"Sorry!"
Lancelot squeezed past the densely-packed customers, an array of foods, meat, fruits and vegetables alike filling the rows of Food Stands, the smell of cooked meat and vegetables creating an intoxicating environment.
'Gotta hurry back to theorphanage..' Lancelot thought, picking up the pace whilst handling the paper bag in his arms with care, his stomach grumbling in agreement.
Currently, he was retrieving the necessary foods needed for lunch. He had been delegated this task by his caretaker, Miss Orca, as he was the oldest of the children, being 16 years old.
He was an orphan, never having met his parents. He didn't mind it, Miss Orca was his mother in his heart and mind anyways.
Family was made by bonds, not blood.
Shaking away such thoughts, he admired the passing scenery, taking in the simple, timber houses, the roofs composed of thatch, straw and branches. Every few blocks, he'd see a Church of the God Of Day, the Lord of the Sun and Embodiment of All-things Good. The grand arches and spires made of cobblestone, polished to perfection with colorful glass panes depicting an incandescent figure wrapped in the wreaths of sunlight.
Just looking at the lofty depiction of the patron deity of the Kingdom of Solar made Lancelot's heart swell with piety and hope, a ray of sunshine in his soul allowing for peace and repose.
Suddenly, he was knocked out by his stupor by a man in a dark, silk robe with the hood-up roughly brushing past him. Lancelot could only make out the man's single, red iris. His other features perfectly concealed by his hood.
In a blink, the man was gone, having seemingly blended into the shadows.
'Jerk..' Lancelot thought with a frown, dismissing the man as a rude passerby almost....
Unnaturally fast.
He walked faster, hoping to reach the Orphanage before midday. A faint layer of perspiration layering his skin.
This was the Kingdom Of Solar, in the small town he lived in, everyday would have the majestic, indomitable celestial body looming over each citizen, the clear blue sky free of any clouds.
He soon arrived at the door of his home, situated along the outskirts of the town, knocking on the door with a dreamy smile plastered on his face, his dark blue locks cascading on his forehead while he fixed his cobalt eyes on the oak door.
'Mutton..I can't wait for Miss Orca's famous stew!' Lancelot thought in excitement, licking his lips.
Unexpectedly, he caught the strong smell of something metallic, the taste of copper pervading his mouth. A frown quickly found it's way on his face.
'Ew, what's that smell? And, what's taking them so long to open thebloody door..?'
His face contorted into a grimace, banging on the door to the Orphanage.
"Miss Orca! Arthur! Kyrie! Anyone in there?" He shouted into the cold wood of the door, punctuating each sentence with the pounding of his fist.
A feeling of inexplicable dread overtook him.
'What's goingon..? It's quiet, too quiet! I don't care if I get in trouble, I'll break this damn door if I haveto!'
Lancelot thought in a panic, disregarding the consequences of causing damage to the Orphanage.
Something inside of him was screaming that there's something wrong.
He stopped pounding on the door. Instead, he tried busting down the door with his foot.
'Thump!' Thump!'
Mustering up all the power his scrawny body could muster, he finally busted the Orphanage's lock, the door finally giving away with a eerie creak.
After regaining his breath, he creeped forward wearily, the hallway of the hallway usually dim and disturbingly quiet..
'This...It's just a prank. Those rascals are just playing a prank on me. Oh, when I catch them..'
Lancelot tried convincing himself, the paper bag of groceries long forgotten, toppling against the floor at the entrance of the Orphanage. He advanced further, taking deep breaths to calm his quaking heart.
Only to find the bashed-in skull of a woman lying infront of him. The brain's gray matter spilled across the floor whilst a green eye dangled from the damaged head, the other eye lay on the floor, a puddle of blood pooling around it as the eyeball hanging from the socket stared directly at Lancelot.
The emerald-like eye of Miss Orca stared deeply into his own.
'Blegh!'
A torrent of bile, stomach acid and this-morning's breakfast tore through Gregor's throat, emptying out onto the hard planks of the Orphanage. He collapsed onto his knees, a stream of green liquid flowing freely from his mouth.
Shakily, he stood up.
It couldn't be Miss Orca. No, why would it be?
This was the illusion Lancelot tried to convince himself of.
