3 Abuse

In a beaten down shack filled with mold and the cold wind sat a boy no more than two years old. In his thin hands was a feather he had taken from one of his father's chickens. He dipped his quill into the mud and wrote on a board of wood. Each stroke, despite taking a minute each, was sloppy. Doevm clicked his tongue and wiped the mud off on his raggedy shirt. After a few more minutes he could barely make out the words: Day three. He broke his quill and threw the board to the ground. 'When,' he thought. 'When will I escape this hell? When can I learn to fight?' He shivered and brought his rags closer to his body. His new body was something to be proud of. He had no birth defects, disease, or restrictions, however, he was born as a commoner. 'Filthy humans and their rankings,' He thought every time he experienced the cold. It was unbearable to him as his dependency on his mother. Undead were born as independent creatures. They were made to fight from the rubble of grown bodies. Humans on the other hand...

"Please Hank, put down the bottle!" Doevm's mother cried. A quick bang resounded and she whimpered as usual. Footsteps walked towards the woods. Doevm peaked out of his house to see his mother with a bit of blood coming from her red cheek. She saw him and smiled: "Come here." she said like she was calling a dog.

Doevm couldn't sigh. He couldn't do a lot of things he would like to do. All his mana from over a thousand years of gathering was gone. He had to start from scratch directly after birth. In two years he made it to a novice mana. He could become the strongest mage in the world. In a year or two, he could kill both his parents and dump their bodies in the woods to be eaten by wolves, but he wouldn't. That was because he swore to himself he wouldn't be a magician in his new life. It would be too easy to solve all his troubles with it. He didn't reincarnate to be a magician; he reincarnated to be a fighter.

That being said, Maker disrupted his plans. She put him in a game he didn't want to be apart of. After defeating the hero, Doevm would need to remove himself from the game by either ending the game or Maker. He would learn how to fight for a half of a century all the while building his mana. When he reached a satisfactory amount, he would go take her down.

That, however, would need to wait. In this life, he already decided to start as a fighter. The first step was to become stronger. In his time with Arthur, he learned the fastest way to become physically strong was develop muscles and life essence.

Doevm waddled into his mother's arms, stumbling a bit to be convincing. She hugged him close and kissed him on the forehead. "Listen to me, daddy's just a little mad right now. When he's like this you just need to stay out of his way."

'You need to stay out of his way, not me.' Doevm thought. He estimated he could develop enough muscle to kill his father by eleven or twelve. All he needed was a rusty nail or a sharp rock and for the father to fall asleep. Then he would never wake up. Doevm would cover his murder weapon in his life essence. If mana was the immaterial manifestation of one's soul, life essence was the physical manifestation. Since life essence was unique to living organisms, Doevm never had it. Even a creature as weak as his mother had life essence, it was just too small to be usable.

She breathed in and out with shaky breaths. Since she held him close, he could feel her rapid heartbeat. Her usually warm and soft hands wiped sweat onto his clothes. The way to grow life essence was to be exposed to extreme emotions or dangerous circumstances. Circumstances so dangerous that one's life might be taken. If she had learned how to build life essence by now, she would be extremely strong, but there is also a second condition: fighting.

Two souls must clash together to refine them both. Each soul acts as a grinder and the other as a diamond in the rough. If the mother resisted the father even once, her soul would get stronger, and thus her life essence would strengthen as well. Doevm mentally shook his head at his poor ignorant mother. 'It's too bad you're still in love with that poor imitation of our species. You could have been strong. You could have been more than expendable to me.' Doevm thought as his mother sung his favorite lullaby.

"Oh the wind, the wind blows east.

To the edge of the earth, It runs from the beast.

It's fangs are sharp, but mommy's got her harp.

She'll lull it to sleep and count some sheep.

Oh the wind, the wind blows east.

Until the end of time, mommy will save you from the beast."

With that, Doevm fell asleep. He was, after all, a two-year old boy, and her voice was beautiful. In the two years Doevm had been human, he experienced things through a human's eyes. When he was a Lich, he thought of his life as mundane and boring. Now that he was human, he realized it was lonely. Whenever he remembered anything or practiced magic, he felt a hole in his heart. The only time that hole felt filled was when he remembered Arthur.

