Chapter 2: Vow of Hunt
Blood painted the walls. A metallic stench filled the air. A young boy limped across the hallway.
He let out a ragged breath, followed by a loud thump. Tightly grabbing the bookshelf near him, the boy anxiously breathed — clinging to life.
Heavy books with yellow pages fell to the wooden floor, creating an unpleasant sound that may attract anything.
The hall was empty, a dim yellow light coming from symmetric windows. No Wraiths in sight.
Outside, gothic buildings created a rather unsettling aesthetic with their pointy black roofs and dark bricks.
Gritting his teeth, the boy let his thumb-less hand off the shelves and continued moving forward. He used his right hand to cover the wound on his belly.
But he could only make so much pressure with only an index and middle finger.
A pained moan escaped his lips. Wounds were all over him. Cuts, deep lacerations, bites…
He estimated to have less than five minutes left. Two before his body eventually collapsed.
But he had to grasp those doors. They were his only salvation. The nameless boy pushed forward.
Reaching the doors, the boy tripped and grabbed a handle with his left hand.
Getting up, he met his reflection.
Long black hair partly covered both brown eyes, and deep cuts on his cheek revealed the interior of his mouth. He was missing part of his bottom lip, and some teeth were cracked.
A human would have died by now. But he wasn't a normal one.
He wasn't on Earth anyway.
For the last two years of his miserable life, he had to survive inside the Wraith Realm with limited ways of defending himself.
But today, that was going to change. Today was the day he was going to be reborn.
The flame inside of him burned more intensely than ever. He just had to open the damned door.
*Clank!*
With a deep push, he rotated the handle and stumbled into the room. A new dim blue light engulfed him. The boy tried to get up, but he fell moments later.
He laid down motionlessly.
His energy had run out.
Silence engulfed the air.
A weak breathing remained.
…
Something moved. A sound creaked.
The nameless boy tried to lift his head but couldn't muster the strength. Processing his surroundings was already an extremely arduous task.
It was correct to say that his will to live was fading away. As a flame, running out of oxygen.
"Ahhh," someone exhaled. "Fresh blood. How long was it since I waited for this beautifully captivating crimson? Pure life arriving right at my doorstep."
An old voice chuckled. Its voice sounded broken. As if the elder hadn't talked in a long time.
Something appeared below him, and it began to lift him. He was raised half a meter before moving forward. Reaching the middle of the windowless room, the boy saw a figure remaining still at his right.
He weakly turned his head and stared at it.
A male was sitting in an old, rotten wheelchair. He wore a top hat — which barely hid his wrinkles and scars — and a formal black suit with an onyx tie.
His eyes were covered by a jade green bandage, which didn't fit the aesthetic of the building he was currently in.
Behind him, a blue lantern with a strange viscous liquid glowed.
The man leaned forward and slowly talked,
"Ah, you are the kid that lived inside the city. I rarely caught a glimpse of you. How courageous of you not to have moved away and unlucky to have fallen right into the devil's mouth."
Pushing the wheels, the elder opened a refined shelf and grabbed a small green rock from a jar.
For a blind man, he knew his surroundings scarily well.
As it made contact, the pebble emitted a faint glow before diminishing. Coming back, the elder said,
"But even luckier to have resided inside the outskirts of this doomed city and have found me. This Realm is not for weak souls."
Placing the green rock on top of the boy's chest, he said,
"Now, what is your name?"
Opening his mouth, the boy let out a weak whisper.
The man frowned slightly at his answer but ended up laughing at him.
Pushing the green rock into his body, sending both a sharp yet comfortable sting into his body, he said,
"Nameless. Ah… but that can not be right. Everything has a name, young boy. Even the unknown has a name. Something truly nameless means it does not exist. Yet here you are."
"Alive."
He placed his skeletal hand on the boy's chest and let it rest for some seconds.
The boy felt as if his wounds stopped hurting.
The bleeding stopped as well. He could breathe without any problems now. He could think without fearing that he may faint at any second.
Just… what had happened to him?
It happened so fast that he almost believed that he had never been wounded in the first place.
Whatever that rock was, it made wonders. But sadly, the wounds remained, and so did his fatigue.
Before he could talk, the elder said,
"Only an ignorant yet brave fool would dare to stay in this city, Orion."
What did he say? Orion?
What was that?
That name was not…
Unfamiliar.
No, it was far from it.