He took more shaky steps, stepping through his vomit and entering the living room. Shakily, he lifted his dangling head and forced himself to observe the living room.
Blood, flesh and mangled bodies of his fellow orphans decorated the room. Some where pinned against the wall, held up a javelin-like projectile. Some held signs of being bludgeoned into the floor, reducing their heads into paste. Some were brutally strangled to death, their cold bodies laying on the floor with blue bruises around their necks.
The once lively room was now a picture of death, a canvas overrun with sickening gore.
Each corpse, each severed arm and fractured head seemed to be calling out to Lancelot, begging him to comfort them.
Beckoning him to accompany them.
'Thud!'
Lancelot's knees gave out, his eyes vacant as he knelt there for an unknown amount of time, emotionless.
Then, he let out a bloodcurdling scream.
It was a scream filled with the pain of thousands, a scream that elicited a shiver from even the most cold-blooded psychopaths.
It was a scream of pure, unadulterated despair.
In this moment, Lancelot had experience the appropriate conditions.
Deep inside him, something...changed. No, more accurately, something 'Awakened'.
He could feel something being pumped through his blood, his veins bulging under his cheap linen outfit as something....magical coursed through them.
It didn't feel strange or foreign - Instead, he felt as though it was intrinsic to him. Intertwined with his very being.
The hair on his body grew longer as his fingernails turned dangerously sharp. By the second, his body mutated into a form more and more beast-like as he was helpless to fight back.
Afterall, he had just lost everything in life. His friends, his mother, his home.. All taken from him.
In a single moment, he lost all that was dear to him by... someone.
A person, another human or group of humans had taken everything from him. All that he owned. All that he cherished.
He would never see Arthur's carefree smiles again.
He would never hear Kyrie's angry scolding again.
He would never taste Miss Orca's food again.
All of this was out of grasp now, gone.
Dead, every single one of them.
Despair crumbled into Hate. Loss ignited Anger. Sadness was wiped away, over taken by the desire of Revenge.
Suddenly, Pure darkness surrounded Lancelot. He stood on what seemed like an undescribable void. On the other hand, his thoughts were clear, and his body had been restored into it's previous state, wholy human once again.
'Where am I? What...What was happening before? Is this a dream? Was that all that just a nightmare?'
Lancelot thought to himself, only for an authoritative voice to interrupt his train of thought.
"Oh no, that was all very much real." A voice chuckled through the void.
Infront of Lancelot, a resplendent, gothic and gigantic throne outlined itself. Seated on top of this throne was-
Lancelot involuntarily lowered his head.
"A mortal isn't fit to gaze upon a God." The voice boomed through the darkness, echoing.
Lancelot was confused. The was only one God he knew, but.. If this existence was as powerful as he claimed..
"Apologies, my Lord." A flicker of hope passed through Lancelot's head as he genuflected.
This situation was unbelievable to him, he couldn't wrap his head around it. The only thing he could do is accept it and try make the most of his situation.
What good would rejecting the status of this seemingly divine being accomplish?
"My Lord, I offer my soul to you. I pray for you to revive my frie-"
"No."
If Lancelot could raise his head, he would've. The abrupt interruption had shocked him so.
"...Why?"
"Because, " By his tone, he could tell that this being was smiling. "I can't. Due to my... current state, I'm unable to exert such power on the world." It explained. "Well, I have an alternative deal for you. You become my Blessed, helping me recuperate my strength, and I help you gain power. Enough power for your petty dreams of revenge."
Lancelot was furious before calming down. He had to keep in mind the status and opportunity this so-called God represented. He skeptical, of course. Who wouldn't be? But, what did he have to lose? He was worthless and didn't have a single coin to his name.
He had reached Rock Bottom, and the only way from here is up.
Resolving himself, he answered after a deep breath.
"I accept."
Laughter rang out from the lofty being, "As expected." He responded, his tone jovial.
"Close your eyes." He commanded.
Doing as told, Lancelot waited with bated breath. He felt a massive hand land on his head as the God muttered in an ancient language, each word resonating with unbridled power. Once the hand was retracted, he felt something inscribed onto his soul, it was like his soul was a stone wall and someone had sculpted calligraphy onto his essence.
"Now, let me sleep." The being commanded.
Suddenly, he was falling.