[Congratulations.]
A heartbeat.
[It's a son.]
Two.
Fingers graze through rough cloth.
Hands take, carefully so.
A deafening cry.
Yet still, it doesn't muffle the rattling of metal.
[Choose a name.]
Would dust ever fly away?
Would legs ever walk?
Freely?
Not yet.
As they're bound.
In a room too small, to chains too heavy.
[Does it matter, oh Dearest?]
The faintest of voices.
Insignificant, as the owner's existence.
[If all he'll ever see is the pain of this world?]
[Then, you shall name him after me.]
He's a man, after all.
[A real man.]
Metal scrapes stone.
Darkness falls over the room once again.
[My son...]
[You... You don't deserve this...]
Two deafening cries.
A delicate hand that courses through, grabbing the back of a small head.
A fragile one.
Bash.
Bash.
Bash.
Bas—
Enough.
Should've never happened.
Yet...
Against all...
It clings to life.
With its only defiance...
A deafening cry.
[Welcome to the world. My damned son.]
[Alfred.]
Chains rattle.
Clasped around blackened ankles.
For days, weeks, months.
With two heartbeats ever-present.
And the dried evidence of the world.
In a deep, dull, dark color.
...
Metal scrapes stone.
Again, after many years.
Legs scramble backwards.
Gazes lower themselves.
As they should.
Feet step forward.
[What a disappointment.]
[One of the weakest sons I have ever had.]
Strong hands clench tightly on thin, shaky wrists, threatening to snap them.
Then, tenderly, they set on bony shoulders.
[You've conceived nothing short of a miracle.]
[However unsightly.]
A smile spreads.
Unfamiliar to the child.
[You are my son.]
[The son of Alfred, the Ever-Great.]
Sobs echo through the cell as the man raises his son, guiding him towards the metal door.
The child stays silent, not an ounce of emotion on his face.
Much different from his mother's.
[Please... Oh, Dearest, leave my son...]
[That won't be possible.]
A palm sets firmly on Alfie's back.
[My son is meant for greater things than to rest on his mother's lap.]
[All you can do is wish for his death. If not, yours will soon arrive.]
[As you have already served your purpose.]
Harsh words.
Footsteps, shaky ones. Outside, for the first time.
The door slides closed, scraping the thick stone slabs.
A dim corridor stretches far away, ever-silent.
He follows through. The son.
He steps through. The Ever-Great.
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Through hunger, with his belly full.
Through despair, with a hopeful gaze.
Through the cold, a fur mantle drapes over his shoulders.
Through death.
Cause of his own wishes for a greater life.
[You do not know how to speak. Much less to write.]
[But do not worry.]
The corridor reaches its end.
In front lies an immense, heavy door.
Just a slab of metal, much like the others.
Beyond it lies something else.
Slowly, it reveals itself.
A circular area.
Well-lit by countless burning torches.
And within...
Violence.
Brutal, animalistic.
The lowest form of humanity.
The purest form of greatness.
[Authority isn't enforced by words.]
[It's shown by sheer capability.]
[You do not know strength.]
[Do not worry.]
[You will learn, my son.]
The man shoves him forward.
Alfie falls to the ground, groaning in pain.
The door behind him slides slowly.
Marking his fate, centimetre by centimetre.
[Become worthy, Alfred.]
[The most worthy of my sons.]
Thud.
Every single hair stands on edge.
Every sense indulges itself in the world around.
A hundred human children, maybe more.
Acting like animals.
Each runs, lunges, screams, sobs.
Using their own will to submit the others.
For survival.
To forget the ever-flowing crimson from their bodies onto the ground.
A blow knocks Alfie clean to the ground.
Without rest, elbows pound on him repeatedly.
Pained cries escape him.
Merging with the others.
Soon, a bell rings.
Legs scramble backwards.
Gazes lower themselves.
Complete stillness.
Something plummets from above, dropping onto the ground.
Children rush towards it, pushing and fighting for whatever's fallen.
An acrid smell reaches Alfie's nostrils, making him gag.
Though still, he approaches, led by curiosity.
And hunger.
A feast presents itself in front.
Fresh.
Abundant.
Too fresh, as blood still flows.
Too abundant, as it piles up in the dozens.
But a feast, nonetheless.
A human one.
An inhumane one.
One he doesn't dare indulge in.
Some others stay back, too.
Driven by the thrill of their animalistic impulses.
Yearning for even fresher food.
A jaw snaps close to his arm.
Driven by impulse, he runs away as fast as he can, stumbling occasionally to remains.
Sunken in the far end, he glances around with ever-attentive eyes.
Undaring to ever blink.
Torches die out.
It only serves to intensify sound.
Snapping.
Biting.
Shouting.
Groaning.
Fading.
Each hour that passes.
Each movement in the corner of his eyes.
Each breath, held for as long as possible.
Hours upon hours.
With only one thought and prayer in mind.
To not be found.
And for the torches to stay unlit.
A body is thrown from the dark towards him.
Alfred pushes the corpse aside, standing abruptly.
Others lunge towards it, unaware of its death as they cripple the body with their own hands, teeth, and legs.
Horns blow.
