As he grew older, he found that the daily beatings grew more disgusting and humiliating. He no longer thought of his oppressors as humans but the beasts that they truly were. Every night, he dreamed of killing them, of slashing them over and over again until they were gone. He just wanted to end all the terror that they had inflicted on him. He just wanted to end his suffering.
Then, just when he thought he could no longer take it, something happened: A prince from the Sehar Empire had started an invasion.
His oppressors had scoffed when they first heard the news.
“They dare to attack Widbersen?” one of them had asked.
“That prince of theirs is a lune,” another chuckled. “What does he think he can do?”
They all laughed.
“He’ll be on his knees begging for mercy soon,” someone said. “They all will.”
But, as the invasion dragged on, his oppressors began to give way to fear—and that was when his opportunity arose.
One of them tried to shove a sword into his hands, but he could not take it. “Fight with this sword, bastard!” they had commanded. “Protect your master!”
“He would probably open his behind just to live,” he heard someone snicker.
“All you have to do is buy us time,” one of them told him. “So either fight with your sword or go and shake your ass!”
They laughed as his hands began to tremble.
“Just kill him,” one of them suggested. “If we let him live, he’ll just rat us out.”
The man who had called himself the boy’s master scowled. “Take the sword now,” he said. “Or I will kill you.”
Still shaking, the boy took the sword. He could not help but admire it, staring at its blade as it glistened.
It was then that he decided that, if he had to die, he would die by the hand of man and not by the foot of beasts.
He lifted the sword and, facing his oppressors one last time, he cut into each and every one of them, slashing them over and over again. Just as he had dreamed.
He heard them scream, loud and terrified, like beasts and not like men. And, just as beasts do when they are wounded, they tried to run away, a futile attempt.
He heard someone behind him chuckle. “It seems I have nothing left to do here.”
As the boy turned around, he found a man smiling at him, his eyes flashing red.
“You’re a slave, I take it?” the man said, then, looking at the carnage around them, added, “A slave full of resentment at that.”
The boy could not speak. There was something about the man that terrified him. He knew that the man held immense power, a power he could not even dream of, and it had rendered him speechless.
Falling to his knees, the boy closed his eyes and awaited his end.
But it did not come.
All that came was a soft chuckle.
“After what you’ve just done, you’re giving up now?” asked the man. “How funny.”
The boy opened his eyes, meeting the man’s red ones as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I would rather die to a man than a beast.”
The man looked at him curiously. “A beast?”
He watched as the boy looked around, eyeing the bodies of the dead all around them. The boy closed his eyes. Slowly, the man raised his sword and slashed it through the air in front of the boy’s neck.
“You are dead now,” said the man, laughing at the boy as he opened his eyes to find himself still alive. “Your life belongs to me.”
The boy opened his mouth to speak, but the man quieted him with a flick of his wrist.
“Take him,” the man said as someone approached them. He walked away as the boy was shackled and taken away.
The next day, when the boy awoke, he found himself in a large room. He did not remember how he got there or how he ended up wearing the rich fabrics that now clothed his body, and it terrified him. Even as they served him feasts for every meal, he could not bring himself to eat a thing. It was all too confusing.
He wondered who the man might have been and where he was being held captive. But, somewhere deep inside him, he already knew.
The man was the prince of the Sehar Empire. And the prince had just saved his life.
Still frightened, the boy crouched in the corner of the room and refused to move. He did not understand what his life had become.
The servants who had been watching over him had no choice but to approach the prince.
“Your highness,” a servant approached. “The boy you brought… he won’t eat.”
The prince, Alexcent, raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
The servant shrugged helplessly. “He refuses to eat a thing,” he said. “He just spends his days curled up in the corner of the room.”
“What a shame,” Alexcent frowned. “I suppose I saved him for nothing.”
He asked the servant to show him to the boy’s quarters, wanting to see things for himself. When he arrived, he found the boy sleeping in the corner, the bed in the middle of the room completely empty.
Alexcent nudged the boy with his foot. “Wake up.”
The boy’s eyes shot open and he stared up at the prince in fear. Had his time finally come?
“So you have been doing nothing,” the prince said, unimpressed.
The boy did not know what to say.
Alexcent scowled. “Answer!”
“Yes!” the boy said, startled by the prince raising his voice.
“You dare to do nothing?” Alexcent asked, his face shifting into one of disgust. When the boy looked away, he scoffed. “Listen, boy,” he said, crossing his arms. “I saved your life. You cannot let that life be rendered useless.”