Author's note: Greetings, and thank you for taking the time to read my story. When writing the beginning of Hero of All, my intention was to create a dark and intense backstory for the main character, as I believe it adds depth to their development. However, I understand that some readers may find certain parts of the story to be gruesome. To accommodate this, I will update the page once the first ARC is fully posted, indicating where readers can skip to if they wish to avoid certain content. I appreciate any feedback or comments that you may have, as it will help me improve my writing and keep me motivated to continue posting. Thank you again for reading my story, and I hope you enjoy it.
𝔸ℝℂ 𝟙
Walking along the hallway, an elderly couple could be seen strolling beside each other. Their faces lit up with smiles as they enjoyed each other's company. The hallway was adorned only with metal doors, each spaced roughly 60 feet apart. Illuminated by evenly spaced light bulbs, the hallway glimmered with life, each bulb casting a warm, inviting glow that echoed with every step.
The elderly couple wore bright white lab coats and held clipboards in their wrinkled hands, exuding a sense of professionalism honed over many years. Despite their lab coats and serious demeanor, they appeared like a loving and caring old couple who had been together since their youth. Their warm and affectionate expressions created an irresistible atmosphere of love and tenderness. The old man walked at a notable pace, carefully matching his steps to the rhythm of his companion's, like an elastic that had lost its spring.
"How is Patient One doing? Are there any side effects from what happened?" The woman's grandmotherly appearance belied her concern as her face furrowed into a frown. Her voice had a raspy quality, like a rusty hinge creaking in the wind, but the dapper old man could hear her clearly. He had grown accustomed to her mannerisms. Her grey hair was wild and chaotic, with strands escaping from their confines and refusing to stay in place.
"No, Patient One is doing fine. There are no side effects from what happened. So don't make such a face, or you'll make more wrinkles," the old man said, chuckling to himself. He looked down to make eye contact with the grandma, and his voice still had plenty of life left in it, easily heard by her. Although the grandpa was wearing a lab coat, he was nicely dressed, with his sleeves cuffed and no wrinkles on his coat. This showed that he held himself in high esteem. Like the grandma, their heads were filled with wrinkles and matching grey hair.
The worried expression on the old woman's face quickly disappeared, replaced by a smile that stretched from ear to ear. She seemed to ignore the old man's comment, still lost in her thoughts about patient one. Her smile radiated love and care, showing how genuinely concerned she was for the patient.
"It's almost time, you know?" The old man's smile grew wider as he spoke. His face, weathered and thin, seemed to radiate with joy, and his smile had a contagious quality that could easily lift the spirits of those around him. Despite his age, the old man still possessed a youthful energy and a zest for life that shone through in his demeanor.
"I know! Isn't it amazing how quickly time flies?" The old woman's eyes sparkled with excitement, and she quickened her pace. As she walked, she seemed to shed years, moving with a newfound energy and enthusiasm. The old man couldn't help but smile at her infectious joy, but he struggled to keep up with her brisk stride. He didn't want to spoil her good mood, so he kept his thoughts to himself and continued on in silence.
Reaching their destination, the elderly couple comes to a halt before a metal door adorned with dried red marks in the shape of children's handprints. No window reveals what lies beyond, but the gruesome red smears are enough to give pause to any sensible adult. The black scratch marks on the metal below only add to the ominous feeling, as if the door is lifted straight from a horror movie, testifying to its weight and difficulty in opening or closing.
The old man rushed ahead of the old woman, eager to access what lay beyond the metal door. He pressed several buttons on the panel next to the door, causing it to slowly slide open. Despite the automatic mechanism, the door's immense weight meant it took a moment to reveal what lay inside.
The old woman went through the door smiling as the old man held his right hand out to indicate for her to go in first.
She stepped into the room and said with a smile, "Thank you kindly, my dear."
"Madame," he replied, returning her smile with one of his own. It was the kind of smile that could light up a room and bring joy to anyone who saw it.
The putrid stench that emanated from the door as it opened was enough to make even the most seasoned war veteran retch. It was a smell that seemed to harbor a deep-seated animosity towards the world, one that should never exist or be used as a weapon against humankind.
In a matter of seconds, a putrid stench seeped out from behind the bloody metal door, attempting to assert its dominance and spread throughout the bright hallway. Despite this, the old couple showed no reaction. The old man even took a deep breath, as if he were inhaling the scent of fresh flowers, and followed the old woman into the room.
As the old couple entered the room, their eyes adjusted to the dim light of a flickering bulb, as if it was at death's door. Flickering trying to hang in with its full might casting an eerie glow, providing only a glimpse of the walls and leaving the rest to the imagination.
For a split second, the flickering light bulb illuminated the room, revealing a scene in stark contrast to the bright hallway outside. Blood covered every surface like a macabre work of art, hinting at the possibility of multiple massacres having taken place in this very spot.
