The young boy is sitting on the cold ground, leaning against a dark, damp stone wall in the shadowy heart of Eldruin. Winter mercilessly punishes the city, and the thick fog that winds through the narrow streets carries with it an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant echo of hurried footsteps. The clothes he wears are little more than dirty rags, hanging from his fragile body, unable to provide any warmth.
His face, marked by dirt and despair, bears an empty expression, as if all hope had been drained forever. His eyes, sunken in darkened sockets from lack of sleep and food, stare at nothing, lost in the mist that envelops Eldruin. Strands of disheveled hair drape across his forehead, clinging to his damp skin, while the cold wind sweeps through the street, bringing the bitter smell of decay.
His small, frozen hands rest limp on his bent knees, a gesture that seems more of surrender than protection. Around him, the city breathes indifference. The elongated shadows of the buildings lurk like silent witnesses to his suffering existence, but no one stops to see him. The world around him moves with cruel slowness, as if time were trapped in a loop of endless despair.
Each new gust of wind seems to carry away a piece of the boy’s soul, leaving him even emptier, if that’s possible. Eldruin, with its stone streets and iron hearts, offers no solace. Just one more day, he thinks, just one more day. But there is a deep pain in his chest, an overwhelming weight that pushes him closer to oblivion. And so, he remains there, a shadow among shadows, invisible and forgotten by all.
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Night fell over Eldruin like a heavy cloak, making the shadows even deeper and the cold even sharper. The young man staggered through the tight alleys, wrapped in suffocating darkness. His steps were slow and clumsy, his feet dragging over the uneven ground, as if each movement required monumental effort.
The alley walls were tall, made of dark stones that seemed to absorb the faint light from the few oil lamps flickering in the distance. The facades were marked by time, covered in moss and lichen, exuding a smell of dampness and decay. The windows, closed and locked, watched the boy like indifferent eyes, silent witnesses to his suffering.
The air was thick with a pungent, sour smell, a mixture of rotting debris and sewage that ran through small trenches between the stones. Occasionally, the wind carried the stench of something dead, hidden in the depths of that labyrinth of filth and misery. He coughed occasionally, the sound echoing off the damp walls, while his thin hands groped through the shadows, searching for anything to satiate the hunger twisting his insides.
His eyes, ever watchful, scanned every corner, seeking discarded scraps, a forgotten leftover. Hunger made him ignore the disgust; even a moldy piece of bread or a rotten fruit would be a feast. His stomach, empty for so long, growled low, like a starving animal begging for anything.
Turning a corner, his bare feet kicked something soft and wet. He quickly bent down, his hands trembling as he touched what seemed to be a piece of meat, already darkened by time. The smell was unbearable, but the boy hesitated only for a moment before shoving the filthy piece into his mouth, the rancid taste spreading across his tongue. He bit down desperately, almost crying as he felt something solid fill the emptiness inside him.
The city around him remained undisturbed, with the shadows and silence observing his every move, as the young man, with no other destination, continued his journey through Eldruin’s cold alleys.
The young man was preparing to leave the alley, with the remains of that rotten meat still weighing in his stomach, when a scream tore through the night’s silence. He stopped abruptly, the sound echoing off the stone walls around him. It was a sharp scream, of pure agony, that reverberated through the darkness like a ghost. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore it, thinking it wasn’t his problem. But something inside him resisted. A restlessness that refused to fade.
Against his better judgment, he began to move in the direction of the sound, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. His bare feet, already wounded by the cold, rough ground, now carried him carefully, trying not to make noise as he approached. He kept close to the walls, blending with the shadows, his breathing short and ragged. With each step, the cry of pain became clearer, until it transformed into a desperate plea.
Soon, he began to hear the voices of the men, cruel and harsh. One of them, with a raspy voice, hissed, "Shut up, you bitch!" The young man felt a cold shiver run down his spine, but he pressed on, knowing he couldn’t back out now. His trembling fingers touched the corner wall, and he hesitated, peeking at what lay ahead.
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Turning the corner, he saw the terrible scene: three men, rough-looking, shoving a woman against the stone wall. She struggled, but they were much stronger, their burly bodies practically crushing her against the rough stones. The boy held his breath, his entire body rigid with a mix of horror and helplessness.
Then, in a moment of misfortune, his bare foot found a shard of glass hidden on the ground. The pain was immediate and sharp, tearing through the soft flesh of his foot. He cried out before he could stop himself, the sound escaping his lips like a curse. The men turned immediately, their eyes locking onto him like predators spotting prey.
The young man’s heart raced, and he felt his blood turn to ice. There was no way to escape now. Fear gripped his body, paralyzing him as the men advanced, their furious expressions reflecting the promise of imminent violence. His breath was short and quick, his chest rising and falling in panic as he found himself cornered, no way out, with the shadow of death looming over him.
