A young boy's bare feet slapped against the cobblestones, each step slower than the last. He felt the roughness beneath him with painful clarity, every crack and crevice pressing into his thin, sore soles. His stomach ached, hollow and relentless, as if it might consume him from within. He had lost count of the days since he'd last eaten anything more than scraps – a half-eaten piece of bread he had found discarded by the market, stale and cold.
The streets were crowded, bustling with people who hurried past, too preoccupied to notice the small, ragged figure weaving between them. His gaze clung to the stalls where vendors stacked warm, golden-brown loaves, and the rich aroma of baked goods made his mouth water. Each waft of food left his hunger gnawing sharper, a desperate pang that only fueled his resolve.
Cautiously, he approached a vendor, his voice almost a whisper. "Please, sir, could I have… just a bite?"
The vendor glanced his way, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. Without a second thought, he waved the boy off dismissively, as if brushing away a pest. "Get out of here, kid. I don't give out charity."
The boy's faint hope faded, but his hunger remained. The world felt as cold as ever, indifferent to his suffering. He was just another shadow cast on the street, ignored by those around him as they continued their lives, laughing and exchanging coins for food.
The boy's stomach twisted with despair, but he dragged himself into a dim alley and curled up against the wall. Closing his eyes, he tried to shield himself from the wind and the hollow emptiness that was his only companion in a world that had long since forgotten him.
---
Flashes of Varyn's life faded into a hazy blur before he finally opened his eyes. He lay in an unfamiliar room, his last memories filled with strange, haunting eyes staring through the darkness. Blinking, he noticed a young woman with bright green eyes standing nearby, peering down at him with curiosity.
"You're awake. Nice," she said, smiling before glancing over her shoulder and calling out, "He's up now. Come take a look."
The woman stood from the chair by his bedside, stepping aside as another figure approached. This new arrival was older, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with striking black hair and piercing gold eyes that held a more reserved, serious look. She examined him carefully, her gaze assessing.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her tone neither warm nor cold.
"Fine… just a slight headache," he replied, glancing around. He noticed a few other people in the room: the young woman who had first spoken to him, and a man with a dignified air, short black hair, and brown eyes, standing quietly in the corner. Through the doorway, he sensed there were others outside as well.
"How long have I been out?" he asked, turning back to the black-haired woman.
"About four days."
Her words hit him, and his eyes widened. "Everyone! What about everyone else? Please, tell me… did anyone survive?"
The room fell silent. His shoulders slumped as he saw the answer in their expressions before they even spoke.
"You're the only survivor," the woman replied softly. "I'm sorry for your loss."
A tear slipped down his cheek, and he nodded in silent grief. He had fought beside them, lived among them – they had been the only family he'd ever known. But now, they were all gone. He was alone once again.
The woman watched him quietly, perhaps surprised that he held back further emotion. She seemed to consider him carefully before continuing, "We have a few questions for you, if you're able."
He nodded, knowing he had no choice. The formalities didn't matter; he was a survivor, and they had the right to ask whatever they wanted.
"Were you officially sent to that base?" she asked, holding a pen poised over a notebook.
He shook his head. "No. I went on my own. They wanted to kick me out at first, but I begged them to let me stay. I… I had nowhere else to go."
The woman's expression slightly softened briefly, but her next question was direct. "Are you a Beastbound?"
"No."
Her brow furrowed. "So, you're a Beast Tamer?"
Again, he shook his head. "I'm not that either."
At this, the other people in the room turned their attention fully to him, including the man in the corner who had seemed disinterested up until now.
"That's… strange," the younger woman murmured, glancing at her colleagues. "That battlefield should have been no place for someone like you."
The black-haired woman nodded. "When we arrived, everyone else was dead – both humans and Abyssals alike. You were the only one alive, and aside from some signs of exhaustion, you were unscathed. Do you have any idea what happened?"
"Unscathed?" he repeated in disbelief, lifting his shirt and examining his chest where he vividly remembered a deep wound. There was nothing there. His skin was intact, smooth, as though he'd never been injured.
The woman watched him, her expression unreadable. "You have no memory of what happened?"
He hesitated, piecing together fragments that didn't quite make sense. "No… I remember fighting, but I must've blacked out. I don't know anything else."
She held his gaze a moment longer before rising from her seat. "I see. Still, we conducted a few tests while you were unconscious… and it turns out that you are a Beastbound."
Varyn's heart skipped a beat. So the eyes he had seen before… they belonged to a beast. A beast that, somehow, he had bonded with.
The woman seemed to notice his lack of shock and raised an eyebrow. "Some people form bonds without realizing it, especially in life-threatening situations. For now, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but know that we'll be keeping a close eye on you."
With that, she turned to leave, instructing the younger woman beside him, "Take him to Master Katsuro." She gave him one final, scrutinizing look before departing with the man from the corner, leaving Varyn alone with the green-eyed.
Varyn took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words. He was now a beastbound, no longer a regular human.The room, his surroundings, his life as he had known it – was all about to change.
The bond he had unknowingly formed was a mystery, yet he felt its presence, lurking in the back of his mind like a silent shadow.