home

search

The Abandoned

  Life's nothing but a bunch of bullshit! We're not born to live—we're born to suffer, to endure misery and pain. In this life we're only given glimpses of happiness just so it can be lost or torn away from us. They say love can heal all? Ha ha... that's also bullshit! That only leads to more suffering. Take your soft-hearted thoughts and hopes and dreams and shove them right up your ass, because I don't need any of it!

  I once believed in such nonsense. I had hope. I had a reason to look forward to each and every day. She was the love of my life, my very existence—someone I would've destroyed the very world to protect. I gave her everything! I mean every damn thing she ever wanted or asked for! I kissed the very ground she walked on, and you know what that got me...? Let's just say she returned that unconditional love I gave her with a quick, cold slice across my throat one night as I lay asleep in our bed—that bed where we'd shared so much of that bullshit love everybody desires and spends their life chasing after. That fucking bitch! Ahhhhhh!!

  I laid there in our bed, gasping for just one more second of life, tears rolling down my cheeks. The last image I saw was the love of my life—or the one I thought was—staring straight into my eyes as the life faded from them, wearing a devilish grin I'd never forget. It was a grin that no human should ever have been able to make. It was monstrous.

  Darkness. Regret. Anger. Sadness. What the hell was I supposed to feel? It was too overwhelming, feeling so many things at once! In my next life, I'll make sure I never let anyone get close enough to fuck me over ever again. Every one of you sons of bitches will respect me... no, better than that—you will fear me.

  Before another thought could form, the darkness broke to light as my eyes opened to find a new world before me, surrounded by people I'd never met before.

  "Ahh, miss, it's a healthy baby boy! Congratulations!" the oddly dressed man holding me shouted.

  "A baby? Who's a baby?!" I thought to myself, unable to speak yet as I looked up at the man. "Fuck! I'm a baby! I'm a damn diaper-shitting, screaming brat! What kind of cruel, sick joke is this shit?!"

  As I was placed in what I assumed was my mother's arms, the man asked, "So what shall his name be, Miss Charlotte?"

  "Let's see... Darius Charles Silvertin. I think it would be a lovely name."

  My father, James David Silvertin, stood at her bedside—a proud-looking man of noble standing.

  Man, I hate this! I need to understand this new world and quickly become powerful enough to make this world understand I'm not someone to fuck with.

  Days passed. Years passed. I am now at the age of four. I know that in this world, magic is real—so are monsters. People are given status based on their blessing and how useful it is to the benefit of the kingdom, or should I say, to its king. In this world, experience is a survival tool. It's what raises your level and increases your strength. To make it in this world, you need a good blessing and all the experience you can acquire. Today is my day of blessing. I will show the world what my family bloodline is made of.

  We arrive at the Church of the Divine Gods, where all gather to see what blessings I will be given. A man in a white robe, heavily weighted down in gold jewelry and jewels, walked out of the church doors and called, "Darius Charles Silvertin, come forth!"

  Walking quickly to kneel before him, I said, "I am Darius Charles Silvertin, my holy blessed one."

  His hand firmly grasped the top of my head as he closed his eyes in prayer. "Ahhhhh!" he screamed, jumping back. "This child has no blessing of our gods! His blessing is of darkness, of hate! His blessing is from the gods of death and despair!"

  He quickly ran back to the safety of his church, screaming that I was death itself—an unholy abomination.

  Scratching my head, I muttered, "Well, that could have gone better. Ha ha ha."

  Who would've known that I had become a stain on my family's name and status? Who would've known I'd soon find myself abandoned in a far-off woods where they hoped it would solve their problems? I was their problem. They would soon arrive back home and announce my sudden death to all, protecting their precious nobility.

  Those sons of bitches!

  I won't die that easy, and this time I will make the ones who've done me wrong pay! Oh, in time you all will pay.

  The carriage ride to my "final resting place" was silent except for the sound of wheels grinding against dirt and stone. My so-called father James couldn't even look at me. My mother Charlotte? She stared out the opposite window like I was already dead and buried. Not a single damn word! Not even a fake apology or some bullshit excuse about how this was "for the best" or "for the family." Nothing! Just cold, empty silence from the two people who were supposed to protect me.

  "You know what? Fuck you both!" I wanted to scream it but my four-year-old vocal cords could barely manage more than a whimper. This body was weak, pathetic, but my mind... my mind was sharp as the blade that killed me in my past life. I remembered everything. Every betrayal. Every lesson learned the hard way. And now I was learning a new one: blood means nothing when reputation is on the line.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  The carriage stopped. The door opened. My father grabbed me by the arm—not gently, not like a father should—and dragged me out into the darkness of the Thornwood Forest. I'd heard the servants whisper about this place. Monsters lurked here. Beasts that could tear a grown man apart. And they were leaving a four-year-old child to face it alone.

  "May the gods have mercy on your cursed soul," my father muttered, the first words he'd spoken to me since the church. Then he turned and walked back to the carriage without looking back. Not once.

  My mother didn't even get out.

  The carriage disappeared into the night, and I was alone. Completely and utterly alone in a forest that wanted me dead just as much as my family did.

