Stubbornly Faithful

Weak light threads seeped through stone cracks, pulsing faintly before being completely swallowed by the obscurity of the half-crumbled cave. Amidst the silence, the only sound was the dislodging of pebbles from its walls.

...

Upon the cold, unyielding earth lay a herd of flesh and bone masses. They varied in size, but not to a noticeable degree.

These masses that were individually drowning in halos of their own blood were the bodies of youth, dressed in white uniforms. Of course, no longer white. The blood had long saturated them to a grotesque maroon.

At the center of the slaughter was the body of a young man who bled less than the rest. Around his neck hung an ancient relic of beauty: a dark purple pendulum with mysterious sigils carved into it. 

It shone with dim purple light, as if embodying the essence of a long-buried life.

Droplets of blood merged into rivers out of the young man's neck; a hideous, loathsome wound appeared like a crimson waterfall.

Despite that, the youngling's heart stubbornly beat with life. Unfortunately for him.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

As the noise of numerous boots crashing against the ground echoed, growing louder as they approached, the young man, who possessed the name "Sarai," recovered a very flawed portion of his consciousness and barely managed to let light seep inside his eyelids, which were partially covered by strands of his long black hair.

In fact, every thread of light had long drowned in the darkness. There wasn't a single particle in the cave to embrace his pupils. Though he, for some reason, was able to clearly see everything in the murky, suffocating space he was imprisoned in.

His breath hitched. He had found it rather strange.

Before Sarai could process his situation, his attempt was silenced by the complete loss of memory concerning the context behind it. 

His lips trembled, and each breath was a struggle. He felt his lungs weighed as he sank in inevitable despair.

Just as he moved his gaze around, his eyes were seared by the grotesque imagery he was cast at the center of.

What... happened... Sarai, unbearably aghast, recognized all the corpses around him. From the sight of their bodies, he could easily tell that they were dead.

What on earth... Hayato... Renji... Misaki... Akira... Weren't we all at the orphanage...? What on earth happened...?

And so he began to search in his detached memory for the answer, so desperately, so pointlessly, so hopelessly.

The young man's effort was futile.

Suddenly, his stagger doubled. His ears caught the sounds of footsteps and chatter. They echoed inside the oppressing walls of this hell pit of a cave. 

Thud. Thud.

Due to his immobile body, Sarai couldn't help but curiously move his eyes towards the source of sounds in a wary manner.

He was terrified to his spine; his originally narrow eyelids widened, while deep in his heart, he held an eldritch degree of hatred. He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth with whatever strength was left in his powerless body.

Those shadowy figures that stood by the front corpses were military soldiers, a primal fear drilled into him since childhood. 

Military soldiers were the embodiment of all the misery he had ever known.

"Look at this one," chuckled one of the soldiers. He violently stepped at the remains of one of the corpses.

"It seems the Faithful Devil's children got what they deserve." His companion gazed at the corpse and spat on it.

The soldiers were dressed in stark white, high-collared trousers. They exchanged words of mockery and obvious hatred towards the dead children, treated them like garbage, and laughed at their appearances.

As the soldiers began examining the hideous corpses with their flickering flashlights, Sarai noticed how armed and shielded they were. Each held guns and wore pitch black armor around their chests and shoulders. It was as if they were on a hunt.

These bastards... Did they cause this...? What else could have caused it any ways...? These fuckers...

As a kid who suffered all sorts of oppression, racism, and unjustified violence, it wasn't crazy for Sarai to make such an assumption that would normally sound unrealistic. 

Why would military soldiers who are supposed to protect civilians kill poor orphans? One would ask, in complete inconsideration of the nature of this world, the nature that Sarai clearly grasped and painfully understood.

A world of a hunter and a hunted. Or so it seemed this way to the lethal majority.

While watching the soldiers violently crush the remains of his dead friends, a hot metallic taste filled Sarai's mouth. It seemed he had bitten his tongue after having been swallowed by rage.

His hatred and unearthly urge to tear apart those scumbags of men was oppressed by his immobility and wounds.

