CHAPTER 4: Blood on His Hands
(Six years later – Back to Present Day)
Osa shook his head, snapping out of his reverie. The distant sounds of the city slowly returned to him, replacing the memories that had dragged him backward in time. He glanced down at the ring on his thumb—the same ring that had saved his life half a decade ago.
It looked ordinary. Too ordinary.
A thin silver band, smooth and unremarkable, sitting quietly on his skin as if it had never done anything extraordinary at all.
He had tried everything to make it respond again.
Dropping it into fire. Smashing it with rocks. Even screaming at it late at night, his voice hoarse as he begged it to react.
Yet nothing.
Not even the faintest warmth.
Only if it responded like it did that night, Osa thought bitterly. Maybe then I could understand it. Analyze it. Solve its mystery.
But the ring remained stubbornly inert, as lifeless as any cheap piece of fake silver ring.
Did it only respond because I was in danger?
The thought made his stomach twist unpleasantly. Did he really have to put himself on the edge of death just to see it awaken again?
That wasn't a risk he was willing to take.
He shook his head and let out a quiet breath. Forget it. There has to be a better way.
Osa picked up the broom he had been using and headed toward his small hut. The wooden structure was simple, barely more than a shelter, but it was his. Since turning sixteen and leaving the orphanage in search of work, he had only managed to secure one position: a sweeper for Johnson Transportation.
It wasn't much, but it kept him alive.
A few months ago, John himself had approached him, offering him a spot on the on his squad. It was a decent offer, one many people would have jumped at.
But Osa had declined.
At the time, he had still been clinging to the foolish hope that he might awaken his bloodline.
Now, at sixteen, that hope had finally died.
He wasn't destined to be special.
He wasn't destined to be a hybrid.
He had to accept that.
So instead, he worked. He earned what little money he could and sent half of it back to the orphanage to support the younger children still living there. It was the least he could do for Mrs. Rose and everyone who had raised him when he had nothing.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, this sweeping job was all he could get. He had even considered traveling to another city—Red City the nearest city from here. Perhaps, opportunities might be better there.
But traveling between cities cost at least five thousand dollars.
That was just for basic transport and safety fees.
Outside the city walls, possessed hybrids roamed about. Former hybrids whose beast sides had completely consumed them, leaving behind nothing but mindless monsters driven by instinct.
"Six years ago, five thousand dollars wasn't much, Osa thought grimly. Now? Gods know how long it would take me to save that much".
He earned one hundred dollars a month.
Half went straight to the orphanage, leaving him with fifty.
At that rate, it would take him years. Long, exhausting years just to afford a one-way trip.
What a world.
When Osa arrived at his hut, he tossed the broom into its usual corner and stepped back outside almost immediately. Today was the end of the month.
Payday.
He made his way toward the southern district's commercial center, where Johnson Transportation's towering headquarters dominated the skyline. The massive building gleamed in the afternoon sun, its glass surface reflecting the movement of the streets below.
Osa stopped in front of it for a moment, tilting his head back.
Money really is good, he thought quietly.
Mr. Johnson was a well-known businessman in the southern district. Almost everyone knew his name. His corporation dealt in everything—supermarkets, shopping centers, taxis, delivery services. Johnson's Corporation was ranked second only to the Merchant Guild, which supposedly had influence across the entire world.
Osa walked through the front entrance. The security guards didn't stop him. They recognized him from his sweeping shifts and knew that his presence at the end of the month meant only one thing.
Payday.
He headed straight to the reception desk.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Clinton," he said politely.
"Good afternoon, Osa," she replied with a warm smile. "Here to collect your pay?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, feeling a familiar flicker of embarrassment.
Other than his sweeping shifts, this was the only time he ever entered the building.
Mrs. Clinton retrieved an envelope and handed it to him. "Here you go. Feel free to count it if you like."
"No, ma'am. I'm sure it's all there," Osa replied quickly.
She smiled, and Osa left the building with the envelope tucked safely in his pocket.
As always, he visited the orphanage first. Mrs. Rose accepted her share with gentle thanks, her tired smile making the sacrifice feel worth it. After that, Osa returned to his hut and stored the remaining fifty dollars in his small savings pouch.
With the rest of the day free, he decided to take a walk.
The main road was alive with activity. Cars of all kinds moved in steady streams—sleek sedans, heavy trucks, and luxury vehicles that gleamed like polished jewels.
Not everyone is struggling like me.
He passed store after store, their windows displaying goods he could never afford. Tailored clothes. Imported food. Unique tools meant for hybrids. People walked in and out without hesitation, spending money like it meant nothing.
Even if I saved my entire salary for half my life, I still couldn't afford most of this.
For a brief, reckless moment, a dark thought crossed his mind.
Why am I working myself to death? Why not just steal? At least it's profitable.
He shook his head immediately, forcing a weak smile.
Mom would kill me if she were still alive.
As the sun dipped lower, Osa decided to head home. He took a familiar shortcut through a quiet alley he had used countless times before.
But tonight, something felt wrong.
Up ahead, two men stood near a crumbling wall. One leaned casually while smoking. The other stood in front of a young woman, blocking her path as she tried desperately to move past him.
"Please, let me through," she said, fear clear in her voice.
Osa's blood went cold.
Without thinking, he broke into a run.
"Hey! Move aside!" he shouted. "Guards! Someone help!"
The man turned, his expression twisting into a sneer.
The smoker reached down and grabbed an empty bottle.
Osa never saw it coming.
CRACK.
Pain exploded across his head. Warm blood streamed down his face, blurring his vision. His legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold ground.
And then—
The ring began to glow, so strong that it radiated an area over twenty meters around him.
It glow was bright crimson and live.
No… not again… not here—
The ring pulsed violently.
Crimson energy surged outward, forming living strands that lashed through the air like chains. They wrapped around the two men before either could react.
Their screams echoed briefly through the alley.
Within moments, their strength vanished. Their bodies went slack, collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
The energy tentacles shifted.
It surged toward the woman.
"No!" Osa shouted, reaching out weakly. "Stop!"
The energy slammed into the ground near her, releasing a powerful shock that sent her crashing against the wall. She fell unconscious, unmoving—but breathing.
Then, just as suddenly, everything ended.
The crimson energy tentacles withdrew into the ring. The glow faded, leaving silence behind.
Osa lay there, shaking.
His head throbbed. Blood continued to trickle down his face, unknown to him it was all floating towards the ring.
His heart started pounded so violently he thought it might burst.
Two men lay motionless.
The woman was alive—but barely.
"I only wanted to help," Osa whispered faintly as his consciousness started fading. "I never wanted this…"
The ring sat quietly on his thumb emitting a crimson glow as it started transforming, it once cold and ordinary appearance transform into a red ring with the head of a dragon as it symbol.
As if nothing had happened at all, it continue it's transformation drawing more and more blood from Osa's bleeding head.