《Burn the Beast: Eldritch God rehabilitated to a beast tamer》 A Hopeful Hell What are monsters, beasts, or animals? By what authority did we dare to make distinctions among them¡ªand 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 villages beyond the shelter of the Churches were nothing but hunting grounds for the vile and the monstrous. "Five of the men are gone..." "How are we to gather clothes or wood for the winter...?" "Winter is the lesser worry. Those things are closing in... their boundaries shrinking, tightening." --- Elphonse Flint Ritch: El Ritch, sat in silence, the faint hum of voices from above filtering into the basement where he waited. The light spilled down from the wooden slats of the trapdoor, its pale glow fractured as shadows of hurried footsteps moved across the bustling street above. The cold stone floor beneath him gleamed faintly. Today was the day of his hanging. He and his father had been infamous as a duo of carriage robbers, stealing food from nobles'' stores to survive. But their luck ran thin; they were caught in the act. His father had been executed the same day they were seized. For El, only fourteen, the courts had debated his fate for months. Some argued for mercy, claiming he was a child, a victim of his father''s influence. Others, bitter or eager to watch a spectacle, lied under oath to condemn him. He''d grown tired of their faces, their words, their judgments. It was all noise to him now. Today was his final trial. His final sentence. El stared at the golden rays of sunlight breaking through the cracks, their beauty indifferent to the chaos of the crowd above. He imagined their whispers, a thousand voices waiting to see him fall, to see the rope tighten around his neck. And yet, he felt nothing. No fear. No regret. Only the cold certainty that this was how it ended. With a loud metallic clang followed by the grating screech of iron on iron, the heavy doors swung open. The guard entered, carrying a plate of boiled potatoes and rice, the meal as bland as the cold air in the cell. "No spices for such fine delicacies?" El Ritch let out a gruff chuckle, the sound rasping in his chest, his lungs aflame from the exertion. But he managed it¡ªhe had to present himself properly. He was, after all, in front of his admirer. "I''m sorry, Mr. El Ritch. I couldn''t ask for anything better," the child said, his face earnest as he approached the bars. "Not unless I lied." "What did I say about lying?" El Ritch rasped, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the room like the edge of a knife. "Lying to others means lying to yourself!" the boy exclaimed, reciting the words with conviction. "That''s why I didn''t lie," he added with a hint of pride. El Ritch studied him in silence for a moment, his weathered face betraying no emotion. He had never asked the boy''s name¡ªnames were meaningless to someone like him, bound to die in a place like this. Relationships, connections... they were indulgences he could not afford. The boy slid the plate through the bars and sat cross-legged on the cold floor. His small hands rested on his knees as he tilted his head, looking up at the man. "So," he began eagerly, "what''s the new lesson today, Master?" His youthful energy seemed boundless, as if he could leap through the narrow bars at any moment. El Ritch drew a slow, wheezing breath. He felt the infection clawing at his lungs, a dull and constant burn. Speaking was torture, but he forced himself to respond. The boy needed guidance, even if his teacher was a dying man in a forgotten cell. "Today," El Ritch began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I''m not giving you a lesson. Instead, I''m giving you... homework." His lips quirked faintly, imitating a smile.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Homework?" The boy frowned, his disappointment clear. "Yes, homework. A very important one." El Ritch paused, his nails digging into his palms, drawing blood to distract from the searing pain in his chest. "I''m going to die today. At dusk." The boy froze, the words sinking into the air like stones in a pond. El Ritch had spoken of life and death before, and he knew the boy understood¡ªat least, as much as a child could. It was why he had chosen him, why he believed the boy needed a purpose. "You know that, don''t you?" El Ritch continued. "Good. Now listen. If life is a constant search for awareness, then what do you find in death? That''s your homework. I need you to find the answer." The boy stayed silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on El Ritch. The man''s lungs burned as he struggled to understand the child''s intent. He wanted to ask what was on his mind, but his voice failed him, crumbling under the weight of his illness. At last, the boy stood and bowed, a gesture both formal and endearing. "Okay, Master. I''ll find the answer. I promise." With that, the boy turned and hurried out of the cell, his small feet tapping softly against the cold stone. El Ritch watched him go, his lips tightening. Strange child, he thought. Mature in words, yet immature in his hurried movements. A contradiction, like all things. When the footsteps faded, El Ritch rose from the floor, his muscles aching with the effort. He picked up the plate of boiled potatoes and rice and stretched on his toes, reaching the small window high on