"And…" Zylus paused, glaring at the notebook in his room, intensely. "Done!"
He screamed as he took the pen from his notebook, resting his fingers on the wooden table. Getting up on his chair, he stretched his arms out.
"Ahh!" Zylus yawned, "There's much more to write. This novel isn't finished until it is."
He smiled, proud of the work he completed.
As Zylus jumped headfirst into his bed, knocks erupted on his door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
calm but clear, someone was outside, waiting for a response. Each knock carried a scarce scent of… something unclear.
"Coming!" The dad yelled from downstairs, proudly, getting up from the couch in the living room, "I'm about to-"
The creak of the now-opened door interrupted his words.
"Why'd dad suddenly get quiet?" Zylus questioningly whispered, curious.
As the door slowly began to open, Zylus could hear the creak of the wood, snow showering on the outside, and the night sky glimmered with stars. What could it have been, Zylus pondered.
"Haven't heard pops' voice in a while, maybe I'll go ahead and check it out downstairs." Zylus calmly said, getting up from his bed and exiting his room.
Step. Step. Step.
He walked closer to the stairwell; only ten steps remained downwards until he reached the first floor, the living room.
On each step, something inside of him felt terrible, inwardly, kind of like a superstition. Well, Zylus has been used to it by now, since he was a small child; it would always appear like that. He would always be able to sense something if it meant the situation brought dangers to him, but something felt truly unholy about this.
His heart was louder than normal, even when he sensed something bad; the aching of this felt otherworldly. This was different; his five senses struck, and it's been like that for as long as he's breathed. His heart pounded like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. When in danger, Zylus' senses, every five, would improve like they've been through ten years of consecutive training.
"Damn curse." He whispered, squeezing his chest to get off the pain from the pounding, while he grabbed the railings of the stairwell with his other hand after making his first step downwards.
Slam!
Zylus felt the door below slam shut, and still quiet, nothing for the ear to hear, even with his improved senses.
Creak… Creak… Creak.
Each step downwards felt harsh. Like something bad's about to appear downstairs. But it was like that ever since he was a kid, so what of it? He's able to handle these thoughts and anxiousness without a thought. So why not now?
As Zylus finally reached the viewpoint of the entrance and the living room, it became clear.
He stumbled. Hands on his head. Eyes widened, as if they were to pop out. Everything inside of him, everything, until the last bit, he froze. Reactions, senses, and bones all feelings of numbness. Not from a physical attack, but a mental one.
The Giant of Gon, Zylus's father, was taking on three other people by himself, but they weren't normal; they were assassins. The top the government has to offer, maybe not even born of this world, not of human flesh, the way they move, the precision in each thought, everything about them was beastly like.
But that wasn't what made Zylus turn off; it was when he looked deeply.
Just to the left of the father, on the corner of the living room, his older sister and mother lay down, without life left in them; well, that's what it had seemed. Eyes barely opened, but the sister was beheaded, and it was resting on top of the mother. The mother is still not finished; they purposely did that. So she can see all this. The torture that has yet to come.
The father's tears grew louder to the point his waterworks turned into a sound, "God damn it! I knew nothing comes free in this hellish world!" He yelled, backing away after getting stabbed in the leg by one of the assassins.
As the father backed away, he peered at Zylus, afraid, his life threatened.
He shifted his attention towards his beloved son, ready to utter something, a scream maybe, for someone.
"Z!" As the father was about to speak, they cut him off.
It's not that they cut him off, but rather, in a literal sense.
As he opened his mouth, turning his attention to Zylus, the assassins felt the shift in focus, and pierced through his mouth as it was opened, making a bloody red hole that reached through the back of his head.
Piercing all through it. Not even the giant can hold a big head.
And just like that, his mom was the only one there. But she was paralyzed, and only she remained alive; his father pierced through not just his mouth, but now his heart, and that was all. All Zylus was proud of came to a silent and deadly end.
"Run, Zylus! Run, DAMN IT! RUN!" His mother yelled, with the last fibres of her life she had left, and once again, froze.
"God damn whore." One of the assassins calmly said underneath his full blacked-out fit, under that bloody mask.
Zylus didn't know what to do, but his limbs escalated, and they forcefully moved him, sprinting to the exit.
Sniff.. haa… sniff…
Zylus began breathing, but in a way that seemed emotional, tears flowing down his face like an ocean. He didn't want to escape, but his body moved on its own as his train of thought just stopped.
Bam!
He slammed open the door, snow falling from the outside, and the night felt even more demonic now.
"Should we chase after him?"
"No, leave him be for now, soon he'll realize it's inevitable."
"Yeah, he's right, leave him. The freezing snow outside will numb his body. Then we'll grab his soul."
Each assassin whispered, making sure no one was around them to notice.
As Zylus took each step outside, running in a noway direction, the snow was too heavy, and each step felt even more impactful as he continued. Afraid, numb, both physically and mentally, only his body and heart had life left in them.
"Why?!"
Zylus screamed, to absolutely nobody; only his mentally unstable self had lain there in the falling snow, not a life in sight. But was that all he had to utter?
"Why must I deal with this, oh God?! Why, WHY MAKE ME FACE THIS EXCRUCIATING PAIN?!"
