Many years later, Noah Vyn, a thirteen-year-old boy, was in a dark alleyway at night surrounded by five others. The five individuals were covered in wounds, some had bite scars, and some had missing limbs. The boy held a shard of glass in his palm that was bathed in red liquid, and they all rigidly charged toward him, fists or weapons outstretched.

The boy moved gracefully yet still violently through their onslaught of strikes.

When he was behind all of them, he charged back at them, attacking them one at a time. He used the same attack pattern on each of them, blocking their blows with his left hand and stabbing them with his right. When he finished with four of them, the ground was riddled with cold bodies with punctures where red liquid flowed out.

The final man stumbled down, sitting on the ground, his hands resting on the ground, and you could tell he was terrified simply by looking at Noah.

"M-monster," he stuttered, gazing about at his dead companions, then back at Noah, leading him to cry. “You! You emotionless monster! You shouldn’t even be alive right now!”

Noah immediately slit his neck, continuing to stab him in the chest and left, leaving the shard behind.

"Excellent work, monster!" said the warden joyously as he placed iron handcuffs on Noah's hand and grasped the excess chain that protruded from the shackles, dragging him away.

While they were walking back, Noah asked the warden, “Can you not call me that?”

The warden looked back and questioned Noah, “Why…? Would like me to call you by your other moniker instead?”

Noah began to speak coldly, pulling his hands sideways and attempting to break the shackles. “I’ll kill you.”

The warden stopped in his tracks and pulled out his metal black baton, exclaiming, “Oh!? Seems like our little boy here is starting to lose his fear of me…”

He raised his baton up high and smiled, adding, “But don’t worry, I won’t kill you… this will just be a lesson like always.”

He released a flurry of swings that landed on Noah from all eight directions. Noah, who couldn't even react, had a lot of bruises and scrapes that spilled blood.

After a while, the warden came to a halt and murmured, “Heh, you really are a monster.”

Despite being pushed back a bit, Noah was still standing, and he still had that same icy, poker face, with the eyes that shouted, ‘I'll kill you and anyone else who annoyed me’.

“not even giving me an ounce of emotion even after all that.”

Noah returned to his dark, empty, and secluded cell, after months of struggling in what others may call hell, he shed his first tear in perhaps a year already. Maybe it was the word ‘monster’, or the fear in their eyes as he killed each one of them, or maybe even the beating he had, but he felt an aching sensation around his chest, which caused him to reflect on how he became this so-called 'Monster’ call him out to be.

Noah leaned back and stared up to the ceiling and thought to himself – It was about three years ago, when I was at the age of ten when it all began, all on that dreadful day.

Noah was much smaller at the time than he is now. He possessed the same dark blue eyes with heavy eye bags just beneath them. His hair was dark blue, nearly pitch black, and hung to the back of his neck. His thin figure at the time made him appear to be on the verge of collapsing. And he dressed in shabby and ripped-up street clothes.

It was about three years ago, and his stomach made a strong sound of hunger that day. Growl!

He was in the market district of Mort dun, trying to find something to eat. Turning his head side to side scoping if there were any shops that were unguarded.

I haven’t eaten for three days already – he thought as his eyes started to glisten, before letting out a scream, “Why must you do this to me, world!?”

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Wiping a tear off, he noticed a shop where its owner was not paying attention.

Seeing this as a chance, Noah closed in on the shop, and as soon as the vendor turned around, Noah had already snatched five loaves of bread. He pretended to be unconcerned, turning around and slowly walking away.

But the owner noticed it and shouted, “Get back here you bastard!”

Noah had an immediate thought as he heard his voice – Huh? He saw me. Damn it!

Beginning to speed up, Noah tightened his clutch on the loaves. But, while he was running, passing the crowds of shops and people, his grip grew fatigued, loosening his clutch on the loaves and causing four of them to fall in that time frame.

Hurriedly, Noah reached down and picked up a piece of bread. Before turning his head back to check how far he was from the seller, and when he noticed how close they were, he thought – This guy is so persistent. Immediately hurling the bread he'd just picked up at him, hoping it could offset his movement, which worked, and he turned left.

Only when he was further in the alley, did he notice that it led to a dead end. Panicked, he shifted his gaze from left to right, quickly searching for another way out. Not much time later though, the vendor had already caught up and was slowly and cautiously approaching Noah.

Annoyed, he said, “Kids these days… just constantly trying to steal from us grownups who are trying to make a living for ourselves.”

Noah angrily replied, “What do you know, you bastard!”

“Why you!” The vendor readied a punch, but right before he could hit him, Noah dashed left and was almost able to get past him. However, the vendor's leg was directly in front of Noah. The vendor noticed it and moved his knee, colliding with Noah’s face.

“Urgh!” Noah groaned in pain as the only loaf that he was clutching for dear life was knocked to the ground as he fell.

“Take a look at what you've done, brat! You've made me lose perfectly good bread just to catch a useless scum like you!” the vendor shouted.

Noah flinched.

Curling up his entire body, Noah tried to protect himself from the vendor, who aggressively assaulted him by repeatedly trampling on him.

Noah raised his head to meet the vendor's gaze, and the vendor’s expression was not one of annoyance at having his belongings taken, but it was one who was venting out his anger.

While still coiled up, Noah clenched his teeth and stomped the ground, catching the merchant off guard and allowing him time to flee. But before he left the alley, he reached down and picked up the loaf that had fallen moments prior.

When he rounded the corner, he was covered in bruises from the beating beneath his shirt and cuts on his feet from all the foreign items on the road.

With the sense that every step he took was on a heap of blazing hot charcoal, and every bodily movement he made seemed like torture.

Noah began to think to himself, attempting to endure the pain – Will I ever be able to escape this place? This hell? Will I be able to eat food loved by others like steak or sweets? At least something that wasn’t found in the dumpster…?

When Noah came to a halt, he was already in Mort dun's slums near his home.

The slums were the polar opposite of the market district, it covered half of the country and were built primarily of metal scraps and discarded lumber. Anything that may have been deemed valuable has already been stolen and sold in the market. There wasn't even a single mouse to be discovered; they've all been consumed by the residents. It had an extremely horrible odor, with waste discovered in practically every corner and crevice.

The vendor didn’t chase after Noah past the slums. Noah then hid his only loaf in his pocket and reasoned, “I can’t let her find out I stole food, if she does, she’ll just force me to give it to her.”

Noah took deep breaths as he prepared to enter what he considers hell, the place where he and his adopted mother reside.