Silence of the Fallen Beasts

Once a vibrant tapestry of laughter and conversation, the village now lay in suffocating silence. The usual clamor of daily life—joyful cheers at dusk, furtive gossip in shadowed corners, even the rambunctious giggles of playing children—had all faded into an unsettling stillness.

Villagers stood rooted to the spot, eyes locked on the motionless forms of beast lions. Even in death, the occasional twitch of a paw or flicker of muscle betrayed a stubborn refusal to surrender to finality. An invisible heaviness pressed down on every heart. One by one, nervous gasps broke the silence, and eyes darted away in a desperate bid to avoid confronting the figure responsible. None dared be the first to speak.

A mother swiftly scooped her wide-eyed child into her arms, as if shielding him from an unseen curse, while an elderly man pressed his weathered hands to his chest and mouthed silent prayers. Nearby, a young man's fingers clutched a wooden staff, raising it in a shaky gesture of defense—only for his grip to falter, letting the staff drop limply to the ground. In that moment, the hopelessness of resistance was palpable.

At last, the village elder shuffled forward, his frail body bowed under the relentless weight of time. Every deep wrinkle and tremulous step painted a grim portrait of aged despair, yet it was the raw terror glimmering in his eyes that cut deepest—a flicker of dread that defied his feeble attempt to sound commanding.

"You... You do not belong here," he rasped, his voice cracking like brittle wood in the wind. He strained for authority, though even he knew the words he offered held no sway.

Toshi's face remained inscrutable—no blink, no flinch, not even a hint of disapproval disrupted his calm mask. He met that look with a quiet familiarity, recognizing all too well the haunted mixture of fear, rejection, and disgust that now marred the villagers' features. This bitter chorus had echoed before and would resurface again.

Murmurs ignited among the gathered crowd, growing into a clamor of hushed condemnations. "He isn't one of us...," one voice whispered. Another questioned, "That defies magic—what force is this?" A third sneered, "A demon, perhaps?" Soon, a bolder voice roared, "No, something far more sinister!" Then, as if driven by a surge of reckless conviction, a man bellowed from within the throng, "Begone! We harbor no monsters among us!" His shout sliced through the oppression, making each whisper more terrifyingly real. The village elder, undeterred, continued his slow advance, eyes never leaving Toshi—expectant, pleading silently for a response that never came.

Instead of arguing, Toshi released a deliberate, measured exhale—a breath that carried no anger or sorrow, merely an emptiness that spoke louder than words. Did they really believe he wished to remain among them? As he turned to leave, the elder's gravelly mutter reached him, barely audible yet laced with finality: "A power like yours will only sow destruction." For a fleeting heartbeat, as Toshi pressed forward, his fingers curled ever so slightly—a secret gesture amid his unchanging stride.

Days melted into one another as he journeyed alone. The village, swallowed by the endless horizon, faded away like a memory erased from time. Before him, dense forests unfurled with silent majesty; rivers whispered ancient secrets as they flowed; abandoned roads, cracked and weary, bore witness to his solitary footsteps. Even the birds scattered in uneasy flight at his passing, and the wind itself seemed to pause—nature instinctively wary of the man within its midst.

At length, towering gates of metal and reinforced barriers loomed ahead, heralding a modern colossus. Here, skyscrapers clawed at the heavens, neon billboards pulsed with an electric vibrancy, and countless people surged along the streets like an unyielding river. Toshi stepped forward, his tattered clothes clinging to him in a dusted shroud that spoke of endless roads.

At the city's entrance, indifferent guards cast him barely a passing glance, dismissing him as nothing more than a faceless beggar. No identification, no status—a void without importance. One guard, stifling a yawn, waved the bustling crowd through a security scanner. Its blue light danced across every passerby, confirming their existence in the digital ledger. But when Toshi stepped into its beam, the device's display remained stubbornly dark—no beep, no flash, no acknowledgment. With a furrowed brow, the guard jabbed at the screen and muttered, "Damn thing's broken again." Toshi said nothing, standing silently as the guard's exasperated sigh sent him onward with, "Proceed. Just don't stir up trouble." And so, with no further questions or examinations, Toshi slipped unnoticed into the labyrinth of the city.

Outside, the world whirled obliviously in its own rhythm. Streets pulsed with a kaleidoscope of voices—conversations, laughter, hurried footsteps—all blissfully unaware of the enigmatic presence among them. Hovercars zipped past in a blur while colossal digital canvases flashed vibrant advertisements, painting the metropolis in dazzling hues. Yet, amid this frenetic modernity, Toshi remained a ghost.

He drifted by a modest food stall where the vendor, barely glancing his way, waved him off with a dismissive, "No money, no service. Beat it, beggar." A procession of well-dressed businessmen marched by, absorbed in their own world of ambition and urgency. One of them stole a cursory glance at Toshi, then swiftly returned to his own pursuits. A young couple ambled near, and as the woman caught sight of him, she wrinkled her nose in disgust, murmuring, "Ugh... how do people fall so low?" Yet Toshi neither glared nor retaliated—each derisive whisper, every careless sneer, was silently filed away within him.

Ahead, a massive screen blared breaking news: "Magic Academy Now Enrolling – Only the Elite May Enter!" Soon after, a sleek corporate advertisement thundered, "Strength is Power. Power is Wealth. Elevate Yourself—Or Be Forgotten." In this city, the vulnerable were not merely overlooked; they were scorned and cast aside with disdain.

Undeterred, Toshi pressed on. His pace never faltered, not even as the world around him buzzed with life and indifference. Deep within him, every sneer, every callous remark was stored like a seed of resolve waiting to bloom. One day—he vowed in silence—the world would have no choice but to see him.