In a dining hall large enough for various families to live in, candles stood perched around, being the only source of illumination.

  Throughout the entire place, there was a multitude of kids sitting around a long, brown, deteriorated table.

  It was made out of wood that appeared as if it would collapse at any moment under its own weight.

  At the end of it, an old-looking man wearing priest's clothes overlooked them in total silence.

  The focus and intensity of his gaze were such that it would cause even the bravest man to feel uncomfortable.

  His chasuble was mostly black, but also richly decorated with golden eye symbols.

  Around his neck, a yellowish alb with black ends could be seen resting against his shoulders.

  Behind him, four women sat obediently.

  They wore an entirely black habit which included a black veil with the symbol of a black eye, concealing the upper part of their faces.

  “Thunk!” Wooden spoons clashed constantly with wooden bowls, engulfing the enclosed area with noise.

  All the kids ate silently under the old man’s lingering gaze.

  Their movements looked calculated and robotic, almost as if they were being extremely careful with their actions.

  Behind each one of them, there were adult men dressed in yellow vestments.

  All of them carried a black eye tattoo adorning their necks.

  In their hands, they held smooth metal rods completely tainted with dry blood all over the surface.

  They stood completely still as they also observed the kids sitting in front of them, being prepared to take action if necessary.

  Among all the kids, however, there was only one who didn’t eat what was in front of him.

  He stared at the meal with narrowed eyes and a wrinkled nose, looking almost disgusted by what he was served.

  A soup that overflowed with purple carrots and unknown meat, which smelled of wet dog feces, sat in front of him.

  This particular kid appeared to be about nine years of age, had black hair that reached his shoulders, and had skin as white as the moon.

  Similar to the rest of the kids, he also wore a shirt that was a tad too big for him with patches covering it.

  His pants were the same, comically large for his size.

  His outfit made him seem like a kid trying to play grown-up, and his neck had the number zero zero eight tattooed on it with black ink.

  The other kids looked at him from time to time from the corner of their eyes, most of them with a chilly gaze, but this didn’t catch his attention.

  In a moment of distraction, a blond-haired kid, smaller than his companions, dropped his wooden spoon to the floor.

  The spoon landed with a loud thud, and all the noise in the dining hall stopped.

  Kids who were about to take a bite out of the unpleasant food ceased all their movements.

  No one dared to twitch a muscle or look in the direction of the sound.

  Realizing his mistake, the blond kid’s arms started to tremble slightly, hoping from the depths of his heart that no one heard what had happened.

  The sudden silence, however, which was greater than before, confirmed his deepest fear.

  Despite this, and without making any sudden movements, he slowly lowered himself to pick the spoon up.

  He hoped to somehow avoid what he knew would happen to him.

  While he did so, the sound of heavy footsteps getting closer could be heard behind him.

  The black-haired kid watched intently as the blond kid struggled to grab the spoon.

  The other kids, knowing that they were out of danger for the moment, resumed eating, but didn’t take their eyes off the scene.

  Now sitting upright, the kid gently placed his spoon on the bowl before eating once more as if nothing was wrong.

  A cold sweat surrounded his body, however, and his breathing was ragged.

  His increasing heartbeat, which resounded throughout the hall, made it clear to the others that he was aware of his actions and was only pretending.

  He struggled to do everything in his power to appear calm.

  The man from behind had closed the distance quickly and now held his metal rod high in the air.

  Without a moment of hesitation, he swung it with force at the kid’s head.

  “Crack!” His head split open.

  Out of it came unknown fluids, blood, and brain matter, which spread out across the nearby surroundings.

  It landed on the table, on the dining hall’s cold stone floor, and on a few bowls of soup, including the black haired kid’s.

  He didn’t have time to scream.

  His body fell with strength on the table, shaking the wooden utensils and bowls momentarily.

  His twitching right hand still held the wooden spoon he so desperately reached for, but his lifeless eyes made it clear that he was now dead.

  Even if he wasn’t, he would eventually be, and a reaction could barely be seen across the kids at the table, who continued to eat.

  Despite the bowls of some of them now being filled with blood and the remains of the blond kid’s head, they still ate it.

  While they did so, the four women who were sitting behind the priest finally stood and approached the now-dead body.