the wall. The window was barely wide enough for a mouse to squeeze through, but it served its purpose. He tipped the plate carefully, shaking it until the food tumbled out onto the street below. A shadow flickered on the stone floor as a dog padded into view. The animal always waited for him, as if knowing that a meal would come. El Ritch watched the dog''s silhouette eat in silence before throwing the empty plate into the corner of his cell. As worthless as that dog, my life. He knew it was true. He wasn''t a victim. He''d never told himself otherwise. His father had been his hero, and he had followed in his footsteps willingly, even knowing those steps led to ruin. There was no regret in that. Yes, no regret at all. And yet... The memories came, unbidden and sharp, clawing their way to the surface. Old scenes of laughter, fleeting joy, and choices long made. Why now? Why was his mind dredging up the past? He already knew the answer: justification. Justification for what? To live. The thought struck him harder than the cold ever could. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as if the sting could banish the idea. But it was there now, gnawing at the edges of his mind like a rat in the dark. The boy will die before he reaches my age. The words echoed within him, his chest tightening. His eye twitched as frustration flared. Why was he thinking about the boy? He shouldn''t care. There were no connections here, no bonds. And yet, his thoughts circled back, unrelenting. What will the boy do after I die? Who will teach him? The prisoners? They''ll twist him, ruin him. He''s too young. He wanted to live, and the thought gnawed at him like a beast skinning their prey alive. The sun would soon set, and with it, his life would end. It was inevitable, written in stone, as unyielding as the iron bars around him. No justification, no last-minute resolve, no plea for a second chance could change that. He had always been worthless, and now, in the final hours, even the thought of redemption felt hollow. And yet, a tear slipped down his cheek, warm against his cold skin, and more followed in silent surrender. He wept¡ªnot for himself, but for mercy from anything that might listen. A God, a force, an unknown power. He begged for a chance to live, not for himself, but for the boy. The boy had made him feel worth something. Not his teaching, not the hollow ideologies he had pretended to pass on, nor the scraps of wisdom he had shared. It was the way the boy had looked at him, the way he had spoken. He had made him human. Such a simple word, yet one that had stirred something long dormant within El Ritch. It wasn''t pity or reverence; it was acknowledgment. Recognition. That was why he entertained the boy, why he spoke through burning lungs and shared his thoughts even as his body failed him. He hadn''t realized it at first, but it had never been for the boy. It had been for himself. In those moments, he felt alive, as if his existence carried meaning beyond the walls of his cell. The boy''s kind words gave him a purpose he had never known before. You reap what you sow. He knew the phrase all too well, had lived by it in bitter acceptance. But now, for the first time, he wanted to be selfish. For once, he wanted to reap what he hadn''t sown. So he bowed his head and pleaded again, his cracked lips forming silent prayers to the Almighty, to anything that could hear him. Grant me mercy, he begged, his heart raw and exposed. Not for me, but so I can deserve the kindness shown to me. Let me live, and I will repay it. The light from the small window above dimmed as the sun began its descent. El Ritch clenched his fists, his knuckles white as he whispered one final prayer, the words barely audible in the stillness of the cell. I Have No Mouth Yet I Must Scream Chains bound him, biting into his wrists as he was dragged along with the other prisoners¡ªmen and women he had never spoken to, never even acknowledged. Beside him, an old man with a voice like gravel rasped, "You''d do wise to stay calm. There''s no escaping." El Ritch glanced at the speaker. The man was massive, towering like a black bear rearing on its hind legs. His weathered face was a map of scars and deep lines, each one a testament to a life of hardship. God is surely cruel¡ªor indifferent, El Ritch thought. After begging, after lowering himself to the most vulnerable state a man could, exposing his soul to the heavens, what had he received in return? Silence. Not merciful, not wrathful. Just the haunting, shameful silence. The procession moved through the town, jeered at by the townsfolk who lined the streets. They threw refuse, rotten food, and curses, their hatred palpable. A rotten tomato struck El Ritch''s cheek, bursting against his skin. He turned toward the thrower¡ªno older than him, a girl with wide, furious eyes. She looked at him as though he were a rat crawling at her feet, begging to be crushed. He lowered his gaze, his chains clinking as he shuffled forward. I only stole food, he thought, his fingers tightening around the iron cuffs. He could feel his pulse quicken with every step. Ahead, the gallows loomed, a wooden monument to death. The line of prisoners halted. One by one, their chains were unlocked, and they were marched up the platform to the nooses that dangled like hollow promises. Each body would fall, side