In a run-down wooden shack, an emaciated teenage boy lay upon a makeshift bed, trying to sleep. Despite the crude bed, he still shivered from the cold breeze that seeped through the gaps in the shack's decaying walls.

With each gust of wind, the boy shivered, curling into a fetal position, doing his best to conserve what little warmth he could.

"C-c-cold..."

The boy muttered to himself, silently praying that the wind would stop its relentless invasion of his small wooden shelter.

Unfortunately, the wind paid no heed to his silent plea, continuing to howl through the shack, intensifying with each passing moment, making him tremble even more. 

Alone, afraid, and shivering, the boy could do nothing as the cold wind mercilessly assaulted him.

The hours dragged on, with the boy left to endure the cruel cold until the first light of morning began to break through the horizon, banishing the cold winds.

As the sun's rays touched the land, the golden glow signaled to the residents of the land that a new day had begun. 

Many residents stirred from their sleep, stretching lazily with contented yawns, while others remained peacefully nestled under the warmth of the sun's rays.

The emaciated boy, who had spent the night in his run-down shack, was no exception. As the sun's rays finally reached his face, a soft hum of delight escaped him. Compared to the biting cold wind of the night, the sun's warmth felt like a gentle embrace, soothing him like a mother's touch.

Though he longed to stay in this peaceful warmth a little longer, the growl of his stomach reminded him that he needed food.

With a heavy sigh, he willed his frail body to rise.

Each slight movement he forced upon himself drained his energy, and soon his breathing became labored, his body overwhelmed with drowsiness and weakness. Yet, after what felt like an eternity, the boy finally managed to get to his feet.

When he stood, a faint smile tugged at his lips, a smile he didn't even realize was there. A strange warmth bubbled up inside him—a feeling he could not name but knew was a good one, far different from the ache of hunger or the cold he had endured.

And with shaky legs, the boy stepped out of the shack and into the sunlight, savoring the warmth that embraced him. Though he wished he could stay there longer, the need for food urged him onward.

Reluctantly, he began walking toward a small village nearby.

The village, known as Fox Village, was home to nearly a hundred people and had earned its name due to the abundance of foxes that roamed the area and surrounding forests. The village was small in terms of population, but its true value lay in the resources it offered, most notably, fox pelts that traveling merchants often purchased from local hunters at a premium, which would later be sold to distant buyers at inflated prices.

But the boy had no interest in the village's trade. His thoughts were consumed by the prospect of finding food.

His usual method of getting by was to scavenge for leftovers, but that could only happen once the village began to bustle. Since it was still early in the morning, there were few people around.

Instead, the boy had to rely on his backup plan—searching through garbage bins behind the closed food stalls.

With all the energy he could muster, the boy began sifting through the trash, praying to find something edible.

"!!!"

His eyes widened with excitement when he found something.

Renewed energy coursed through him, and with trembling hands, he pulled out what he had found—a chicken bone. There was barely any meat left on it, and the small remnants were overrun with maggots.

To others, it would have been a disgusting sight. But to the boy, it was a feast fit for a king.

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Without hesitation, he sank his teeth into the bone, chewing on the maggots, which burst in his mouth with a squirming crunch. The small bits of chicken still clinging to the bone added to the meager sustenance. To the boy, it was as though he were savoring a fine, medium-rare steak.

But the moment of indulgence was cut short by the sounds of rustling behind him.

He turned, and his heart sank.

Other kids—just as emaciated as he was—were digging through the garbage bins at the other food stalls, looking for scraps.

Competition...

Panic set in, and the boy quickly swallowed the last of his "feast," his mind focused on finding more food before the others.

He desperately searched through the trash once more, feeling a sense of anxiety.

This scavenging continued until the food stall owners returned, chasing away the emaciated children and teens who had been searching for scraps.

"Scam you idiots!" One of the food stall owner yelled, wielding a straw broom.

"Get out of here before I beat you!" Another food stall owner shouted, making a swinging motion with his fist.

A couple more food stall owners arrived, joining forces with the others to drive away the persistent "bugs."

