The venomous past of a nameless child.
The first time I saw the world wasn't when I was born. To me, that's nonsense. How could I have seen anything if I didn't even exist yet? Even though I had a fragile, tiny body, for some reason I was certain I had never felt anything while my existence was in that state.
So the first time I saw the world was when a small spark of consciousness suddenly exploded inside my brain. Maybe I was five or six years old. I woke up and there was no mother, no father, not even siblings beside me—only the full moon shining in a star-filled sky above my head. I thought it was beautiful. Now I think it's ironic that the first thing I ever observed in this world was above it, surrounded by countless stars.
The second thing I saw was darkness surrounding what looked like a dead town.
I wanted to cry with all the air in my tiny lungs, but something locked my throat. Something inside my small body said no. Only tears rolled down my face. I walked for a while, my vision blurred by tears that seemed determined not to fall. All I wanted at that moment was a warm place my size, surrounded by walls. The smaller it was, the less alone I would feel. That was all I wanted.
When I found one, I didn't think I'd be able to sleep properly there—but later it became routine. I went inside and curled up as tightly as I could, feeling the ground beneath me.
With the faint moonlight reaching in, I looked back to see if the place was really empty—and noticed small yellow eyes with vertical pupils staring at me. A small snake. The moment it saw me, it slithered away as fast as it could. And I was alone again—until I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I didn't know what time it was. Maybe early, maybe late. Let's say somewhere between late morning and early afternoon.
As soon as I left the place where I had spent my first night alive—my first day on Earth—I observed the place more carefully. It wasn't a city. It was more like a village with ruined houses, muddy streets, and people lying around. Some might even have been dead. Yet others walked around buying and selling things, or just talking among themselves.
I wandered aimlessly, looking around at the houses, searching for something. To this day, I don't know what I was looking for. That's when a tall, blonde, well-dressed woman appeared in front of me and extended her hand.
"Finally found you, my dear."
Who was she? My mother? But I wasn't blonde. Did I take after my father? Those were the kinds of thoughts running through my head as she stood there.
"Come with Auntie. Come."
Today I know—when I reached out and took her hand, it was like offering my arm to a viper and letting it coil around me.
Her house was underground. When I arrived, she had a son who looked just like her and a husband who dressed just as well. In my mind, her son seemed two years older than me—maybe younger. I only assumed he was older because he was taller at the time.
For two months, they treated me like their son. I even remember smiling with them sometimes. But once they realized I seemed "trained" enough, things changed—and quickly. I became their butler, their dog, their punching bag. Even a floor rag if they needed one.
I learned two important house rules:
First: Always obey the family.
Second: Never go into the tank room.
After about two years, my body was covered in scars that barely had time to heal—scars from punches, burns, kicks, bruises of every kind.
One day I was in the kitchen preparing things for dinner—that was one of my duties—when the woman called me.
"Dog! Come here immediately!"
Trying to escape that place only earned me worse wounds, so I had stopped trying.
I appeared as fast as I could, repeating the rule in my head: Don't speak unless spoken to directly.
"Dear, have you still not given this son of a dog a name?" she asked.
"I couldn't think of one, Mom. I've given so many names to the others before him. None seem to fit this mutt you brought home."
"Watch your mouth. And you, love? Didn't you think of anything for this 'animal'?"
"Does it matter? We've had so many like him. He'll die soon anyway, and we'll just get another."
"You're always the voice of reason, my love… Dog! Bring me tea. My mouth is dry from reading."
"Yes, ma'am," Dog replied.
I prepared the tea quickly, wishing I could poison it. As I finished, I already knew she'd find some stupid flaw, just to have an excuse to step on me.
"Here you are, ma'am," Dog said.
"It's bitter. How many times have I told you I like my tea sweet and warm?" she snapped, throwing the cup to the floor.
"Pick that up and clean the carpet. I want everything spotless before dinner, looking like it was bought yesterday."
"Yes, Auntie," Dog replied.
As I knelt to clean, she grabbed my throat and started choking me mercilessly.
"What was that, Dog? I don't think I heard you correctly."
I couldn't speak without air. I hesitated—and she slapped me with a ring-covered hand so hard my mouth filled with blood.
"How do you say it, Dog?"
"Y-yes… m-ma'am," Dog forced out.
When she finally let go, I collapsed on my knees, gasping.
"Much better. That's how I like it," she said, patting my head.
"Mom, can I torture the dog later?" her son asked, playing with the snake draped over his shoulders.
When he said that, I couldn't help a faint mocking smile from the uncut side of my mouth.
"Mocking your owner, Dog?" he said—and kicked me in the stomach while I was still kneeling.
"N-no… sir," Dog replied.
His punishment? He threw his hungry snake at me. It coiled around my neck, tightening until it bit me between my shoulder and neck. That scar is one of the few I still carry from that time. The more I convulsed from the venom burning through my veins, the tighter it squeezed—until I blacked out.
I don't know how many days I agonized afterward, hallucinating constantly. It felt like my body and soul were cracking in a thousand places.
But I survived.
When I woke, it was night. Heavy rain poured outside. My head spun. I felt someone dragging me through what looked like the corridor leading to the tank room.
"L-let… go…" Dog muttered.
Even understanding words was difficult—but I understood one thing:
"Get ready. We'll throw him in. With luck, they'll be starving and eat him to the bones."
They dragged me to a place I wouldn't return from. I struggled—but it was too late. They threw me into a glass tank filled with hungry, venomous snakes. That was their business—raising snakes to harvest and sell venom.
Inside the tank, barely conscious, I felt every bite. Every ounce of weight on my skin. My blood poured from the wounds. My veins felt ready to burst. Foam mixed with blood spilled from my mouth.
And then it felt like the cracks in my body and soul shattered completely. Like something inside me exploded. My skin felt different. My nails seemed longer—like claws. Even my tongue felt split at the tip.
And I was filled with hatred.
Inside the tank, I punched until the glass shattered. When I climbed out, some snakes were still embedded in my skin. When mother and son saw me alive in the corridor, I charged at her, knocking her down and stepping on her chest, wanting to crush her completely.
Then I had an idea.
I ripped one of the snakes from my body and wrapped it around her neck, pulling until the snake's muscles tore apart while I watched her suffocate.
"D-d-dog…"
"Dog? No… Now I am… TROLL!"
I drove my claw-like nails into her eyes, smiling wide as she screamed. When I grew tired of the sound, I beat her until she died. Outside, the storm raged like it wanted to swallow the world. I killed that entire cursed family.
Two days after leaving that house, my body returned to normal. The only difference was a strange mark on my chest. Today I know it was the mark of the Order—and that it means my parents were marked too.
Until I was seventeen or eighteen, I survived by stealing to eat the next day, using my silver tongue to scrape by, and relying on snake venom when necessary. Maybe I became addicted—but I only used it when I needed to.
And now I'm here. In the famous city of Kirden. In a group of ten. Fighting Fitty to see who stays and who leaves.
How did it end up like this?
We're having our final fight in this arena.
And I'm about to use the venom.