Bone sat on the top floor of the building, his arms —extremely disproportionate to his size— resting beside his skinny body, a trait he had inherited from relatives he never knew. He wiped his cement and sweat-stained face with the sleeve of his uniform in a failed attempt to preserve some dignity in that gray hell.
Beside him, a child hummed a soft melody passed down through generations of workers, swinging his small legs in the air while trying to chew his portion of dry bread. At some point, the child noticed the distant look in his friend's eyes and gently shook his arm, looking at him curiously.
"What are you thinking about, Bone?" he asked innocently.
The young man's thoughts were interrupted by the sharp voice of his companion. He looked at him curiously, noting the child's concerned expression.
"Nothing, really. I was just watching the people down below," he explained.
Suddenly, the sound of a visceral grumble interrupted the conversation—it was Little's stomach. The child immediately clutched his belly, trying to hide his shame. It was clear he wasn't satisfied with the meal provided by the company, which was predictable, as it only kept them alive.
Bone carefully observed his friend, noticing how he seemed weaker than the day before. Concerned, he decided to ignore his own needs and give him his portion, maintaining a gentle expression in the process. "You can have it. I'm already full."
Little watched the gesture, confused, and tried apprehensively to return the meal, but Bone gently pushed the small hand away with his fingers.
"If you don't eat, you'll stay small. Didn't you say you wanted to be a carrier like me?"
The child couldn't help but show a flicker of frustration at the question, but that feeling was completely consumed by the joy and energy he felt with each bite. Bone then placed his hand on Little's head, tenderly stroking the oily strands of hair while trying to hide the smile on his face.
The moment was interrupted when a booming vibration flooded the air—it was the construction site alarm, which could indicate several situations: break times, the end of the workday, or an attack by a beast.
Upon hearing the siren, the workers slowly rose from their spots, grumbling and stretching as they walked toward the industrial elevators located in the middle of each floor. Bone and Little were no exception, as they tried to follow the crowd at their own pace while avoiding being crushed.
While the elevator descended, Bone overheard a conversation between two high-ranking workers who seemed unhappy:
"It seems the company is hiring a hunter to protect the construction site for a while," said one helmeted colleague.
"I hope it's not one of those scoundrels who abuse their position to mistreat the others... Dealing with the higher-ups is already enough."
The terms of that discussion weren't unfamiliar to him, but he couldn't say he knew exactly what they were talking about. All he knew was that there were people called hunters—individuals with superhuman abilities and special skills. They were always seen with something called a Bloodline—a weapon used and granted to the hunter at some point—and they were humanity's only defense against the beasts that invaded through the gates.
Upon reaching the lower floor, the two said their goodbyes. Little then ran toward one of the supervisors to see if he could help with something.
The young man, for his part, returned to the loading zone, where sacks of cement and bricks were stored for transport. Bone could only carry two sacks on his own per trip, but he had set himself the goal of carrying three sacks per delivery. He was determined to increase his quota by the end of the month, hoping his salary would increase at least a little, as he wanted to buy Little a decent birthday gift.
During the journey, Bone moved alongside other carriers toward the delivery point. The path wasn't long, but it was exhausting. He tried as best he could to avoid the whispers and glances directed at him, something that became impossible after a while.
At the delivery point, Bone noticed how his colleagues quickly moved away from him the moment they placed their sacks on the ground. He couldn't do anything about it, as he could barely move—a situation that worsened as he struggled to control his breathing. Suddenly, he heard a shout from behind but paid it no mind. However, the growing chorus of alarmed cries quickly turned his exhaustion into frustration. He looked back irritably, watching as Little ran toward him, pointing anxiously at the sky.
Bone grew even more confused and couldn't help but look up, only to realize something was heading straight for him. In that instant, he was crushed by a metal beam, dying in the process.
Bone could only see darkness, a penumbra that completely enveloped him from head to toe. He couldn't see or hear anything—he simply existed. He felt no anguish; on the contrary, he felt a warm sensation around him, likely the last vestiges of life fleeing his body. Gradually, a light began to form in the distance, gently illuminating his silhouette, making everything even more dreamlike.
Suddenly, everything turned white. Bone was now standing on a small patch of grass that tickled his feet. He remained confused for a few moments until he spotted a small building in front of him. Its whitish color blinded him. It was so simple, with strange angles, a bizarre composition, and a cross above it that seemed to be made of something like gold.
He walked toward it in a trance, probably drawn by the mysterious aura of the place. However, upon entering, his curiosity immediately turned into agony, as something told him he shouldn't be there.
The place remained dark, preventing him from seeing anything inside. He tried to leave through the entrance, but the doors were already locked. Bone panicked, desperately trying to force them open. However, a soft, distinct voice interrupted his escape attempt.
"Welcome. God has chosen you," it exclaimed.
Bone didn't even have time to turn around completely, as that thing was already in front of him, not allowing him to move even an inch.
"Why are you quiet? Move."
Bone felt a chill down his spine upon hearing that, feeling as it pushed him forward frenetically, completely ignoring his efforts to stay in place.
After a few moments, he stopped in front of a chair, located near the church pulpit, and was pushed again to sit on it. By that point, Bone was terrified, understanding nothing of what was happening. But nothing compared to the figure of that thing—it resembled a sister, or something imitating her.
She walked toward a small fountain lying beneath a religious figure above. Bone couldn't recognize the person, but the cruelty with which that human was portrayed made his anxiety even worse.
In a ceremonial gesture, the woman submerged her long arms into the crystal-clear water, moving them as if searching for something. Gradually, a dark red liquid began to stain the water from within, causing the fountain to slowly overflow. Bone couldn't help the expression of fear forming on his face—an expression that worsened as he watched the snow-white sky stained by a bloody red spreading like ink.
Bone was on the verge of vomiting from nerves, but when he tried to stand up, the chair held him tightly, not allowing him to move an inch. The sister, for her part, raised her hands above the water. Her emaciated fingers held, in one hand, a small animal resembling a mouse made of parchment, and in the other, a rifle that seemed to absorb the red liquid.
She slowly walked toward Bone and, with deadly silence, presented her guest with his new companions. The young man couldn't stop trembling in terror, something that made it difficult for him to hold the gifts.
"You will help with his rebirth."
"What are you talking about?" Bone exclaimed in terror, looking at her. "Please, let me go home!"
"Hunt and kill. Feed him, or you will become food."
"PLEASE, ANSWER ME!"
The sister covered Bone's eyes with her frivolous hands as she completed the ritual, finally saying, "Good luck, hunter."
Bone once again found himself observing the darkness, which no longer felt welcoming but dangerous. He felt how his body seemed heavier than usual and how something seemed to be moving on top of him. Finally, something began to etch itself onto his retinas, burning him as if written with a knife heated in a live fire. It was a manuscript that seemed hastily and fearfully written, the reddish color of his blood contrasting with the darkness of his closed eyes, making the message even more terrifying:
200 KG OFMEAT