Not a thought, not a whisper, just a lifeless boy on a runaway to nowhere, simply being a good boy as he listened to his mother's dying words.
Creakkkk.
A loud, rolling-looking ball started to swift on the snow towards Zylus.
"So…" In an unsettling voice, one of the assassins from earlier appeared just in front, sneering towards Zylus as he took off his cloak.
The man… no, it wasn't a man, but rather a monster. The earlier intuition was correct; they didn't move like humans because they weren't humans, they were monsters. Monsters sent by the spirit realm.
"Now…" In a playful tone, the blindingly white spirit, with weirdly shaped parts unknown to a human, "Don't you wanna play some more? We were having so much fun."
As the rolling ball became apparent.
Black eyes, scars on his left and right cheek, a man bun still intact, neatly tied, no doubt it was him.
"Father?"
Zylus smiled, without a thought left in him, creepingly sneered, as if reality had washed away from him. The sheer strength he had to not faint at that moment showed how he had grown up, but even this would have the toughest warrior turn weak.
His father's chopped-off head dripped bloodily on the snow, as if the assassins… no, the spirits were trying to ruin Zylus.
Then, the assassin slowly started to walk towards Zylus.
He just lay there, almost as if he was already dead, as if he had already experienced hell, even a room more hazardous than No Exit.
Swift.
A neat, swift cut through the assassin's head, as Zylus looked up towards an unfinished body, each limb intact except for the head.
A cloaked person stood before Zylus.
"Damn spirit." They paused. He sounded like a man.
"Hey, kid. Wanna go on? " As the cloaked man looked forward, towards the assassin he had just murdered, he wondered simply one thing.
The snowflakes streaming down with each thump. Even the winter freeze couldn't numb Zylus more than he did himself.
"Or will you let this be your end?"
"Ahh," the once broken head simply grew back; it wasn't enough to defeat it. "A spirit like myself can't die, a demon like you should know that better than anyone."
The spirit paused, sounding like a man, "Isn't that right? Medrus Miro?!"
The man, who was regarded as Medrus Miro, took off the hood of the cloak.
White spiky flowy hair, like a waterfall, red crimson eyes, and a neatly put-on crimson fit.
That was him, Medrus Miro.
"Heh," he grinned, "Of course I would know, I've killed more of your kind than you know."
"Urhh!" The spirit grew angry, "Go die in hell!" As it yelled out, it teleported right in front of Medrus, but he looked prepared.
He sneered, and…
Bang!
Medrus slammed the spirit into the snow, bits from it landing across the terrain, some on Zylus's face.
But this time, the spirit wouldn't get up; it seemed like it was down for good.
Medrus turned, walking towards a now stiff Zylus, frozen in thought.
"Take this." He paused, pulling out a black katana from a wooden sheath underneath his cloak, "And kill that scum. Get your revenge, don't think this world revolves around you, kid. Not only have you been through this, but I as well. Now, take this demonic sword, and stand him down!"
He finished, giving Zylus an option with revenge, when it clicked.
His thoughts became clear, where he was at, what was happening, and what he must accept.
Zylus wasn't any kid; his growth has been that of someone who's lived for almost fifty years, and he's seen it all. Pain, agony, distress, annoyance, and pride.
"Hey." He whispered, tears flowing down his face. "How dare they…" Zylus paused.
As he stood up from the layered snow, he grabbed the grip of Medrus' sword.
"Good choice kid-"
"I'm not doing this for you." Zylus cut Medrus short, "But them."
As he stepped up towards the destroyed spirit, it still begged for mercy.
"No! Pleas-e! I have a family! I have children! Pleas-"
Zylus closed his eyes and held the sword high, its point aiming down towards the monster who killed Zylus' family.
"Why ask for forgiveness?" he swung the sword downwards, in such a great form, almost as if he's been swinging for one hundred years, "Why talk about family?" Zylus smirked.
"WHEN YOU HAVE TAKEN MY OWN!"
Zylus's scream echoed throughout the entire terrain, filling up so much noise, it was deafening.
It was an emotional scream, an awkward scream, and one that sought revenge.
SHANK!
He stabbed the sword, which Medrus declared was demonic, right into the spirit's body. He seemed to know where to aim, but it was peculiar.
Because he aimed it perfectly, at the spirit's core.
"That much anger in a little kid… how depressing." Medrus declared, as he took out a lighter, with a blunt beside it.
He slowly began to flick his lighter beside the blunt on his right hand, expecting it to turn on in this snowy hazard.
The spirit slowly began to disperse, particles around both, in death—glowy yellow ones.
"There were two more!" Zylus yelled, carrying Medrus' sword on his shoulder.
"Don't fret," Medrus put a hand in front of Zylus, "I've dealt with them. Now, let's get going…"
"And just…WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" Zylus asked, breathily.
"I'm-"
As Medrus paused, the little boy who had just lost his entire family in one snowy nightfall began to fade, tired, depressed, who could blame him? Even with a boy like himself, who had been through thick and thin, he couldn't hide the level of agony, the level of… God knows.
"If I took him to the demon realm, that shouldn't pose a threat."
Medrus captured Zylus with his left arm just as he was about to fall on the cold snow.
"Transcend: The Realm of The Demonic!"
…