As the owners banded together, the emaciated kids and teens quickly scattered, retreating to avoid the wrath of the food stall owners.

The sight of the "pests" running away only seemed to amuse the group of owners. They chuckled amongst themselves, their laughter ringing through the air.

"Another day, another pest driven away! Haha!" one of the food stall owners shouted, his laughter echoing as he looked on triumphantly.

"Always with these damn pest! We should just break their limbs and throw them into the wild!" Another one jokingly suggested.

While some of the food stall owners laughed triumphantly, others remained focused on chasing the "bugs," their eyes narrowed as they drove the emaciated kids and teens further away from the stalls.

The ones still pursuing the scavengers were relentless, shouting and waving their arms to make sure no one lingered too long in the area.

Their laughter mixed with harsh commands, creating a stark contrast between the amusement of those standing by and the anger of those still chasing the hungry children.

"Who's gonna get beat up today, huh!?" one of the food stall owners shouted, cackling as he did so.

"You little brats! Get back here!" another barked, his voice filled with fury.

The threatening shouts rang through the air, causing the "bugs"—the emaciated children and teens—to squeal in fear. Some screamed, scurrying away with whatever speed they could muster.

But of course, these "bugs" were nothing more than frail, starving kids and teens, far slower than the full-grown, healthy adults chasing them.

A few of the emaciated kids stumbled and fell, their bodies too weak from hunger and exhaustion. Others, in a desperate bid to escape, pushed or tripped their peers, sacrificing them to the wrath of the food stall owners.

The boy who had been living in the rundown shack was one of the few fortunate enough to have the strength to keep running. He managed to break free from the chaos, leaving behind the others who were caught and beaten mercilessly.

Big. Scary. Bad. Run.

These were the only thoughts that raced through the boy's mind as he fled. Driven by pure instinct, his body surged with adrenaline, and fear flooded through him, pushing his weak limbs to move faster despite their exhaustion.

As for where the boy was running to, he didn't know. All he knew was that he needed to escape.

But as he ran, his body began to betray him. Fatigue set in, and his legs grew heavier with each step. His lungs burned as though they were on fire, but he couldn't stop. He had to keep running.

The memory of past beatings resurfaced in his mind—those 'bad' feelings that paralyzed him. He could still recall the overwhelming sensation, the way his body would go limp and motionless, unable to do anything for what felt like an entire day. 

He had to survive by eating grass, insects, and even a strange looking plants. Afterward, his stomach would ache with that horrible 'bad' feeling, a twisted kind of agony that would leave him twitching on the ground, foam gathering at his lips, as his body fought the strange food he had consumed.

The memory of those unbearable times gave him a new burst of energy. He ran faster, desperate to escape the laughter and the screams behind him.

Once the sounds of the adults and the beaten children faded into the distance, the boy finally collapsed onto the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He stared up at the clear blue sky, watching the pearly white clouds drift lazily across the vast expanse. For a moment, he seemed to enter a trance, lost in the serenity of the sky above.

Minutes passed without him noticing. That was, until a sharp discomfort shot through his stomach. His hand instinctively moved to clutch it, and he turned over, groaning in pain.

It was the same 'bad' feeling he knew all too well, though it didn't seem as bad this time. His stomach churned and rumbled in protest, as if rebelling against the filthy things he had eaten. But the boy didn't understand why.

Stomach rumbling (SFX)

The pain intensified, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as the feeling took over.

After what seemed like an eternity of suffering, the boy finally managed to get up. He pulled down his pants, seeking relief from the torment in the only way his body knew.

Once he was done, he scanned his surroundings. He realized he was just outside the Fox Village. As he prepared to get up and return to the village, a strange sight caught his eye.

A light blue square panel appeared in the boy, hovering in the air. It flickered with an otherworldly glow, its edges sharp and defined. Inside, strange text appeared, like a digital message.

[Congratulations USER_1339, You have survived for 10 years! What a feat to achieve! You have earned the right to gain access to the functions 'Chat' and 'Status'.]

The panel hovered silently, waiting...