, the rustle of the tent's entrance pulled his attention. The cloth parted, and a group stepped in: the doctor and several others dressed in leather armor and clothes fashioned from animal skins. They moved carefully, their faces marked by quiet deliberation as they took seats around him. 

The doctor spoke first. Her voice was soft, but it carried an edge of gravity. "Are you feeling alright now?" 

The boy shook his head—no. He wouldn't lie; the agony was all-consuming. But he remained calm, his face betraying none of the fire beneath his skin. The doctor smiled, a fragile warmth against the tension in the air. 

"You're a very strong boy," she said gently. "Not many people could stay calm like this. Now, you're going to be alright. But we need you to be honest with us—can you do that? Whatever you remember, no matter how small, it will help. And if you answer truthfully, these people here can help you recover, alright?" 

He nodded, his response as innocent as it was uncertain. 

One of the others leaned forward. A woman with an eyepatch and a face scarred beyond recognition, her dark purple coat and greenish-grey pants contrasting sharply against the tent's muted surroundings. Her gaze was cold, unreadable, as though she had long since abandoned the luxury of emotions. 

"Was this village attacked by a beast?" she asked, her voice as sharp and unyielding as steel. 

The boy hesitated. His memories were a fog, an empty void he couldn't navigate. "I… I do not remember anything," he admitted softly, his words trembling. "I only remember… someone. Someone asking me a question. An answer they wanted… but I can't remember what it was." 

His face fell. "I apologize," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"If you don't know, it's fine," the woman said, her voice gruff as she let out a sigh, scratching her head. With a glance at the others, she rose to her feet. "Not that we can do anything about it. Send him to the orphanage." Her tone was dismissive, almost impatient, as though there were nothing more to be wrung from the boy's battered state. "Begin preparations. We're getting off. Send him back with the carriages, and we'll follow the beast's trail."

With that, the group filtered out of the tent, leaving behind only the doctor. Her face betrayed her, guilt heavy on her features as she hesitated, torn between duty and something deeper. The boy tilted his head at her in quiet curiosity, but she couldn't meet his eyes. Her lips quivered as though words were trying to escape, but instead, she turned and walked out, her shoulders slumping.

The boy was left alone again—alone except for it. 

An amalgamation stood before him, something that defied reason and clawed at the edges of the mind, a shape not meant to be perceived. It loomed in the air, silent, invisible to all but him. His hands trembled as the burning sensation coursed through them, yet he reached out, desperate to touch it, to confirm its reality. His fingers passed through the vision, meeting nothing but empty air. 

"Wh-What?" he stammered, his voice cracking with confusion and a flicker of fear. The figure dissolved like mist, leaving him alone once more, staring at the void it left behind. 

The flap of the tent opened again, and the doctor returned, her expression strained, her smile something close to guilty. She sat down heavily, her hands clasped together as though to steady herself. 

"I have something to tell you," she began, her voice soft but deliberate. She took a deep breath, weighing her words before continuing. "We're going to give you two options. You can choose either, but please… choose well." 

The boy sat up slightly, his eyes narrowing in quiet curiosity. 

"We can send you to the orphanage in the capital," she explained. "There, you'll live peacefully. Someday, maybe, if you're talented or lucky enough, some parents might take you into their home." She paused, as if to let the weight of that life settle. 

"Or," she sighed, her hesitation stretching the moment thin, "you can come with me. I can treat you. I can give you a good place to live. But," her voice lowered, "there will be dangers. Situations like the one you faced in the village. You'll have to be strong, braver than most." 

The boy was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips curled into a small smile. "Will I get those sweet things you gave me this morning?" 

The doctor blinked, startled, before a genuine laugh bubbled out of her. She tried to hide it behind her hands but failed, her chuckle warm and unrestrained. 

"Yes," she replied, her voice lighter now, tinged with amusement. "Yes, there will be many treats—better than what you ate today."

"Then I will come with you," the boy said, flashing a small, toothy grin. 

The doctor returned the smile with equal warmth, nodding. "Then we need to get you better first," she replied, determination sparking in her voice. 

The following eight hours stretched long and grueling, from afternoon into dusk. The doctor worked tirelessly to tend to the boy, applying potions like lotion to his raw, wounded skin. Some of the mixtures carried foul odors that turned even her stomach, but they worked, slowly easing the boy's pain. When it came time for the pill—a bitter, stinking concoction—he clamped his nose shut and swallowed it whole without complaint, earning a smile of approval from her. Little by little, his melting skin began to heal, settling into a livable state. His trembling limbs grew still at last, and the doctor finally allowed herself a moment to rest, though exhaustion weighed heavily on her.

As the camp dismantled around them and the tent he rested in was packed away, someone roused the doctor from her brief nap. She stirred groggily, blinking against the fading light of evening. 

"You taking the kid? Think about it again?" the woman with the eye patch asked, eyeing both the doctor and the boy skeptically. 

"Yes!" the doctor said, her reply full of resolve as she nodded energetically. The woman only shrugged, muttering something inaudible before retreating to her own carriage, letting the curtain fall closed behind her. 

The boy reached out and took the doctor's hand, his grip small but firm. Together, they climbed into one of the carriages at the rear of the convoy. "We'll be going to the capital," she said, grinning. "To my home." 

The boy nodded enthusiastically, his spirits seemingly lifted despite the ordeal he had endured. The carriage rolled forward, creaking as it joined the others on the dirt road. Before long, the convoy came to a halt, and a flurry of voices and movement surrounded them. 

The doctor leaned out briefly, exchanging words with the others before turning back to the boy. 

"She picked up a kid?" one voice muttered from outside. 

"You can't just pick up a kid like a stray puppy," another grumbled. "How will you maintain him?" 

"He still looks like he's hurt," a third observed, quieter but no less doubtful. 

The doctor shot the boy a reassuring smile and shrugged off the comments. Before they could climb too far into his head, a man dressed in unremarkable clothes—his dark hair messy, his equally dark eyes sharp—leaned into the carriage. 

"Ignore them," he said, his tone kind but brisk. He addressed the boy directly, a faint smile softening his features. "You've come a long way from that village. Will you be alright in the city?" 

"Yes," the boy replied confidently. "If the doctor is there, I won't have any problems." 

"Is that so?" The man chuckled, amused by the boy's straightforward answer. "Well, that's good to hear." He extended a hand halfway before catching himself. "You're still injured, so no need to shake hands just yet. But next time, make sure you do. And when that time comes, tell me your name." 

The boy tilted his head, curious. 

"I'm Aldric," the man said, winking as he leaned back. "Next time, I'll be waiting to hear yours." 


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
DaoistpMEI89 DaoistpMEI89

Please do enjoy :D

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