  As if prepared, they carried clean rags and a small wooden container with dried blood marks to the scene.

  Two of them grabbed the kid’s dangling limp arms and legs and placed them in the wooden container; the remaining ones started cleaning the mess with their rags.

  The open head still dripped with fluid, filling the container and staining their habits, but they didn’t show any sign of being disturbed by it.

  After a few minutes, they were done and vanished from sight.

  When they did so, the priest slowly stood, his gaze and expression seeming even more intense than before.

  “This is the last time I’m reminding everyone.” His gaze swept across the kids, who once again stopped eating, placing their full attention on him.

  “Weakness is not tolerated... Do you all understand?” His tone of voice was calm, way too calm, but the kids couldn’t ignore the hidden danger in his words.

  The room continued to be under complete silence, with none of the kids daring to reply to the man.

  After a few more seconds, he sat back on his chair, adjusting his chasuble and alb in the process to be more comfortable.

  The priest was a man about seven feet tall with noticeable muscles under his robes.

  He looked to be nearing his seventies but was in peak physical shape, had grey eyes, short white hair styled up, and a full beard without a mustache.

  As he observed the room, he took note of the kids who had continued eating, all except one.

  His stare landed on the black haired kid, whose gaze remained in his direction, as if challenging him.

  Noticing this, the man behind the black haired kid began closing the distance at a rapid pace.

  Although the kid could hear the sounds nearing him, his expression remained unchanged.

  Slowly raising his rod, the man paused for a brief second before swinging it downwards with all his strength.

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  The priest, however, calmly raised his right hand while this happened.

  Just before the impact, the man’s arm suddenly changed direction.

  He bashed the head of the kid sitting next to the black haired kid instead.

  The results were messier than before, tainting the whole table red.

  Recovering from the shock, the man turned to face the priest, who just stared at him blankly.

  The priest had his chin resting on his arms and offered no explanation for his actions.

  This staredown continued for only a couple of seconds more before the man hesitantly returned to his original position.

  The black haired kid, seeing this, released an almost imperceptible sigh while his tight body relaxed.

  He knew that if it had been any other kid in his place, he would have died today.

  As he had noticed over time, for some reason unknown to him, the priest seemed to be extremely indulgent with him from his perspective if he compared himself with all the other kids.

  He maintained eye contact with the priest for a few more seconds with a calm expression before looking at his soup.

  Blood tainted it, and despite being famished, he couldn’t bring himself to eat it.

  Minutes passed just like this, with him being in his mind, not being bothered by the body being taken away next to him.

  ‘I don’t belong here,’ the black haired kid thought to himself.

  He recalled the memories of a life that now seemed to be something distant, with a hint of affliction and confusion on his face.

  He didn’t care at all if the priest or the man behind him noticed his expression for the moment; he just wanted to indulge in his memories.

  His growing emotions derived from the nightmares that he had suddenly started to experience just a couple of days ago.

  With the nightmares came the repeated memory of himself killing his father; the why, how, or when, he didn’t know.

  Besides that, the only other things he remembered were having been sixteen years old and some general stuff about his ‘Old World.’

  He remembered the existence of something called ‘The Sun,’ something that he had never seen or even heard of before in this life.

  Dealing with the abrupt flow of old memories had proven to be a challenge for the black haired kid, who now carried the name of “Alhen” in his new life.

  His old name had been forgotten, buried deep in his mind.

  The harsh and cruel environment he had been subjected to for the past couple of weeks prevented him from showing any hint of weakness.

  The incessant memory of his father’s death at his own hands, however, inevitably caused him to be filled with a pain and guilt that made him unable to remain stoic all the time.

  For Alhen, it felt weird; being so hurt and guilty for the actions he committed against a man that he didn’t even remember.

  Although he had attempted to remain as unaffected as possible, it was as if the love he had for the man in his other life traveled with him to this one.

  It surpassed the obstacles of lost memories and left only the raw emotion behind.

  After deciding to leave these thoughts behind for the moment, he subtly looked around at the children surrounding him.

  He noticed with discomfort that they watched him out of the corner of their eyes with clear hatred and fear.

  ‘It is to be expected,’ Alhen thought.

  He resigned himself to accepting the looks everyone gave him without saying anything.

  Alhen couldn’t blame them for how they felt towards him, even if he wished they didn’t feel that way.

