Chapter 1:

Vol. I : Prologue [ testament of the wolf ]

Project [ insert title here ]


“I’m too lazy to narrate, this is not a story but rather facts that interested me a lot maybe because it’s a strange mind or maybe because I have rather some fascinating ideas of it, however, I shall be the one narrating the story.”

“Have you ever imagined friction becoming reality? “

“People becoming monsters?”

“People once normal are now painting the world in crimson?”

“Or”

“Have you imagined what if our own reality becomes tainted by the imagination that we dreamt of?”

A hooded boy sitting in the dark, reading the novel out loud, acting as if he was the one to be featured inside it trying to imitate the author’s mind.

Suddenly he pauses, few footsteps could be heard,

“Are you sure?” One talked.

Another voice, “shut up.”

“More footsteps than voices”

The hooded boy thought

“Hmmm, by the sound of three pairs of army boots – no, no, metal boots, one ladies’ boot, and one casual boot – Messengers sent by the government I assume.”

“So, then, is it too comfortable to set up an army base down here.”

“Oh Well! Why am I even thinking of this? I already know what is….”

Suddenly, few people, three heavily armed guards, each holding a sabre torch, a man looking like a modern-day diplomat or (just four normal people) but the girl, a swag, unmarried one, violet hair, aged around 28 to 30, experienced and unhappy.

The boy turns towards the people and continues his novel trying to act and entertain those people with a very friendly smile and a gentle gesture.

Now he is in the light, open for anyone to observe. Black hair, average physique, and height, a thin fabric - black full sleeve hood – entire top had markings of Brahmin chant, ordinary blue jeans and belt, normal boots, left hand covered by a black leather glove - it was unclear how much of his hand was covered by the glove as his sleeve hid it well.

It was not his garment that was strange but his face, his eyes they were dry, more so that his left eyeball was black and his eye lens white, not only that but like a monster, he had pointy ears, short grey hair and he had no teeth instead he had fangs.

While the other men present in the room were scared observing, the girl kept her cool and observed him like he came out from a fairy-tale.

“Chapter five: In need of crimson”, the boy cried.

He started reading the poem that began in a very sinister way

“I the one

That you awakened,

I the beast of the night,

The voice of the path,

You dare challenge my ego!

Now you shall know the meaning.

The heavenly gift of Gods,

The pain, the despair

You shall know ‘em all”

And he suddenly drops the novel before finishing the last line after the poem not reading the last three words

“Rushed with rage”, he silently mutters.

As the novel touches the ground

The boy finally makes the first gesture of communication and speaks to the girl pointing towards her, “your messing way too much with these stories.”

He slowly walks towards the girl and whispers in her ear before crossing her, “well!”, he exclaims in disappointment, “pages were all blank, I told them what I knew”.

“They know the story far too well, the only person who doesn’t is you”, the girl replied with no fear.

“So, they do”, his face becomes twisted and he smiles and says again, “what a waste of effort for….”

Before he could even finish, the girl spoke again in an emotionless manner, “With the excessive amount of intellect you have, you must have at least one assumption of the situation we are in.”.

“………” he was about to give an answer but was interrupted by the girl, “the most illogical one is true”.

“Is that so”, he replied in a calm voice and continued

“So, am I supposed to wag my tail and follow you around just like a good dog?”

She smiled, “NO”.

He asks again, “Then why am I here?”

“Let me ask you a question”, she gives a twisted smile in amazement and asks

“What is the best way to ruin a story?”

The boy stood still for a while as if a current surged through him, he dropped all his guard and gave a pleasant smile. Despite his efforts, his demonic fangs made it look even sinister than he really was. In a friendly way, he replied, “Simple! Kill the final O.P. boss before the story even begins”.

Saying so the boy felt a certain urge for sleep suddenly his feet stopped supporting his body, his body was falling backwards while he noticed a certain crest of the white wolf, on the clothing of the girl, symbol of the gods.

“now sleep well, ....., Aarowan”, her voice reached his ears while he slowly lost his consciousness.

Bookmarked
You can resume reading from this paragraph.