Drip. Drip.

The young man couldn't help but let his hot tears trace paths through the cold blood coating his cheeks.

At the depths of helplessness, the orphan—who had never believed in any god—felt a throbbing wish for a savior, a longing that swelled with every tear that escaped his eyes, falling into the blood-soaked pool beneath him.

To die that way, for him, was the lowest destiny one could be judged with.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"I heard something," said the soldier at the front. Although the dripping sound of Sarai's tears was weak, the absolute silence enveloping the cave caused it to be heard by the soldiers. 

"Maybe one of them is still alive. Let's check." The group of armed men began cautiously approaching the center where Sarai was pathetically lying.

Thud. Thud.

A-Are they coming to finish me... Did they... Did they figure out I'm still alive...? In addition to the devastating humiliation of being helpless, Sarai was in no need for fear to add to his unbearable suffering.

He was afraid, but couldn't even quiver.

He wished to escape, but couldn't even move.

He wished for vengeance, but couldn't even gaze at his enemy.

Sarai was collapsing on a terrifyingly yet expectedly fast rhythm.

At this moment, he couldn't help but pray to whatever existence was there to save him or even erase him.

Following that, silence devoured his senses, and he no longer wished to think of anything.

...

Breaking the heavy silence, a faint, skittering rustle pierced through the oppressing air and knocked on the door of Sarai's blank mind.

It was followed by the echoing agonized cry of one of the men as he heavily crashed against the ground. His body no longer moving.

Thud.

"What... What happened to him?" The others gazed at their collapsed comrade in a daze. Their features went slack, and their eyes froze unblinking. 

And so, amidst the sudden collapse and panicked chatter, Sarai's eyes slid open once more, drawn to the promising disturbance.

Deep within, his pupils reflected a shiny purple illumination coating a tiny crawling creature.

The little thing that crawled out of the collapsed man's collar had numerous legs and a long stinging tail. It was unlike anything ever seen before, but despite that, Sarai's heart was enveloped in familiarity when gazing upon it.

"Is this a bug? Did it sting him?" The soldiers pointed their flashlights at the crawling creature.

"It's getting closer! Kill this shit!" They, in a state of panic, couldn't help but shoot the tiny creature with their guns.

Bang! Bang!

The creature disappeared out of sight, eventually appearing on the shoulder of the soldier closest to the center.

"Aaaaaaghhh!" One sting. His body began to twitch. A few more. His legs gave way. One final sting. He fell silent.

Thud.

With the man's fall flew a fog of dust, which caused Sarai's barely opened eyes to close fully. But even sightless, the young man savored the symphony surrounding him.

The corners of his mouth twitched as he wished the soldiers would scream even louder to satisfy his burning hatred. The tiny creature was slaughtering them like ants, and there was nothing they could do to prevent it. Their screams were the melody, their pointless gunshots the discordant notes, and their falling bodies the drums of a divine orchestra.

...

They were falling like trimmed logs, one after another.

And Sarai couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Haha... Hahahaha!"

His laughter, that is.

For the same young man, who was drowning in melancholy moments ago, to be laughing—this was the work of a God, and nothing else.

And he did know it, he truly knew and truly believed. The crawling entity responded to Sarai's prayers, and he believed.

Sarai believed in the crawling entity, and he heard its name echoing in the depths of his conscience.

Scorpion.

Following that, a deep purple glow glimmered near his neck. It was the ancient relic of beauty that hung there, the one that he just now noticed.

The Scorpion appeared before Sarai. It, peculiarly, approached his wound and stung it. Then, a faint, long chain of purple light extended from the relic, connecting it to the Scorpion and then plunging into Sarai's neck wound.

Could it be that... The young man was in a daze, and there was only one guess to be held at that moment. One clear, yet unbelievable guess.

This nihilistic child, this pessimistic individual, had placed his belief in a concept.

He had held Faith in The Scorpion.

He had been blessed, or cursed, with a Faith Mutation!