  More minutes passed in silence before everyone finished eating.

  After which, the priest signaled them to stand up with a wave of his hand and instructed them to follow him.

  The nuns from before returned to take away all the utensils and bowls while the priest disappeared in the distance with the group of kids behind him.

  The priest guided them through the dark, narrow corridors of the building made of stone.

  Many nuns dressed in yellow tunics could be seen kneeling near the walls with their backs facing the people walking through the place.

  Their constant prayers filled the area with a sense of uneasiness and discomfort for Alhen and the other kids.

  The candles on the ground scattered the shadows, and the smell of burnt wax permeated the air.

  Alhen coughed a little, and right at that moment, he felt someone grab his shoulder, startling him and causing him to stop his walk.

  He turned to look behind him and saw a boy about the same size as him with short brown hair and brown eyes.

  His skin was white, but it didn’t compare to the almost pale-looking skin of Alhen.

  His looks were average, and he had arrived not long ago, but they were already good friends.

  “Henry! Please don’t scare me like that,” Alhen exclaimed as silently as he could while resting his right hand on his agitated heart.

  He looked at Henry with a mad expression.

  “Forget about that, Alhen, what do you think you’re doing?” Henry asked.

  He whispered with a serious expression while maintaining eye contact with Alhen.

  The sudden question and the seriousness conveyed in Henry’s tone and expression surprised him.

  Throughout all the time he had known his friend, he had never seen him act this way.

  “I don’t understand what you mean, Henry,” Alhen simply replied.

  Henry, now fuming with anger, answered by forcing Alhen to face him by grabbing both of his shoulders and shaking him with intensity.

  “You know what I mean, Alhen!” Henry said, his voice now being above a whisper because of his fury.

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed?! Just what were you trying to achieve by not eating your food and looking at Father Vincent like that?! You even got someone killed!” said Henry while shaking Alhen forwards and backwards.

  It was as if he were trying to wake him from his apparent stupidity.

  “Oh…” Alhen muttered, now realizing what his friend was trying to say.

  He winced, remembering what had happened at the dining table, because of him, an innocent kid had died.

  “Don’t ‘Oh’ me, I’m being serious here!” Henry yelled, shaking Alhen with even more fervor than before.

  Being tired from all the shaking, Alhen started to try and calm his friend.

  “Sorry, Henry, it won’t happen again,” Alhen promised.

  He understood his friend’s concern for him and appreciated how much he cared.

  Hearing this, Henry stopped shaking Alhen and calmed down.

  He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh that he didn’t know he was holding.

  “You do know that your promise doesn’t mean anything… right?” Henry asked with a roll of his eyes.

  ‘He’s right,’ Alhen thought, remembering all the times that he’d said the same thing.

  “Listen, I’m sorry, alright? I will be more mindful from now on.” Before Henry could say another word, he butted in, “And this time I’m being for real.”

  “You better be for real, what if you got yourself killed?” Henry asked, having calmed down a little.

  Alhen scoffed, “Don’t worry, Father Vincent won’t let me die,” he said with absolute confidence.

  “Just because Father Vincent treats you differently, it does not mean you are special. How can you be so sure that he will not kill you himself?” Henry asked with a concerned expression.

  Alhen didn’t say a word for a few seconds.

  He kept walking, consumed in his mind, until he muttered, “I just know.”

  Henry didn’t press any further; he wasn’t clueless enough that he didn’t realize that his friend wanted to drop the topic, and they walked until reaching the destination.

  A worn-down, large wooden door stood in front of them.

  It looked like it was going to collapse any moment, just like many things in the church.

  Alhen and Henry exchanged mutual glances, looking at each other with certain unease.

  “Do you feel it too? I do not know why, but looking at this gives me a bad feeling,” Henry commented.

  “Yeah…” Alhen simply said as the door opened, revealing the contents on the other side.

  The darkness inside seemed to hide terrible monsters, being dark enough for them not to be able to see anything.

  Ceiling lights then illuminated the area, dissipating the darkness in a flash.

  There were multiple quadrilaterals made by white painted rectangles on the floor with dried blood inside of them to the left.

  To the right, numerous plain-looking doors hugged the wall.

  The priest guided them to the doors, ignoring the left side of the room completely before waiting for everyone to take in their surroundings.