  "Mercy? MERCY?!" I laughed—actually laughed—standing there in the darkness. "There is no mercy in this world! There never was!"

  The cold night air bit at my skin. My stomach growled with hunger. My legs trembled from exhaustion and fear—this body's fear, not mine. I'd died once already. What was there left to be afraid of?

  Then I felt it. That sensation the priest had recoiled from. That darkness he'd sensed when he touched my head. It wasn't just some abstract curse or divine punishment. It was real. It was inside me, coiling and writhing like a living thing, waiting to be acknowledged.

  "So you're what makes me an abomination, huh?" I whispered to the darkness inside. "Let's see what you can do."

  I closed my eyes and reached inward, toward that cold, hateful presence. The moment I touched it, images flooded my mind. Death. Decay. The ending of all things. But also... power. Raw, unfiltered power that didn't give a damn about holy blessings or divine favor. This was something older, something that existed before their precious gods even had names.

  My eyes snapped open, and the world looked different. I could see in the darkness now, clear as day. Every tree, every shadow, every living thing in the forest glowed with a faint light—their life force, their essence. And I could feel them. The insects in the bark. The rodents in their burrows. The predators stalking through the underbrush.

  One of those predators was heading straight for me.

  A Thornwood Wolf, they called them. Massive beasts with fur black as midnight and fangs that could crush bone. I could see it now, moving through the trees about fifty yards away, its life force burning bright with hunger and aggression. It had caught my scent. An easy meal. A helpless child.

  "Come on then," I muttered, spreading my arms wide. "Let's see which one of us is the real predator here."

  The wolf burst from the treeline, all muscle and fury and killing intent. In my past life, I would've been terrified. In this body, I should've been dead before I could even scream. But I wasn't that person anymore. I wasn't that naive fool who believed in love and trust and all that other garbage that gets you killed.

  I reached out with that darkness inside me, and I touched the wolf's life force.

  It stopped mid-leap, suspended in the air like time itself had frozen. Its eyes went wide with confusion, then fear, then nothing at all. The light of its life force dimmed, flickered, and began flowing toward me like water down a drain. The wolf's body hit the ground with a heavy thud, and by the time it stopped moving, it was nothing but a dried husk of fur and bone.

  I felt... stronger. Not much, but enough to notice. The hunger in my stomach had lessened. The cold didn't bite as hard. And that darkness inside me purred with satisfaction like a well-fed cat.

  "So that's how it works," I said, staring at my small hands. "I take life to sustain my own. I consume to grow stronger." I looked up at the forest around me, at all those glowing life forces scattered throughout the darkness. "This world wanted to throw me away like garbage? Fine. I'll use this forest as my training ground. I'll devour everything in it if I have to."

  Over the following weeks, I learned to survive. I found shelter in a hollow tree. I learned which plants were edible and which would kill me. I hunted—not with weapons or traps, but with my curse. Small animals at first. Rabbits. Foxes. Birds. Each one added to my strength, little by little. Each death taught me more about my power.

  I discovered I could sense life forces from farther away as I grew stronger. I learned to drain them slowly, keeping animals docile while I fed. I found I could store excess life energy inside myself, building up reserves for when I needed them. And most importantly, I learned that this "curse" everyone feared? It was the greatest gift I could've asked for.

  No holy blessing could match this. Those divine powers the church handed out like party favors? They were nothing compared to the raw, primal force I commanded. While other blessed children learned to conjure light or heal minor wounds, I was learning to steal life itself.

  Three months in that forest. Three months of survival, of hunting, of growing stronger. My body had changed too. I looked older now, maybe six or seven instead of four. The life energy I consumed didn't just make me stronger—it accelerated my growth. At this rate, I'd have an adult body within a year or two.

  But I wasn't ready to leave yet. Not nearly ready. The Thornwood Forest had bigger prey than wolves and foxes. There were monsters here. Real monsters. The kind that adventurers formed parties to hunt. The kind that had killed experienced warriors.

  I wanted them. I wanted their power. I wanted to become something this world had never seen before.

  Standing at the edge of a clearing one night, watching a Thornwood Bear—a creature the size of a small house—tear apart a tree to get at a beehive, I smiled. Not the innocent smile of a child. The smile of a predator who'd just found his next meal.

  "The Silvertin family thinks I'm dead," I whispered to the darkness. "The church thinks I'm gone. This kingdom thinks it's safe from the cursed child." My smile widened. "Let them think that. Let them forget about me. Because when I finally walk out of this forest, when I finally return to civilization..."

  I reached out toward the bear's life force, feeling its immense power thrumming in the night air.

  "...they're going to learn what real fear feels like."

  The bear roared as it sensed my presence, turning its massive head toward me. Its eyes glowed with bestial fury.

  I didn't run. I didn't hide. I walked forward, my own eyes glowing with that dark power, my hand extended.

  "Come on, you big bastard," I said. "Let's see if you've got enough life in you to make me stronger."

  The bear charged, and I welcomed it with open arms and a hunger that would never be satisfied. Not until everyone who'd wronged me paid the price. Not until this entire world learned to fear the name Darius Charles Silvertin.

  Not until I'd taken everything from them, just like they'd tried to take everything from me.

Recommended Popular Novels