Hahh, Hahh, Hahh…
A boy could be seen panting heavily, running through the forest, right behind him, a pack of wolves, hunger burning in their eyes.
He had entered this forest to search for herbs and hunt for mana cores, hoping to turn his miserable life around.
At only 15, he lived alone. One of the 1% born without a divine blessing during awakening. That simple twist of fate had condemned him to poverty, struggle, and rejection.
He had finally worked up the courage to take risks, if he was ever going to rise above his fate. But now he was here, running for his life.
He looked back, fear wide in his bloodshot eyes. Sweat poured down his face in rivers, enough to fill a bucket.
He stumbled, and his knees scraped the forest floor. Gritting his teeth, he kept running.
But his mind began to crumble.
"Why…?" he whispered.
"Why me? Why always me…?
I never asked to be born cursed…
I never begged to be ignored by the gods…
I only wanted a chance…
A chance to prove that even someone like me could matter.
That I could become someone...
But no matter how hard I try…
No matter how much I bleed…
It's never enough, is it?"
His voice broke.
Tears mixed with dirt on his cheeks as he screamed to the uncaring sky:
"What did I do wrong?!
Why was I denied?!
Is it a sin to dream?
Is it a curse to try?!
I worked, I fought, I did my fucking best!"
A wolf lunged, sensing his weakness, and struck him in the back. He staggered, barely standing now, fatigue gripping every limb. With nowhere to run, he turned to fight. If he had to die… he would die with the last shred of pride still in his chest.
The wolves, knowing a cornered prey is most dangerous, encircled him. One darted forward, then feinted, drawing his attention, while another slashed his exposed back. A long, deep gash tore across his spine, blood flowing freely.
Pain burst through his body, and his courage wavered. He considered running… until he realized he was completely surrounded.
Another wolf tore into his arm, ripping it clean off.
He screamed, raw and agonized, collapsing to his knees.
Another bite carved into his shoulder, flesh dangling and bone exposed. His vision dimmed.
But still, he didn't give up.
A wolf lunged again. He thrust his sword into its eye, driving the blade through its skull. The beast died instantly, momentum carrying it into the kill.
But his own arm shattered from the impact, bone cracked, muscle torn.
He smiled bitterly, as a sliver of essence flowed into him from the slain wolf.
A reward for killing, even in death.
But the pack did not relent, feeling mocked by his smile,
They tore into him, legs, chest, belly.
Flesh was ripped away. Blood soaked the ground.
One lunged at his groin, biting off the last part of his manhood in a single, brutal snap.
The pain wasn't just unbearable, it shattered his mind… and then came clarity.
In that stillness between life and death, his thoughts began to race.
They say when you're dying, time slows. And in that final clarity, memories flooded him.
He saw the orphanage… his caretaker's weary smile as she said he was abandoned, left in a basket at the church gates.
He felt nothing for the parents he never knew.
He saw Alicia, his only friend, growing distant after their awakenings… until she left him behind for the Magus Academy in the Kingdom of Seol.
He remembered how he believed effort could match talent.
That even the blessed could be surpassed.
But here he was… broken, forgotten, dying in the mud.
All because the gods turned their eyes away.
All because they refused him a blessing.
His thoughts darkened, his soul ablaze with fury.
He clenched his ruined hand and cried out to the night:
"O great beast beneath the stars,
Hear me now, through blood and scars.
To gods above, I gave my plea,
But none have ever answered me.
You, who hunts where angels dread,
Who walks where life and hope have fled,
Take my soul, my pain, my breath,
And curse the gods with living death.
Primal Fiend, whose name they fear,
Let my voice reach your ancient ear.
My soul I give, my wrath I send
Let divine towers burn and end!"
❖ ELSEWHERE…
Astaroth sat quietly in a bar, lost in reflection. Then he felt it...
A subtle pull. Then a surge, a massive influx of faith.
He narrowed his eyes.
Someone had prayed to him.
Not out of worship or tradition,
But from desperation and anger.
Using the connection, he saw the cause… and the boy.
Astaroth smirked.
His first true subject.
He stood, paid for his drink, left the bar, and vanished.
Following the bond, he arrived within moments.
The wolves never saw it coming.
In a heartbeat, they were slaughtered, torn apart with no time to scream.
Astaroth approached the dying boy. Blood soaked the earth. Bones cracked. The boy was barely breathing.
He looked down at the broken figure and said:
"I have heard your call…
And I will give you a second chance at life.
Do you accept?"
❖ THE BOY'S POV
Through the haze of death, he saw a figure standing above him.
A man wrapped in shadow and divinity.
He felt something, deep reverence, inexplicable connection.
His lips moved.
A faint whisper was heard...
"...Yes."
Astaroth smiled.
Placing a hand over the boy's head, he summoned the power of faith, the energy of belief, to rebuild what had been lost.
Faith was the foundation of miracles, wielded by both divine and unholy beings.
It was why churches thrived. Why gods gained power.
The more believers a god had, the stronger they became.
Slitting his palm, Astaroth let a drop of his blood fall into the boy's mouth.
The blood of the wolves flowed with it in a stream, pouring into him like a ritual.
Instantly, change began.
The boy's body shifted,
His flesh reshaped.
His soul was reforged.
A mana core grew in his chest, replacing his heart.
His skin paled. Fangs pierced through where his canines once were.
His ears grew pointed. His eyes turned a faint, radiant blue.
His hair, once jet black, shimmered with streaks of gray.
Time passed.
Then his eyes opened.
He saw the man who had saved him, his new god.
Falling to his knees, he prostrated, trembling with gratitude.
He looked up and asked, softly:
"Who… are you?"
The answer he got shook him to his core.