  “Clap!” Father Vincent clapped once.

  The sound traveled and echoed in the room, commanding attention.

  “You will now receive your first baptism. Raise your hand if you want to go first,” he said.

  The kids looked at each other with uncertainty.

  Henry and Alhen had a bad feeling welling up in their chests.

  True to their assumptions, a kid raised his hand, and Father Vincent smiled lightly before opening the door and revealing what was on the other side.

  Multiple tools adorned a plain wooden table.

  A whip, a hammer, needles, tweezers, etc, coupled with an iron maiden in the back.

  The room was in a poor state, looking used and full of dried blood.

  Inside, a man stood behind the table; he was dressed in a white cloth stained with red marks.

  It hugged his body tightly, showing his defined muscles, and on his neck hung a necklace of an open eye.

  His face was bare, not hiding those eyes that resembled clouds.

  The man was blind, and he urged the kid to approach him with his hand extended towards him.

  A cruel smile adorned his lips, and the kid who offered to be the test subject paled in fear, blood draining from his face.

  The kids, who had their eyes wide open, watched as their partner entered the room with shaky steps and approached the man.

  The kid turned his head, fully showing the terror on his features.

  He took one last look outside before Father Vincent slowly closed the door from inside.

  “Bam!” The door closed with strength, startling them all.

  Alhen and Henry looked at each other with wide eyes, neither of them daring to utter a word.

  They didn’t know when it happened, but multiple men now stood behind them.

  They kept an eye on them in case they decided to try anything funny during Father Vincent’s absence.

  Henry shook, his body resembling a drill, and that’s when Alhen noticed his rapid heartbeat and the slight tremble in his fingers.

  “Alhen,” Henry looked at him, “Are we going to have to go through that?” he asked, clearly not comfortable with the idea.

  “I-I don’t know. This is the first time that this is happening,” Alhen responded with a stutter.

  “Aghh!” Screams filtered through the opening of the door into the outside.

  The kids' eyes widened before they started looking at each other.

  The wait was long, the screams didn’t stop for a while, and Alhen lost track of time.

  Whether it had been minutes or an hour, he didn’t know.

  Henry trembled the whole time, and he dreaded the time when his turn would arrive.

  The screaming stopped, and the door slowly creaked open.

  The first thing the horrified children saw was the multiple gashes across the boy’s body from all the whippings that he received.

  His bones showed underneath, his eyes bled, and all his fingernails and toenails were missing, making the areas bleed heavily.

  The blind man smiled as he gazed in the direction of the boy, licking the knife on his hand and waiting for the next kid in line.

  The nuns appeared seemingly out of nowhere and carried the tortured boy out of the room with calm steps.

  There was a heavy silence that followed.

  Father Vincent stepped out of the room and swept his gaze over the children.

  His gaze landed on a trembling child who looked utterly terrified.

  He continued to stare for a few seconds before redirecting his gaze to the boy beside him.

  It took everything in his will not to flinch or show any emotions.

  The father’s gaze had landed on him… Alhen.

  It was now his turn; he could feel it, and Henry looked at him with worry on the side.

  “Come here, Alhen,” Father Vincent said with a grin.

  Alhen swallowed hard, resisting the urge to throw up from the nerves, and walked forward, leaving behind his worried friend, who looked at him with horror.

  He entered the room alongside Father Vincent, who closed the door behind them.

  Just before he closed the door, however, Alhen smiled at Henry.

  It was a smile that he didn’t know where it came from, but that was all he could offer at that moment.

  He didn’t have time to look at Henry’s expression before the door closed, sealing his fate.

  Now being alone, the torturer pointed at the table, and Alhen hesitantly lay on it.

  Struggling now would be useless; he could only hope the pain wasn’t too great.

  The torturer’s hands glided over the table.

  He touched all of the equipment, getting a feel for it with an excited expression before picking up a hammer.

  Father Vincent, who had been watching silently from the side, approached Alhen.

  He lay on the table with closed eyes, trying to calm down his racing heart and distract himself from the situation.

  The father neared his lips to Alhen’s ears before whispering, “Whatever happens to you, and whatever you feel, remember that I love you… You are like my own son, my blood and flesh. This is necessary… necessary for you to become a great hunter.”