Chapter 2 – The Boy Who Is Killed By Wolf

The Auralis Gate stands in the southernmost area of Rosebell, and like all other Gates scattered across the world, it serves as an entrance to the Labyrinth.

Rosebell’s stone walls had expand outward to accommodate the growing population, eventually reaching this Gate. The construction workers couldn’t build close to it, nor could they demolish it -- touching the cracked lines of the mystical portal is dangerous. So, the southern walls remain unfinished, leaving the area with a strange, irregular shape, like the flat bottom of a deformed bouncy ball from a view of the city from the clouds.

The entrance to the Labyrinth itself is as perplexing. It opens from the sidewall of a Labyrinth corridor, with the opposite sidewall blocking further progress. Consequently, from the ground, it almost gives the impression that the southernmost walls of Rosebell are completed in construction, like a strange, optical illusion.

Nearby, a barracks housing the Guard Regiment stands across from two timber palisades. These barricades, angled towards the Gate, are manned by the gatekeepers. The guards grip their spears warily, especially with the unsettling whispers and moving shadows of the night. Along with superstitions related to the Labyrinth, who can blame them for being cautious? To the people of Rosebell, entering the Labyrinth has always been considered a crossing point, a point of no return. Only the Nation Elite and the Conquerors dare to enter.

The Nation Elite are soldiers with jurisdiction of the highest order and power of the highest order. They are usually thought of as a military-police-type of alliance that operates throughout the entire world. In fact, ‘World Government’ describes them quite perfectly. And because they use the Labyrinth to extend their power and execute their missions, the Nation Elite are also commonly referred to as the radical ‘adventurers who live only for justice,’ which could be said in a derogatory or honorable manner.

On the other hand, the Conquerors are mostly made up of bands of righteous mafias, mercenaries, and criminals. They are often referred to as the ‘adventurers who live only for their own brand of justice,’ which could also be said in a derogatory or honorable manner.

To the world around, both groups are brave, even heroic, yet the people of Rosebell, and greater Maltrex, despise them.

As a result, this Gate sees little traffic and the gatekeepers have little to manage, their days marked by rare visitors, such as the occasional caravan of Nation Elite soldiers entering the capital.

The moon hangs nearly full in the night sky, drenching Rosebell in a radiant silver glow. The oil-lit street lamps cast their warm, flickering light over the cobblestone streets, turning the capital into a patchwork of light and shadow. It’s a perfect night for a dreamer with restless feet.

Another gentle tremor rolls through the ground beneath me, but by the time I reach my destination, it’s already faded into memory. I weave through the town with purpose, my steps quick and eager, until I reach the south barracks. There, I press myself against the corner of the building and peek out, my heart racing with a mix of anticipation and raw excitement.

Far ahead, the Auralis Gate towers against the backdrop of the starry sky, its imposing archway a threshold to the world of the Labyrinth. Beyond that gate lies the unknown -- danger, wonder -- my eyes shine as I take it all in, my admiration for what lies beyond the gate lighting a fire in my chest.

As much as I yearn to step into the Labyrinth, I know I can’t. Not yet. I’ve tried to bolt for the Gate like a wild storm -- but the gatekeepers always stopped me. Every. Single. Time. And they were right to do it. I don’t have the documentation, the provisions, the tools, the armor, or even a proper weapon.

That’s fine, though. That’s why I’m working. That's why I’m saving every coin I can scrape together. So I stand here, staring at the Labyrinth, the anticipation is almost unbearable, but I let it feed my determination. One day, I’ll make the Labyrinth -- and the world -- my own. Because beyond that Gate lies not only the start of the grandest adventure imaginable but also the roads needed to trailblaze my ambitions, a necessity for any great Conqueror. What could be more thrilling than that?

And as I look towards my future, glimpses of my darker past slowly come to mind. It was from a time before I found the Omine Family I now cherish -- a time when I could no longer endure this city and slipped past the gatekeepers for the first… and the last time.

…

If I had the potion… If I had the herbs…!! Why is there nothing in this city?! Why does the capital hate Conquerors so much?!

