The Accursed Child

There are two kinds of Omens: The good ones, and the bad ones. But nobody has ever gotten a good first omen.

It was understandable, since going on a vacation did not seem like a test at all. Moreover, the first tests were very important to the Prophets, as they would not only get their first and signature Totem in them, but would also be granted Story-memories that would undoubtedly initiate them into the Realm Of Augury. The Story memory of a good omen might not contain much knowledge of surviving in the weird world.

Story memories were actual memories from already living creatures in the Realm Of Augury. Put simply, getting them was like transmigrating into an already living being. But unlike transmigration, the real owner of the body, and the Prophet who's mind is transported into them occupy the same state as one being.

This already existing body or Sin, determines what Virtue the Prophet would get when their own body fully merges with that Sin.

"Dragon!"

A certain white haired man hoped. Who wouldn't want to merge with the bodies of such majestic creatures? Dragons had invulnerable scales, immense physical prowess, could fly, control life energy/ spirit essence better to use magic, and they could breath fire!

They were practically the epitome of all living creatures... Well, the mortal ones.

Shooting into a vast abyss, this man grabbed his head, fearing it would burst. And from the chilling void curling tightly around his being, countless stars began to light up the dark, each a manifestation of memories that he was unfamiliar with.

Those memories were what seemed to be hurting his brain, stabbing violently into his head, and forcing him to know, to remember!

And after a quarter of a life time, the harsh sensation lessened. The merging was complete.

With a groggy flicker, his eyelids slowly opened. But he had not fully come to, so even though his eyes were open, he could not see yet.

"You..."

"... Rat!

As his head spun back awake, the amber eyed man started hearing voices with words he couldn't discern. But those voices soon faded, drowned within the morbid sounds of cracking bones and terrified screams. While struggling with his eyesight, colourful patches of the world around him began to bleach out his dark view, showing slowly what was ahead of him.

A woman... spider?... was walking towards him.

Carrying his head down from the approaching figure, he stared at his own body.

His skin was even paler than he remembered, with bruises all over his outstretched hands. His clothes were tattered and dirty, and his unkempt white hair was trying to get into his mouth... that was familiar.

'I look like I was just dragged out of a gutter.'

Loosening the grip around the hilt of the heavy sword in his hands, he soon also remembers who the approaching figure is.

'Cr*p. Am I going...'

It's radiant scythe was stabbing into the side of his ribs as it's blank black eyes stared piercingly into the boy's very soul.

Although he had had a few violent brushes here and there, he had never experienced this feeling before: The crazy rush of chemicals flowing throughout his body, trying to give him one more attempt to preserve himself... To live!

'... to die?'

The scythe pushed.

***

He was a child once. But because of his cat-like eyes ghostly pale hair and sickly skin, he'd been ostracized and fabled to be an acursed child. One who embodies plagues and would cause catastrophies. But even all those fears looked like interesting perspectives compared to what he actually grew up to be. He was nothing more than a boring, disappointment really.

Where was the terror, the plague, the war, the tragedy they were promised? He wasn't even troubling, not angry nor murderous, he was just there. An heir of the royal family, scrambling through piles of trash to live.

Years later,

Rumours spread that a monster had been found in the nearby mountains; the talks blazing all the way from the castle to the houses in the capital, and then to the slums.

The knights had gone to hunt the fiend time and time again, but only the leader of those parties ever came back; and that, with even the life of somebody as powerful as he was, hanging onto a taut thread.

Months later, and the rumours had once again set the town on fire. The monster was kidnapping people from their homes.

Not many people noticed when the residents of the slum started going missing, but then the problem moved up to the towns. The royal family quickly became restless, not for concern of their townsfolk, but because they were the next in line.

Huzzah!

The leader of the knights had found out a way to conquer this embodiment of evil. He claimed he had, after his previous experiences with the beast. What's more, the solution would barely cost the country: they just needed to sacrifice the slaves, paupers and beggars, no one else had to know. Those deadbeats were getting a chance to be useful even; they should be happy.

"Your majesty, what about your son? For he also lives in the—"

"All of my sons and daughters have been accounted for, Captain of the knights. You may take whomever you please. And... you'd do well to never speak about that filth again."

The Captain could only bow and scorn internally. 'Foolish king. Family is everything.'

The time had come to gather the stains of the town. He was unwilling at first, but the Captain eventually chose to add the accursed son of the king. At least now, he would be freed from the harshness of this world.

And since the cursed son himself could not resist nor refuse, all he could do was get dragged away, with the faint words of his late mother echoing in his head...

'You must not die by their hands! Live on your own terms till the day you get to watch them... to watch their corpses from above as their graves are filled with dirt!'

He had sworn to not die before they had.

***

Deep within an unlit cave, the accursed prince stared at the spirit towering above him, with a sword in his hands.

The Blade had been given to him, not to increase his chances of winning, but to weigh him down so he would become an easier prey.

The rest had believed that they were at least shown mercy by being given the weapons of the fallen knights. And that foolishness, or rather trust in the real evil was the reason they were all lying dead on the floor.

'Yes! Their gullibility had led them to their graves... Not me... I just... I just want to live.' He kept repeating those words as he submitted more victims to the evil spirit.

Each time he heard their cries, he would falter, only to do it again when another person wanted to throw him at the monster instead. He was scrawny and slippery.

The accursed child had completely merged with his other self from outside the Realm Of Augury, making their memories and experiences one. He could not even curse his luck for being reborn inside this weak body and not the dragon he wanted.

His real self was a mess, what right did he have to wish for more?

The evil creature's scythe swung from the side, to the ribs of the accursed son. The boy knew he could not evade it, which was why he focused on just keeping himself alive. That was what he'd been doing since a young age, so his rationality in that aspect was unusually firm, cold and unfaltering... unless it had to do with killing other people in cold blood.

He quickly let go of the sword in his hand and moved his arm to his side.

When the scythe reached him, it pierced right through the flesh and bone of his scrawny arm. The scythe's power was still so powerful, that it would have cut him into two.

But with the tiny bit of control he now had over the weapon from it being in his arm, and the lack of maneuver the creature's scythe would have after throwing an attack of that momentum; he shifted his arms just a bit forward and moved his body back.

The bloody black scythe had now cut right through half of his arm, leaving a long gash over his chest as it slashed just the surface of it.

At least he was still alive. But that narrow escape of his was just from the reckless stab of a powerful spirit; it could just do it again.

This spirit that was about to kill the dried pale man looked like a real woman, but with eight long metallic black legs spiking out of her back, and scythe heads as the tips of those scary appendages.

The main body of the monster had white skin that glowed eerily in the dark. Its hair was also long and dropping to the sides of its small face.

She would have looked cool even with the long scythes she was walking with. But that would have been if her eyes weren't black hollows of terror and her abyss-like mouth wasn't curved into a wide sadistic smile.

She stood with her black scythes piercing into the ground to carry herself up, and then started looking around the cave.

Vainly covering his torn bleeding arm with the palm of his other hand, the accursed child shifted his body back a little, scratching his body on the floor.

And in the blink of an eye, the deadly monster had already skittered over to him, looking down on his sweaty bloodied body.

The spirit slowly bent down to his face, breathing a choky air of evil right into his nose.

#Am... meat... dead?# Words struggled to escape out of the spider spirit's mouth.

Hearing it, the amber-eyed man's eyes widened with disbelief, with his face twisting in fear.

Did the spirit just talk, or was it speech imitation? Still, both possibilities were bad, very much so.

'You have to be kidding me! First omens aren't supposed to have these.'

That was what Equinox had heard, but the spirit was right there, raising its bloody scythe in the air again.