Doevm had thoughts as he slept. He remembered humans called these thoughts 'dreams'. They represent the thoughts and feelings as the brain rewires itself. But his dreams were always the same: fighting with Arthur. He imagined his narrow victory and how happy he was to finally stand on top of his opponent. Each fight, no matter if he lost or had an imaginary win, he felt a little less lonely.

"Rena!" and then some idiot woke him up. He banged at the door with his empty bottle. Doevm was in his crib. It was the middle of the day, so his mother, Rena, was probably out at the fields earning barely enough money to live off of. The noble of this village was lord Reginald Virility. Doevm guessed it had been almost a hundred years or so since he had died because he didn't recognize the first name, but he did know the Virility family. They were one of the more generous noble families that provided more opportunities for the commoners to earn a decent wage. And by provide more opportunities, that meant two: slavery in the mansion or picking the rose fields. Flowers were their main business, but most chose slavery. That was because the flowers were special. A mere prick from a spike could kill someone. They wore equipment, but it was only a bit of leather armor for their hands and arms. Rena's set of armor had broken down long ago, and with Doevm eating her money, she hadn't bought another pair.

"Rena! You in there?" Hank banged at the door again. The bottle slipped out of his hands and broke on the ground. "Oops." he hiccuped as he fiddled at the door handle and made his way in. "Doevm, I have a job for you." He wandered into Doevm's room and picked him out of the crib. "It's something only you can do." Smiling and giggling, he carried Doevm to his mess. "Now I need you to pick each one of these tiny pieces up." Doevm felt his stomach curl as he was lowered directly onto the glass. Shards already pinched into the fat on his knees. He winced and cried.

"Uh-oh baby's crying. Baby's crying." he looked up at the cloudy sky. "Baby's crying. Pretty annoying little shit." He bend down next to Doevm. "Next time I hear you screeching," he shoved Doevm's face into the dirt. "I'll kill ya." He laughed more as his son flailed. Doevm couldn't breath. He dug his arms through the glass to dig himself some air. The hand let go. Doevm coughed up spit and blood.

Hank walked towards the rose field: "Rena!"

Doevm looked at his hands and feet. He couldn't even heal himself. He had never learned holy magic because it was impossible for an Undead like him. Even though he had knowledge about just about every magic, he didn't know the one he needed most. Not that it was a big problem to be bleeding. While children were weak, they had high-regenerative capabilities. The only thing would be the scars left over. Rena would probably freak out and try to hit Hank. But she's so weak she wouldn't do anything. Then Hank would retaliate...And since that was the first time Rena fought back and Hank was still drunk it would get dangerous.

'Time to kill him.' Doevm thought. 'While Rena isn't special, I'd rather have her than you.' he looked at the broken glass around him. Even though it was sharp enough to cut his skin into shreds, Doevm didn't have the weight to cut his father's flesh, nor the control to cut an artery. His only choice would be something with poison, the rose thorns. He cleaned up all the glass and threw it out back, where Hank usually threw his glasses. He walked inside and wrapped himself tight with spare clothes so his cuts weren't visible. He would only fool Rena until she had to change his diaper, but a day was all he needed. Hank was hindering his growth, so he must be eliminated. 'Maker, you damned hypocrite.' he thought. 'You'd be telling me I'm a murderer after these thoughts. In my eyes, I'm securing my future. In Rena's eyes, she'll be relieved. If one of two people have to die, and one is good while the other is bad, why not kill the bad person?' He walked to the back, to Hank's hidden stash of alcohol.

He grabbed a bottle and took off all his rags. He popped the cork off and doused himself. As he washed away the blood and dirt, pain even worse than birth shook him to the core. Each of his thirty six wounds were deep enough to leave scars. All of them screamed at his nervous system. He swore over and over again to give the most painful death possible to Hank. When it passed, and he was knelt on the floor in pure agony, he thought about his mother.

'The true villain here is Rena. If she had realized her husband was gone, none of this would have happened. She's lying to herself. She thinks she can save Hank, but she's really too scared to run away. After Hank, when you get old and frail, you're next.'