"W-What have I become?!"
Terror filled his mind as he clawed at his face—the face that was once pure. The skin that covered his bones was dissolving, though the pain was non-existent.
Wildfire riddled through the village, screams and pleads echoing beyond the flame-engulfed house.
"Search for the anomaly!" A voice grabbed his attention, shivers running down his spine. It would be right to sweat or cry in a situation like this, but his body couldn't even manage that. It was no longer human.
He crawled through the door, tripping over his feet in an attempt to escape. Corpses of the fallen surrounded the blood-stained grass.
"P-Please help me! My child… take my child, at least!" A woman clung to his knees, a small girl standing beside her. There were no tears running down her cheeks—she was too young to even properly process the situation.
"I can't! Can't you hear them coming?!" He shook his leg, trying to free himself of her grasp. Even though deep inside, he truly wanted to help, his life came first. His survival was prioritized over all else… even if he's become an anomaly.
The woman looked above, noticing his monstrous face. She released a shrill shriek and grabbed her child, backing away. "You're—You're a monster! You're one of them!" The fear that clouded her eyes must've prevented her from recognizing earlier.
"Here! There's one over here!"
"Kill her and the child."
A swarm of individuals dressed in black-and blue cloaks emerged from the nearby shadows, their wooden staffs dragging against the ground. There was one in the middle who was clothed differently than the rest: his robes instead white and red.
"Theron Kaelsten," his voice boomed through the air, even the fire quieting before his presence. "That is your name, isn't it, anomaly?"
The cloaked man walked toward the anomaly's path, but the sounds of a crying child halted his movement. Eyes wandered toward the source. The little girl was sobbing and clinging to her mother's arm. Her weeps were innocent, and filled with obvious fright.
"There is nothing that angers me more…" the cloaked man withdrew a book from his waistband, swiftly flipping through the pages. "...than the maddening noise of children crying!" He swiped his hand, and a burst of light blinded Theron's view.
His feet stammered, eventually tripping over a dead body that lay on the ground. Arms planted against the wet grass, trembling with exhaustion. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his palms, the radiance clearing.
"The hell… what am I—" The sound of blood squelching muffled under his palm. "Huh?" Theron gradually lowered his head, eyelids widening at the horrific sight. His hands were on top of the woman's body, whose arms were wrapped around her child.
He clasped his mouth with his hands to prevent himself from retching. Scarlet stained his skeletal frame.
"Well. Look what you've done. You killed a mother and her innocent child, you beast." The cloaked man advanced, his subordinates on standby.
"N-No… you're wrong. I didn't do anything! It was you!"
"Me?" He spat with contempt. "We, The Magus Guild, believe in absolute justice. Why would I slaughter those who have nothing to do with my goal?"
The group behind him snorted, covering their mouths to stifle their laughter. It ignited a fury within Theron… how could the people who took an oath to protect everyone do such things?! How could they commit such heinous crimes…?
Why was he the one being targeted for becoming a monster—something beyond his control? Suddenly, his freakish body convulsed. Red glinted in the pupils that were once there.
The Magi took a step back, each one grabbing their spell books. The visible bones in Theron's body rippled, abnormally extending in length and crackling through the air. Tendrils were formed, sharpening at the edge and piercing through the Magi's chests.
They fell to their knees, their heavy books dropping against the ground. Theron's bones retracted, returning to their original place. His breathing was heavy and his head was swamped with pain. Nothing could've prepared him for what just occurred.
But, this left him only one chance to escape. Theron quickly rose to his feet and rushed past the dying Magi. His nostrils were being filled with the fumes of ash and death… even so, he savored the moment. Inhaled as deeply as he could, for it felt like the last time he would be able to do so.
"CATCH HIM!!" A desperate shout from behind. However, Theron didn't turn to look. He refused to turn his back, despite hearing the dense footsteps catching up to his.
Consciousness slowly began to fade… no matter how badly Theron wanted to fight it, it was inevitable. His pace began to slow, most likely the result of his earlier attack. If he stopped here, then he'd die. So why couldn't he move faster?
Is life not so important to him—does he not value it above all else?!
He felt a hand brush against his chest, and instantly, all went black.
…
Theron jolted upright, panting heavily and frantically looking around. There was no sign of the Magi, no sign of the hell that he was subjected through.
The wooden floorboards creaked under his weight. He was sitting on a bed with no mattress, and his feet were dangling off. At the sight of his skeletal figure, Theron buried his head in his hands—the images of the massacre flashing in his mind.
"No… NO! IT WASN'T ME!!" He yelped wildly. Flailing and scratching violently, the door beside him blasted open.
"Be calm." A faint light spread over his body, steadily quieting Theron's wails. He lifted his head, locking eyes with the woman who stood near the door. Her scarlet hair trickled along the ground. The color reminded him of the wildfire that scorched his home.
"W—Who are you?" He mumbled, preparing to run if necessary.
"Don't fret," she advanced. Her voice resembled a respite. "You're safe with me. You must've gone through so much, Theron."