《The Rise of Animus: Apprentice》 Prologue: Eulogy The last thing I remember about my Father was the look in his eyes. They were like my eyes, a deep brown, but that last time I saw him as he lay in the Medical Telemetry Ward they seemed to lose all color. He was disappointed in me. He didn¡¯t say it, but I knew it was the last thing passing through his mind, so I got up and walked out. He passed away before I came back the next day. I never really figured out what the exact cause was, but we knew he would pass eventually, his health had been deteriorating for years. In and out of the hospital for years, demanding more and more of me until I couldn¡¯t take it, and I still always come back to take care of him. I left my job, stopped going to college, and just took care of him, but no matter what I did it was never enough for him. He¡¯d complain that I was doing things wrong, that I was trying to kill him, or that I didn¡¯t care. I don¡¯t know why I put up with it, but I couldn¡¯t leave him when things were getting so bad for him despite how fucked up he was to me. So, I just dealt with it the only way I knew how; by putting space between us and letting myself cool off. The days leading up to the burial felt like forever, but when I think back on them I can¡¯t remember a single day aside from the constant prayers. As if that was enough for someone as fucked as he was or enough for someone as fucked up as I was either. All those years since I was a child that I wished he was dead so he would stop hurting me, then the years he spent dying and I wished he would die so I could live my life. I know I¡¯m not a good person, and that my end isn¡¯t going to be a good one, but I hope that I¡¯ll never turn into even half the monster that my father was.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. He¡¯d beat me for the slightest mistake, break everything I treasured for not doing his tasks perfectly, punish me for refusing to do something he says no matter how embarrassing or unreasonable it was. I¡¯ve had so many pieces of furniture broken on my back, electrical cables slicing into my skin, and metal coat hangers digging into me than I can remember. I¡¯ve been forced to stand in the front yard naked, lay in a pile of filth, and eat disgusting things that I¡¯d rather not remember. For all of this, I¡¯d like to think that I turned out pretty alright, but I know I didn¡¯t, but that¡¯s okay. It¡¯s okay that I¡¯m not completely there as my father was pushed into the cold concrete structure that would hold his cold dead husk. It¡¯s okay that I didn¡¯t shed a single tear for the man who I had lost the last ten years to. It¡¯s okay. After all, he did leave something behind, and I''m not sure if I would have accepted it if he hadn¡¯t been so fucked up to me. Chapter 1.1: A Walk Down Memory Lane --15 Years Ago-- "Shut your mouth! Are you some kind of faggot who always has to cry?!" The feeling of wood cracking on my back as I stood at attention for my father, the thin rod he had picked up from the carpentry kit breaking after repeatedly lashing at my back. That was a bad sign, the rod wasn''t as bad as some of the other things he had nearby, but since it broke he''d always grab something a bit sturdier. The sound of metal slicing through the air affirmed by fears followed by a burst of stars in my eyes as pain turned my vision blurry. My back was a crisscross of welts and broken skin, the latest strike leaving a tear in the skin as cold metal struck hot, fragile skin. I made the mistake of falling to my knees, this only made him angrier, he didn''t like having to move from his chair to hit me. I covered my head with my arms, curling into a heap, trying to protect my face and head as best as I could before he started to violently lash out at me for making him have to work harder at beating me. A few minutes later the real torture began. "Get the fuck up! I didn''t say you could sit down you fucking faggot piece of shit! Do you know what you did?! FUCKING ANSWER ME!" I gasped for air, the pain causing my lungs to spasm, leaving me unable to breathe properly as I struggled to stand. I could feel the blood on my back slowly drizzling down my calves, strangely cold despite the fact that it should have been warm. My eyesight had become fucked up as they usually did when I became stressed, everything looked so far away, my hands seemed to shrink and stretch into the floor that was miles away. I could barely understand what he was yelling at me, but I couldn''t understand what he wanted me to say. I hadn''t done anything that should have warranted this kind of reaction considering I had just got back home from middle school. Today was a good day, no one at school tried to pick a fight with me, nor did any of the teachers single me out for class work. Today was a good day. "ARE YOU FUCKING IGNORING ME YOU FAGGOT PIECE OF SHIT?!" His screams were followed by the whistling slice of metal through the air as he struck my trembling arms. The metal bar that serves as a lock on his tool chest slammed into my arms causing them to give out, meaning I was on the ground again, which only further infuriated him. I don''t know what I did wrong, but I didn''t care anymore. I told him whatever he wanted to hear, that''s all I remember aside from the burning hate in my heart that I couldn''t kill him because he was so much bigger than me.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. --Present Day-- Daniel stared at his computer monitor, his eyes not really seeing what was there as memories of his past assailed him. He had been watching a video on Youtube that was slightly disturbing. It was one of those videos that you didn''t know how the hell you got there, but you would watch it anyway because you had nothing better to watch. It was a claymation video that portrayed a family, they seemed happy until the two-minute mark. The father was beating on his kids after arguing with his wife, the mother was drinking alone in the master bedroom crying. It was as if someone had captured my life before my father got sick in claymation. I shuddered, feeling as if someone was watching me. Closing the video out, I walked over to the small kitchenette in my apartment, trying my best to forget that feeling as I rummaged for sustenance. Leftovers from lunch became dinner after a quick whirl in the microwave, I hated wasting food, especially when I cooked it myself. Three minutes later, sitting in front of my computer again with some movie playing I had mostly forgotten about that creepy ass video when my doorbell rang. I sat there for a while, trying to figure out if there was someone I should be expecting, but couldn''t come up with an answer. My neighbors were like me in the regards that we didn''t socialize with each other except for the