The light, a brutal, white glare, seared my eyes.
Each ragged breath, a rasping fight against the suffocating pressure of the oxygen mask, clawed at my lungs.
The hospital hall swam before me, a blurry, nauseating landscape of sterile white and harsh shadows.
My body, a shattered ruin, screamed in protest.
Every muscle, every bone, a searing agony that pulsed with a sickening rhythm.
The whispers, chillingly close, slithered into my consciousness.
I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, the acrid scent of antiseptic stinging my nostrils.
"Emergency assessment?" a voice, sharp and brittle as shattered glass, cut through the pain.
"Severe. Catastrophic, actually. Muscle and bone trauma beyond anything I've seen. A miracle he's breathing at all. But not sure for how long." A second voice, laced with a chilling professional detachment.
A cruel laugh, short and sharp as a viper's strike, ripped through the silence.
"Is this the first time *this* Knight's been this badly injured? Incredible."
"There's ironic part on it," another voice, dripping with sarcasm. "A Knight…getting hit by a truck. In the street. Sound poetic, wouldn't you say?"
"Ha. I know this guy. He's not a mere Knight, but The Failed Knight," a voice hissed, the words like icy darts piercing my soul. "The one who's been a permanent fixture in this hospital. Always on the verge of collapse, always needing another miracle."
The laughter then, a horrifying duet of cruelty, echoed in the cavern of my pain.
Those nurses mocking me, judging my worth, my very life, with a casual brutality that chilled me to the marrow.
Their words were worse than any physical torment.
Weak.
Unfortunate.
Miserable.
Their amusement was a tangible thing, a suffocating blanket of contempt. After long laugh and constant mockery, they left me then, a discarded husk, in the echoing silence of the emergency room.
The only sound, the rasping, guttural struggle for each breath, a desperate, primal battle against the encroaching darkness.
The mocking laughter still clung to the air, a grim epitaph to my shattered existence.
Pain lanced through my body, a dull ache mirroring the dim light of my room.
Memories, vivid and brutal, flooded my mind.
Ten years ago, the monstrous maw of the Magical Gate gaped open, unleashing a horrifying invasion from the Monster Realm.
Earth's mightiest forces, its military might crumbling, were nearly annihilated.
Driven by sheer survival, humanity salvaged a grim victory, transforming the raw materials harvested from the fallen beasts into weapons and armor of terrifying potency.
Thus were born the Knights – individuals imbued with extraordinary power, clad in the spoils of war.
Their rise gave birth to the Knight Association, a game-changing organization that became humanity's sole bulwark against the relentless onslaught.
Its influence soared, exceeding even the government and military, its authority absolute.
At that time, unfortunately, lots of financial desperation to the families, including my family.
The crushing weight of poverty on my family, forced me into the ranks of the Knights.
My father, a Knight himself, had missing on a action years ago, leaving my mother and me to struggle.
My mother, lacking the power of a Knight, toiled relentlessly at multiple part time jobs, her efforts barely enough to sustain us and pay for my sister's education.
As an responsible son, I had to throw off my dream to become college student ant take a job as a Knight.
However, years I served, my rank stubbornly fixed at the embarasing "F" – Failure.
My abilities remained stagnant, a frustrating condition since it give me a very low compensation.
Not to mention the injuries were a constant companion of my life as a F-rank Knight since my power is damn weak.
Fuck!
Dwelling on the past only fueled my bitterness, a bitter pill swallowed in this sterile, suffocating ward!
I haven't the time for this agonizing demise!
This slow decay!
My family must be not knowing the truth of my deteriorating state!
I still have a responsibility to provide for them!
Despite my fierce will to live, my body betrays me, a traitorous vessel collapsing under the weight of despair.
My vision blurred, my breath shallow and ragged.
Through the haze of pain, I heard approaching footsteps, resolving into the indistinct form of a young man with piercing blue eyes fixed upon me.
His question hung in the air, a curious paradox: "Why did you save me, human?"
The question, though bizarre, illuminated a horrifying truth.
I just remember the moment I'd been struck while crossing the street, a victim of my own impulse to save another.
I had seen this reckless blued eye young man unaware stepping into the path of an oncoming truck, oblivious to the impending doom.
"Look at you now... crippling weak, waiting death come to took your soul. Aren't you regret your decision to save me?", the young man ask me again in arrogant tone.
What the fuck he said?!
To answer that stupid question, it solely because of my gut reaction, that reckless impulse to rescue a careless youth from the street.
A pile of frustration choked me, silenced only by the suffocating oxygen mask.
"I sense you have something to say," the young man smirked, approaching. His hand on my chest ignited a mystical current, a searing bolt of energy that coursed through my veins.
Agony, infernal and absolute, seized me.
My body convulsed, wracked by unseen hands, each muscle screaming in protest.
My cries echoed the suffering.
"I had observe your pathetic state," he sneered, reveling in my suffering.
"Crippled, awaiting the embrace of death. Do you regret your impulsive act of charity?" he added the stupid question while removing the oxygen mask from my mouth.
Strangely enough, my breathing normalized amidst the pain.
The excruciating pain diminished, leaving me gasping for air.
"Ah, I understand the obstacles to your growth," the young man declared. "There's a potential to fix all of these if you want to survive. But you must be understand that survival demanded a dangerous choice.", he added in threatening tone.
"I will survive! For my mother, for my sister! I will not give up!" My voice, though weak, resonated with unwavering resolve.
A bizarre satisfaction twisted his features.
A surge of dark, mystical flame consumed him, revealing a skeletal figure in a long, armored coat, eyes blazing with an unnatural blue luminescence.
"Intriguing human," a monstrous voice boomed. "I am Zeta Maurer, The Supreme Sorcerer of the Monster Realm, and you shall be my subject.
Prove your worth, and I shall take you as my apprentice!" His skeletal fingers pierced my chest, a fresh wave of agony lancing through every fiber of my being.
My screams filled the hospital room, my consciousness fading rapidly.
Then, a blessed release.
The pain vanished, pulling me into another dimension.
A chillingly calm, feminine robotic voice filled my mind, its tone devoid of emotion.
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