"Haah… Haah…"
Flint continued to run with everything he had.
He didn't know where he was going, nor did he have a destination in mind. He only looked in front of him, running, dodging anything that blocked his path, running over fields and roads alike. He didn't pause for even a second.
Why was he running? He didn't have the ability to ask himself that question. He didn't have the ability to think at all.
The only thing on his mind was the image of that blood-covered sword. It still continued to flash through his mind, consuming all his other thoughts. And a single voice continued to ring in his ear, the desperate shout of his mother.
'RUN!!!'
"Haah… Haah…"
'Run… Run…'
He continued to run, with everything he had.
His body felt hot, so much so that he felt like it was burning. Every breath he took caused an excruciating pain in his chest, as if the air itself was tearing him apart from the inside.
He raised his head absentmindedly.
The sun was peeking from beyond the horizon, casting its pale golden glow over the landscape. The sky was no longer dark; it had turned to a lighter shade of blue.
"Ah!"
His vision suddenly tilted as his body crashed to the ground, hitting his head on the hard surface. There was an earthy, musky taste on his tongue as some of the dirt got into his mouth. Soon, that taste was mixed with the metallic taste of blood.
The sky was spinning, and the earth was violently shaking. Everything began to appear blurry. But his mother's voice once again screamed into his ear.
'RUN!!!'
His body unconsciously responded to that word. He tried his best to stand up and start running. But his arms lacked the strength to push himself off the dusty ground. His legs felt wobbly and barely under control. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get up.
'RUN!!!'
After several tries, Flint simply gave up on running. He grabbed onto whatever he could grab with his hands and dragged his body forward.
"Agh… Haaah…"
'I… must… run!'
Since he couldn't run on his two feet, he decided to crawl.
***
After crawling for a long time, he was finally able to stand. He began running again.
The surrounding land was empty yet barren, as though no one cultivated crops here. The sun was right above his head, its scorching heat causing him to be covered in sweat.
A wooden fence was in front of him, barring his path. He looked at both sides, and the fence stretched as far as he could see. The wooden fence was covered in rusty wires, which were hard to notice due to the similarity in color.
"Haah… Haah…"
Still moving forward, his eyes spotted a small gap in the wooden fence, a gap large enough that he could pass through. Absentmindedly, he ran straight toward that gap.
The rusty wires were also present around that gap, but Flint ignored them, or it would be more accurate to say that he didn't have the ability to focus on them, didn't have the ability to think about them.
'RUN!!!'
The rusty spikes dug into his skin, tore through his flesh, and drew blood. But Flint barely reacted to the pain. Maybe this pain wasn't much compared to the pain in his chest and his body's burning temperature.
Or maybe… his mind couldn't properly register the pain.
He passed through the fence and continued running, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
But after a while, his vision tilted once again, and his body crashed into the grassy ground. He attempted to get up, but his strength was quickly leaving him; he couldn't even crawl anymore.
His eyelids grew heavy to the point where he could no longer keep them open.
"I-i must…"
His eyes finally closed, and his body grew still. Lying on the ground, he drifted off to sleep.
***
'Ah… Agh!'
Flint stood in the dark hall of his house. The man with two scars running across his face was standing in front of him, holding the sword covered in blood.
His father's body lay beside the man's legs, forming a pool of blood over the floor.
'UGH!'
Flint reached for his neck, which was being choked by someone from behind. Struggling, he turned to look behind him, but froze.
The one choking him—it was his mother. Her hair was disheveled, and her face was covered in blood. She was looking at him with an abnormally intense gaze.
"Live! You have to LIVE!!! Otherwise…"
But before she could finish, Flint's vision tilted. He saw the ceiling, saw the man, and saw his own small body… without a head.
"Aghhh!!"
Flint opened his eyes while clutching his neck with both hands. The small, dark hall of his house was gone, the man with the scars was gone, and his mother was gone as well. He was lying on a grassy ground. And far into the distance, he could see a city bustling with people.
***
His throat felt parched, his lips had lost all their softness and turned rough. He felt a pain in his stomach as if it was trying to devour itself from the inside.
Coupled with his burning body temperature and the sharp sensation he felt every time he breathed, he quickly came to a realisation.
If nothing changed, he would die soon. From exhaustion, from thirst, and from hunger.
'Why… am I even running? I feel too exhausted… to go on.'
But as soon as he thought that, the images of that sword once again came to his mind. Distorted and crimson.
And a voice screamed in his head.
'You must LIVE!!!'
His body responded to those words on its own.
***
Many days passed. He didn't count how many; he didn't have the luxury to. He had continued running, from place to place, his surroundings constantly changing each day.
Sometimes, he was in a busy district filled with shops and street vendors, while sometimes, he was in a quiet area filled with tall buildings made entirely of stone, casting their shadow over him.
In the bustling city filled with people going about their lives, Flint struggled with everything to survive.
He rummaged through garbage to find something he could eat when he couldn't contain his hunger. When he found nothing in the garbage piles, he had to steal bread or fruit from the street vendors.
They all tried to chase after him, but after so many days… Flint had become extremely good at running. Some shopkeepers even picked up stones to throw at him, but for some reason, they always hesitated. There was always a look of reluctance on their faces when they aimed the stone at him.
Flint had almost forgotten about Dragon by this point. The first time he fell, he had lost his hold on the creature. He never even looked at it after that or registered its presence, but the little guy continued to follow him.
It sometimes even brought food for Flint, even though he never cared whether the creature was hungry or not.
"Haah…! Haah…!"
Once again, Flint was running after stealing bread from a shop. He didn't look back to check whether the shopkeeper was still chasing him or not.
But suddenly, he tripped over a stone on the street, falling forward. An empty bottle made of glass was lying on the road, and his head was about to slam into that bottle.
In that split second, his mind imagined the broken shards of glass digging into his skull.
'Ah!'
But someone grabbed him from behind, preventing him from falling over. They then pulled him to his feet.
"Are you okay?"
A sweet voice filled with concern entered his ears. It sounded delicate and light. Flint turned around to see who this voice belonged to. But he froze the moment he laid eyes on the figure.
It was a girl who looked around his own age. Pinkish-purple hair flowed down her back, in contrast with her delicate pale skin. Her violet eyes, which seemed to glow subtly, and her otherworldly innocent appearance—all of it made her look like something beyond a regular human.
"You don't look too good."
Her eyes locked onto him, filled with concern. But he couldn't respond; he could only stare blankly.