by side, to hang in shameful display. When it was his turn, El Ritch ascended the creaking steps. The rope scratched against his skin as the noose was tightened around his neck. His heart thundered in his chest. He stared at the weathered planks beneath his feet, unwilling to lift his head and meet the eyes of those who gathered to gawk. A speech began¡ªthe glorification of the hunters who had captured them. El Ritch didn''t listen; he didn''t care. He only noticed the absence of the burlap bags they usually gave the condemned. This time, they would die with their faces exposed, naked to the scorn of the crowd. I only stole food, he thought again, his breath quickening. He clenched his fists, the chains no longer biting but trembling with the force of his grip. His head spun. No one deserves this. No one. Then the platform shook. Screams rang out, shattering the air. "Beasts have broken the walls¡ª" "They don''t die! They don''t die!" "Run! Run for your¡ª" Each voice was abruptly silenced, as though snatched away by unseen claws. El Ritch looked up. The crowd was scattering, executioners and hunters abandoning their places, prisoners breaking free in the chaos. The gallows emptied as the horde ran, but El Ritch did not move. He stayed where he was, the noose still hanging loose around his neck. The spectacle before him was chaos incarnate, yet his mind was calm. What was the point? The platform groaned beneath his weight as he sat down, his legs folded beneath him. His eyes, hollow and resigned, stared into the distant carnage. If death was inevitable, he would not flee. Let the beasts come. Let them grant him the kindness man never could. _______ Monster within me, I do not fear you. For within me is the same impulse, That runs within you. The platform shook violently beneath El Ritch''s feet, the gallows creaking like the bones of an old tree in a storm. Bloodcurdling screams rang through the air, drawing closer with every breath. Be calm, he told himself, gripping the edge of the wooden post beside him as if it might anchor him to the earth. The noose hung loose around his neck, swaying as he stood still. "Save me¡ª!" The plea was cut short by a malevolent roar, followed by a grotesque cackle that echoed through the town. Be calm, El Ritch repeated in his mind, forcing his knees to lock against the instinct to run. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. "They''re in the house!" The sound of bones snapping and flesh tearing filled the air. His body shuddered, but still, he stayed put. "It won''t die! It just won''t die!" And then, silence. A void so complete it made his ears ring. El Ritch''s eyes snapped open, and he flinched. Standing before him was death incarnate. A beast loomed, its monstrous form half-shrouded by shadow but unmistakably unnatural. Its eyes glowed with an eerie intelligence, locking onto him. El Ritch''s breath hitched. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his legs gave out beneath him. He stood frozen, a prisoner of fear. The creature''s face was uncanny¡ªhuman-like, but wrong in every possible way. Predatory features dangled from its form like grotesque ornaments, a parody of life. The beast tilted its head, and then it gave a grotesque cackle¡ªa sound that mimicked human laughter but twisted into something vile, inhuman. It didn''t attack. It didn''t even acknowledge him as prey. El Ritch felt the weight of its indifference like a blow. The creature turned and vanished into the chaos. He exhaled shakily, his lips quivering as he fought back the scream rising in his throat. I''m truly worthless, he thought, his chest heaving. His senses gradually returned, the distant cacophony of screams, cries, and destruction flooding back in. And then he heard it: a voice distinct among the chaos. The boy. El Ritch''s head snapped around, searching desperately for the source. He spotted him scrambling through the debris, small and fragile, trying to escape the carnage. People trampled past him, heedless of the child''s existence. The boy dragged himself forward, his small hands clawing at the dirt and rubble. In the corner of his vision, El Ritch saw the beast again, watching the boy with a cruel, almost amused interest. Its jaws opened, unhinging unnaturally wide, and for a moment, El Ritch saw what no child should face. Yes, El Ritch told himself, his fists clenching as he trembled. A death like this, in a place like this, is still more honorable than a life wasted. The boy stumbled, and the beast lunged, its jaws snapping open to consume him whole. And yet¡ª El Ritch moved. His body acted before his mind could rationalize. He grabbed the boy by the collar and yanked him back, stumbling as the beast''s teeth clashed shut just inches away. The air itself seemed to tremble at the force of the bite. The creature cocked its head, confused, its glowing eyes narrowing as it regarded El Ritch. It should have been a death of honor, El Ritch thought, his heart racing. So why? Why did I step in? For a few moments, the beast locked eyes with El Ritch, its glowing gaze dissecting him. Then, it glanced down at the boy, as if El Ritch''s presence was an afterthought. "You think I''m worthless, don''t you?" El Ritch rasped, his lungs burning as he forced the words out. Speaking felt like swallowing hot coals, but he didn''t stop. "Then I''ll make you give