Rising of the Running God

The Dried Scar

Death.

That was perhaps the only thing in the world that remains and will remain completely unexplainable.

After all, there was nothing after it, only a void.

How would one explain what it feels? How would one tell anyone?

A survivor might have words for it, but that is not death, only 'dying'.

Was it cold? Extremely so.

Was it hot? Extremely so.

Exhausting, energizing— all the feelings, everything, at once. But at the same time, there was nothing.

No matter how many books one reads, no matter how many words one knows,

The feeling of death will forever remain without description.

Death, however, did have a sound.

A wail— almost an incessant whisper that traveled through the air like a turbulent whistle.

"..."

"..."

No. Perhaps that sound was not one of death, but resurrection.

A sound that was followed by silence as the eyes of one that was once dead opened. Eyes that see nothing but a blur; almost as if smoke was blanketing everything within its view.

Silhouettes, recognizable, but bare discernable. From afar there were mountains, or perhaps not.

Even consciousness was a blur to the boy right now. The only thing he could really do was turn his eyes elsewhere— down.

To see his legs, not there. Or perhaps they were? He could feel a breeze moving past them; cold, extremely so.

At the same time, however, it felt as if it was burning— being scorched by a sun not even there.

It was… weird.

Vayne had always imagined what it would feel like to run. Was this it?

And as soon as that thought entered his fuddled mind, the breeze that wafted and filled his ears was replaced by the whisper of a thud.

And then, once again…

…his consciousness fades away.

***

"Ho!"

"Ah! My hand moved on its own! I wasn't touching your smooth face!"

Vayne suddenly found himself waking up from his own gasp. Definitely, however, his body jolted and became fully awake as he heard a high-pitched scream piercing his ears.

But before he could even look at the person who screamed right beside his ear—

"Kh!"

He felt a very tight pain enveloping his legs. He was used to his legs aching, but never like this. It was almost as if the weight of mountains was crushing them down.

The only thing he could really do was clasp them over the rough blanket covering him. But then, almost instantly, the pain just… went away.

"..." Vayne could just hear his breaths, as well as his throbbing heart that almost sounded like the gallop of a horse.

"Are… are you okay!? Wait, of course you're not okay. Have… have some water! Mama! The smooth-skinned boy is awake! Mama!"

"..."

Confused, bewildered, puzzled, perplexed, stupefied— those were the only words that could explain what Vayne was feeling right now.

He looked at the clay mug that was now in his hand, before finally looking around the room he was currently in.

The walls, they seemed to be the same material as the cup he was holding— just… where is he?

The last thing he remembers was… feeling all sorts of different emotions.

Happiness, disappointment, acceptance… betrayal.

Vale, his own brother, stabbed him. He should have been dead, but now that he was looking at his bare chest… only a small scar remained— a scar that will forever be a reminder of his brother's betrayal.

"…Scar?" Vayne blinked a couple of times, before touching the scar with his free hand. The scar was already completely dried, was he tended by a healer?

Did… the people of the person that was just with him right now heal him?

"..." So, he even failed to die— Vayne could really only force a chuckle at the thought. It would seem it was his destiny to be a failure no matter what.

He was killed by his own brother, and he didn't even know the reason why.

"..."

"..."

"...No."

A series of drums once again crawled through Vayne's entire body. His heart, suddenly throbbing wildly as the memories of the last words he heard from his brother started to echo through his clouded mind.

Vayne… wasn't born a cripple.

Vanessa, Valerion's first wife, twisted his leg when he was just born.

He hasn't even met her even once, so Vayne did not really have any impression of her. But to think she would be so vile that she would hurt a newborn baby— disfiguring him for all eternity.

…And for what?

For his son the be the sole heir to the grand Valentine name?

Ludicrous insanity. Just what sort of illegal drugs was she taking to even think of doing something like that?

"..." Vayne started to grit his teeth; his hand that was holding the mug started to tremble as he felt a burning rage slowly spreading inside him.

Did Vanessa think that just because Valerion held the title of the Prince of Explorers… that he was actually royalty?

Did she think there was some sort of competition there? Did she think that Vayne was going to claim Valerion's treasures when they get older?

And what if he was? What if Vayne was to take half of his treasures?

Her son would still have the other half— the other half that would be enough to feed an entire city for a century.

Greed. She crippled a defenseless baby for money?

