Chapter Text
The folder was slid over the desk slowly, the person handing it over only removing their hands at the last dying second.
"He's being returned. Same reasons as before. Violent tendencies and screaming at other orphans."
"What kinds of things?" a harsh male voice spoke as he read through the file.
The first shook her head. "Just calling them fools, idiots even. He’s saying they're living in a dream land, and that if they can't fight they're all going to die. He thinks the demons are going to come knocking any day - the usual with him."
"It's sad," the man replied, flicking another page as he blew some smoke from a cigar in his mouth. "He's not wrong. It's just that they're not ready to see that yet." There was a pause for a while as the man hummed. "We can try sending him to Tammy's. She's got an extremely good track record for sorting out kids like this."
"Y-yes, sir. I feel bad giving him to her, though. He's just so aggressive."
"... Tell me about him. This event that's written here. I see there's an account." He slides the open folder back to her. "I'll need to explain it to Tammy, but I want to make sure I get it right."
A bit confused, the secretary pulled the file over and started reading.
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Three Years Ago:
"Run! Run!" The old man howled. He screamed right at the child before massive sharp claws cleaved through his gut, blood gushing out of him. His body crashed down, a kitchen knife sliding towards the boy's foot.
The vicious monster stepped forward, its eyes blood red, crackling like they were made of energy. Its dark grey flesh glistened with blood in the light of flames that raged all around. Its giant talons were dripping, four of them ready to shred him to pieces while its maw bore a set of long razor-sharp fangs, prepared to tear through flesh.
The boy gasped, taking a step back - and then one of his lessons from his adopted father sprung into his head.
Hesitate and die.
His eyes snapped open, and in a split second, he rushed forward, grabbing the knife off the ground. The demon swung, its claws arcing over his head, which was instantly followed by the boy standing up, ramming the knife into the creature's throat, a stream of blood spurting out as the creature gurgled.
One strike is fatal. Three will kill.
The teaching rang in his ears as he stabbed the monster, again and again, eviscerating the beast’s throat, leaving the creature inevitably dead on the floor. He'd killed a demon with his own two hands.
Move or die.
The words of his tutor were echoing in his head. His heart pounded, and his nose was assaulted by the acrid smell of blood, fire, and ash. People were screaming. He dove to the shadows, hastily running alongside a wall, his body hunched.
Peering around the corner of the building, he stumbled across a corpse, combat knife in hand. Switching the kitchen knife to his left hand, in a reverse grip, he pried the corpse's fingers over, picking up the new knife.
Use every weapon provided. And most importantly... survive.
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The secretary sighed. She had read many disturbing tales, but something about this one bothered her. How a child easily turned into a remorseless killer. How easily those skills he'd been taught snapped inside him. There was no hesitation in the account, hardly any fear, he was like a machine, whirling around, slaughtering everything in his path.
Her boss turned in his seat, peering over his glasses at her. "And?"
"I can keep reading the account, but it's pretty much a cycle of the same things,” she explained. “He kept moving, killing, picking up more weapons, eventually discarding broken ones. He cut a bloody swathe through the village, always sticking to the shadows. He tried to help a few people but they were ripped apart before he could even get close. Then, finally, the Dragon Knights and City Guard arrived, cleaning up the remaining enemy troops and helping with the evacuation. He avoided them all until the last minute, choosing to sit entirely by himself until they lit the fire."
The man leaned forward. "He walked towards it?"
The secretary nodded. "He went and took every weapon he had and stabbed each of them into the bonfire. Said 'people should always die with their weapons, as long as they die with them in their hands'."
The man scratched his chin. "Hold on, that..."
"He means if someone died fighting, they deserve to keep their weapon, soldier or not. If they died fleeing, with weapons sheathed, leaving others to die, they don't deserve them."
"Isn't that… what the Chimera teach?"
"Similar,” she responded, nodding again. “Anyway... That's the account. Then we have all the orphanage logs where he was aggressive to other children who approached him while refusing to take part in social activities..."
"I see the full picture now." The man replied. "Contact Tammy. I’m sure she can tackle this case."