A Sky That Won't Look Down on
Beno Mark hated the sky.
It stretched above him, boundless, beautiful—mocking him.
A vast world where only the strong could soar. But him? He was nothing. Just another forgotten stain on the streets of Veno City.
He exhaled, watching his breath fog in the cold night air. The neon lights of the restaurant flickered overhead, buzzing like dying fireflies. Inside, the murmur of drunken laughter and clinking dishes filled the space, but he stood outside, gripping the handlebars of his rusted bicycle.
Across the street, a giant screen played the news.
[BREAKING NEWS: RENZO MARK RETURNS FROM THE GATE OF NO RETURN!]
His younger brother's na thundered across the city like gospel.
The cara zood in, capturing every inch of Renzo's perfect form—silver hair matted with blood, his combat suit torn yet regal, like a war god stepping out of legend.
The crowd roared. The city shook with his na.
Beno stared. His hands tightened on the bike's grips, knuckles white.
"With my will," Renzo had said. Just three words. And the world bowed.
A sharp laugh caught in Beno's throat.
Of course.
Renzo, the youngest S-Rank hunter. The legend. The perfect son.
And Beno?
Just a washed-up dropout scrubbing dishes for n who spat at his na.
A Na Drowned in the Past
The restaurant door swung open behind him, and a gruff voice barked,
"Oi, dumbass! You deaf?!"
A tal pan smacked the back of Beno's head.
He gritted his teeth as pain flared through his skull. He turned, rubbing the sore spot.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you."
The old man sneered.
"Then move your damn ass!" He stomped back inside.
Beno sighed, dragging his feet through the doorway. The stink of fried oil and cheap alcohol clung to the air. The sa damn routine.
This is life. Just keep moving.
The screen in the corner of the restaurant glowed—Renzo's face again, projected for the whole world to admire. The custors erupted into conversation.
"Renzo Mark, huh? The kid's a damn monster," a burly man muttered, rocking back in his chair.
"Youngest S-Rank ever. Straight from this shithole city!" another laughed, raising his drink.
"Unlike so," a voice cut in, sharp and laced with venom.
The air changed.
Beno didn't turn, didn't need to. He felt their eyes stab into his back—disgust, mockery, disappointnt.
He kept wiping the counter. His hands trembled.
"Yeah... unlike the failure."
The words clawed at his chest.
"Bet even Renzo wouldn't waste spit on trash like him," soone snickered.
Beno swallowed hard. His throat burned.
He knew it was true. Renzo had proven it himself.
Their last conversation still echoed in his mind.
"Don't you ever try to contact again."
"If you do... I'll kill you."
Beno gripped the cloth in his hand, squeezing until his fingers ached. His vision blurred, the weight of his past pressing down.
His father's lifeless body.
The empty space where his mother should have been.
Renzo, standing in the ruins, staring at him like he was nothing.
"You weren't there."
The ache in his chest deepened, twisting like a knife.
A sharp ring cut through the air—his boss barking at him again. Beno exhaled, forcing the mories back.
Just keep moving.
A Night That Should've Been Normal
Minutes later, Beno wheeled his bike onto the empty street, letting the cool air numb his thoughts. The city lights stretched far beyond him—vibrant, alive.
A place for people who mattered.
Not for him.
He pedaled forward, the gears groaning under his weight. The city's pulse drumd in his ears.
Then—BOOM.
The air rippled.
A high-pitched screech split the night, jagged and inhuman.
Beno skidded to a stop. His breath hitched.
The sky... cracked.
A jagged wound tore open above the main road, black mist swirling at its edges. Then ca the shadows—dozens of them, spilling forth like a nightmare given flesh.
Eyes glowed in the dark.
The goblins had arrived.
Run, Or Die
The screams started instantly. Pedestrians ran, tripping over themselves. Cars screeched to a halt. Horns blared.
Beno's heart pounded. His fingers locked on the handlebars.
Move.
But his body froze.
The goblins poured out of the Gate, their jagged weapons gleaming under the streetlights. Their shrieks pierced the air.
One locked eyes with him.
Beno's stomach plumted.
It grinned.
Oh shit—
The goblin lunged.
Beno yanked the handlebars—too late.
Sothing slamd into his back, and the world flipped. Pain exploded in his ribs as he crashed onto the pavent. His bike skidded away in a spray of sparks.
The taste of blood filled his mouth.
Shadows lood over him. A putrid stench choked the air.
A goblin stood there, club raised high.
Beno's breath hitched.
Move. Move, dammit!
The club ca down.
Beno twisted—BOOM! The ground cracked where his head had been. Stone shards cut into his skin.
His heartbeat roared in his ears. He scrambled backward, hands scraping against rough pavent. The goblin grinned wider.
More were coming.
Beno turned, feet slamming against the ground. He ran.
His ribs scread, his breath ragged, but he didn't stop. The goblins' guttural laughter chased him through the streets.
Then—a shadow.
Beno barely had ti to register it before—
WHAM!
Sothing huge collided into him, sending him crashing down a set of stairs. His back slamd into cold concrete. The world blurred.
Footsteps. Heavy. Echoing.
Beno's vision cleared, and he saw it.
A Goblin Giant.
Ten feet of scarred muscle, a battle-axe dragging against the ground, sparks dancing in its wake.
The goblins fell silent.
Beno's body locked up.
No weapons. No strength. No way out.
He lifted his head, staring up at death itself.
The Giant raised its axe.
A bitter laugh curled in Beno's throat.
"Weak 'til the end, huh?"
The axe fell.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
Reviews
All reviews (0)