meaning to me." Blood dripped from his mouth, and he knew those would be his last words. His voice was spent, his body barely holding together. But still, he acted. Grabbing the boy, he bolted toward the burning houses, his feet pounding against the dirt and debris. Behind him, the beast screeched, a sound that seemed to tear through the fabric of reality itself, and gave chase. It leaped, its claws swiping inches from El Ritch''s back, narrowly missing as he dove through the broken frame of a door into the blazing wreckage of a house. The heat was suffocating, the air thick with ash and smoke, but he didn''t stop. He couldn''t stop. Through the burning house, he barreled into the backyard, hurdling over the low fences that separated the properties. Each step was agony, but the boy in his arms clung to him, his small fingers gripping El Ritch''s shirt like a lifeline. The beast was relentless, smashing through walls and debris with feral strength. It moved with terrifying speed, a blur of malice and power. El Ritch passed a well and caught a glimpse of villagers huddling inside, desperate and trembling. Without hesitation, he snatched up a fallen torch and hurled it into the well. Flames erupted, and the villagers screamed, their cries piercing the chaos. The beast paused, distracted by the sound, and El Ritch seized the moment, running for his life. Just a few more houses, he told himself, just a few more, and we''ll escape. His heart sank. Another beast loomed ahead. This one was bird-like, its body covered in dark, oily feathers. Its head was dominated by a massive, hooked beak, and its four limbs were grotesque, like the paws of a bear fused with claws meant for slaughter. The creature hunched over the mangled bodies of villagers and other beasts, big and small, its grotesque meal half-devoured, its stomach split open. The ground quaked as the first beast arrived. It cackled, its voice reverberating with mockery, but it wasn''t directed at El Ritch this time. It turned its glowing eyes to the bird-like monster and growled low and threatening. The bird-like beast screeched in response, spreading its massive wings. Its limbs tensed, and with an explosive leap, it lunged at the uncanny humanoid predator. El Ritch didn''t wait to see the clash. He dived under the remnants of a broken house, dragging the boy into the shadows with him. "M-Master," the boy stammered, trembling uncontrollably. El Ritch couldn''t speak. His throat burned, his lungs heaved, and blood pooled in his mouth. Instead, he placed a hand on the boy''s chest, his rough palm steadying the child''s frantic breaths. He forced a warm smile, even as his body betrayed him. It''s all right, he thought, holding the boy''s gaze. I''ll get you out alive, even if it kills me. Even if I die. His smile didn''t waver, even as the ground shook and the sounds of battle raged just outside their fragile hiding spot. 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 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¡ªI''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 BOYUnauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. What are monsters, beasts, or animals? By what authority did we dare to make distinctions among them¡ªand 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¡ªit 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¡ªeverything 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¡ªknowledge, 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¡ªhis 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¡ªcancel 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¡ª" 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. The Beginning After The End It had been a day or two¡ªperhaps longer¡ªthe 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¡ªthey were there to ensure something¡ªbut 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. "¡ªA beast could''ve done this¡ª" "¡ªScares me to death¡ª" "¡ªCould return and be dangerous for¡ª" 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¡ªno. 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¡ªcan 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¡ªalone except for it. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. 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¡ªbetter 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¡ªa bitter, stinking concoction¡ªhe 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¡ªhis dark hair messy, his equally dark eyes sharp¡ªleaned 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." Welcome To The Capital: Evandria. The carriage stopped several times for inspections, but each checkpoint went smoothly once the guards caught sight of the doctor. "Your mother''s quite famous," Aldric remarked, his voice teasing. The boy turned to him, momentarily distracted from the quiet conversation between the doctor and the guards. Aldric lounged on a thick animal fur rug spread across the carriage floor, his head resting lazily against the carriage''s cloth-draped wall. "She isn''t my mother," the boy corrected him, his voice soft but certain. "She''s the doctor." Aldric raised an eyebrow. "Well... does she give you food?" The boy nodded. "She''s taking you to her home, and you''ll stay with her?" Another nod. "And she gives you sweets to eat?" The boy''s nod came faster this time. "There you have