It's all coming back to me.
I can remember everything.
My childhood.
My friends.
Their deaths.
My torture.
I remember everything.
°°°°°°
Being a five-year-old child had its perks—playing around, no responsibilities, no worries. But for me, childhood was never something to cherish. I didn't enjoy it, in fact, I hated it.
I lived life normally, like most kids, until that day. I had a different view of the world back then, but in the end, I was still just a kid. A scared, confused child who had no idea what was really going on around him.
My class was one for enerions .
It got attacked by a beast—no, not just any beast, but one that was ablaze, a terrifying creature made of fire and fury.
I remember the chaos. The shrill cries of my classmates, the sound of rushing footsteps, and then the frantic scramble to hide. My teacher, who always seemed so calm, snapped into action, ushering us into hiding spots. She knew what was happening, and I could feel her fear even though she tried to mask it. I hid in a cupboard, crouched in the corner, praying the flames wouldn't reach me.
From my hiding place, I could see the room through a narrow slit. A man? No, not a man. It was something much worse. It looked like a man at first, but the fire curling around its body made it clear that this thing wasn't human. Its body was like a twisted nightmare. Every movement seemed unnatural, like it was made of broken glass and fire, held together by something that wasn't quite alive.
The creature turned its head, and I saw its face—no, it wasn't a face, but a twisted, jagged beak. The skin around its head cracked like burning wood. Its eyes were glowing embers, wild and unnatural. Its wings were pure fire, flickering and shifting with each movement, and its claws—huge, sharp, and vicious—tore through the air like they were made to shred anything in their path. Its feet... bird-like, talons sinking into the ground with each step.
It wasn't human. It wasn't even close. Every time it moved, the ground beneath it seemed to burn away, leaving a blackened trail, but not enough to start a fire.
My teacher, who had always been so calm and collected, pulled a spear from one of the hidden drawers. I had never seen it before—she was always so prepared, like she knew something we didn't. She used to say she was once a hunter, but she had given up that life. Now, I wondered if that decision had cost her everything.
We all thought she could defeat it. The way she held the spear—like she'd done it a hundred times before. It was a weapon of someone who knew battle.
But when she lunged at the beast, the creature moved faster than I could comprehend. With a single swipe, it caught the spear and, to my horror, began to melt it. I watched in disbelief as the steel of the spear turned to molten liquid, dripping like wax.
And then, in the blink of an eye, the beast was standing in front of her, its body towering above her. My teacher froze. She knew. She knew there was no hope.
In her final moments, she shouted—her voice strained, desperate, yet oddly calm—"Don't come out!"
I couldn't understand what she meant at the time, but I felt her fear, and I felt the finality in her words.
The creature didn't hesitate. With a single movement, it reached out and severed her head.
I saw it.
The moment her head was separated from her body, everything slowed down, as if time itself was mourning. The beast didn't even look at her head. he just tossed it aside like it was nothing.
It... looked at its hand, the one that had done the damage, and muttered something.
"Hm,Fascinating."
It... could talk?
I felt a wave of nausea, the world spinning, but I couldn't look away.
The creature's madness or cruelty seemed to ignite as it began to destroy everything. It burned everything in its path. All the children who were hiding—some screamed, others tried to run. But they were so helpless. I wanted to scream, too, but my throat was tight, and I just watched.
Some of my classmates, in their panic, emerged from their hiding spots and ran. The idiocy of it struck me, but I was too scared to even think. I watched as the beast crushed them with one swipe. They screamed, their bodies contorted in agony, burning alive. The fire from the beast was relentless.
I didn't move. I didn't make a sound. My hands were shaking as I kept my mouth covered, determined to remain unnoticed. The horror that unfolded before me felt like a nightmare that wouldn't end.
The beast didn't stop until there was no one left. Everyone was either burned beyond recognition or crushed by its immense strength. I saw it all, too, clearly. Every life lost. Every scream echoed in my mind.
When the creature finally left, the fire began to die down, and the sprinklers kicked in, but the damage had already been done. I could still see it, over and over again, in my mind, playing like a broken record. The faces of my classmates, their bodies writhing in pain. The look of disbelief in my teacher's eyes as the life drained from her. I heard their voices in my head, their cries and pleas, as I crawled out of the cupboard that had saved me.