When the men turned to the young man, a cruel smile spread across what seemed to be the leader’s face. “Look what we have here...” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. The boy felt his stomach turn, fear gripping him by the throat. Before he could react, the girl, eyes wide and a glimmer of hope flashing, seized the distraction and broke free from the attackers. In an instant, she ran off, disappearing into the shadows of the alley.
One of the men huffed in anger, his fists clenching as he realized their prey had escaped. Now, all their attention was fully focused on the young man, and their expressions darkened even more, brimming with fury. The boy, feeling the weight of their stares on him, knew he had to run.
Even with his weakened body and the searing pain in his injured foot, he suddenly turned and started running. Each step was torment, the shard of glass still embedded in his flesh making him limp, but he didn’t stop. His lungs burned, his heart pounded erratically, but the survival instinct pushed him forward. The sounds of heavy footsteps and angry voices echoed behind him, getting closer and closer.
Desperation grew inside him, like a wave about to swallow him whole. He knew he couldn’t run for long, but still, his feet kept pounding against the stone ground, driven by sheer terror. The dark streets of Eldruin became an endless maze, where the only certainty was the approaching danger.
The young man ran as fast as his tired legs would allow, but the pain in his foot and the weakness in his body betrayed him. His steps faltered, and suddenly, he stumbled over a loose stone, falling heavily to the ground. The fall was hard, his face scraping against the cold stone, opening a deep cut on his forehead. He tried to get up, but his body wouldn’t respond. The men were upon him in seconds, their gigantic shadows blocking any hope of escape.
As he turned onto his back, panting, he noticed something he hadn’t before. The men were wearing city guard uniforms, with Eldruin’s crest displayed on their chests. Above their heads, numbers glowed in the air, like a cruel mark of power. The first man had a level of 15, the second, 17, and the third, 19. The gap between them and the young man was overwhelming, the disparity in strength clear and unchangeable.
The leader stepped forward, a cold smile on his face. "This piece of shit ruined our night," he said, and without hesitation, lifted his boot and brought it down hard on the young man’s injured foot. A horrible crack echoed through the alley, and the pain that exploded in his leg was unbearable. He tried to scream, but his already weak voice came out only as a strangled groan.
The other men joined in, and the blows started raining down on him. Punches, kicks, heavy strikes that crushed his bones and tore his flesh. The world around him began to spin, the lights from the few lanterns becoming blurs as his vision blurred. He felt each impact as a wave of pain coursing through his body, but gradually, the pain started to mix with a sense of numbness.
His thoughts began to fade, as if he was drifting away from himself. The pain, so intense at first, now felt distant, almost as if it was happening to someone else. His half-closed eyes caught glimpses of the men’s faces, twisted in expressions of cruelty. He knew he was dying, could feel life slipping away from his body, the cold of death seeping into his bones.
Everything started to grow darker, the sound of blows muffled as if he were sinking into deep waters. He tried to breathe, but the air seemed to escape from his lungs. His body, once tense with pain, began to relax, his muscles giving up the fight. Darkness enveloped him completely, until nothing was left but a cold and silent void.
The men, noticing the young boy was no longer moving, stopped and backed away. "He died too quickly," one of them complained, disdain in his voice. Without further words, they left, their heavy footsteps echoing through the deserted alley, leaving behind the boy’s lifeless body, now just a forgotten shadow in the dark streets of Eldruin.
The young man’s body lay alone in the alley, sprawled across the cold, damp stones. Death had taken him entirely, leaving behind only an empty shell. His pale skin, stretched tight over his bones, revealed his extreme thinness, every rib visible, as if his body had been sculpted by hunger. His long, disheveled hair, filthy from the dirt of the streets, fell messily around his head, framing a face that, even in death, bore the marks of past misfortune. The right side of his face was deeply deformed, as if something terrible had scarred him irreversibly, distorting his features into a tragic mask.
In the air above his body, where anyone else would have a number marking their level, there was nothing. Only emptiness. There had never been a level for him, nor a symbol of power or worth. The world had always treated him as a nobody, and now, in death, he remained invisible, without any sign to identify or give him significance.
The night continued undisturbed around the boy, the alley’s silence almost absolute, except for the distant sound of the wind whispering through the streets of Eldruin. But as his soul began to detach from his body, a new sound cut through the air, soft and sweet. A female voice, melodious and full of tenderness, called out to him, piercing the darkness that surrounded him.
The boy’s soul, still caught between this world and the next, felt the presence of that voice like a balm for his suffering. He couldn’t see anything, but he felt the warmth of soft hands cradling his face, touching him with a gentleness he had never known in life. It was as if a wave of comfort and peace washed over him, easing the pain that had long been rooted in his spirit.
In that moment, the cold of the alley seemed to recede, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel alone. The emptiness that had consumed him began to fill with something else, something indefinable, but deeply comforting. The voice continued to call him, with a sweetness that made his soul long to surrender completely to that presence, to leave behind all the suffering and darkness he had known.
And so, wrapped in hands that emanated an almost divine warmth, he felt the last connection to his body disappear, his soul finally free to follow that call.