JULY 22nd, 2014.
Rattle.
Rattle.
The sound of metallic chains clinking together fills a completely pitch-black room containing no windows or visible doors. The room itself is small but extends upward, as an unconscious young man dangles from the ceiling. His sweat drips onto the floor, creating a sense of passing time.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
Heavy chains and shackles bind his entire body as if he was captured by a mechanical spider, suspended in a man-made web. Three sets of them around each arm, four around each leg, and one large shackle around his neck. His wrist and ankle shackles are attached, with the former restricted behind his back. All of these restraints connect to different points at the sides of the walls, stabilizing him.
Sweat continues to drip down the young man’s hair, as his head is hung, slightly passing above the collar shackle. As those droplets hit the ground, he slowly opens his eyes.
Rattle.
Rattle.
He struggles instinctively at first but quickly realizes that any escape attempts are clearly futile.
Where… am I? Liam? Kat?
He looks down with a sorrowful look, visibly carrying a heavy burden.
Kat… are you…?
A loudspeaker installed in the top right corner of the room crackles on, disturbing the rhythm the room, and the young man’s mind had set into.
“Your vital signs show that you’re awake… good.” the voice behind the loudspeaker says, taking on a stern tone.
“Liam…?” the young man raises his head, or rather attempts to, but his neck is held down by the heavy shackle.
“I need to ask you a few questions.” the voice behind it says interrogatively, ignoring the young man’s question.
“Is that you? What happened to Kat?” as the young man asks this, his voice is heavy with guilt and worry.
“That isn’t important right now,” the voice behind the loudspeaker states, refusing to acknowledge anything the young man says. “Where did you come from? No, not even that…” the voice trails off, thinking to itself.
“...Who are you?”
The young man did not have an answer to this question, as he wasn’t sure he knew to begin with. With all of the events that had happened, even in the past two months… it was up for debate, at the very least.
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Regardless, he remains silent, annoying the voice he called “Liam”.
“I’m forced to act professional at the moment… I’d appreciate it if you answered my questions. After all…” Liam’s— if that is his name— voice trails off once more, slowly taking on a more serious tone.
The next words ring out into the room— now obvious to the young man as a prison cell— entirely changing the atmosphere he had grown accustomed to.
“...My administrators have told me I should kill you. Obviously, a man walking around with a Numet-class contract is an immediate cause for concern. That’s how it is.” Liam says these words without emotion, casting off empathy in exchange for results.
“And yet, I disagree with them.”
The young man opens his eyes, having closed them, wincing at the previous reality of the situation.
“However,” Liam says, offering an ultimatum, “I need to prove that to them. Tell me how you formed a contract with that damned tree.”
“...The day it happened?” the young man meekly responds.
“The day it happened, and everything afterward.”
The young man looks down at the floor of his cell, having to extend his eyes further than he can bend his neck. On that day…
…Everything had changed for the worse.
Nothing made sense. Not to him.
Whether it was plain coincidence— a horrific string of bad luck— or if someone had orchestrated it behind the scenes, he didn’t know. He couldn’t know.
What if I’m just being used…?
By this organization.
By the thing I formed a contract with.
By the Seraphims.
Maybe even the world itself.
That’s a better alternative than all of it just being a coincidence.
I can do something if it has a direct cause, right? I can find a way out of this?
Being a ‘Progenitor’...?
I don’t care about any of that.
I don’t care about a ‘free world’.
I just want my life back.
The young man gritted his teeth in anger, clenching his fists even though the metal of the chains and shackles had rubbed his skin raw.
I want my humanity back.
That option isn’t in his cards. He can’t play it. Despite his circumstances, he feels the fear of death just by considering staying silent. The only thing he can do right now…
“Alright.” the young man says, with a passing sense of determination. “I’ll tell you everything. From the day I formed that contract…” the young man trails off, remembering the events from the past two months as if they were stabbing into his brain, giving him a minor headache.
“...To what came after.”
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This is a story about the tragedy and hope that is “humanity”.