Even though the herbs are in the Second Circle of the Labyrinth, even though they should be easy to get. It’s too late now. Grandpa smiled his last breath. So why am I running, risking my life? The gatekeepers tried to stop me. A seven-year-old. It’s probably childish innocence -- I’m right, so I want to prove that I’m right, even if it’s too late, even if there’s no point at all. It feels like my heart is being crushed, and it’s not from my heavy breaths from sprinting.

The Labyrinth stretches endlessly, its dark, winding corridors trapping me in confusion, like the twisting thoughts in my head. I don’t know how long I’ve been running -- lost, searching, for something that doesn’t matter anymore. My eyes are vacant, my steps dragging across the cold stone, and the world feels muffled as if a thick fog is choking me from the inside.

The corridors are so big a normal mind could never have thought of them. I get lost in them, running around in them for what feels like days.

I’ve been looking for herbs. I don’t even need the one required for the cure. Just a few leaves to help Grandpa feel better, to stop the pain, but Grandpa’s gone. He’s dead. The words crash into my mind like waves, pulling me deeper and deeper. Hungry, my stomach tightens, in emotional distress, my chest tightens, tired, my vision tightens. My legs give way, and I finally drop to the floor, lying back against the hard stone. My small hands rest at my sides, fingers twitching weakly.

I’m tired… the last meal was two days ago. My last drink was……… I’m tired…

No one’s going to save me now. Not from the Labyrinth. Not from finding my way back. Not from the emptiness.

“Grandpa…” It leaves me as a scarce whisper.

The silence around me is deafening. It’s the quiet before the storm. But I don’t care anymore.

The idea of death is no longer foreign. It’s the final escape. I let go of everything -- my fears, my desires, my need to survive.

I don’t even flinch when the storm approaches, soft at first, like the scuttling of chalk across a chalkboard. Then harsher and louder. Closer. An unmistakable growl.

The Beast -- a Bladeback -- moves like a siege engine given flesh, its body rippling with amethyst scales, its lengthy tail ending in a razor-edged blade. Its bite has the force of a hippo’s crushing jaws, and a lash of its tail strikes like a scorpion’s sting.

I turn my head from where I rest. I’m certainly surprised, but fear isn’t there to be felt.

I don’t move.

I’m going to die… The thought comes to me so simply, so matter-of-factly, that it's almost a relief. The pain I’ve been carrying for days, the loss, the emptiness, it all fades into the background.

The Bladeback’s claws scraping against the stone floor echoes down the corridor. It’s close now. Its growls become more distinct, like a thanks before a meal.

The creature rounds the corner, eyes glowing red, its hulking body ripped with power. It sniffs the air, its eyes locking onto my tiny form lying helpless in the middle of the passage. The monster can't be much older than me, but this doesn’t stop it from eclipsing my physical strength, as well as my mental and emotional hardiness in my state. Once its eyes meet my body, anything else other than my death is a foregone conclusion.

I feel the presence of death standing above me, and yet… I don’t react. My body feels heavy, as though it no longer belongs to me. My limbs, though tense, refuse to move.

The Bladeback crouches, its massive tail swinging slowly, its razor-sharp blade glinting in the light. I don’t even flinch when it strikes. Yes. Please let it be fast. It’ll be quick. It’ll be quick. It has to be quick--

The blow comes fast. My eyes stay open, watching, as if it’s happening to someone else. The tail slices through the air with a sickening hiss.

It strikes my chest.

It doesn’t hurt. Not yet.

Instead, I feel something -- a deep, pulsing ache that starts at the point of impact and radiates out, flooding my chest with warmth. Blood. It’s hot. It’s… my blood.

The blade has pierced my body and I can feel the sticky, wet sensation of my lifeblood dripping away. It’s a sudden clarity. This sudden realization -- that my hands moved on their own.

With a raw, primal desperation, I had caught the blade.

The impact sends jolts of searing pain through my arms straight to my head. The bladed tail is impossibly sharp, cutting deep into my palms, my blood spilling over my fingers. It hurts. It hurts!

