—You can't play dumb with me! Just look at yourself!— the old man shouted.
Shade, caught between confusion and the aggression directed at him, began getting angry, gripping his coat tightly.
—Could you... calm down for a second? If you keep acting like this, you'll only make things worse...
—Shut up! Don't you dare threaten me, you idiot! I'll send you back to the grave!
With clumsy steps, the man lunged at Shade, who couldn't react in time to the obvious attack.
The shovel came down hard on Shade's head. —Gh—!— His strength vanished instantly, along with his vision.
When he realized it, his face was already pressed against the ground.
What...?
His eyelids grew heavy, and a sharp pain pulsed through his head. Shade tried to move away, but his body wouldn't respond.
From one moment to the next, his body had become completely foreign to his consciousness.
I should have known something like this could happen. What an idiot I am...
Before him, his attacker looked terrified. Even in his current state, Shade could hear the man's ragged breathing, his body trembling nonstop.
—Y-you forced me... A-and you're not even human! You were already gone. And yet...
And yet, here I am... I know what you mean. I... shouldn't be here.
His consciousness began fading slowly. The sound of leaves dancing in the wind had turned into a piercing noise that drilled deep into his skull.
A red stain spread through his hair, forming thick drops that rolled down his face onto the sparse grass beneath him.
The old man looked at him with dissatisfaction, even sadness in his eyes. His gaze shifted slowly between the boy and the shovel in his hands.
He didn't say a word. He rubbed his eyes and dropped the tool.
—I...
With his last strength, Shade turned his pupils toward him, but the man seemed determined to avoid his gaze.
—I'm sorry, kid.
Without another word, he wrapped himself in his tattered cloth and quickly walked away, pausing at times as if something prevented him from moving forward.
Shade's eyes finally closed.
In his final thoughts before his consciousness completely faded, there was no hatred—maybe some annoyance, sure. But he felt at peace.
At last, eternal sleep...
His lifeless body lost warmth with each passing second. Death was imminent if he didn't wake soon. Though, truthfully, he didn't want to. He just wanted his streak of bad luck to end.
And in one way or another, this fulfilled his wish.
[Congratulations, Shade! Your existence has been marked by The Origin.]
Huh...?
His vision showed nothing but abyssal darkness, yet in that infinite void, an unknown voice echoed.
Who's calling me? How do you know my name?
There was no answer to his questions—only another confusing statement.
[You are now a Blessed Child!]
A Blessed Child?
[The Origin has granted you an Unnamed grace! How fortunate!]
Hey, wait a second... What...?
The voice completely ignored him. It began listing concepts he didn't understand, but two in particular caught his attention.
[Inherent Destiny: Not yet granted]
[Corruption: Not yet granted]
Lost in confusion, Shade could only listen until the voice finally stopped. But when it did, he didn't even have time to speak or be heard.
[The first hunt will begin soon! Prepare for your journey!]
His consciousness disappeared again instantly. When he regained it, he found himself looking at a wooden-plank ceiling above him.
Shade now rested under the roof of some unknown place.
He lifted his head, looking around drowsily. In one corner of the room, a familiar figure sat warming himself by a fireplace.
—Shit!— he exclaimed.
He threw off the blanket and suddenly stood up. Scanning the room, he grabbed a small mallet and took a defensive stance.
—Was knocking me out not enough for you?
The man looked at him with shame as he stood from a small wooden stool. With each step, the boy before him seemed more ready to strike, so he stopped before getting too close.
—You can relax. I don't intend to hurt you. Actually... I couldn't leave things like that.
The old man who had tried to kill him earlier now stood before him—face uncovered, nothing hiding his expression, nothing stopping Shade from ending his life just as he had tried to do.
—Forgive me. I was just scared. I didn't think about the consequences... I didn't even see you as human.
His rough voice softened momentarily before cracking.
—I've never killed anyone—never even tried. But I was terrified of what I thought you might be.
His eyes grew moist as he stared at Shade without hiding anything.
—I'm not a murderer, kid.
Shade lowered the mallet but didn't let go. Unsure how to react, he simply watched.
An awkward silence fell between them, broken only by the man's uneven breathing.
Shade tried scratching his head out of discomfort, but his fingers brushed against a piece of cloth. The moment he touched it, a sharp pain flared.
—Ugh!
—Please, don't touch that. It's serious...
The tension in Shade's jaw eased, and his face returned to its usual neutrality. Shade understood what was happening—it didn't take a genius to figure it out.
—I... thanks. Though I won't forgive you for trying to kill me earlier.
Truthfully, he didn't care. At this point, his life meant nothing to him. But he didn't want to let the old man's conscience off so easily.
—And don't try to wash your hands of this by making me pity you. I appreciate it, sure, but I won't forget what you did.
The man wiped his tears and looked at him with a faint smile—one Shade avoided like an arrow shot his way.
—Thank you, kid.
Shade looked away, unsure how to respond, so he changed the subject.
—Uh... y-yeah. N-now... are you going to tell me where I am?
—Ah... of course. But first, I need to check your wound.— He stepped closer, but Shade instinctively raised the mallet.
—No! Don't come near me.
The man stopped and stepped back.
—Fine, then come over here. You can relax, really. You're too distrusting...
The old man sat back down by the small fireplace, waiting for the boy before continuing.
—Well, of course I am. You tried to kill me, and now you expect me to be your friend? That's not how things work.
In the big city, the first thing Shade had learned was distrust. Friends weren't really friends in most cases. If you wanted to survive in the slums of the Seventh Sector, mastering loneliness and staying out of others' paths was mandatory.
It had worked his whole life, and this time wouldn't be an exception.
Warily, the boy sat on a crate beside the old man, never taking his eyes off him.
—Well?
—You're in my house, kid. Not far from where you were before. Just a few meters, really.
Shade glanced around. It was definitely a cabin—an old, tiny one, so small that the fireplace's light was enough to illuminate the whole place. It also highlighted the dismal conditions.
—And can I ask why you live next to a graveyard?
Before answering, the old man pulled a pipe from his pocket and lit it with the fireplace's flame.
His face glowed in the warm light as he exhaled a silver ring that rose solemnly before vanishing above them.
—I'm a gravedigger. I take care of burying the dead.
—Well, you're not doing a great job. Those bodies are scattered all over the place.
The man took another slow drag from his pipe before continuing calmly.
—Lately, there's been too many. Sometimes families bring them, other times friends. And rarely... they walk here themselves.
—What do you mean?
—I called you a Returned, remember? You're like them. Well, not exactly. You see... the Returned are humans who, after dying, come back to life.