bare minimum when we bumped into each other. My family, or what was left of it, had all gone their separate ways in the wake of my mother''s death. We definitely didn''t get mail delivered to our apartment, and even if we could I wouldn''t what with it being so easy to just walk down the corridor and into another apartment with someone else''s stuff. The doorbell sounded again, so I stood up. Nothing to it other than to check the peephole. Looking into the small glass piece, I found the hallway devoid of any movement or person. Thinking it likely a kid''s prank I walked back to my computer and just before sitting the doorbell rang again. I stomped over to the door, angry. Fucking kids these days had no respect. Stopping with my hand on the doorknob I waited. When the doorbell rang, I swung the door inward yelling. "The hell do you thi-" I stopped short when I was greeted by the seemingly empty hallway. My foot bumping into a medium sized parcel left in front of my door. A small card was the only thing that could be seen on the heavily taped brown parcel. From, Dad. Chapter 1.2: A Difference In Perspective --15 Years Ago-- He''s not strong enough. He''s not ready. He won''t survive. I didn''t prepare him enough for it. I failed him. I failed to make him strong. I failed. Daniel Jeseth Senior paced his workshop as he held a card in his right hand. The card was old, yellowing at the corners with gold filagree spelling out the words "From, Dad". He had received the card from his father after his first year at Fabulinus University. A rather apt name considering how the University started from the basics of magic and ranged every possible subject they could cram into their student''s heads before they could "graduate". There were so many things they offered but all of it at a price. Madness was common among those who could not control what they were taught, or could not handle the truths that they sought. Death was not unheard of, only looked down upon by the faculty. You either got good or died. It was as simple as that. Daniel senior stopped his pacing as the golden letters faded away from his card, replaced by a black symbol that seemed to be revolving slowly. His eyes widened as he looked below the symbol and saw his own name with the addition of Junior. His son was cursing him, and the little fuck probably didn''t even know it. He could feel his heart slowing painfully as he watched it make a full revolution before coming to a halt. He could feel his magic slowly leaving him as another card slowly appeared on his workbench, blank and perfectly pristine. Before he could think his fist was through a plastered wall, he was screaming in incoherent rage. The power that had sustained him was already leaving him in drops, he could already feel the tumor in his lungs from decades of smoking starting to speed its growth now that magic no longer constrained it. His knees gave out, his mind trying desperately to keep conscious. That little shit is waking up to his magic. That little fucking shit is killing me. That fucking pansy little faggot piece of shit is fucking KILLING ME! When Daniel Jeseth Junior came home, his beating was more severe than usual. There was no answer that satisfied his father. Only after his father left the house did he have a chance to escape his pain by crawling into his room and hiding under his bed, crying himself to sleep and wishing his father would die a horrible painful death.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. --Present Day-- Daniel was seated on his bed, the parcel sitting unopened before him next to a pair of scissors while the card sat clenched in his hands. His father hadn''t left behind any money or property to inherit. The house they had lived in was sold off to help pay for his father''s medical bills long ago forcing them to move into welfare housing. After his mother had died the year after their father they had all left that shit hole as quickly as humanly possible. Now there was supposedly a gift from his father, it was his father''s handwriting, and he didn''t know what to make of it. They had hated each other for years and even come to a verbal agreement to keep the peace after one particularly violent case almost prompting medical attention and most likely a police presence due to how badly Daniel Junior had been beaten because he refused to give in anymore. That same father had apparently arranged for this nondescript package and card to be delivered after his death. Daniel could clearly remember the disappointment he had seen in his father''s eyes as they had parted that last time in the hospital. He could feel the deathly cold that seemed to settle in the air around his father as he stormed off into the hospital''s elevator lobby to cool off. He could remember the years that he slowly started to forgive his father as he died. His body no longer able to allow him to lay down without the risk of drowning him. His mind no longer clear as he lost sleep from pain and dementia set in. His hands shaking and reaching into the air as if trying to grab hold of something. Daniel just couldn''t keep hating his father despite what he had done, so he forgave him, but his father was always just disappointed or angry despite anything he did. He was just always so angry. Clearing his throat and wiping at his reddening eyes, he dropped the card onto his bed and began to dismantle the package using the scissors. The inside of the parcel revealed a small wooden box that he vaguely recognized. It was something his father had made when Daniel was in elementary school. The top of the box was a sliding cover with a very crudely engraved western style dragon. He had mentioned to his father that he wanted one just like it and the vague grunt he had received in reply neither dismissed nor promised anything. With shaking hands and his vision blurring, Daniel slid the lid open. A bright blue flash blinded him before he passed out. The box clattered to the floor, empty. Notice 1 Sorry, due to health reasons I have been in the hospital for a little while and unable to think clearly due to pain and medication. I will return to writing as soon as I am able (hopefully within the week), I have a few arcs set up in advance, but haven''t written more than my outline of how I would like the story to go since I didn''t want to limit the way the story flows beforehand.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. I apologize for my long absence, but I was unable to use cellular devices in the emergency room and for my stay in the telemetry ward. I''ve only recently been able to leave my room and have finally been able to connect to the internet. Once again I apologize for the long absence without any notification. Thank you, and I hope future chapters will be enjoyable.