it!" Aldric declared, leaning in conspiratorially. "The one who provides for you is your mother, and¡ª" he dropped his voice into a mock-serious whisper, "Mother is God." The boy blinked, the words settling in his mind. Mother is God. He glanced at the doctor, and though he didn''t say it aloud, his thoughts echoed: The doctor is my mother. --- The carriage came to a final stop after another hour of travel. The passengers disembarked, and Aldric scooped the boy up from the carriage, placing him gently on the ground before a towering structure that loomed overhead. "This is your home now," the doctor said warmly, holding out her hand. The boy took it hesitantly, his gaze fixed on the building before them. It was more a mansion than a house, narrow but tall, with a commanding presence that made the boy feel small, a familiar feeling: as if a looming beast looked down on him. Its brown facade, weathered by time, revealed glimpses of the ancient wood beneath the faded paint. The steeply sloped roof bore the marks of years of repairs, its shingles uneven but sturdy. The windows were tall and arched, their glass slightly fogged, yet they gleamed faintly in the moonlight as if polished with care. A wrought-iron railing framed a small, elevated porch, its intricate swirls adorned with a few clinging vines. Inside, the house smelled of jasmine and lemon, a delicate fragrance carried by the faint curls of smoke rising from a single incense burner set near the door. The interior was richly furnished, though understated, betraying a practical elegance that matched the doctor''s demeanor. The walls were paneled with dark, polished wood, interrupted by tapestries depicting herbal diagrams and detailed sketches of human anatomy. Beneath their feet lay a patterned rug, its fibers worn but soft, with geometric designs in muted tones of red, green, and gold. A single candelabra sat on a long oak table at the center of the hall, its candles casting a warm glow over the room. Shelves lined the walls, packed with books, jars of dried herbs, and neatly labeled vials of unknown substances. The furniture¡ªsturdy and functional¡ªwas crafted from the same dark wood as the paneling, its cushions covered in faded fabrics from years of use. Near the fireplace stood an armchair with a quilt draped over its back. The silence in the house was almost palpable, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearth and the boy''s hesitant footsteps. The decorations, though lovely, seemed to go unnoticed, as if they waited in vain for someone to admire them. It was warm, welcoming even, yet strangely lonely¡ªlike heart of an animal with love to provide but solitude is their trait. "First, a bath¡ª" the doctor declared, her tone brooking no argument. The boy''s protests were immediate, but ignoring his struggles, she hauled him to the tub with practiced ease. As she unwrapped his bandages, his wounds¡ªonce ghastly¡ªwere revealed to be healed, the infections dried out completely. There was no pain now, only the faint memory of it. She set about washing him with a concoction of fragrant herbs, the water clouding with their soothing oils. Leaves with astringent properties were used to scrub him down, their textures both rough and cleansing. Finally, she dried him with a soft, worn towel, the motions efficient but gentle. "Now, a good meal¡ª" she announced, scooping him up before he could object. She carried him into a room. "This is my room," she said, grinning as she set him on the bed. "So it''s safe. No ghosts will come to you here." This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The boy, unconcerned about ghosts, cast a wary glance around the room. His unease wasn''t rooted in the supernatural. It was something else¡ªsomething unseen yet always present. The amalgamation lingered, flickering in and out of his sight like a shadow refusing to commit to its form. He said nothing of it. On the bed, the doctor presented him with a feast¡ªdishes he had never seen nor imagined. The flavors overwhelmed his palate, chicken cooked in a way he never thought of, including vegetables, for some reason which he disliked. The food filled him with warmth he hadn''t felt in what seemed like an eternity. "Time to sleep!" she proclaimed, brushing the crumbs from his cheeks. She tucked him in with practiced hands, drawing the heavy blanket over him. "We have a saying," she said, her tone teasing yet playful. "Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise. Otherwise, the ghosts get them when the clock strikes thrice!" She chuckled, her silhouette framed by the flickering candlelight, before leaning in to blow out the flame. Darkness swallowed the room as she left, but the boy didn''t feel alone. --- It was almost like a fever dream. From the raw agony of near-death to this life of warmth and care in the Capital, the transition felt surreal. Fever dream. Why did that phrase feel so familiar? His mind snagged on the word like a thread caught on a nail. How did he know such words? Who was he? He was not scared about the amalgamation that followed him, but he felt an unfamiliar dread about not remembering things. What if he didn''t remember who he was tomorrow? That scared him very much. He blinked into the darkness, his vision adjusting until he could make out the faint shapes of the room. Shadows stretched and shifted, and