Fate and the story of blood

Chapter 20: The born of new-found strength

It was like any other day, residing in the orphanage garden where a small child sat under an old willow tree by the freshly fallen snow. There as he breathed his warm breath onto his cold red hands, he pulled in his worn scarf tighter around his bare neck. As he looked towards a few of the other children playing with the little snow around the grass, he continued upon his book where discoloured pictures of magic tales filled imagination through his mind.

He had always fantasized about the witches and wizards of the books, the very fact that they were practically able to summon out fireballs and cannons of water had him dream of the day he would become a person as great as the ones in his storybooks. Yet, he knew well that just a year prior to where he was now, his body was something that would only barely enable him to use magic up to the second tier.

It was a heartbreaking discovery for him, something that had him greatly depressed for an extended amount of time. Though that burning sense of being able to become someone adept at magic still held strong in his heart and he wasn't going to give up on that opportunity. Turning the page to the book he had borrowed from the limited library of the orphanage, he read through what he read countless times until he felt the warmth of something along the edges of his chilled ears.

Turning to look at what was behind him, he found an old-looking man in glasses, a dark hat and black overalls. It was certainly odd to see someone like him in these areas, especially since he appeared to be somewhat wealthy. Though quickly he pushed all the suspicious man's speculations away upon listening to the information he imparted to him. The sweet and delicious words of hearing that he, in fact, could become someone as mighty as the grand mages of towers and it was something just in arm's reach, it was a very enticing offer.

Tempted for power, he followed the very stranger into an odd sketchy part of the town they stayed in, a place where all types of people travel through for their own individual purposes, it was a cesspool of lawless grounds and crimes. The stranger pushed open a back door of a house to the far west, somewhere distant from the area of civilisation where people would pass. It was starting to become apparent to the mind of that child, though it was all but too late as the doors closed and he was promptly led down a long set of staircases. 

Dusty and damp, the contrasting floor and the random assortment of items made him feel a deep sense of dread, something that added further to what he was realizing just moments prior. An unpleasant smell waved across his face and turning to see a corner, he found a full lane of cages upon cages of weird beast. Amalgomations of creatures was what he would describe them and as he turned to face the man once more, the innocent child found his face which was once shrouded in shadows now to be a twisted smile onto him.

A piece of rag was then tied along his mouth when he started to gasp and as his hands were restrained to his back, he was soon thrown into a cell where he then found across his living quarters to be the remains of another unfortunate child. Time went by of odd and questionable sludges being served to him as meals and each day passed of him being experimented on. Countless wails of pain sounded out from his muffled mouth, yet all the effort came for nought as from how underground he was, there was no way for him to be heard. 

Days passed of everyday torture, it turned to weeks and then months. He would find himself being strapped onto a table and had painful instruments jabbed right through his back. Each and every time he would beg for this pain to stop, the man would always reply by saying this was all for him to strengthen the body of his and bring about the power of a grand mage. Though each time he heard his reply, he would see the very same wicked smile of a crazed and insane man.

During one of his days, as he clung to dear life in his cell, he would come upon a book that had fallen into his arm's reach. As he began to read the pages, he would later find out that the book he was reading was, in fact, a grimoire containing spells that ranged from the fifth to eighth tier. His weary eyes widened in response to it and upon hearing the passing footsteps of his torturer, he hid it under the bed the mattress he slept in; not wanting what he found valuable to be taken away from his possession.