"Run faster!! Go!!"
The roar echoed in Chien Dai's ears, forcing his legs to move faster, even as his lungs burned with exhaustion.
"FASTER!!" The same voice barked, and at the same time, a searing pain lashed across his backside. The stick struck hard, spurring him forward.
A slightly older boy ran beside Chien Dai, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, chase me!" he taunted, winking before sprinting ahead.
"Don't be a snail!!"
Chien Dai's small feet moved frantically—not to chase the boy, but to avoid another strike.
The sting of the stick was soon replaced by the sharp scrape of tree branches whipping across his face. One nearly poked his eye, forcing him to shut them. But that was a mistake. He never saw the tree root snaking across his path until it was too late.
His foot caught.
Chien Dai tumbled forward, crashing face-first into the dirt. Pain flared through his body, a sharp ache spreading through his ankle. A sprain.
Tears blurred his vision as he cried out, his small hands clutching at the ground.
"Get up!" The voice barked again, unforgiving.
Chien Dai wiped his tears with the back of his hand. Gripping a nearby tree, he forced himself upright, wincing as pain shot through his leg. Holding onto tree after tree, he staggered forward.
The others ran past him, mere shadows in his periphery. Some glanced his way, but none stopped. No one ever stopped.
By the time he reached the finish line—an arid clearing just beyond the forest—his 'friends' and the 'elders' were already waiting. Their patience wore thin. Some watched him with pity. Others with relief that they weren't the ones who had fallen behind.
An elder strode forward, grabbing Chien Dai by the arm and dragging him toward the center of the open space. He was shoved to the ground, dirt grinding against his scraped skin.
"Dong!" the elder shouted.
A boy, perhaps two years older than Chien Dai, was shoved forward by unseen hands. The others quickly formed a tight circle around them.
Chien Dai looked around, confused, then back at the elder.
The man's gaze was cold. "Only the strong will prosper." His voice carried an eerie finality. "The weak must be cut loose."
Chien Dai's body trembled violently. His mind struggled to process the words, but then—
"Fight!"
Before he could react, Dong lunged.
A brutal kick slammed into Chien Dai's jaw, sending him flying backward. His small body hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood spraying from his mouth. His vision blurred instantly.
A second later, hands clamped around his throat.
Chien Dai gasped, his fingers clawing at Dong's wrists. His lungs burned, his throat tightening as he was crushed against the dirt. The older boy straddled him, eyes alight with killing intent.
Chien Dai couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
His short nails scratched uselessly against Dong's arms, his struggles growing weaker by the second.
His vision swam in red. Maybe a blood vessel had burst in his eye. Maybe it was something else.
His lungs screamed for air.
His heart pounded furiously, erratic and desperate.
He was going to die.
No.
Not like this.
Not after his mother had given her life to save him.
Not. Like. This.
Something inside him snapped.
His blood-red vision locked onto Dong's exposed throat. He saw it—an invisible target hovering over the boy's neck. A weakness. An opening.
Instinct took over.
Chien Dai's tiny fist shot upward, slamming into Dong's throat with all the strength his frail body could muster.
The effect was immediate.
Dong choked violently, his grip loosening as he coughed and sputtered, gasping for air.
Chien Dai's left hand latched onto Dong's throat. His right arm wrapped around the back of Dong's head.
And with every ounce of willpower left in his body—
He twisted.
CRACK.
The sound echoed through the clearing, loud and final.
The cheers and jeers of the crowd died instantly.
Dong's lifeless body crumpled onto the dirt.
Silence.
One of the elders quickly stepped forward, kneeling beside the body. He pressed his fingers to Dong's neck, searching for something that was no longer there.
Chien Dai remained where he sat, his hands still trembling. His blank gaze remained fixed on Dong's corpse, unblinking, unseeing.
He barely noticed when the crowd erupted.
He barely reacted when the elder hoisted him onto his shoulders.
The voices around him were cheering. Celebrating.
But Chien Dai heard nothing.
Nothing at all.
-
Chien Dai jolted the moment a hand touched him. His body tensed, instincts taking over. His small fingers curled into sharp, claw-like grips, ready to tear into whoever dared approach him.
"Hey... it's me."
A soft, gentle whisper.
His wild eyes darted up, blinking rapidly.
The little girl stood before him, her expression calm, her smile like a whispering breeze on a stormy night.
"Drink this. It will soothe you."
She extended a clay cup filled with a dark brown liquid.
Chien Dai hesitated before taking it. He brought the cup to his lips and sipped. The warmth spread down his throat, but almost immediately, a prickling sensation flared through his body—itching, tingling, burning in his wounds.
"What... what is this?" He grimaced, his eyes twitching as he fought against the discomfort.
"A medicine I made to heal your wounds," the girl replied simply.
Chien Dai said nothing, forcing himself to endure the effects. His breath hitched slightly, but he swallowed it down. The little girl sat beside him, her small frame barely disturbing the silence.
"The elder said that once every two months, a Westerner comes here," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "They choose the strongest child to be... adopted."
Chien Dai's head snapped toward her, fear flashing in his eyes.
"What about the others?" His voice was barely above a breath, but terror clung to it.
He already knew the answer.
Still, he gasped when she whispered, "Dead."
His chest tightened. "You mean... I... I have to kill again... and again...?" His voice choked, shaking with a despair too big for his small body to hold.
The girl nodded. "Or else... you die."
Chien Dai curled into himself, pulling his knees to his chest, his trembling fists clenching so tightly his nails dug into his palms. His entire body quivered—not from cold, but from the crushing weight of reality sinking in.
A soft hand rested on his shoulder. The girl leaned in, wrapping her arms around him in a quiet, fragile attempt at comfort.
"But why?" Chien Dai's voice broke. "Why save us... if we're only meant to die?"
The girl didn't hesitate. "Not everyone dies. The strongest survive."
Chien Dai lifted his head slightly, staring at her. Her voice was too calm. Too indifferent. As if she had already made peace with this cruel truth.
She simply shrugged, as if stating a fact.
His head sank back into his knees.
"So... all I have to do is be the strongest," he murmured. "That's the only way not to die."
The girl nodded. "That's right."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, in a small, hesitant voice, Chien Dai whispered, "What about you?"
She tilted her head slightly, then shrugged again. "What about me?"
"Will you survive?"
The girl looked away, her face unreadable. "They still need me to make medicine. As long as no one replaces me... I live."
Her tone was disturbingly nonchalant, as if she were speaking about the weather.
As if she had long accepted that her life—her survival—depended not on strength, but on usefulness.
Chien Dai swallowed hard, his body trembling all over again.