there it was¡ªthe amalgamation. It appeared again, silent and watching. "What¡­ Who are you?" the boy asked, his voice hushed, sincere. There was no reply. "Why are you here?" he pressed. Still, silence. "Are you here for me?" The amalgamation gave no verbal answer, but it moved. Slowly, its grotesque visage stretched and shifted. Its face warped, the edges pulling and curling into a monstrous semblance of a smile. The skin looked ready to tear at any moment, its nearly closed eyes gleaming faintly, eerily focused on him. The boy''s chest tightened. For the first time, he felt an unease that pierced his calm facade¡ªnot from the creature itself but from the unfamiliar dread coiling in his chest. "I hope you live a good life¡­ El Ritch," the amalgamation whispered, its voice unearthly yet unmistakably clear. And then it vanished, leaving him alone with his pounding heart and the deafening quiet of the room. Morning broke, its golden light spilling into the house, but the boy had not known a moment of rest. The specter of the night lingered in his mind, heavy and unyielding. The doctor bustled in, cheerful as ever, and pulled him from the bed with a smile that he could not quite return. "Come now, little one. Let''s get those teeth clean," she said, guiding him to the washroom. He obeyed, his hands moving sluggishly as though burdened by lead. Each chore was a trial. Even the breakfast, rich with flavors he could not name, did little to revive his spirit. He chewed mechanically, his gaze drifting toward the corners of the room, where something¡ªperhaps nothing¡ªseemed to shift and writhe at the edges of his vision. The amalgamation, maybe. Or perhaps just his weary mind playing cruel tricks. But there were other matters to attend to, and he lacked the strength to care. --- "Today, we''ll buy you some proper clothes," She announced, her voice a bright beacon. "Isn''t that exciting?" The boy offered only a nod, his energy too sparse for words. The walk to the shop was short, though it felt longer to him, each step an effort. He clung to the doctor''s hand, his grip firm despite the fatigue in his limbs. They reached a grand storefront, its polished glass and gilded lettering gleaming in the sun. The boy barely noticed. Inside, the air smelled faintly of lavender and freshly pressed linen. The floor was polished wood, the kind that creaked pleasantly underfoot. Before the boy could take in much else, a voice rang out. "Adeline! What a surprise! I thought you''d be away for the week." Adeline was the doctor''s name- he noticed and memorized. The speaker was a woman in fine silks, her sharp features softened by the warmth of her smile. "You nearly rid yourself of me, Daphne," Adeline replied with a wry grin. "But I remembered how dull your little shop would be without my company. And besides," she added, nodding toward the boy, "I brought a new partner." Daphne raised a brow, her expression mock-serious. "Don''t flatter yourself. You''re only my favorite because you bring sweets. Otherwise, you''d be in the queue with the rest of the rabble." Adeline''s brow arched in warning, and Daphne quickly amended her tone. "A jest, my dear. Pay it no mind. Now, who is this sweet little thing?" She crouched before the boy, her hands cupping his face. "Oh, you darling! Who''s a little silly-billy, chongus-mongus, round potato¡ª" She pinched his cheeks playfully, her voice lilting as though she were addressing a particularly cherished pet. But then her gaze dropped to his arms, her smile faltering. The scars were there, the remnants of burns and infections, pale against the boy''s skin. Daphne''s eyes flicked to Adeline, a silent question hanging between them. "He was in the village we searched," Adeline said softly, her tone gentle but firm. "Rescued after the attack. He''s been through more than you can imagine." She turned to the boy, her smile warm as a spring sun. "But he''s a survivor. And he has a sweet tooth, don''t you?" The boy''s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. "A sweet little thing like this deserves all the sweets in the world," Daphne declared, her cheer returning in full force. She swept back a curtain, revealing rows of finely crafted garments. "Now, I''ll assume these are for the child. Even if they aren''t, I''ll brook no arguments. Today, he''s the star." With a clap of her hands, she called, "Camilla! Goose!" A pair of gingers appeared as if conjured, their matching hair as fiery as their quick movements. They stood at attention, their voices loud and in unison. "Yes, ma''am!" Daphne grinned. "Meet our sweet potato here," she said, turning back to the boy. "Now, child, tell us your name." --- He hesitated, the question pulling at the threads of his thoughts. He had spent the sleepless night grappling with it, the name that entity had spoken to him echoing like a distant bell. It was strange, unsettling. Yet it stirred something warm within him, something that felt like safety¡ªlike home. "My name is..." The words came slowly, as though drawn from the depths of his being. "El Ritch." Daphne clapped her hands together, beaming. "A fine name for a fine boy!" she declared. "Now, let''s see what we have for you, El Ritch." The Murder Of Crows Three hours passed in a blur of colors and fabrics, and El Ritch sat as still as he could, resigned to the ordeal. His