As if children were the only ones partaking in the massacres. Multiple bloody handprints lay on the wall, some bright red and others with an old, dried tint, creating a layered history of violence. Scratches in the size of children's hands were engraved into the surface, clearly highlighting the depth of the trauma inflicted. The contrast between the fresh and old marks was striking, making it easy to distinguish between what was recent and what had been there for years.
Upon closer inspection of the floor under the spontaneous light shows, hidden layers were revealed within the surface. It was as if the blood had nowhere to go, and had spread out evenly across the room, leaving dents, scratches, and claw marks from small hands in its wake. What had previously appeared to be the same color as the hallway had then transformed into a dark shade reminiscent of the underworld, as if the room had absorbed the violence that had occurred within it.
The old couple came skipping in with their happy faces. They looked somewhat youthful as a couple, but their smiles did not carry the same atmosphere they had before entering the room. For the smiles seemed more wicked and hateful, as if they were only looking for something to devour.
"Kids, come here."
"Kids, come here."
The old couple looked at each other and giggled, smiling that they had both suggested 'kids' simultaneously. The word drew attention to tiny figures scattered around the room, barely visible to the human eye. However, upon closer inspection, the little figures became more apparent, each one standing out from the darkness like a tiny, silent sentinel.
Black outlines measuring approximately 58.4 inches (4.9 feet) were visible, but it was difficult to identify their visual image. The outlines were vague and indistinct, making it hard to discern their true form.
All you could see were the figures in the dark, their outlines visible against the dimly lit room. Up to 40 to 50 of them were spread across the space, a chilling sight amidst the strange scene with the light bulb, floor, and walls. However, noticing the dark figures made it feel like a horror that should not be real. The sight was enough to make even a grown person lose control from pure fright.
The old couple stood beneath the center of the light, waiting for the children to gather. As they waited, the stains on their lab coats became more visible, indicating that they could never be removed. Despite this, the couple remained unfazed by the blemishes. To them, it was like a parent finding their child's drawings cute.
A couple of kids came limping over to the couple, showing no pain; rather, an expressions indicated that the injury was more of an annoyance than a source of pain, as if the injured body part was a liability they could do without.
Slowly, the kids gather under the light, sitting or standing, waiting for another command. They showed no emotions with their doll expressions. Their doll expressions put a cherry on top as their clothes match the scenery perfectly.
Differing among the kids, some were covered in blood, and the origin of the blood was unknown. It was unclear whether it belonged to the children themselves or someone else. The clothes of the various kids had rips and holes, with some barely meeting the bare minimum standards for clothing and appearing closer to rags.
Without acknowledging the others around them, the children walked towards the light, their eyes fixated on the old couple. However, what was truly unsettling was the unmoving figures scattered throughout the room. These children stepped over them and trampled over them as if they were nothing more than obstacles in their path.
The old lady's eyes darted to the motionless figures on the ground as she spoke.
"Looks like a couple of them didn't make it after all," her voice tinged with a mix of sadness and detachment. The old man nodded silently in agreement, his face etched with concern.
Her face showed sadness, holding nothing of her previous happy face. However, this was not because of the person's well-being, but rather that it was just one less thing she could toy with. On the other hand, the old man didn't care much for her remark. He kept his relatively wide smile showing his white pearly teeth, which sparkled under the light. His eyes crinkled at the corners, radiating a warm and friendly energy that seemed to put the children at ease.
"Congratulations, out of all the classes, yours was the last. You guys are almost done! There is but one thing left for you. Get plenty of sleep tonight, for tomorrow is your last. You will either survive or you will end up like the other classes. I WISH YOU ALL GOOD LUCK!" Even though the old man's voice picked up at the end, no one responded but kept the same demeanor, but one kid. With that, the old man kept his smile as he and the old lady left the room.
"Hiroto, did you hear that? Tomorrow will be our last day if we pass!" The only one who did not carry the same air as the rest was Sho Youta. He's around nine years old; however, no one knows their exact birthday. So, they go off by the new coming each year for their age.
Sho was wearing shorts and what seemed to be a t-shirt, yet from previews, encounters, holes, and rips, and the primary standard of the t-shirt could be questioned. Sho's tethered clothes were dyed different shades of red, each shade holding its own story. A couple of scars on his skin were apparent from being uncovered by cloth or bloodstains. His hair was dark black, in contrast with the blood-soaked red.
But, compared to the rest of his class, he held a reasonable look. By reasonable look, to further explain, Sho was not lost mentally, and his eyes still had some remaining light in them. Yet, this only made him stick out more like a single star in the night sky being surrounded by darkness.
Sho was still standing under the light with his little brother Hiroto in front of him. While they're not related by blood, the struggle, grief, and adversity they have been through have long ago strengthened their bond.