World After Worlds

The surrounding was dark, it was not even dawn but the constant bustle of the moving feet, the loud sound of the colliding objects was giving the impression that it was a busy morning. The tree was shaking, the rope was swinging back and forth restlessly. If it wasn't for the barrier that was set on the tree it would no longer be standing.

A man was standing, waiting for that sack of sand to sway back in his direction. Tucked his left hand against his chin and raised his right hand, elbows bent, lifted his left hand to his cheek. The target came swinging back, he clenched his jaw, pivoted his feet, brought back his arm, and threw a powerful punch. The tree quivered as if it was about to fall but it stood strong, while the sack whirled in response to his attack.

He was half-naked, exhibiting his toned and shredded body swaddled by his sweat. The flexes of his muscles were visible in each movement he did. His tense shoulders were dominating. Kraig smacked another blow on the sack of sand. His eyes were sharp, ominous, and glaring, he was not taking off his sight from one specific target. Brows were crashing, lips that would always smile were austere, parted breathing heavily. He was nowhere the same Kraig who had all smiled and affable countenance.

"Fuck!" He gritted his teeth and hit the swinging bundle on the tree and it swung in a big motion. His knuckles were bandaged in elastic gauze, regardless, his blood on the was visible from the bandage.

He winced when he felt the sting of his right shoulder. It was injured, burned to his back. He hadn't taken any healing potions yet. He wanted to remember this anguish, this aggravating resentment, it fuels his drive to keep ongoing. To remember the reason why was he here in this stupid town.

He had been punching and kicking this target for hours. Picturing that the restless sack of sand was the face of his enemies. He needed to release the heat on his head, the anger on his chest had to subside he must regulate his emotion. Three consecutive powerful smacks on that sack caused it to ruin, the defensive barrier on it didn't help. Seeing it all wrecked, his menacing expression did not fade, he raised his head and looked at the sky. He inhaled sharply and exhaled deeply. It's almost dawn, he mumbled to his head. He closed his eyes for a second to organize his thoughts.

He infiltrated the town's hall last night, with one objective. To find the document of his mother's execution. He didn't find it, those records were safely guarded in the archives. Although he managed to enter Castor's office, Lyndon's father, the mayor of this town. There was too much security installed on the way to those halls. He was prepared, he scrutinized those blueprints, studied them nonstop. He thought it was enough but when Castor was alarmed, they had a brief crusade, and he lost. He fucking lost to that brief fight, as a result, he received this burn on his back and a few scratches on his torso and calves.

Kraig clenched his fist as he remembered, his chest was raising as his breathing hastened. His eyes flared with anger and punched the tree with everything, it created a hole. It was a failure, he failed to do one task. He had to do something with Castor, that was the only way he could get that document in his hands.

He heard the rooster's crowing, the sun was almost out. He stayed standing there leaning on the tree. After minutes, he eventually gathered his thoughts and stepped into his house to get ready for the academy. On the way to the kitchen, he grabbed two bottles of healing potion and gulped them. He did not wait for it to take effect and went straight to the bathroom and washed clean.

As the droplets sprinkled to his head, Kraig was occupied with his thoughts on how to get Castor distracted. Should I attack his wife first? That's probably the smartest way to do it, kill Eva. That may be it.

There was a saying, the father is the foundation of the family, and the mother is the light that guides. Without light, there would be darkness and if it was dark, anyone would eventually lose their way.

A sinister smile appeared on his face, what would happen to Lyndon if Kraig successfully killed the precious Lyndon's mother? A devastating expression might be plastered on that stoic face of his for weeks or months, maybe for years. It was thrilling to visualize that terror on Lyndon's face if he saw his mother lifeless. Kraig could not wait to witness that sight—it must be to behold.

As soon as he was done with the shower, he dressed up neatly and caught sight of dandelions on the table beside his bed. The menacing air enclosing him diminished, he walked to that table and sprayed water to the flowers. "She'll get sad if you all die, be healthy." He murmured. He strode to his closet and picked out casual clothes. Head to the kitchen and took the pasta he made yesterday for his breakfast with her today.

Finishing his preparation, Kraig did not bother to lock the door of his house, simply snapped his fingers and the protective barrier went on.

Two months had flown from the day he had started a relationship with Yanarym. He had not expected that two months would be this fast to pass. It felt like yesterday when they had been together but the moments they shared were plenty. It was a surprise for him that his affection for her was not receding as it did before. He smiled fervidly as he thought of seeing her, these days she was like a fire on the candle, that affluent lit of flare in his darkened world. She was there, always there when he felt so alone and lost. If he was agitated and frightened, she knew how to ease his nerves. Like a psychic, she was so receptive to his emotions. Best of it, she was understanding, never complained, and was always devoted to him. She was always worried for him, which made him flutter…

He had not been asleep for more than twenty-four hours, he was used to being awake for long hours. Because whenever he slept, he had nightmares. upon waking up, he won't be able to remember anything, just the sensation was left. Despite the fact he forgot those bad dreams, he didn't like that aftertaste. So, throughout the years, he could only be asleep for hours and stay awake for days.

He had enough energy to be awake for two extra days. Yanarym could not find out he was pulling an all-nighter again. The last time he informed her of his insomnia she was so worried that she guarded him for an entire week. It caused stagnant to his schemes on ruining Lyndon's family that was why he was on a hustle this recent.

"She's not a good influence on me," Kraig uttered with a smile. He did not hate that one week of doing anything but being with her, "causing my plans to stale." However, he couldn't keep on just being with her, he needed to get on with his revenge.

His smile waned to an ominous void countenance. He had been preparing for this moment for years, he cannot dismiss it just because he found himself a girlfriend. Yanarym was temporary, she would be gone after he lost his interest in her. Once that flare ran out, he would throw out that candle he could not utilize anymore.

Revenge was his everything, it made him keep on going in life. He was in devastation, unable to live properly, he was lost. He only found his way through resentment that ignited his soul, fueled his sanity.

He was alone, no one understood him, no one listened to him. They all thought he was an outrageous, narrow-minded, and selfish bastard. But that was what losing something precious did to people, that was what pain did to those who were feeling them. They would lose their rationale, they would be filled with anger. It would be bleak, suffocating, aggravating. The only way out you see was that red… blinding anger, vengeance. It was his purpose, he had no other motive of living. He had to bring justice to his mother's unjustifiable execution bestowed by Lyndon's family.

And… that temporary warm comfort Yanarym offered, he… Kraig was stirred by it. He could not forget the grief but whenever they were together he could smile—a genuine one. Those moments, he wanted to treasure them, because he knew that at some point he needed to choose. He was shaken however the suffering he had gone through was greater than the affection he had for her.

He looked at his wristwatch in his right hand, he was earlier, as usual, he better be because Yanarym was always late. With a truffle mushroom pasta on his left hand, he had a big smile, she liked noodles and he liked sharing meals with her.