Chapter 2: New Beginning [1]

"Waaaa! Waaaa!"

In a dark alley, a child's cries could be heard, but none paid attention. Even those standing around him ignored his existence. Searᴄh the NôvelFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"Tch. That bitch really had to leave this kid here with us. Why do we have to suffer while she goes around fucking every man she meets?" A middle-aged man complained.

"Don't just sit there shitting about it. We were the ones who got tricked in the first place," his friend replied.

"Still though, she birthed him and immediately dropped him so she could prostitute herself again. He definitely wouldn't have survived a single night if we weren't there."

"It's not like we care about the little shit. Say, now that he's old enough to at least learn how to squander some food, do we even need to stay anymore?"

The man's friend looked at the crying child with a bit of disgust, but his hesitation was obvious. He didn't want to leave a child alone on the streets.

Still, for this kid, it wasn't worth it.

His logical thinking won over his emotions, causing him to nod his head.

"Alright. Come morning, we're out of here."

And true to his words, by the time the sun rose on the horizon, the only thing left in the alleyway was a lone child.

***

3 years later

The streets of the city were lined with travelers coming from all walks of life, but this wasn't anything special. Considering the location of the city, it could only be considered natural.

Vendors lined the streets, selling all sorts of delicacies, and stores opened proudly to receive their customers. The entire city seemed to be bustling with a lively atmosphere.

Yet, it was only on the surface.

"Hey, kid! Didn't I tell you what would happen if you stole from me one more time?!" An obese older man yelled as he stomped his leg down once more.

However, the one receiving his beating didn't utter a single word. Even as his body became bloodied and bruised, he didn't even whimper. The only signs that he felt the pain were the streams of tears that left his closed eyelids.

"Dammit! You never learn your lesson! Next time you try something funny, you're dead!" The man yelled. He swung his leg, impacting his target's rib cage and sending them flying into the adjacent wall.

As the man stormed off, the only sound left in the alleyway was the silent sobs of a bloodied child.

He didn't understand why his life was like this.

He saw how every day, people would happily enjoy their time and embrace their loving families. He saw how people didn't even witness struggle with their lavish lifestyles.

Well, saw might not have been the right word.

After all, the only thing he ever saw was sinking darkness. He had never once been able to open his eyes as if the lids that framed them were sown shut. He was born blind, and in this world, any sort of disability was cause for abandonment.

His earliest memories were a conversation between two men who planned to abandon him, and even in that conversation, he heard he had been abandoned by his mother.

But he didn't even know what a mother was.

Someone who looked after him? He didn't understand the concept.

Thinking such depressing thoughts, he drifted into unconsciousness.

The boy was only 6 years old, but he didn't think like one at all. For the past 3 years, he had to do anything he could just to survive.

His matted white hair was dirtied with filth from sleeping wherever he could, sometimes even within piles of trash. Its length passed his shoulders due to the fact that it had never been cut, but it would most likely be longer if all the knots within it were undone.

His body was essentially a stick. There was barely any meat on his bones, painting the picture of a skeleton. His ribs poked through his chest and even his legs were skinny to the point where it was a miracle they could support his weight.

The boy's favorite meal was bread. The occasional slice of bread he managed to steal from the street vendor near his home alleyway was akin to the finest delicacy from the most heavenly chef to him.

Yet, as he lay beaten and bloodied on the floor, even that pleasure was taken from him. The boy cried but still didn't make a sound.

He was used to things like this.

Besides, he knew that unnecessary sounds would just earn him another beating.

Before the bread, it was cake. And before the cake, it was pastries.

Every time he found something new that could brighten his otherwise desolate life even for the few minutes he could eat them, he would be caught and beaten by the one selling them.

At first, he cried and shrieked. Through these experiences, the word "stop" became one of the only ones he knew how to speak.

But he no longer spoke it.

He had learned through experience that the word didn't cause people to stop.

But the boy never died.

Even when he was a toddler being beaten by adults, he didn't die. By any common sense or logic, he should have bled out many years ago, but it never happened.

And even if the boy didn't know how to speak, he had learned the meaning of words he heard spoken many times in his life.

And the most prominent of these words was "Tower."

He heard talk about a massive structure that inhabited the center of the city. A structure whose height was greater than the sky itself.

He heard about how people entered the tower and how they ascended to become gods. He heard about how the tower could grant any wish.

And so, it filled his dreams.

When the boy learned of the tower, his sleep which was filled with the same darkness he saw during the day became filled with wild imaginations.

He dreamt of himself entering that tower. He dreamt of his sight being given back to him. He dreamt of becoming someone important.

But at the end of the day, these were his wildest dreams.

The thing he wanted the most was security.

He just didn't want to be beaten over every little thing anymore.

He wanted to be like those people he heard on the streets.

The ones who frolicked about without having to worry about where their next meal would come from.

He wanted to understand what a family was.

Whenever he heard people whose voices were pitched similar to his, he heard them call for mothers and fathers.

He heard emotion in those voices.

It was an emotion he didn't quite know the name of.

He had never felt this emotion, but the fact that he had to watch from afar while others did so made him feel pain.

Pain greater than anything those store owners could give him, it was a pain that clutched his heart and forced tears out of his closed eyelids.

But the boy had been dreaming in futility for years. By this point, he was aware that he wouldn't be able to feel that emotion he yearned for.

Another night passed as the boy dreamt these wonderful dreams before he was forced awake by the yelling of the street vendors once again.

He stood up, ready to find a new favorite meal.

That quest was the only thing giving his life any meaning.