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The Fourth Number

In a world where humans are kept in captivity for unknown reasons, we follow the story of 004, a golden-eyed boy who has just awoken in this bizarre place. Tormented by a strange voice in his head and an unrelenting desire for answers, 004 searches for any information he can find about his captors and their plans for him. As he delves deeper into the twisted secrets of his captors, 004 discovers that he is not alone in this strange, cold world. He encounters a mysterious girl with black hair and unremarkable eyes who claims to have no memory of her past. Together, they navigate the treacherous landscape of their captivity and try to piece together the truth about their captors and their own existence.

Edictus · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
20 Chs

Backgrounds

Millfield Village, Ashfordshire, England, 1786.

An old man sat outside his wooden cottage, the sun shining overhead his little village. The wind blew softly, his low coughs barely audible. He had lived in this village for over eighty years, and he had seen it change and grow in ways he could never have imagined. But he still had nightmares of the day those strange creatures stormed his tiny countryside village. They were called varenthains, apparently.

He had seen them when he was a boy, just like the young girl who had approached him. The girl stared at him for a while, her thin arms swaying lightly by her sides.

"My brother always says you are insane." The girl suddenly said, her little brown eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Cheeky little brat." The old man sighed, turning his face to the side.

"Those fools. They don't know anything." The old man grunted then turned towards the girl, his weathered eyes shining.

"I'm telling you all! They're coming for us!" The man shouted suddenly, his wooden chair creaking loudly.

The girl jumped at the sudden noise, her eyes wide. She had never seen the old man so agitated before.

"Who is coming for us, sir?" She asked, her tiny voice barely above a whisper.

The old man took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "They are creatures of darkness, child. They have been hunting us for centuries."

"The varenthains. They hold immense power and arcane magic, magic beyond the silly tricks these fools do."

"They are vile creatures," he continued, his voice low and gravelly. "Beings that defy the natural order of the world."

The girl looked at him, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What do they look like?" she asked.

The old man looked at her, his gaze distant as he remembered the glowing eyes and the strange powers of those creatures. He remembered the screams of his mother and the red eyes that haunted his dreams. He remembered the hand that tore through his mother's chest, and the hollow look in his father's eyes.

He also remembered that strange man that came to take him away from the wreckage of his home, dressed in a dark overcoat with a blindfold over his eyes.

"They look just like me and you, and they are beautiful beyond words. But don't let that fool you, they are beasts, creatures beyond your understanding," He stared at the ground, wincing at what was seemingly a memory.

"Beasts?" The little girl exclaimed, her eyes widening as her hand gripped the dirty helm of her gown.

"Beasts, I tell you! Heartless, despicable beyond words," He muttered, before he continued in a strange tone.

"The green-eyed ones are very hard to kill," he continued.

"Their healing is so fast that they can heal from almost any wound. The blue-eyed ones are bizarre, as they seem to not have a specific pattern to their abilities, but they always heed to the voices of the red-eyed and golden-eyed varenthains."

"And the red-eyed ones…are horrors. Abominations. Their power, in itself, is destruction. They destroy everything they see with red light." The old man shifted in his seat, the chair creaking loudly.

"The gold-eyed are considered royalty, as they hold immense power. But their main power does not lie in their strength, it lies in their pride."

The girl listened intently, her eyes fixed on the old man's wrinkly face. The old man continued, his fist gripping his chair tightly.

"They can compel anyone to do anything, to even kill your own blood with your own hands." The old man grimaced, visions of battles past flying across his mind.

"I fear them the most. As long as they believe they are strong, then it remains that way."

Distant voices echoed lightly in the village, sounds of laughter low and faint.

"They are dangerous," he said grimly. "And they are getting stronger, those abominations don't rest."

"They destroy villages and kill everyone in them, feeding their hounds with the lives of thousands," The old man paused and turned to look at the girl, who was staring at him, her eyes wide.

"I dedicated my life to finding them, studying their habits and tracking them all over England."

The old man grimaced, remembering his younger days. "They move fast. Very fast. It is so bizarre."

The old man leaned forward, his eyes full of madness, "Listen child. I don't have much time left. We are the only ones who know the truth. Leave this village, go to the cities. Go to London! Find my brothers! Tell them the last man sent you!"

The man reached into his ragged shirt, before cutting a necklace from his neck with his hands and placing it on the hand of the girl, his wrinkly hands shaking as he placed it in her hand.

The necklace was a dull silver, reminiscent of the hue on a worn out penny. It had unclear words etched on its face, and a circle with strange symbols at the edges.

She stared at the necklace, unable to look at it for long. She looked back at the old man, her hand gripping the necklace tightly.

"Keep this. This will protect you." The old man smiled at the girl, his eyes twinkling with what seemed like sadness.

"Zarina! Where are you?!" A middle aged woman shuffled along the quiet streets, her brown sandals covered with mud. Her brown hair was loosely shoved into her scarf, her face dirty and filled with worry.

Her eyes landed on the young girl that was in front of the old man, her face lighting up as she ran towards her and scooped her up in her arms.

"Zarina, there you are! I've been looking all over for you!" She hugged her daughter, the old man staring at them blankly.

The woman turned to look at the old man, her face red from relief and anger.

"Keep your delusions to yourself, you senile old man. And don't you ever talk to my daughter again." She spat, before she turned around with Zarina in tow.

"They need to know the truth, We need to tell everyone the truth!" The old man harrumphed, his spit showering the dirt and cobblestone.

"I'm done listening to your screams! I just want to live a good life with my family!" The woman snapped back, her eyes widening from anger.

"They aren't coming here, why don't you live the rest of your sad life without fear?" The woman spat, then continued walking away, the surroundings suddenly quiet.

The old man ignored her and grinned at the girl who was still looking at him, his strangely white and pristine teeth showing.