Passive Hatred

The Aftermath

Grillby stood over the wreckage of his bar, the flames in his body flickering with an intensity that reflected his thoughts. His gaze was fixed on the unconscious boy on the floor, still sprawled amidst the splintered wood and broken glass.

A few patrons had slowly gathered their wits enough to leave, mumbling and muttering as they exited the bar, glancing back nervously at the mess that had been caused. The ones who remained were just as rattled, sitting silently, their eyes wide with shock.

Grillby had seen many things in his time. He'd watched monsters fight, struggled alongside them, and helped them in times of need. But this? This was something different. This wasn't like any problem he had ever encountered before.

but this was new

He approached the boy cautiously, flames licking the air as he knelt down, examining the limp figure. The tendrils had been more than just a display of power—they were a showing of fear. They'd erupted from Alex's body with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. They were far too dangerous, too destructive for a boy his age, for any age, really.

It wasn't just the dark tendrils, the goopy mass that had torn through his bar. No, it was the way the boy moved, the way his magic had felt—it wasn't the magic of a normal monster. It was something darker. Something that didn't belong in this world.

Grillby's flames dimmed slightly as he knelt next to Alex's body, eyeing the boy with suspicion. The boy's appearance hadn't given it away before, but now, seeing him unconscious, broken and vulnerable, Grillby couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the first time Alex had done something like this. Or maybe it was the first time he'd lost control, but it would hardly be the last.

The flames flickered more intensely. He had to be careful. But the question was: help him how?

Grillby's mind snapped back to reality as he saw Alex twitch slightly, his hand trembling as he lay on the ground. The boy's breaths were shallow, uneven. It was a sign that he wont be waking anytime soon.

The door to Grillby's bar slammed open with a force that made the whole room jump, and in marched the Royal Guard. Their armor clinked with each step, and their presence demanded attention as every head in the room turned toward them. Grillby had been bracing for this, but now that they were here, the tension in the air spiked.

Three guards filled the entrance, their faces hard and unreadable beneath their helmets. The lead guard, a hulking figure with a long spear slung across his back, strode toward the center of the bar, his eyes immediately landing on the mess left behind by Alex's outburst. The floor was gouged with deep scars, chairs toppled, and walls marred with strange, dark marks where the tendrils had struck.

Grillby wiped his hands on a towel, trying to keep his flames in check, though they flickered hotter with every passing second. His gaze briefly flickered toward Alex, lying unconscious on the floor where the tendrils had finally vanished.

The lead guard spoke, his voice booming. "What happened here?"

Every customer in the bar fell silent. Grillby stepped forward, steady but inwardly uneasy. "There was an incident," he said calmly, though his flames flickered with the memory of what had just happened. "The boy—" he gestured toward Alex, "—he lost control of his magic."

The lead guard's eyes narrowed as he inspected the damage. He stepped closer to Alex's unconscious form, frowning. "Lost control? This looks like more than a slip-up."

Another guard, a tall, slender woman, glanced around, her eyes wide as she took in the extent of the destruction. "This kid did all of this? He must have some serious power."

Grillby clenched his fist behind the counter, forcing himself to stay composed. "He didn't mean to. He was cornered, harassed. His magic reacted on instinct."

The lead guard didn't seem convinced. "Harassed? Enough to do this much damage?" He pointed to the deep marks on the walls, still smoldering slightly. "That's not just panic."

Grillby's flames flared a little higher, but he kept his voice level. "He's not trained. His magic is wild, unrefined. He wasn't trying to hurt anyone."

The lead guard's hand hovered near the hilt of his spear. "That might be, but we can't take chances with something like this." He turned to the other guards. "We're taking him in."

Grillby took a step forward, his flames sparking uncontrollably for a brief second before he regained control. "He's unconscious. You can't question him now."

The lead guard shot Grillby a sharp look. "We'll take him back to headquarters. He'll answer our questions when he wakes up. Magic like this isn't something we can just leave unchecked."

The female guard knelt beside Alex, her brow furrowed. "This magic... it's pretty dark, isn't it?" She hesitated before reaching out a hand toward him, then thought better of it. "I've never seen anything like this."

Grillby felt a pang of recognition, his mind flashing back to a time when his own flames had spiraled out of control. He knew what it was like to lose grip on something so deeply tied to who you were, to be feared for it. He took a breath, steadying himself. "He's just a kid," Grillby said, his voice quieter now. "He doesn't understand what he's doing."

The lead guard didn't seem moved. "That's exactly why we need to bring him in. Power like this, if it's not contained, could be dangerous to everyone."

Grillby's flames flickered again, memories of his own loss of control washing over him. He had seen that fear in others before, the way they looked at him when his flames had once raged out of control. He swallowed hard, forcing the flames down. "He needs help," Grillby insisted. "Not a prison cell."

The lead guard studied him for a long moment, his eyes flicking back to Alex. "We'll see," he said, his tone dismissive. "For now, we'll bring him in."

The guards moved to lift Alex, the boy still limp in their grasp. Grillby watched as they carefully carried him out of the bar, the flames inside him churning with unease. He couldn't help but feel a gnawing worry deep inside. He knew what it was like to lose control, to be seen as a danger when you were just trying to understand yourself.

As the guards disappeared out the door with Alex in tow, Grillby's flames flickered weakly, his mind heavy with the weight of what might come next. He only hoped the boy would get the chance to learn control before they decided he was too dangerous to help.

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