Kyn stared through the dirty window, watching clouds drift lazily across the sky. Birds wheeled above the rusted fences, free from the shackles of human life. His eyes glimmered with a small, stubborn hope, the lingering thoughts of what if things could still change for him? But there was nothing. It was a helpless thought, dissolving like mist.
He sat alone at the back of the classroom, swallowed by an old coat two sizes too big. The sleeves had been rolled twice but still hid his wrists. It was a hand-me-down from an older boy at the orphanage with a name Kyn could no longer remember.
"And so, the gods bestow Players their sponsorship," Mr. Davos droned at the front. The old man's rectangular glasses perched on his crooked nose, reflecting the yellowed pages of a book that looked older than the system itself. "Players are granted magnificent abilities. Their powers depend on which gods sponsor them, but they can grow stronger, to fight the demons."
It was the same tale every child heard. About merciful gods saving humans from extinction by giving a chosen few divine strength. The Players rose to the top, heroes and rulers alike, while the rest simply prayed to survive under their shadow.
Kyn was at the bottom of this world. One of the abandoned children the government forgot unless they awakened at eighteen. He wanted to be a Player. But only the gods could decide.
Survival was at the mercy of Celestia.
Mercy.
The word made him laugh under his breath.
"Excuse me, Mr. Moore," Mr. Davos rasped, voice sharp and brittle as dry paper. "Is there something funny about the Great Holy War?" He snapped the book shut. "Do you find it amusing how humanity nearly became demon fodder? That Celestia granted us mercy, bestowed us power to fight the dark. Is that funny?"
Kyn froze. Words never found him when he needed them. Everyone's eyes turned on him with same disgust, same quiet rage. Was it because he was poor, dirty, the charity case from an orphanage that hadn't produced a Player in thirty years? Because he had no family to protect him?
His cheeks burned. No matter how he sat, spoke, or kept quiet, people always found a reason to hate him.
Maybe I'm cursed.
"Go to my office. I'll deal with you later," Mr. Davos ordered. "While you wait for me, think about how thankful we should all be that the gods blessed us with their mercy."
Kyn stood, head down, and shuffled out into the hall. He reached the door to the old man's office, hand trembling on the knob when something slammed into him from behind. He hit the floor hard, breath knocked from his chest. A heavy weight pinned him down.
"Well, if it isn't Kyn the loser," sneered the voice he hated most.
Kyn's pulse thudded in his ears. Kris's knee dug into his back, grinding his ribs against the cold floor. Kyn tried to twist away but the bigger boy shoved his face down.
"You really earned your way here, huh?" Kris laughed.
"Kris, I didn't do anything—"Kyn gasped, but Kris smashed his cheek into the floorboards.
"Please. Mercy."
"Something about you just pisses me off, Kyn," Kris whispered in his ear, voice dripping with mockery. "At first, I didn't know how to do deal you. But my father gave me this whole school when he donated millions. And after I've awakened as a B-grade Player, everyone bows to me."
He leaned closer, green eyes locking onto Kyn's pale, terrified ones. Kyn's tears blurred Kris's grin.
"Beat him up," Kris barked at the boys behind him. "Then throw him in that old bastard's office. Let the bald prick clean up the mess."
The others moved in not long after. His loyal dogs, faces blank with borrowed power. Kris's sponsorship had made him untouchable.
"Please—" Kyn begged. But fists and feet answered him. Pain exploded behind his eyes, in his ribs, down his legs. His own muffled cries mixed with the thud of kicks. His body curled tighter with each blow, but it did nothing. He tasted iron and dust.
When it was done, they dragged him to the door and tossed him inside like garbage. He lay sprawled on the cold floor of Mr. Davos' office, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, breath rattling in shallow gasps.
If only they'd all just die.
The door was swung open, a familiar face greeted Kyn's dying body. He covered his mouth with his hand before slamming the door behind him. Mr. Davos kneeled in front of Kyn, eyes wet with tears and lips trembling in fear.
"He ordered me to..." Mr. Davos crawled his way to his cabinet and pulled his first aid kit, trying to scramble his way to the contents inside. "I'm so sorry. His father threatened. I got so scared. I never..."
Mr. Davos took another glance at Kyn, his face losing blood at the sight of the young boy. With bandages on his hands, he went back to Kyn and tried to treat him. His hands were shaking, sweat beading from his forehead, and body shaking visibly.
"I forgive you," Kyn managed to croak. "The world has been unkind to me. You're the first one to show me kindness."
He stared at the old man's face, void of blood from fear. This made Kyn chuckle, or whatever the small crack in his throat managed to produce. The world was shaped with power from the gods and the weak ones were always forced to follow them. Players were rulers and normal people were mere insects. Just like him, Mr. Davos was only a victim of the society's system.
And the gods turned their blind eyes agains this.
He felt the thought coil up from somewhere deep. His vision blurred at the edges, but the words stayed sharp. The world hated him. No one would mourn him. There would be no rescue, no second chance.
"But I wish…" Kyn croaked through cracked lips, voice barely a whisper. "You'll all die."
BANG! Crash!
"What was that?!" Mr. Davos got up. "Stay alive, Kyn. I'll come back."
The doors closed and the horror started. There was an ominous presence that lingered around the school, it felt as if there was a giant cloud of pure darkness loomed over the building.
Then, a siren blared through the school's speakers.
'Emergency! An A-class Demon has been found inside St. Clementine High School! Teachers, take your—'
Jitter.
Students screamed in the distance— followed by the ripping shriek of tearing flesh. Kyn let out a broken laugh, wet and hoarse.
"An A-class…" he chuckled again, a crooked smile twisting through the blood. "We're all going to die."
Outside, explosions cracked the walls. Screams rose, then stopped. Bones snapped. Silence swallowed it all in under three minutes.
Then the office door burst open. Kris staggered inside, sword in hand, eyes wild.
"Everyone is dead…" he panted, voice shrill. As he slammed the door behind him, his eyes landed on the broken boy on the floor. "W-Why are you still alive? An eyesore like you laid there, unharmed, while I barely made it out there alive?!"
He raised his sword, bright sparks of light crawling along the blade's edge. Kyn shut his eyes. Death would be a mercy this time.
"Die you, fucking vermin!"
SPLAT!
Something else moved faster. When Kyn opened his eyes, a massive iron nail jutted through Kris's chest. Blood gushed from his mouth as he fell, eyes frozen wide.
"You left... But how are you… still here?" Kris rasped, then hit the floor.
A low screech, sharp and cruel, filled the office. Kyn turned his head to see it. It was the Demon. It loomed above him— a lion's frame, fur black as midnight, its silver mane bristling with blade-like spines. Its eyes glowed dull red, its maw wet with human remains.
They said the stronger the Demon, the more beautiful its terror. This one looked carved by nightmares, majestic and monstrous at once. Its claw lifted high, silver talons catching a ray of sun through the shattered window.
SPLAT!
Relief washed through Kyn as the claw came down. No more hate. No more games. No more mercy.
'Congratulations.'
A voice, soft and angelic, whispered in his head.
'Notice! You have awakened. Your sponsor is...'
!ERROR!