"Fuck, why did it have to be me?"
The clank of an empty glass bottle being dropped could be heard. A stench of alcohol incredibly prominent around the building. An unhealthy and drunk person wobbled as they stood up. Walking across the home they swung a door open, "It's all your fault! It's all your parents' fault! If they hadn't gone and died I wouldn't have to be taking care of you!"
A young teen boy was huddled in the corner. Despite the position they were in, there was no other signs of fear. They were still, eyes lacking any light. As if they had already died.
"This useless kid! For several years I have fed you, and yet you still look like this!"
The drunken person kicked the boy to the ground, "Get the fuck over it already! It's been years! Yet here you are! Still this depressed and useless fucking kid!"
Several blows were delivered to the young boy. Punches and kicks of varying strength and accuracy. Further proof it was delivered by a drunken person. This boy did not make a sound, not a whimper or groan of pain. They were silent, and only flinched slightly after each blow.
"Fuck! It's like feeding a doll! I'm so sick of this!"
The drunken person walked over to the window of the room. Their arms shook as the window refused to open. Only further enraging the drunken person they continued to force it open. A few more attempts were made and it suddenly snapped open. The drunken person spat out of it, "Fucking hell, did you glue this damned window?!"
They marched over to the boy and grabbed him by the collar of his clothes. Dragging him to the window they grumbled, "I'm finally going to rid me of this problem once and for all!"
Lifting the boy they rolled him out the window. There was no struggle, and the boy fell helplessly from a second floor window. Such a fall would bring a painful injury to someone who didn't land properly. So for this boy who fell while limp it would prove dangerous.
The window opened only to an alleyway. In the outskirts of the city it was used to store various bags of trash. In a twist of cruel fate this poor standard of living was the grace of the boy. The stacked bags of garbage acted as a cushion and prevented him from being harmed too badly.
Despite having survived the fall with little to no injury, the boy did not move. Their eyes seemed lifeless. Though if one looked closely they might see the reflection of a massive muscular man. Although the boy was alone in this alleyway.
Lying there for a long period of time his body twitched. A raging feeling trying to survive, yet he remained unresponsive. An inferno desperately tried to break through, but it could not but help die out.
It had been years.
The figure of the strongest Hero. One who went by many names. Hercules, Pillar of Justice, Unstoppable, Unbeatable. Yet to the boy none of that was what remained. Instead it was Ivak, murderer of his parents.
Could you imagine? The pain of reliving that moment every time the bastard that killed your parents was interviewed? When it was broadcasted to all major channels on TV? When all that was recommended in videos was his latest feats? Or when you walk the street to see sponsored ads about him?
What bitterness you would feel! When each time you grabbed a nutrition bar it would say some cheesy line about "Ivak eats these to remain strong!". To some kid it might be a dream, to some adults it was cringe worthy. But to him?!
It was the worst!
No matter how much he was abused by the adoptive parent who took him in after the incident. No matter how many times he felt the pang of starvation from neglect. No matter the frailness of his body. Or even the weakness of his bones!
All of it paled in comparison!
Yet, it was impossible.
In this world.
Where from birth your talent was decided.
There was no comebacks.
Did you know? Of this world? The cruel truth of this world?
Allow me to explain.