Caw! Caw!
The sharp cry of a young raven echoed through the murky night. The bird was perched near a chipped bowl, its black feathers catching the faint, sickly yellow light from a nearby window as it happily tore into the scraps it had been given.
"Eat well," Serena murmured, placing a few more scraps in the small bowl for the bird. "This place is not merciful towards the weak."
The young raven paused, its obsidian eye cocking, seeming to acknowledge her words before dipping its head again.
"Haah"
A sigh, heavy with unsaid anxieties, escaped Serena.
"I hope you grow strong before I leave…" she whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the whispering night.
Her gaze softened as she clasped her hands together in a fleeting, silent prayer, then turned back to the dimly lit kitchen to wash the few dishes that remained.
The faint clinking of dishes filled the silence as her thoughts drifted. 'Three more months,' she mused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. 'That should be enough time for us to leave this place.'
Her smile deepened, touched with warmth. 'Perfect… that's when Kurian's birthday is.'
Serena continued washing the dishes, their soft clatter echoing faintly through the dim kitchen. She seemed unaware of her son's growing unease in this place — though in truth, it wasn't ignorance. She simply chose to ignore it.
Still, as the frigid water ran over her hands, the thought lingered. 'He's been getting impatient lately,' she mused, her brow furrowing slightly.
'Hmm… maybe I should just tell him we'll be leaving in a few months. That might settle him down,' she thought with a faint scoff, drying a plate with deliberate slowness. 'Honestly, it is starting to get on my nerves.'
A small, exasperated smile crossed Serena's lips as she set the last dish upon the rack. Outside, the young raven cawed again, its fluttering wings stirring the still night air. It sounded content seemingly satisfied with the meager scraps it had been given.
It was a heartwarming, yet simultaneously heartbreaking sight: two ignorant beings finding a moment of simple joy when the jaws of death had, for all intents and purposes, already closed around them.
Meanwhile, in the solitude of a dark room, where only the faint echoes of a raven's wings reached, a single thought stirred within the one who was not the ignorant, yet was bound to those who were: "Time has run out."
Before his eyes, it now stood menacingly; a bloodied sword sinking into a vast crimson sea, where rivers of blood converged and swallowed all light.
The following night, Serena finally broke the news.
"In a few months, we'll move out of this place," she said with a warm, hopeful smile — a smile so bright it seemed untouched by the weight of their reality.
Right, it was a joyful smile, brimming with hope.
It was a beautiful smile.
It was… an ignorant smile.
Facing that expression, Kurian's lips trembled. He forced them upward, shaping them into something that might pass for happiness.
"Hurray!" he exclaimed, his voice pitched with feigned enthusiasm — mimicking a brittle echo of hers.
After their meal, Serena went about cleaning the dishes, just as she always did, setting aside scraps for the young raven perched outside. The day unfolded with the same rhythm as any other, the same motions, the same quiet routine.
But not for everyone.
From within the shadowed room, came a faint, hollow thud.
A faint imprint of a fist marred the weathered wall of the dilapidated home as Kurian muttered under his breath, "Dammit."
His fists trembled, though not from pain, nor from the recoil. In truth, there had been none. That strike just now, was perfect.
The small hand that had collided with the aged plaster bore no mark, not even the faintest sting. The wall, however, told another story — a faint, crumbling imprint of force, quiet yet absolute.
His Corporeal Eye had finally begun to awaken. Just now, he had sensed it — the exact point of structural fatigue, the delicate balance of matter straining to hold itself together.
And in that instant, he had channeled only the precise measure of force required to shatter it.
The impact had spent itself entirely within the wall, every ounce of energy dissolving into dust, leaving behind no recoil, no backlash.
To be more exact, it was as though he had known — with eerie precision — exactly how hard to strike, and exactly how much was needed to break what stood before him.
It was an impossibly high display of martial mastery — the kind of peak most martial artists could only dream of reaching, a technique embodying the very ideal of controlled force.
In that punch, all the energy was expended entirely on the wall's destruction, leaving none to rebound against the intact structure of his hand. As a result, the recoil was virtually nonexistent.
"Dammit."
Yet such a display of mastery, such martial powers, felt utterly meaningless to the young boy standing in the dark.
Surrounded by silence, he thought bitterly, 'Was I wrong?'
His mind drifted back to the first day he had awakened in this world; the moment he realized he had transmigrated into the frail body of a child so deeply cherished by his mother.
But he wasn't her child. He had merely taken over the vessel of her son. He was a thief, an imposter. The instant he had asked her, "Goddess, who are you?" he should have followed it with, "And who is this Kurian? I am Ferdinand."
That was what he should have done. But… he hadn't.
What had stopped him?
Was it the warmth of her embrace? The brutality of her reality? The sympathy he felt for her suffering?
Or perhaps… was it the yearning — that desperate, unspoken longing for the maternal love he had never known?
