Damian slowly opened his eyes, his body aching from the weeks of recovery. The sterile smell of the hospital was all around him, the white walls and quiet whispers of healers a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed his mind since the attack.
"Ewan…" His voice was raspy, weak. His first thought was for his brother. Was he alright?
A soft hand rested on his shoulder, and Damian turned his head slightly to see his mother sitting beside him, her face pale with exhaustion. She had been crying, her eyes red and swollen, but there was a sense of relief in her expression as she looked at him.
"Your brother's fine," she said gently, her voice trembling slightly. "We used all our savings to buy a potion for his injuries… He's healing well."
Damian let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Ewan was okay. Relief washed over him for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by a new wave of frustration and guilt.
"And… me?" Damian asked, glancing down at his own battered body. He could feel the bruises, the cuts, the throbbing pain from the beating that had left him here. His arms were bandaged, and there was still a dull ache in his ribs.
His mother hesitated, looking down at her lap before answering. "We… we couldn't afford to buy a potion for you, Damian. After Ewan's treatment, there was nothing left. I'm so sorry…"
Damian forced a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "It's fine, Mom. I'm just glad Ewan is alright."
But inside, a storm was brewing. He didn't blame his mother—how could he? She had done what any parent would do. But the injustice of it all, the sheer unfairness, clawed at him. Why had they been the ones left to suffer while those noble kids walked away without a care in the world?
His mother sighed, brushing her hair back from her face. "There's more, Damian," she said, her voice quieter now. "Your father… he got suspended from his job."
Damian's heart skipped a beat. "What? Why?"
"He… he argued with his superiors about what happened to you and Ewan," she explained, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "He tried to stand up for you, but the children involved were nobles, and the higher-ups wouldn't hear any of it. They punished your father instead, suspended him without pay."
Damian clenched his fists, feeling a sharp pain shoot up his arm from the movement, but he ignored it. His father—suspended for trying to protect his own children, while the nobles who attacked Ewan got away with it. The injustice burned in Damian's chest like a wildfire.
"But that's not all," his mother continued, her voice thick with anger. "Your father… he tried to file a formal complaint with the Duke, but he was ignored. They just brushed him aside, Damian. Like we were nothing."
The words hit Damian like a blow to the gut. The Duke—the man who was supposed to uphold justice, who was supposed to protect the people in his domain—had done nothing. The anger that had been simmering inside Damian since the attack flared into something more, something darker.
"How could the Duke do this?" his mother whispered, her voice cracking with frustration. "How can he ignore what happened? Your father… he's so angry. I don't know what we're going to do."
Damian's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as his hatred for the nobility grew. His mind flashed back to the scene in the street—the cruelty of those older kids, the way they had hurt Ewan without a second thought, and the helplessness he had felt as they beat him into the ground. His pride, his dignity, shattered along with his brother's arm.
They'll pay, Damian thought, his eyes gleaming with a cold, seething fury. They'll all pay.
"I'll get my revenge," Damian muttered under his breath, his voice filled with venom. His mother didn't hear him, but the words hung in the air like a dark promise.
He would get stronger. He had to. No one would ever hurt his family again. And when the time came, he would make them pay for everything they had done.
Later that day, Damian left his room, needing to clear his mind. He hobbled through the quiet corridors of the hospital, using a crutch to support his weight. The sharp pain in his ribs reminded him of his weakness—of how powerless he had been to protect his brother.
As he made his way outside to the small courtyard, the cold winter air biting at his skin, he heard a dog barking in the distance. At first, he ignored it, too lost in his own thoughts. But the barking grew louder, more insistent, until it grated on his already frayed nerves.
Damian's eyes darted toward the source of the noise, and he saw a dog tied to a post, straining against its leash. It barked furiously, its eyes wild as it tried to break free.
Something inside Damian snapped.
The barking was too much. It echoed in his mind, mixing with the memory of Ewan's cries, the sound of those kids' laughter, the sharp crack of his brother's arm breaking. It was all too much.
Without thinking, Damian limped toward the dog, his grip tightening on his crutch. The barking grew louder, more desperate, but Damian didn't care. His blood boiled with rage, and all he could see was red.
When he reached the dog, it barked even louder, pulling at the leash as if trying to escape from him. Damian stared down at it, his face expressionless, his eyes cold.
Then, without warning, he raised his crutch and brought it down hard on the dog's back.
The dog yelped in pain, its body trembling as it tried to crawl away, but Damian didn't stop. He raised the crutch again and again, each strike filling the air with sickening thuds. Blood splattered on the snow, and the dog whimpered, its eyes wide with terror.
But Damian didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
In that moment, the dog wasn't just a dog. It was every person who had ever hurt him, every noble who had ever looked down on him, every person who had laughed while his brother suffered.
"Ants," Damian muttered, the word slipping from his lips without him even realizing it. "They're just ants."
When he finally stopped, the dog lay whimpering on the ground, blood pooling around it. Its body was broken, but Damian felt nothing. No guilt, no remorse—just a hollow emptiness inside him.
He stood there for a moment, staring down at the bloodied animal, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. His hands trembled slightly as he lowered the crutch.
And then, without warning, Damian felt a surge of energy pulse through him. It was faint, but unmistakable—a flicker of something deep inside him that had never been there before.
Aura.
The realization hit him like a shockwave, and he stumbled back, staring at his hands in disbelief. He had awakened his aura.
How…?
But deep down, he already knew the answer. The rage, the hatred, the thirst for revenge—it had awakened something in him. Something dark.
Damian's gaze shifted back to the dog, now lying still on the ground, its breathing shallow. The image of his brother's broken body flashed in his mind again, and he felt nothing.
Nothing at all.
With a cold, indifferent look in his eyes, Damian turned away from the dog and limped back toward the hospital.