limbs ached from the constant dressing and undressing, his skin prickling as soft silks and rougher wools alike slid over it. He had long since stopped caring about the garments themselves, though Daphne''s delight was boundless. "He''s too precious," she said with a dramatic sigh, nibbling on a croissant as though this were the greatest tragedy to befall her. "Every dress on him is perfect. What shall I do, Adeline? Truly, what shall I ever do?" The boy had been offered a croissant first, but he declined with a shake of his head. The thought of eating made his stomach twist, heavy as he was with exhaustion. At last, they departed, workers following behind them laden with bundles of the boy''s new clothing. Daphne, standing at the doorway of her shop, waved them off with a playful grin. "You won''t have me pay a coin for it, truly you wish that?" "Only if you promise to send little El Ritch here every weekend," Daphne replied, winking. Adeline chuckled and waved her hand. "We''ll see." They left the shop, Adeline turning to the workers. "Knock on the door when you arrive, and the clothes will be collected. You''re welcome to rest before heading back." The workers nodded, hefting the bundles with ease as they turned toward Adeline''s house. El Ritch trudged along beside her, his body crying out for sleep. "Are we going somewhere else?" he asked, though his voice carried the weight of resignation. "We are," Adeline replied lightly, though her pace slowed to match his. "But don''t worry¡ªit''s very close to home. You''ll have your bed soon enough." He glanced up at her, startled. "You¡­ you knew?" Adeline laughed softly. "I''m a doctor, little one. I would be a fool not to notice my patient''s health. Why else would I let her fuss over you for three hours when you nearly toppled over, trying to nap where you stood? This was your punishment for staying awake the whole night, Curiosity kills the cat-remember it." His face turned bright red, his cheeks burning like fire. He looked down at his feet, mortified, but she only chuckled again. The cobbled streets of their neighborhood stretched ahead, quieter than the busier parts of the city. El Ritch noticed the people this time¡ªolder folk, mostly, though there were some younger faces here and there. It wasn''t a bustling throng, but neither was it barren. He wondered why that struck him as odd. "Where are we going?" he asked, his voice quieter now. She smiled down at him, her answer coming with ease. "To meet the crows." The hall was unlike anything El Ritch had seen before, teeming with movement, voices layered over one another in an unintelligible cacophony. It was the busiest place in the city, and the crowd seemed to bend and flow like a living river around them. A sharp voice cut through the noise as they were greeted. "How may we be of your service?" Adeline smiled and produced a parchment from her satchel. "Actually, today, I am to be of your service." A ripple of recognition passed through the group, and their tone shifted. "''The Stalking Murder'' is glad to make your acquaintance again, Lady Adeline. Please, follow us." El Ritch clung to Adeline''s hand as they were led away from the main hall. His exhaustion ebbed, replaced by a prickling curiosity and a growing excitement he couldn''t quite suppress. The room they entered was a stark contrast to the bustling hall¡ªa small space, far quieter, its walls adorned with scrolls, maps, and peculiar artifacts. Seated in a wheeled chair was a woman whose presence commanded attention despite her frailty. El Ritch noticed immediately that she could not move her legs, yet her sharp eyes missed nothing. "Lady Adeline," the woman said, bowing her head slightly. "Lady Belga," Adeline replied with equal deference, though her smile was warmer. They exchanged formalities briefly, Belga''s tone measured and calm. "How good it is to see you before the appointed time. I trust the research went well." Adeline''s smile faltered, her hand tightening gently on El Ritch''s shoulder. "Yes¡­ about that." With a sigh, she stepped forward, gently guiding El Ritch into view.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Belga tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face. "Oh, you and¡ª" "No!" Adeline interrupted sharply, holding up her hand. She took a deep breath before explaining the events of the village, her voice steady but laced with something heavier¡ªunease, perhaps. Belga listened in silence, her expression unchanging, and when Adeline finished, she simply said, "Okay." El Ritch stared at her, amazed by her lack of reaction of hearing tales of such beasts, that were-most possibly real. There was a stillness about her, a quietness that seemed unshakable. "You always manage to be at the heart of things," Belga murmured, reaching for the parchment Adeline had handed her. She scanned it with sharp eyes, her lips tightening as she read. When she finished, she let out a weary sigh, pressing her fingers to her temples. "These results need to be certain. Beasts of such level¡­" Adeline cut in, her tone brisk. "A whole village was destroyed. The only footprints we found were four-legged, and the energy¡ª" El Ritch''s chest tightened suddenly, a sickening wave of nausea rolling through him. His vision blurred, and a sharp pain lanced through his skull. Remembering something that shouldn''t be remembered. [ Monster within me, I do not fear you. For within me is the same impulse, That runs within you. 