1 The Beginning
Chapter One: The Beginning
At the imposing gates of a grand palace, a child not even five years old struggled with every ounce of his strength, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He was covered head to toe in crimson, a stark contrast against his small frame.
In the presence of this harrowing sight, an elderly man sat stoically on a rocking chair, his countenance as serene as an ancient well, unfathomable and unreadable. Behind him stood a formidable figure, a muscular man clad in black armor, his face concealed by a helmet. The aura surrounding him was icy and foreboding, a blend of battle-hardened authority and primal violence, akin to a seasoned general who had survived countless wars.
At the moment the child's hand passed through the gates, he collapsed, drained of the last remnants of his strength, losing consciousness. The elderly man's expression shifted, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he turned to the armored figure behind him. "Bring him inside," he commanded.
"Master, what about his injuries?" the black-armored man inquired, his tone respectful.
The elderly man paused momentarily, his gaze filled with contemplation. "Do not tend to his injuries; such intervention would defy the rules. Stem the bleeding, that shall suffice."
Without uttering another word, the black-armored man vanished, swiftly carrying the child away from the scene.
Hand in hand, the black-armored man and the young boy materialized before another figure clad in silver armor. "Which burrows remain available?" the black-armored man asked, deference lacing his words.
"Only tier zero burrows are unoccupied," responded the Silver Armorer with the utmost respect.
The black-armored man glanced down at the child, hidden eyes behind his dark helmet betraying a glimmer of empathy. Nevertheless, he spoke resolutely, "Then tier zero it shall be!" He entrusted the child to the Silver Armorer, fulfilling his duty.
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Three days passed in an abyssal chamber, devoid of light when the young boy finally opened his eyes. But before he could fathom his surroundings, an indescribable agony thundered through his skull, forcing forth a primal scream, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
As fragments of memories flooded his mind, the child endured an excruciating half hour of torment, his screams tapering not due to the cessation of pain, but because his very essence had been drained, leaving him on the precipice of exhaustion.
Surveying the enveloping darkness, the child reached out with tentative fingers, exploring his diminutive form, searching for answers. Questions flooded his thoughts: "What is this? Why does my body differ from what is expected? Surely, this cannot be the body of a forty-seven-year-old. It resembles that of a mere child.
Could there be a connection to the memories that assail me?"
Closing his eyes, the child embarked on a quest for introspection, only to reopen them with newfound realization. "These memories are fragmented, devoid of an owner's name or any inkling of familial ties. Yet, one truth prevails: I willingly embarked upon a test, a journey with an elusive purpose. Whenever I attempt to focus on this aspect, an overwhelming surge of hatred engulfs me. It seems this child carries within him a turbulent past."
"While the mystery of my survival post-execution eludes me, one thing remains certain—I am no longer upon Earth. Whether this newfound realm is a blessing or a curse, I cannot determine."
....
Suddenly, an insatiable hunger assailed him, as if he had starved for days on end. "My head feels light, and the pangs of hunger are overwhelming. It appears I have lost copious amounts of blood and languished in this dark abyss for an extended period. This hunger, it seems, was the very trial the child sought to partake in."
Determined, he endured the gnawing emptiness and ventured to explore his surroundings, relying on tactile senses to navigate the darkness. Step by step, he traversed the unknown, guided by the touch of the ground beneath his feet, until he encountered a solid wall.
The child retraced his path in all four directions, spending a quarter of an hour mapping the dimensions of the room—a twelve-step expanse from wall to wall.
"Now, the time has come to unravel the source of the putrid stench," he whispered to himself.
The room was permeated with a rancid odor, but the child exercised caution, postponing his search until the opportune moment.
Typically, tracking the source would take a mere matter of seconds, yet the child remained vigilant, employing his familiar technique of tactile exploration to navigate the darkness until he reached his destination.
After a five-minute journey, he stood before the repugnant source. "It resembles food, albeit the scent indicates it has succumbed to decay."
Undeterred by the mold and the overwhelming stench, the child continued his movements, selecting pieces of food, and cautiously evaluating their smell. Some morsels were deemed unfit and discarded, while others were consumed.
Observers would be astounded by the discernment of this young child, who employed his sense of smell to differentiate between edible and inedible amidst the mold.
The child adhered to a simple equation—the fainter the smell, the less mold he permitted. However, it required tremendous courage, for he could not ascertain if the food was poisonous or benign.
What a casual observer might fail to realize is that even if he consumed spoiled food, the consequences would not be dire.
"Most spoiled foods contain a strain of bacteria known as E. coli. The worst that could befall me would be bloody diarrhea and severe stomach pains, far less severe than succumbing to starvation," the child murmured, a self-sarcastic smile gracing his lips.
And then he spoke again, his voice carrying a tinge of reminiscence, "After all these years, I never thought that being a doctor would prove beneficial once more."
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