"...Absurd," a word escaped his lips as the trembling of his had became… faster, insanely so to the point that the water inside almost seemed as if it was boiling.

"..." Vale, that brat… he killed his own brother for that kind of woman?

Vayne endured an entire life of solitude; an entire life of enduring the hurtful whispers echoing throughout the entire manor…

…he endured the look on his mother's face as she forced herself to pretend to love him.

He endured all of that… because of the greed of a miserable woman?

Never once, never once did Vayne want to hurt anyone. But it was almost as if there was a voice inside him, screaming. Telling him to mutilate and break Vanessa's leg and let her—

And before Vayne could finish the malicious thoughts that were building in his mind, he finally noticed his trembling hand— no — now that he was seeing it, he has another word for it;

"The cup… is vibrating?" Vayne's eyes started to squint. But as soon as he tried to lift the cup—

"Kh!"

The cup exploded, shattering into pieces and causing the water to splash everywhere.

"Are you okay!?"

Vayne then quickly looked towards the unfamiliar voice that approached the room, only to see… a woman.

He could really only stare at her face, however, as it was the first time he was seeing someone like her.

Her skin from the jaw down to the neck… was covered in silver scales. Some parts of her forehead as well were adorned by them.

"You… are a Reptil?"

"...What?" The woman, who was about to approach Vayne with open palms suddenly halted her steps; her eyebrows, slowly starting to furrow,

"What if I am?" She then said; the warmth that her voice previously contained, no more.

"Oh, you have to forgive me," Vayne's eyes widened, "I… meant no disrespect. I do not talk to other people too much and it is the first time I am seeing someone of your kind."

"..." The woman could really only look at her daughter, who was standing beside her just as confused.

"It is true what the books say— your scales are as beautiful as the rays of the moon," Vayne, however, didn't seem to notice their confusion, "It failed to mention, however, that everything else is too."

"…He talks funny," the woman's daughter whispered loudly.

As for the mother, she just stared at Vayne for a few seconds, before letting out a long and deep sigh and shaking her head,

"You poor thing," she said, "You probably injured your head."

The woman then approached the bed, picking up the broken shards of the mug.

"This… is hot?" The woman's voice once again became cold as her head very slowly turned towards her daughter, "You…

…you gave the patient hot water!?"

"W… what!? No!"

"Go to your room, right now!" The woman said as she waved her hand, "We will talk about this later!"

"But… But I didn't—"

"Now!"

The little girl could really only cry and run away as her mother's voice pierced her ears. And as soon as she was gone, the woman's loud sighs once again echoed throughout the small room.

"I am really sorry," she breathed out, "That girl's just… a headache sometimes."

"It… it's quite alright, madam," Vayne chuckled somewhat awkwardly as he looked at the woman's eyes, which seemed to be sometimes glowing.

"...I'm no madam," the woman scoffed as she continued to clean the shards from the bed.

"Then does my savior have a name? I have yet to thank you for healing the wound on my chest," Vayne said as he touched the large scar now adorning him, "You must be quite a high-ranking mage to heal something like this… could you perhaps be a Saint?"

"Wound? Saint?" The woman walked away as she threw the shards over the opened window near Vayne's bed, "The guards found you lying unconscious just outside the walls, they just brought you here. And the name's Sheera, I run this clinic."

"...What? Surely you jest, madam."

"Sheera— And no, not at all. Brought you here 2 days ago covered in dried blood and dirt, but no wounds or anything of the like," Sheera scoffed and shook her head.

"I'm sorry… but may I ask where 'here' is?" Vayne said as he took in a small gulp.

"...Fergo? Is your memory a little fuzzy or something? Do you even remember your name?" Sheera then quickly made her way to the bed as she touched Vayne's face; looking at him directly in his bright, green, and completely confused eyes.

"...Fergo Village?" Vayne repeated Sheera's word, "You mean… one of the walled villages inside the Dark Continent?"

"Well, yes. Last I checked, we're still here and the fences are standing strong. Are you feeling alright? Does it hurt anywhere?"

"I'm… not inside the walls of the Safe Lands?" Vayne could not help but take in a deep breath.

"No. I told you, we're in Fergo. Should you be inside the Wall?"

"...Yes?"

"Then you're a long way from where you should be, child," Sheera said as she finally stopped checking Vayne's eyes,

"The Wall is at least a thousand kilometers down south."

"...What?"