The weight of his silence pressed heavily on his heart. 'If I had told her… would she have believed me? Could I have convinced her to run? To survive? Could I have spared her from this pitiful play of mother and false son?'
Maybe, if he'd just been a little more detached, a little more distant, he wouldn't have found comfort in her arms, and could have simply said: "I am not your son."
"Haah…"
Letting out a weary sigh, Kurian clenched his fists and whispered with quiet resolve, "Fight the odds… and survive."
To Kurian, the approaching date of his birthday now felt like the day of doom itself.
Yet before that day arrived, a day of agony awaited his mother. She had to venture into the lair of that man to hand over the million credits — the price of the freedom she so desperately sought.
"Hoh, what a beauty."
A lecherous gaze fell upon her, one that held no trace of admiration, only hunger. Serena, all too familiar with such predatory stares, instinctively tried to leave as she handed over the credits.
But as she turned, every escape route was blocked. The man's voice slithered behind her: "My client seems to have taken quite an interest in you, Serena."
An urge to vomit surged through her as if vile insects crawled beneath her skin at the sound of his words. Yet she could not shut him up, she was incapable of that.
Knowing her state and the situation, the man sneered, "How about you serve me(my client) one last time?"
"Can you promise that?" Serena demanded, her voice trembling yet sharp with restrained anger.
The man tilted his head. "Hmm?"
"I know what a trashy human you are," she spat, "but are you at least capable of keeping a promise?"
"Oh, she isn't a virgin?" the client murmured, a shadow of disappointment crossing his features. The man beside him waved it off. "Very well. Considering our relationship, I promise that you and I will have nothing to do with each other after this."
Serena closed her eyes, signaling reluctant acceptance.
The client's disappointment lingered as he snapped his fingers. Several men appeared at once. "Well," he said, voice laced with venomous amusement, "if you were a pure white flower, I would've kept you to myself. But since you're already rotten, why not let my brothers enjoy you as well? Hehe."
Serena swallowed hard, forcing down the bile threatening to rise. Her hands trembled as she began loosening the fabric that draped her body.
Watching her undress, the lecherous client let out a drawn-out, gleeful, "Oho~"
***
"It's quite late already," Kurian noted, as an entire day had passed and dusk was fast approaching. Serena had gone to submit the payment early that morning, yet she had still not returned.
'If anything happens to her, I will...' Kurian paused, the thought choking him. 'What would I do?'
An invisible bridge seemed to stretch between them as he reflected on their months together. He felt a widening distance, born from his overthinking and the pitiful inadequacy of his own strength.
In simpler terms, he was like 'style with no substance.'
Caw. Caw.
His eyes were drawn outside by the cawing of a flock of crows. The image in his mind shifted — from the graceful, dancing figure surrounded by musical notes — to something darker: now, murky and unreadable gazes surrounded this figure.
'I hope Mother comes back safe, and quickly,' Kurian silently hoped. Hours dragged on, until finally, as the clock struck midnight, a ragged figure appeared on the horizon — broken yet resolute in her approach.
Kurian bolted toward her, calling out, "Mother!"
Seeing him rush forward, Serena quickened her pace. She reached him, raised her arm, and — paa! — slapped him
"Didn't I tell you to stay inside no matter what?" She scolded him. "Let's get back quickly and leave this place after packing up."
Kurian froze, dazed by her words. Yet he could not bring himself to turn back. The nauseating, acrid stench of what had happened in the lair clung to him, mingled with the unmistakable signs of abuse etched into her body like medals of suffering.
He crouched low, picking up a stone and aiming it, but it slipped from his fingers and clattered uselessly to the ground.
'Fuck my life,' he cursed silently as he heeded inside the house.
Inside the lair, reeking of alcohol and the stench of abuse, two tyrants conversed.
"It wouldn't be a problem if I took that toy, right?" the client asked.
The other man, attempting to curry favor, gulped down whiskey. "Of course. I have nothing to do with that woman," he muttered, voice bitter. "That infertile woman… she couldn't give birth. If not for that…"
He took another sip before adding, "I could have profited by selling any beautiful children she might have had to the nobility of the New Federation."
"It's indeed a shame," the client agreed. Just then, a man with a wide smile entered the room. "Boss! I have news… and a surprise."
The two men looked on, intrigued, as the messenger spilled whatever juicy news he had. Their eyes visibly lightened as they heard the details as the man proposed to his client, "How about we collaborate on a hunt?"
The client gulped down the remaining of his whiskey, and licked his lips, before saying, "Sounds like a plan."
Simultaneously, they both rose and called out to their men. "Get your asses ready! We're going to hunt a fox and her pup now."
At the same time, Kurian and Serena were trying to escape the Lawless Zone, but they were moving far too slowly. Serena struggled to keep pace, and Kurian, unwilling to leave her behind, followed her as best he could.
"—!!?"
Kurian gritted his teeth as restless energies, fleeting and sharp like the cackle of hyenas, prickled at his senses. 'We have been found.'
To be continued...