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. ] The world shifted. Adeline''s voice reached him faintly, as though from a great distance. "-Ritch!-" "-Something is happening to him¡ª" "-Help-" Then the air went still, and darkness enveloped them all. Adeline knelt, pulling El Ritch into her arms, her voice trembling with an urgency he had never heard before. "Are you all right?" He nodded, though his breaths came in short, shallow gasps. Belga''s voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. "A Sanctuary. This is a Sanctuary." Adeline glanced around, her arms still wrapped protectively around the boy. "But how? There''s no anchor. Someone has to be here to deploy it!" The dark expanse stretched endlessly in every direction, its oppressive weight bearing down on them. At its center, a form began to take shape. It was grotesque, a towering amalgamation of human faces, their hollow eyes and mouths gaping in silent agony. The beast''s body was grotesquely misshapen, a mass of flesh that crawled and pulsed as if alive. Four powerful legs carried it forward, each step echoing in the vast emptiness. Adeline''s grip on El Ritch tightened, her voice a fierce whisper. "Stay close. Nothing will happen to you, I promise." But as the creature''s faces turned toward them, one by one, the boy could feel the pull of something deep within¡ªa connection he could not explain, and a dread he could not escape. It wasn''t the same amalgamation from the past, he knew, but still it felt eerily familiar. The moment Adeline shouted, "Belga!" the air seemed to hum with tension. Belga''s response was immediate. "Yes!" Adeline released her grip on El Ritch, her hands moving in swift, deliberate gestures. Her left hand clenched into a fist while her right formed a circle, her fingers coming together in a precise motion. A glowing sigil appeared beneath her feet, a simple circle that shimmered like molten gold. As the lines etched themselves into the dark expanse, the boy caught glimpses of the stone floor of the hall they had left behind¡ªthe hall of The Stalking Murder. But it wasn''t enough. The amalgamation let out a guttural sound, the sheer weight of its presence crushing the circle''s glow into nothingness. The ground trembled beneath El Ritch as he collapsed, the pressure bearing down on him like an unseen hand, forcing the air from his lungs. "I am¡­ I am so sorry," Adeline''s voice cracked, trembling with despair. "For being incompetent¡ª" Belga''s voice cut through the oppressive silence, strained yet sharp. "A beast of Unauthorized grade." Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her words clipped as if the air itself fought against her. "Where¡­ where did it even come from¡ª" The words froze in her throat as reality itself seemed to rupture. A sickening crack, then another. The sound of bursting flesh and splintering bone filled the Sanctuary as their heads exploded, one after the other¡ªAdeline''s, Belga''s, and El Ritch''s. The crimson spray painted the void in grotesque arcs of blood, muscle, and bone, their bodies crumpling lifelessly to the ground. And then¡­ "{Sanctuary Deployment: Amor Fati}." The words rang out like a bell, resonating in the hollow darkness. Time reversed itself with a violent lurch. Blood flowed backward, bone reassembled, and flesh knitted itself whole again. Within moments, they stood as they had been, unharmed but shaken. Before them stood a figure¡ªAldric. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his blade, the lower half of his face visible beneath his hood. "Are you alright?" His voice was steady, as though he hadn''t just torn them from the jaws of annihilation. Adeline''s breath caught, but she nodded. "Yes. Thank you¡­ for saving him. And Belga." Her voice was soft. Aldric let out a heavy sigh, shrugging as if brushing off her thanks. "Well, that''s settled, then." His tone was indifferent, but his actions spoke otherwise. He glanced toward the swirling darkness of the Sanctuary, its edges shimmering with unstable energy. "Now, get out." In an instant, Adeline, Belga, and El Ritch were expelled from the Sanctuary, thrown unceremoniously onto the stone floor of the hall. El Ritch scrambled upright, his wide eyes fixed on the shrinking sphere of darkness where Aldric remained. "Will Mr. Aldric be fine on his own?" he asked, his voice quivering with worry. Adeline knelt beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Aldric may be many things," she said, her voice steady now, "but he has one certainty. In time, you''ll come to understand it too¡ªhe''s the strongest Hunter." Before their eyes, the once-endless void of the Sanctuary compressed, folding into itself until it was no larger than a table and chair. The black sphere, devoid of light, sound, or substance, trembled violently. Cracks spread across its surface, and with a deafening roar, it shattered. Out stepped Aldric, steam rising from his body like smoke from a quenched blade. His movements were calm, almost nonchalant, as he stretched and cracked his neck. "That beast sure was strong," he remarked, his voice carrying a tinge of amusement. Not a scratch marred his form. He stood there, whole and unbothered, as though he had merely stepped out for a stroll.