I walked to my teacher's body. Her head lay there, a broken symbol of everything we had lost. I picked it up, cradling it in my arms, her face frozen in a final expression of concern. She had cared more about us than herself.
But I wasn't sure if I could care about anything anymore. The world had changed in an instant.
And then, I heard a sound behind me.
Was it the creature coming back for me?
I turned, but it wasn't the beast.
It was my dad, with a group of men, all dressed in uniforms I didn't recognize. My father's face lit up with relief when he saw me, but it quickly morphed into shock when he saw the head I was holding.
I lifted it, and in a daze, I said, "Ms. Enyiola."
He knelt down, his voice shaking as he asked, "What happened here, kid?"
"A standing monster killed everyone. It was on fire, and it had wings. I hid in the cupboard."
"A standing monster? Can you completely describe what it looks like?"
"No," I said, shaking my head.
He sighed, and then I overheard their conversation.
"A rank 4 or 5?"
"It could be rank 7. But the damage isn't equal. This entire city should be in shambles. You're lucky your son survived by hiding."
"The other parents won't share the same happiness."
"I guess so. A Beast entered the city. We have to know which type and how. We have our work cut out for us. And your son seems too calm about this. He might need therapy."
But the therapy...
It didn't work.
°°°°°°°
My dad was a D-rank hunter before I was born, so my school wasn't really a proper one. It was a makeshift class for enerions, a nursery of sorts, because we didn't have the money to send me to preschool. He eventually made it to B-rank, though, but that didn't change much for us at the time.
By six, I started primary school. At twelve, I moved to secondary school, and by then, I had to make a choice: become an enerion that lives life like a normal human or become a hunter.
I was criticised for being different, enerions are viewed differently from normal humans.
We are either monsters to them or protectors.
My dad had taught me how to fight after what happened that day, after the day my entire class was killed.
Therapy didn't work. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the dreams where I could see my classmates burned and crushed, where I could hear their screams, it was all too real. I dreamt it every night.
I told my dad I wanted to learn to fight, and he understood. He knew it was because of what I'd seen, what I couldn't forget.
I had one ability pre awakening ,evident that I was an enerion.
At first, it was small things—fleeting moments of power, brief flashes of control. But over time, I started to understand it. My body, my senses, they all became sharper. I could feel the energy in my body a bit and utilise it to some extent.
But that wasn't enough. After my mother died, everything started to fall apart. I killed someone. Maybe it was because of the voices in my head, always urging me to destroy, to unleash whatever fury I had locked inside. It wasn't intentional, but it happened. The authorities didn't care about the reason. They just saw the result. They arrested me because I was a normal enerion,less valued than a hunter.
I was put in juvenile detention, but they didn't leave me there for long. They took me from my cell, kidnapped me, and used me for their experiments. They kept me awake, drained my blood, and tore my body apart. The pain wasn't new. It had become a part of me, just like the insanity that gnawed at my mind.
Maybe that was why I got through it. Maybe it was because I was already so used to suffering. The pain didn't stop, but I learned to endure it. The voices in my head grew louder, but I learned to ignore them.
Sometimes, I wondered how much worse it could get. And sometimes, I wondered if my dad, who had reached A-rank before he died, would've stopped me from doing the things I did—if he were still here. Maybe, but maybe not. He was gone. It was just me, and the voices, and the endless pain.
Being forced to stay awake, having my blood drained, and my body ripped apart—it wasn't a nice feeling. But, I guess I got accustomed to pain. It became something I could almost ignore, something I could endure. The insane voices in my head, the experiments, the endless torment—it all blurred together. What a view, huh? It was as if I had become numb to it all, a twisted form of survival in the midst of madness.
The experiments worked. For some reason, they thought I would lose my memories. I tried escaping twice, but both times I got caught. On the second attempt, they held nothing back, and I blacked out.
Now, I'm standing here, looking at someone who, in all likelihood, wants to kill me. And I kind of remember what happened after I lost my memories, but it's like recalling the life of another person.
Hmm
This body… it's a lot stronger than last time.
○○○○○
"I'm back," Neto muttered, the words barely audible as he squeezed his fists, feeling the power surge through his body. The muscles in his arms tensed, his skin prickling with anticipation. He could feel the energy inside him, buzzing and restless, as if it were eager to be unleashed.
Now, it was time to test the limits.