As if all the encapsulated terror I should have felt before is released at once in its most concentrated form, with eyes wider than they’ve ever been, hair fluttering on end, I scream.

“Ahh -- AHHHHH!” The abhorrent cry rends my throat, echoing down the corridor. My small body shakes violently, my expression clear with terror and agony.

The Bladeback snarls, its amusement unmistakable. It jerks its tail downward -- brutal, merciless -- the force nearly rips my arms from their sockets. Fresh pain explodes behind my eyes. But I hold on. Because letting go means dying.

“No…” I whimper, trembling. “No, no, no!” Not a peaceful death like Grandpa's, surrounded by the ones I love, but a terrible, painful, agonizing death.

It hurts! It hurts! I can still feel! I shouldn't feel anymore!! What am I doing?!?! It hurts. It hurts, It hurts!

My eyes flick to the crimson streaks pooling on the floor, on me, the sight sending cold shivers down my spine. My stomach churns, and before I can stop it, warmth spreads between my legs.

The tears come harder now, mixing with the blood on my face. I feel so small. So powerless.

The pain doesn’t stop. It burns, throbs, and screams through every nerve in my body.

My goosebumps and streams of lost blood trail up my arms like ants. Slowly but surely, they makes inroads at my heart. Holding back the desire to drive them out, it’s strikingly clear that I won’t be able to. They eat at me, decaying what I foolishly thought was already decayed. I am alive.

I don’t want to die.

The thought roars in my mind, louder and louder, drowning out the fear, the pain, the blood, all reasons to still be here.

All that will be left is decay. Without decisiveness, all that will be left is decay.

“I… don’t…” My regret is shaky and broken, but growing louder. “I don’t want to die!”

With a burst of energy, I throw aside the serrated tail and scramble to my feet. My legs wobble, vision blurs with tears, but I run.

I don’t look back. The Bladeback snarls and its claws chase me, pushing me forward, faster, harder. Fueling my pure survival instinct.

My lungs burn, my heart pounds, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

I don’t know where I’m going. The corridors twist and turn endlessly, the shadows pressing in on all sides. But it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m moving, as long as my legs keep carrying me forward!

Tears are pumping into my eyes. I don’t want to give up. Not here. Not now.

The Bladeback bounds behind me, but I don’t care. I won’t stop until my legs, my whole body gives out.

Until I live.

My heart pounds with a fire I haven’t felt in what seems like forever. The Beast lunges. I’m already evading.

Memories flash. Grandpa -- not the figure on his deathbed, but the man who taught me how to swing a stick like it was a sword, who smiled with pride when I fell and got back up again.

“Keep going,” Grandpa had said. “As long as you’re breathing, you can keep fighting.” Even weaponless, I have weapons at my sides, everything, my whole environment around me. Anything to fight with. A stone, a stick.

Rivers of sweat dilute my lost blood, a newer blood flowing from my body as I sprint like a madman. It’s hopeless. I can’t win.

But I know what I must do.

There’s little hope that measly sticks can finish it off but I have to try. Myself and my environment. There’s no choice but to kick logic out and do the impossible. Even if it defies all logic. I’ll break through! I have to!

The Beast’s growls echo, the distance gradually ever-growing but never far enough.

I’m still alive. The courage burns, overwhelming the pain, the terror, the humiliation. My tears dry on my cheeks as I run on sheer willpower.

The suffocating weight of the Labyrinth doesn’t crush me. It fuels me.

I’m not running away. I’m running toward my future. If I live, I can fight. If I fight, I can win. And if I win… I can make it all mine.

The Labyrinth is a blur around me. Stone corridors twist into nothingness, the shadows chasing like hungry predators, but they’re up against me -- someone who is no longer worried about being human.

A stick!!

My shoes slide, the ground nears, my muscles scream with exhaustion, I stumble once, twice, the world spins around me. The resulting scrapes threaten to overwhelm me, but I force myself forward. My bare hands are slick with blood, my chest burns with the fire of a thousand fires. The Bladeback’s heavy, hungry panting floods my senses. I don’t dare look back.

I see it. A jagged stick, half-buried in the dirt at the side of the path.

