''Those fucking bastards! Marcel, Dante, Nyx! I swear if I ever can, I'll kill you!'' Kleio Barastrosa yelled, gritting his teeth and balling his hand into a fist ready to punch something.
His clothes were soaked, clinging to his pale Caucasian skin. The boy's messy hair fluttered to the sides as he walked towards his own house located on the outskirts of town.
It was night, so he was being as careful as he could. The lad constantly looked around, checking the corners he passed and avoiding places that were very quiet or with few people.
Those motherfuckers!
Just a few minutes ago his classmates Marcel, Dante and Nyx publicly humiliated him and then beat him until they had had enough. Obviously, he tried to fight back, but was unable to draw the sword attached to the scabbard at his waist belt.
But even if he had succeeded in unsheathing his sword, the advantage would remain theirs. His fencing technique far surpassed that of the others, but what was the use?
Kleio was weak. He knew it.
He knew that better than anyone, to be precise.
The slightest mention of a movement that indicated that he would like to beat the bastards, only worsened the act of violence without definite justification --- it was no wonder that his entire body had extremely ugly purple bruises scattered everywhere.
It was also notable that his garments had some remnants of what appeared to be fresh red paint, straight out of the storage pot used to store it.
Honestly, Kleio could have sworn he saw the lunatic Nyx smile genuinely right after Marcel had punched him in the face repeatedly. That girl wasn't quite right in the head; of the three of the group, she was certainly the worst of them all.
That had hurt so damn much. What was the point of all that shit anyway?
They swore to him that they would stop the abuse months ago. But the truth is, from the beginning, they never planned to change their psychotic personalities and therefore Kleio would still be their little toy.
A human punchbag. That was Kleio in their perspective.
While thinking about everything that happened, he finally arrived at his house.
As soon as he unlocked the wooden door, he was faced with the spectacular sight of a majestically decorated house. In his spare time, Kleio liked to keep things neat and tidy.
Maybe this was some kind of mental defense mechanism his subconscious had developed to keep him from going crazy. The kid had dealt with so much in so little time — and, by the way, he was turning 16 that very day.
He quickly tossed a bag he was carrying on the couch. Tiredness was what summed him up now, his whole body aching and he just wanted to get some rest.
November 7, 2005. Kleio's birthday and also his most hated day of all days.
He often found himself wondering why the hell did people make a habit of celebrating their birthdays? What was the point of it?
It was just a loss of time that they could have used for better things.
''Screw these frivolous thoughts!'' He uttered, grabbing a bag of frozen peas from the fridge cabinet. Wasting no time, Kleio started to climb the wooden stairs of the house, but what his eyes saw happening was anything but normal.
No, on the contrary… what the hell was going on there?
The exquisitely leveled and clean eucalyptus wood floor gradually began to turn into a strange greenish hue mixed with what appeared to be moss and dust debris.
Was the boy's house transforming? What kind of purgatory was he being teleported to now?
It was still wood, it was still a building, but where the hell and what the hell was that place?
As soon as he finished climbing the stairs fully, his eyes widened. He had come out in a huge room, similar to a ballroom, although it was very poorly maintained and with dirt scattered everywhere.
Surely if Nyx and the others heard him talking about it, they would call him crazy, and then finally they would have a reason to actually arrest him.
Kleio was a geek when it came to theoretical knowledge. Although its practical basis was almost equivalent to 0. That went against everything he considered possible through magic.
He couldn't remember having read any books related to illusory spells so well done before.
Actually, his intellectually developed mind was incapable of conceiving that someone who lived in that same pathetic city would be able to handle mana in such a way.
''The stairs!''
He quickly looked back, there was no way to go back -- a whitish mist had closed him inside, preventing Kleio from exerting any strength to pass it.
Maybe if he was skilled with mana control, he would be able to get out of there right away. A real pity.
''What...'' He refrained from finishing his speech as he heard disturbing things around him.
Footsteps slapped the ground around him. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to discern where the person was exactly until it was too late. The atmosphere of the place was so tense it made him feel like he was in an old-fashioned horror movie.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to understand what lurked through the darkness of that creepy place.
Something sliced through the wind, Kleio's eyes were unable to follow the surreal speed of the object. He shuddered for a second, feeling a sudden impact that sent him staggering backwards, nearly falling on his butt to the floor.
Without realizing it, his chest had been stabbed. Blood sprayed everywhere and all Kleio was able to do was stand there, silently watching the unfolding of this worrying situation.
In an instinctive action, he drew his sword quickly. Luckily for him, he hadn't taken off his clothes or his gun since he never made it to his room.
His chest burned, aching from the dagger. He stretched his sword forward, trembling and panting.
''Shit.''
Now, his survival would only depend on his own luck and skill.