Reincarnated into a Hell Hound

Extra Two

Pov: ?????

They didn't even let him scream, otherwise I would have heard it. No, they simply decided in the morning that he didn't serve for their uses; so why kept it? Why feed and care for a disobeying creature?

Is not like they respected them, and it wasn't as if I have expectations that they would someday, but by the end of the morning, when I went out for a walk, I was received by the nightmarish view of my poor, proud lion body stretched in a metal structure and been skinned, while others took the talons and tail off to sell.

The only appealing part is that he was already dead.

My throat closed and I wanted to scream at them, kick them to death, or cry until everything was over, but nothing would change, nothing would bring him back from the dead.

He had a shitty life and a terrible death, and for what? For been an animal? For the sake of humans? For their greed?

I knew there were eyes watching me, that's why I keep my face unchanged and passed the scene as if nothing happened. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction, no...I though clenching my jaw hard.

~~~~

From that day on I would run away hidden at night, trying the best way I could to help the magical creatures; stealing food for them, cleaning their wounds, even making a hole on a cage so the unbound ones could escape without anyone getting suspicious of me.

Still, felt like it wasn't enough.

Every day creatures would come and go, some pulling carts, others used as pets, warriors, shields... The mere thought made my hand clench. The mere memory of his body made my skin crawl and my mouth dry.

That's why I started to train alone in secret.

The first time was scary; a gigantic spider attacked me, and I lost the sword running away, but slowly I started to get better, little by little, sluggish for having to learn alone and making many mistakes in my path.

But still, I endured.

I couldn't fear, I couldn't hesitate, otherwise this weakness would show in my eyes and actions and would be exploited by those who wanted to do me harm, and I wouldn't be able to protect anyone.

Which were plenty, from the moment of my birth, or rather, because of my birth.

I was the son of the King himself so why, would you ask, was I mistreated, scorned?

Is because I'm a half breed, hybrid, bastard, or whatever name some would like to come up with. Prince was only a title; a bad one for me, giving me this prison of a house and this foreman of servants; and for being a bastard coming out of the wedding, out from the Queen's sons and daughters, I didn't even get a chance to live in the palace; which at least I was thankful for; and either the throne for that matter.

I was only a toy, discarded sideways in hopes that I would disappear on my on.

I wouldn't give them the pleasure though.

One of these days, however, I was hunting goblins, training my archery and swordplay, when a thief-hobgoblin sneaked up behind me, making me use my bow as a shield, rendering it useless.

Damn.

I jump back, taking my short sword from the sheath, and paring another quick attack, clenching my teeth from the force of the impact, my hands shaking on the hilt.

He put more strength into it, bringing me down to my knees, both hands firmly holding the sword in place, but to no use, as I knew I would lose this battle of strength.