Days, seasons and years passed…Not a single mortal spared him a glance.
It looked truly hopeless for the boy, and because of exposure to the harsh elements, his body decomposed gradually.
Yet it was like the boy, despite being alive; he didn't seem conscious of his own situation nor his surroundings. Then there was his breathing, which was so subtle you couldn't tell he was.
His blank eyes didn't move or shift an inch.
Mages would come to the junkyard every few years to inspect it and trim it down from overgrowing.
But the mages who walked by him with their deep inspection didn't even seem to realise his presence there at all.
He was truly nothing.
Until one day…
The sun beamed, scorching the land.
A proud, overweight man stood with an air of nobility about him.
"Poor boy."
He adjusted his gold monocle on the body; its figure covered as it was slowly being crushed beneath a pile of junk and scrap.
He pondered inspecting the body, shifting and moving its joints loose, while keeping its fragile state in mind.
At first glance, one might assume the man was of noble birth or held some high status.
His fine brown suit was smooth and well-fitted; his demeanour composed, almost indifferent to the scene before him.
With a measured voice, he spoke. "You will be useful."
He tugged at the body with surprising gentleness.
Once it was out from inside his jacket, he retrieved a small leather satchel.
As he unfastened it slightly, a white, mystifying glow seeped out.
Clink.
He snapped it shut immediately, standing still as an eerie silence filled the air.
A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as his eyes glided across the yard.
He then muttered, "Merely scrap," grabbing a handkerchief from his suit pocket and dabbing his forehead with it.
He exhaled slowly, slipping his handkerchief into his pocket and re-opening the satchel
This time, he allowed the white light to fully emerge.
He bent and gently took the brittle hand of the body and guided it inside.
The light rapidly enveloped the entire corpse.
Zip.
The corpse vanished in an instant into the satchel.
A satisfied grin crept onto the man's face as he readjusted his monocle.
He straightened, dusting himself off a bit while letting out a contented hum before whistling a cheerful tune, his chest puffed out as he strode toward the junkyard's entrance.
The sky was very gloomy at this time, which was an odd contrast to the barren ground around the junkyard landscape, which stretched from it all the way until it reached a vivid green field of grass.
The man closed his eyes and spoke in a monotone voice. "Arcaeus."
For a moment, nothing.
No life, no songs of the forest, only silence and the stillness within the air.
Until the clopping of hooves against the earth echoed through the atmosphere.
A distant, small black shadow appeared, dust kicking up behind it. As the sound grew louder, so did the cloud of dust and rocks following it.
Within moments, it arrived, halting just before the man.
"Arcaeus, how was your run?" he asked casually.
The massive horse grunted, steam snorting from its nostrils.
"Next time, hopefully, you get to go even longer, aye?"
He chuckled, patting the beast's thick neck. Arcaeus stood at an imposing 219.7 cm, its bulky frame adorned with a mane of light grey and gold, contrasting against its deep ash-coloured coat.
Struggling at first because of his round belly, the man eventually hoisted himself onto Arcaeus' back. "Giddy up!" he commanded, digging his heels in. "Full speed, Arcaeus! We must return at once."
The steed took off like a bolt of lightning, kicking up dirt and rock; the sheer force denting the ground beneath its hooves.
Time passed, and evening fell. The sky swelled with dark, thick, and churning clouds.
"Looks like rain again... it's been falling so frequently lately." The man sighed.
Arcaeus neighed, signaling their approach.
"Ah... almost there, I see."
As they arrived, the first raindrops fell. The mansion before them was grand.
The door alone towered over the man.
He lived in solitude, surrounded by wealth, with only his horse as a companion.
The man dismounted and pointed over to the large stable.
"Arcaeus, head to the stables and stay inside. A thunderstorm might start."
As Arcaeus turned to go, the man entered his home.
Immediately shutting the door behind him.
"Home at last..."
What lay before him was a vast, dimly lit living room, with an elongated dining table seated sideways in the centre.
To the left, a cobblestone fireplace stood, piles of firewood stacked beside it. Above it, a grand mirror with a gold frame was mounted high along it.
Seeing the dying embers, he hung up his hat and suit jacket.
Threw in some firewood.
The flames roared to life, illuminating the entire room in a warm light.
Turning around, he tossed his monocle onto the table, revealing weary eyes yet a joyous grin.
"i must get work now!" he declared, excitement brimming in his voice.
He grabbed a golden candleholder in one hand and held his leather satchel in the other.
He strode toward the spiral staircase.
Taking the path downward, he descended into darkness. The deeper he went, the colder it became until pitch-black engulfed him.
Snap.
A flick of his fingers conjured a tiny burst of fire, which he used to light the candle.
The dim glow revealed the stone walls around him. He turned, back facing and reciting in a low voice,
"Abyssal door, I call on thee... open for me."
A magic circle glowed ominously in a deep purple beneath his feet, and within moments, he vanished.
He reappeared in a narrow cobblestone corridor.
Walking forward, he soon reached a sharp turn, entering a wide chamber. To his right sat a stone desk cluttered with sacrificial tools, among them a gold-hilted dagger and a large velvet book embedded with a glowing purple sapphire. To his left, a solid stone wall.....
Straight ahead, a small staircase led up to a grand sacrificial altar.
The entire room pulsed with an eerie, luminous glow, a deep purple hue casting long shadows. The air was heavy, almost suffocating.
But to him, this was home.
"Tonight may be the night I finally see you, Mistress."
Approaching the desk, he placed the candle down and turned toward the altar.
"Magic bag, bring me my dead body."
Silence. Nothing happened.
Puzzled, he muttered, "Huh...? I thought-"
His breath hitched.
"Is it not dead?!"
Eyes widening, he barked, "Magic bag, take my most recent item!"
Zip.
The boy appeared atop the altar. The man rushed forward, pressing two fingers to the child's throat.
A pulse.
"Breathing... but barely."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "That doesn't explain why I couldn't sense his mana earlier."
His expression darkened. "No matter, it changes nothing." He then lifted a bowl of blood from the desk, muttering, "The last sacrifice should suffice."
He ran his fingers along the Abyssal Book, whispering, "Abyssal book of the Deluxe, heed my plea and open."
The book groaned, its pages parting begrudgingly, as if annoyed.
Flipping through, he found the diagram he sought and carefully replicated the intricate magic circle around the boy using blood upon the altar.
Once done, he grinned, his face and hands smeared red.
"Finally."
Grasping the dagger, he ascended the stairs, looming over the boy.
Cold eyes met blank ones.
The flickering candlelight danced across the blade.
Tension thickened.
"Sorry you had to experience this... but you're not the first. And you won't be the last."
His face twisted with fervour. Muscles tensed, he raised the dagger high.
"For Mistress Alana!"
The blade plunged deep into the boy's chest. Blood pooled around the boy.
The man knelt, chanting from the book.
"Oh, great Chaos of the Abyss, I bring a vessel for the Dark Saint Alana Renfield, so she may use it as she pleases!"
The altar pulsed violently. The magic circle crackled with mana.
Then
A sudden, overpowering gust surged through the chamber, rattling the walls.
The boy's body lifted, light bursting from his form.
His eyes snapped open. Violet energy spilled from within.
The man's heart pounded under the pressure.
"A-A-A—" The boy's voice trembled.
Then, he grinned.
"I CAN FEEL."
"I CAN TOUCH."
"I CAN SEE."
And the room trembled beneath him.