Birth of the Demonic Sword

Birth

'Darkness.'

This was his first thought after waking up.

'Where am I?'

He tried to move his limbs, but the sensation of touch had something amiss from what he was used to.

'Wait, I can think!'

'I clearly remember getting shot in the chest by those gangsters. Am I in a coma?'

He tried again to move or open his eyes, but the only thing he could feel was the sensation of being cramped, and the only thing he could see was darkness.

'I guess I'm still alive. It seems that I can't even achieve a quick death in my life. Well, at least it's warm in here.'

There was a constant warmth in his body, making the environment quite cozy.

'At least after I wake up, my parents will let me off the hook for a while. Maybe I should take this chance to get away from that house and go abroad, there should be at least a cleaning service hiring me.'

He thought of the possibility of exploiting that near-death experience as a mean to break free from the cage he called home.

He considered how his parents would react once he said to them that he would drop the university to be a dishwasher.

'Dad will not make too much trouble for me, but mum will surely go crazy. Nowadays, the only thing I can do at home without starting a fight is reading. Maybe I will lose that too.'

Since he remembered, he loved playing games, reading books, and getting drunk.

He found anything else annoying, and this severely affected his school career since high school.

So, the situation in his house grew more and more difficult for him to sustain as his parents would rather yell all the time than accept that the university wasn't fit for him.

'I guess a big part of that situation is my fault, after all, I've spent most of my life being drunk or isolated in some book. Not a good job as a son indeed.'

Regret emerged in him after he thought that.

If he had known better at that time, he would've not used booze as a mean to vent, and maybe the situation in his family would have been more peaceful.

'Well, I can't change what has already happened, and I didn't really have many options to keep myself cool while pretending all the time.'

When he was fourteen, he figured out that something was not entirely right with him.

He would see his friends going after girls or pretty clothing, emphasizing love and social status in a group of people.

Yet, he only felt curiosity toward sex without ever being able to really bind with someone.

As for human society, he saw it as a bunch of rules created by humans to force them to live together.

'Aren't those rules created by men? As a man, I should have the right to ignore them and live the way I want to.'

Time kept on passing while he was thinking, without him noticing that his thinking speed was way lower than usual.

'In the end, it's a world ruled by money. If you have it, you can do whatever you want; if not, you can only end up in one of the gears of society, accumulating money till the moment you die.'

'What a pitiful way of living. You are forced by the rules of humans to work to accumulate pieces of paper, while those have value only thanks to the same rules you are obeying. True freedom is only achievable by gathering enough paper. Is there even value on living a life like this?'