Orion's eyes widened. Memories invaded his mind that very instant. Memories of before the Wraith Realm, before he was sent to that hell.
Memories of Earth.
A kick. That's what Orion recalled. A powerful shove that sent him here.
Those bastards.
"Who are…?" Orion's wounded lips could only move so much.
The elder grinned for the first time, revealing yellow broken teeth. It was not a pleasant sight, to say the least. The man moved his wheelchair to yet another shelf while saying.
"I am an Essence Infuser. Do you know what is going to happen, fool?"
Orion shook his head as he mumbled,
"Yes… No- I don't…"
Opening the wooden shelf, the Infuser began to search for something inside transparent jars.
As he moved them around, he explained,
"Your body is in the optimal state to swear the first Vow of Hunt."
Another memory came into Orion's mind.
Today was his birthday. He turned eighteen. That was the reason why he had walked to this place. To start the Vow.
The elder grabbed a jar with a strange, vibrant blue liquid and slowly approached Orion.
The boy looked over the Infuser's shoulder and saw that most jars contained either red, green, pink, or yellow liquid. But that was the only blue one.
"What are you doing?"
In his wounded state, Orion's survival instinct began to activate.
Just as he tried to get up, he realized that his body was tightly restrained to the metallic bed.
He couldn't move any of his limbs.
"And as an Essence Infuser, I must help you swear the first Vow."
"I know that," Orion licked his lips and winced as he pushed his tongue into an open wound.
"But how?"
The man placed the jar beside Orion's eyes. The boy analyzed it for an instant before the Infuser took the blue liquid. Grabbing it with both hands, the Infuser let it rest on Orion's chest.
It was barely smaller than his torso.
Leaning back on his wheelchair, he spoke,
"This Essence has been reserved by the -"
A strange name came out of the elder's mouth, making Orion frown. It was as if static noise clouded his brain.
He was unable to understand those words. And shortly after, he had lost all memory of the last seconds.
Confused, he looked at the elder and then at his chest. He saw the blue liquid slipping through the wounds and into his body.
Orion stared back at the Infuser, who said,
"The Essence will become one with your body, mind, voice, and soul. Shortly, you will swear the first Vow of Hunt. Once you are inside, focus on your survival."
"Inside? Survival? Don't I need to swear it?"
The Essence Infuser stared at him and chuckled. The chuckling then turned into occasional laughter. Which finally became an insane laugh that echoed across the room.
Orion subconsciously shivered.
The Infuser's laughter died off, and grinned,
"You are going to swear the Vow of Hunt, but not with your words."
He leaned forward and stared right into Orion's eyes.
"You are going to swear it with your body."
"Swear it with your mind and voice."
"With your soul."
"You are going to swear it with your blood, sweat, and tears."
Orion took deep breaths as the Infuser leaned closer to his face and slowly whispered,
"You fool."
Gulping, Orion said,
"You are not a mere Infuser, are you?"
The Essence Infuser laughed,
"My purpose is to diligently serve one person only. And that is an oath I shall not break as long as I remain alive."
Orion's eyes widened as he pulled from the belts. Noticing this, the elder man grinned and said,
"We will meet again, fool."
Orion pulled from the belts as hard as he could, subconsciously looking at it. It took some tries, but eventually, he got one hand out.
"Wait!"
He reached where the Infuser was. But there was no one.
Orion blinked.
He stared at his surroundings. The same shelves were there, but the environment changed. The wood was rotten. There were no jars inside. Some shelves were even missing the doors.
Everything was empty. The light disappeared. A dim light yellow light remained coming from the entrance doors.
Orion widened his eyes.
"This feeling…"
Looking at his hand, he noticed his missing four fingers had suddenly healed. He moved them and confirmed he wasn't dreaming.
He then looked at his body.
All of the wounds were gone. Chunks of flesh suddenly appeared, and Orion was good as knew. His teeth were healed, as well as his lips.
It was as if he had never been attacked at all.
"What the hell is happening- WOAH!"
In the blink of an eye, the entire world changed to a dark void. The bed disappeared, and Orion started to fall down.
And down.
He hyperventilated as he looked everywhere around him. But there was nothing.
Only a starless infinite void awaited him. A chilling cold of nothing embraced his body. And it remained that way.
Out of nowhere, a deep voice spoke into his ears,
"Welcome, Orion, to the first Vow of Hunt."
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