Completely primal, I latch onto the rough grip, and in one swift motion, I swipe the crude weapon. It’s rigid, the size of a small polearm, but it’s enough. It’s what I have.

The Bladeback’s growl comes closer, deafening now, and I spin on my heel, lowering my whole body to the ground.

The chase has switched to approach.

Recognizing this, the Bladeback lets out a howl that signifies the end of the world, pervading all five senses. Glaring at what should have taken my life, I have crossed the line between fear to sheer terror. It takes a few steps forward. I would like nothing more than to take a few steps back.

I swallow down my fear before I go crazy. I can smell it, what will come of me should I lose this bout, I can see it -- the me within the jaws of its rancid mouth.

I can do this. I can fight. Run. Run!

The Beast charges. Claws scrape ground, its massive body propelling with terrifying speed. The tail swings like death scythe, but I don’t flinch. I thrust the stick forward, aiming for the Beast’s eyes, its throat--

The force behind the impact is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The Bladeback snarls in annoyance as I strike its snout, but it does little to slow the Beast’s attack. Dirt flies beneath us the Bladeback swipes with its tail, narrowly missing as I roll to the side, my improvised weapon still in my grip.

Taking shot after shot, weaving and dogging, I blindly put my faith in my hands.

It’s not enough.

I huff between the Beast’s roars. It’s bloodshot eyes narrow in fury, but they are reflecting mine. It leaps forward with a speed that catches me off guard.

Too fast…!

The tail slashes through the air again. I barely manage to dodge, my breath ragged, my fists shaking. My mind is screaming for me to run, but my legs are too slow, too small. I’m not going to make it.

I’m going to die… I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die-- I’m going to… kill you!

The sharp tail strikes. This time, there’s no dodging. The pain is brutal, as it slams through my side, breaking through my ribcage. My line of sight spins as all the air is forced out of my lungs. Blood splatters against the stone, but only from my palms as I lunge away from the serrated edge and gash a line through the air of my own. The Beast cries in agony as my stick splinters to pieces, the oak brown mixed with dark red.

An unexpected, agonizing pain of my own shoots through my chest, my gasps coming out way too fast and short. I protected myself! My head swims, my vision fades, and I endeavor to pull myself to my feet. What just hit me? From behind? Or… my ribs? My lungs!

The splinters that remain fall from my grasp as I nearly collapse to my knees. No. I can’t give ground!

I can’t breathe.

The Bladeback isn’t done. It stalks toward me, hungry for the kill and angrier than ever before. Its monstrous form towers over me, its tail poised for the final strike, a blade piercing from behind and its jaws open before my wide eyes.

“Nooo!” A croak of a yell. It’s the last sound of a hare having its neck wrung or a fledgling crying at the sight of a hawk landing on their once-thought-sacred nest. It’s pathetic, but it’s all I can manage as my last words and attack.

Over my shoulder, the impalement from behind--

Blood splatters.

I died. I have forgotten how to breathe.

Is it my breath that has left me, or the outstretched leg at my shoulder that created a vacuum with a mere kick? A kick, so fast, so prevailing, that it tears through the air like a thunderclap.

The result? What doesn’t splatter on impact flies across the corridor and explodes against the wall, creating a giant abstract painting of monster guts. Before I realize it, I’m still alive.

“So you like picking fights with the small ones but disappear when I show up?” The taunt of a woman.

The ringing is deafening. Dust and debris fall around me. The Beast is gone, leaving nothing but fertilizer.

Ahh… It’s dead. I’m still alive…

The second girthier and sharper stick I had kept to finish the Beast close quarters topples from my bloodied fingers. My breath is still caught in my throat. “Hh?!”

“Amazing! You put up an astonishing fight! I surely didn’t need to step in!”

I look up and to my sides, anywhere to clear my air passages, barely able to focus. There, behind me, is my savior, dropping her briefcase. “Hey? Hey, kid?!” Her hands reach me, offering something I can’t quite comprehend.

My vision fades as darkness creeps in, and the concern on her beautiful face is the last thing I see before everything goes black.

Then, silence.