Chapter Two

Life was easy as a child.

Go to school, come back, and do some easy homework, it's the human interaction that was hard.

Especially interacting with kids.

The first time I was introverted, which later developed into being a quiet person that didn't really like interactions.

Now, it only got worse. I refused to interact with my classmates, not really caring about their opinions, ignored the adults who wanted me to play with the other kids, and at one point they called my parents.

They snitched on me.

But all of that had an unexpected side effect, concerning, but useful.

I saw one of the creatures form on the ground and latch on to the teacher as soon as it was created.

It didn't phase up from the floor, that would mean it came from the floor below, but it just formed a newly created... thing. As soon as the formation of complete and it latched onto the teacher, his irritation grew, indicated by the rant he went on about how kids needed social interaction if they wanted to grow up to be functioning members of society.

I felt the urge to just flip the man off at the time, but he provided valuable information. The creatures were tied to humans, or at least their motions on some level. As of now, the trigger seems to be anger, it could be momentary or gradual, but the findings were fruitful in providing me with ways to branch out in my theories.

If we were talking about emotions, what about excitement? Greed? Despair? Fear?

I'd hate to go to a cemetery.

The point is, I was lucky. So far, I came across the weak ones and eliminated them, but I didn't want to see what could cause stronger ones to appear.

So far, the only trigger to creating these things I knew was anger, but what if fear was also a trigger?

Humans had a lot to fear, we just disregarded them, unconsciously putting them at the back of our minds until they were forgotten, but the fact was that the fear was still there, waiting to rear its ugly head in the most inconvenient of times.

"Kaito?"

I looked up from the notebook I was writing my findings in, naturally, in my original language, to look at my mother as she walked out of the kitchen with an apron and her black hair tied back into a ponytail.

"The food is ready."

I stood up, closed the notebook, and dropped it on the desk.

This was fine, I could take care of anything that came my way, and I didn't need to fuss over the things that might happen, we were happy, so it was unlikely that one of the creatures would appear out of nowhere in the house.

-Unknown POV-

I clutched the last thing I could remember from my parents in my hand. I could feel the blood that trickled down my palm as the item dug into my palm.

If looks could kill, the stones that I was looking at would combust spontaneously.

Two stones, two names, two parents, two deaths.

This world was much crueler than the last one, they didn't have to die, they didn't have to go on the task, the threat level was unknown, they were just average, content to live a life of mediocrity, to have a stable life to raise their child.

The higher-ups dictated everything, if they deemed something not worth their attention, they would just send anyone to take care of it, damn the consequences.

I gritted my teeth at the reminder. Those old fools, how many lives did they take, much like his parents? How many had they damned to this fate? Throwing around lives like they did not matter.

They would die. I would make sure of it. And it wouldn't be pretty, either. Their deaths will be slow and painful, drawn out for my amusement and satisfaction.

They took what was mine, and they wouldn't do it again.

"I'm sorry, Kurogawa."

I glanced up to my side, staring blankly at the man who knew them, knew who killed them, and probably worked under them, too. But he was not at fault.

His name was Masamichi Yaga, a teacher in the same school my parents graduated from, probably their upperclassman or even a classmate.

I didn't respond, just looked back at the graves. The energy inside me flared as I tried to make the flow consistent, just like I was taught.

The "era" of "Clans" was numbered, I didn't care what it took, how much time it took. I finally got my second chance at life, only for it to be ruined because someone, somewhere, did not care about the people who worked under them.

I needed to be stronger, I needed to be better, and I needed allies, and thankfully, I knew where to find them.