There once was a boy who loved running.
He loved running more than anything else.
The boy was fascinated by it, without really knowing why.
There weren't many things that he preferred doing over running.
There was nothing that the boy could think of as being more rewarding or fun than running.
Whether it was during his free time, or even when there were other things he was supposed to be doing, the boy thought about running.
He wanted to run. To be running.
He wished for it.
Longed for it.
That's how much the boy loved running.
But why was he obsessed with it to this degree?
Why did the boy love running so much?
How did he discover this passion for running?
How did this love for running even come into existence?
The answer was relatively simple.
A random and accidental occurrence.
Something, which was evitable and very well could have never happened, had shaped the boy's future.
"Let's go, let's go! One, two, three!"
The boy was about five years old.
Loving parents, compassionate, and understanding.
Nothing out of the norm.
Ordinary parents, just like any others. Or so the boy thought.
"Go... GO! FASTER! THERE YOU GO!!"
A man shouted as he stared at a screen.
The boy walked closer.
'What is happening? What is...?'
The boy stared at the screen.
A number of men were being filmed.
It was a live transmission for an international event.
The boy didn't understand what that meant.
'Oh. That one's skin color is different... This one's eyes are...'
For the first time, he was introduced to something incredibly important.
To the fact that all Humans did not look the same.
Or rather, to the fact there were differences between how Humans looked.
"Dad, what's-"
"Mark! Come, sit! What...? History. History is being...!"
The boy did as the man told him, and took a seat next to him.
He stared silently, just as his father did.
The boy turned his gaze towards the man next to him.
The latter's excitement, the shaking of his hands, the nervous ticks on his face, the boy noticed them all.
He could even tell that the man's heart was beating faster than it usually was.
The smile that his father wore, the boy had rarely seen such an expression on his father's face.
He turned his head towards the screen.
Multiple men were being filmed.
Each one looked vastly different from the other. Or at least, they seemed that way through the boy's ignorant and innocent eyes.
The men's feet hit the ground faster and faster.
There only seemed to be one point in common between their physical appearances.
They were all muscular and looked strong.
Strong and capable.
The men were tall, sturdy-looking, and lean.
In a way, they were beautiful.
Or at least, as beautiful as men could get, the boy thought.
Their fit hit the ground, again and again.
His father's excitement grew more and more intense.
It didn't take long for a woman to join them.
"Emma! They're... They're in the lead!" The man shouted, without taking his eyes off the screen.
"Really? Finally! Maybe this time, they'll actually win?! Mark, are you seeing this?" The woman said after she lay a plate full of snacks and condiments on the table.
The three stared at the screen.
The three stared, but the boy's eyes would, from time to time, divert.
He reacted to what happened and what the screen depicted.
But not because he cared about what was happening, but rather because of his parents' reactions.
He copied and imitated them.
It felt like the right thing to do.
Whenever his father shouted, the boy would too.
Whenever his mother jeered and mocked, he did too.
Without really knowing why, the boy did the same.
He wasn't particularly interest or impressed by the high-level competition occurring.
He didn't care about the event or its outcome.
Still, the boy watched.
After some time,
Phwwwwwhht-
A whistle.
The boy's eyes widened.
His heart started beating faster.
This is it.
This is...
His parents shouted and celebrated.
They embraced him and one another.
They celebrated.
They had won.
Despite not participating, despite not being there, they had won.
The boy was embraced by his parents tightly.
They wanted to share the victory with him, but he wasn't interested.
As they embraced him, the boy's eyes remained locked on the screen.
Tears, cries, and screams.
The victors.
The true victors.
They weren't anywhere near him.
The screams of thousands resonated through the screen as the camera zoomed out.
They should've been muffled by his parents' screams, yet all the boy could hear were those coming from the screen.
The next day, the boy had taken an important decision.
"Are you sure?" His mother asked. "It's pretty far from here."
The boy nodded.
Minutes later, he tightened his backpack's straps and walked out of the house.
For the first time in his life, the boy would walk his way to the place he was supposed to go. A place many like him went to every day.
For the first time in his life, the boy would be going there alone.
But he wasn't simply going to walk there.
No.
Not after seeing those through the screen yesterday.
Running.
That's what he wanted to do.
Unfortunately, his body did not share the same desire.
And so, the boy fought against his own body, again and again.
***
"And one day, the boy was brought to doc... Healers. They spoke for a long time. His parents discussed things with the Healers. To the boy, this seemed to last a lifetime. It was a discussion filled with complicated words he didn't understand and had never heard before. Even after he and his parents parted from the Healers, the boy still didn't understand. So his mother gently and lovingly told him... 'The thing you want to do, the thing you love doing, you can't do that anymore. Never again' This... Wasn't what the mother had said. But it was what the boy had heard. He fought back and shouted. His mother felt she had no other choice but to explain things to him. The explanation made the boy's body shiver. He felt like he could pass out. 'A weak heart', his mother called it. Born with a weak heart... Born with a curse, he couldn't..."
Mark glanced at them.
"Ah."
The Moonlit Feline lay on its back. It snored from time to time.
Krista wasn't used to sleeping on her back, it seemed.
Elisa lay on the side with her eyes closed. Her left thumb against her lips, and her head on Krista's stomach.
'They fell asleep during my... Mm. It is supposed to be a bedtime story, so it makes sense.'
Mark brought his hands together.
After rubbing them for a bit, he raised them towards his mouth.
'I'm guessing you can remember everything, huh? Since you were bragging about it that time.'
[Your Title "Devourer" looks at you with a puzzled expression.]
[Your Title "Evolving Monster" shakes its head.]
'Mm. My Gluttony... And my Greed, huh?'
[Your Title "Devourer" wants you to grow much more gluttonous!]
[Your Title "Evolving Monster" warns you against Gluttony.]
[Your Title "Evolving Monsters asserts that being greedier would be much better!]
'Pretty easy to guess which is which.'
Mark sighed.
"Status Window." He whispered.
[
Name: Mark
Titles:
Devourer: [Unique Title].
Evolving Monster: [Unique Title].
Potential Demon King Candidate: [Epic Title].
Gaavah's Follower: [Uncommun Title]
System Holder: [Common Title]
Species: (Unknown)
Level: Lv1 (850/1000EXP)
Health Points: 1150/1150
Endurance Points: 900/900
Mana Points: 1550/1550
Stats:
Strength: 98
Agility: 75
Sense: 55
Vigor: 115
Endurance: 90
Mana: 155
]
"Since a lot has changed, feels like I have to ask. What happens when I Level Up exactly?"
[Leveling Up has two effects.]
[First, an increase in Stats.]
[Second, an increase in Status.]
"Status? What's-"
Low whispers.
Mark turned his gaze towards where they originated.
Elisa's thumb moved further from her lips.
"The boy..." She whispered.
Mark couldn't tell whether she was talking in her sleep or not.
"The boy... Who loved running..."
"What about him?" Mark asked, even though he was not sure that Elisa's words were addressed to him.
"Does he... Get to run... In the end? At the end... Of the story...?"
"In the end...?" Mark whispered as he looked away.
"If he loves something... As simple as running so much... It would be..." She yawned. "Too sad..."
"Want me to spoil the story?" Mark chuckled.
"Does it have... A happy ending...?"
A meaningless story.
That's how he thought of it.
"A happy ending...?" Mark raised his gaze towards the sky.
And yet, Elisa's words...
"Who knows?" He chuckled.
Mark was staring at the blizzard. But for an instant, he felt like he was looking at a starry sky.
'Did the boy get to run again...?'
The starry sky that the Olga had shown him.
'I can't...
The Olga he had killed.
'Remember...'