Loud, almost deafening.
Torches light up.
Bringing to light the actions unfolded in the dark.
Nothing unexpected.
Just more corpses.
Something clings to him.
Hope?
Another child, sawing Alfred's neck with his teeth.
His heart skips a beat, hands balling into fists.
Knuckles slam on the child's head, throwing him off.
Alfred presses on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
Enough.
Frustrated, he lunges towards his assaulter.
Teeth and nails, digging into flesh.
A mind.
However simple, relieved after long.
A bell rings.
Flesh falls onto the floor.
Ready to be eaten again.
Ultimately ignored as carnage spreads through.
Alfred approaches the corpses, hiding his small, skeletal figure.
He extends a hand, lost within the rest.
Slowly, his fingers grab onto cold meat.
There's only one way to satiate hunger.
As the child brings the food closer to him, it is snatched away in a matter of seconds.
His gaze darts around the chaos, trying to find his piece of the feast.
Frustrated, he screams, only to be slammed to the ground by the thief.
Knuckles press on his neck.
A matter of life or death.
If not by hunger, by violence.
Submission.
Something claws from the inside.
And for once, the chaos pays mercy to his senses.
Blonde hair is stained by blood.
Fallow eyes are darkened into deep, soulless pits.
An expression, much like his, is seen.
The difference...
[I will kill you if you move.]
Alfie freezes.
While he doesn't understand the meaning, he understands the intention.
Something claws from the inside.
And for the first time...
It's fear.
For a child much, much younger.
[You are to die hungry and alone, in the best case.]
[Worst case... You will have your arms and legs ripped apart by your own brothers and sisters.]
The child opens Alfie's mouth forcefully, shoving a piece of meat.
Alfred chews hysterically, even as he retches.
Vomit spills to his side, though he still forces himself.
To eat.
[... I will feed you. I, son of Alfred the Ever-Great. I, Ilmagh.]
[I will make you stronger.]
[To get rid of everybody else in this place.]
...
[Alfred...]
Eat.
Cower.
Flee.
Eat.
Endure.
Remain.
[My hope.]
Eat.
Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat.
Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure.
Survive.
[My brother.]
Until...
Torches light up.
The smell of rot is now familiar.
Blood clings to him, dried a long time ago.
Alfred stands, biting into something.
Alive.
Remaining.
Hungry for power.
An unsightly miracle.
Much above those unworthy.
Nails claw into his back.
Turning, he slams a fist onto the child's throat before grabbing her neck.
Fingers grasp the windpipe.
Ripping it out in seconds.
As blood gushes from the wound, Alfie throws her to the ground.
Others try.
Biting his ankles, reaching for his eyes, assaulting in the dark.
Authority is shown to them.
By sheer capability.
His gaze darts around.
Ilmagh runs through the middle, fending others off. A sharp bone is ever-present on his hand, never truly white.
Alfred rushes towards him.
[I... Concerned. For you, brother.]
[Do not worry.]
Children scamper around. A slow exhale escapes his brother.
[Nobody can touch me.]
Alfie lowers his head to meet Ilmagh's gaze.
[There is a mere dozen remaining.]
The young boy's eyes stare ahead. Alfred follows, eyes met with a disgusting sight.
Dozens of teeth inserted into crippled skin.
One for every victim.
[Brado the Sawed.]
[We defeat it, and the rest is no nuisance at all.]
Alfie's eyes widen.
Feet drag through, eager.
For cessation.
[You are not capable of killing it alone.]
[I will help you, brother, however much I can.]
Ilmagh walks alongside him, halting just a few meters apart.
Long, braided, dusty hair drags along the rough, stained floor.
A smile reveals sharp teeth.
Abnormally long arms reach behind his bony back.
Ilmagh: [You are unworthy, Brado.]
[More so by your appearance than your weakness.]
A feral roar cuts through before an arm whips forward.
Alfred jumps in front, blocking it.
Long, sharp nails claw into his mangled face.
Muscular legs hammer his ribcage.
He plummets to the ground.
A stopped heart.
For a second.
Two.
Three.
Four.
...
Beat.
Gasping for air, he stands again.
Hands rush forward.
He's forced to evade them.
Ilmagh jumps on his shoulder, then swipes his leg toward Brado's skull.
Ultimately, it fails as he's flung backwards, crashing onto the ground with a loud crack.
Alfie snaps his gaze towards his brother before choosing to focus on the threat in front.
Teeth saw too close to his neck.
Screaming in pain, he punches repeatedly on Brado's side and rips it open with his fingers.
Brado falls back, convulsing from pain.
Alfred stumbles.
Feet slam onto the ground, rushing with inhumane speed at him.
Something tingles in Alfie's neck.
[You did well enough, Brother.]
Ilmagh digs into the boy's side, deepening the gushing wound.
Fists hammer downwards, evaded swiftly by the blonde boy.
Pushing off the ground, he sets, like a leaf, on top of Brado's neck.
[Nobody ever touches Ilmagh.]
[Not even his own brothers.]
Brown eyes bleed.
Bones burst out of Brado.
Holing him.
[I'm the only one who's worthy.]
[The one Ruddii listens to.]
