BEAST TAMER SYSTEM

Chapter 1 : ARTHUR Russell

Earth,2023

Arthur shoved the bathroom door open and smacked into something solid. Hard. He blinked and realized it wasn’t a wall it was Mike.

The collision rattled his glasses right off his face. They clattered onto the tiles. Arthur crouched to grab them, but Mike’s sneaker sent them skittering across the floor like he was kicking a toy.

“Beautiful of you to grace us today, King Arthur.” Mike said in mockery.

Arthur swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “I… I was sick,” he croaked, barely audible.

Mike yanked him upright by the collar. “Sick, huh? Or scared?” His hazel eyes gleamed, playful but cruel, like a cat pawing at a trapped mouse.

Arthur couldn’t hold his gaze. Mike stood over six feet tall; shoulders carved from underground fights he bragged about. His mohawk cut a shadow across the cracked bathroom wall, sharp as a blade.

“I’ve got a fight tonight. Wilson.” Mike’s voice was almost casual. “Can’t lose again That’s where you come in practice dummy.”

Arthur’s lips jerked into a weak, nervous smile. “S-sure… happy to help.”

Mike shoved him back against the wall, then let go with a laugh. “After class. Gate. Don’t be late.”

When the bathroom door slammed behind him, the silence was worse. Arthur crouched, picked up his glasses, wiped them on his sleeve, and finally looked at himself in the mirror.

He almost wished he hadn’t.

Sixteen years old. Five-foot-nine. Pale skin, messy black hair sticking in every direction. His dark eyes looked hollow, not like they used to. He looked more like someone surviving day to day than someone really living.

Arthur touched his collar where Mike’s grip had bruised the skin. It throbbed faintly. The bathroom blurred as memories pressed in.

Flashback:

He was thirteen again. Saturday morning. His mom humming at the stove, making pancakes she always added too much butter so they came out soft and greasy. His dad leaned against the counter, sipping coffee, pretending to read the paper but actually sneaking glances at Arthur’s homework.

“Don’t you dare put chocolate chips in that, Mom,” Arthur had said, laughing. “You’ll ruin them.”

“Ruin them?” She’d gasped in mock offense. “You mean improve them.”

His dad had chuckled. “Arthur’s right. Keep it simple. Pancakes shouldn’t taste like dessert.”

Arthur had grinned, flipping through his science notes. For one morning, everything had felt ordinary, safe, warm.

And then

Sirens. Police lights. Words no child should hear. They both died in an unfortunate accident. With his parents gone, he was taken to a foster home. At home, no one asked about the bruises. Meals, clothes, and silence that was all his foster parents offered.

Then a change of school. Then Mike. The beginning had been teasing and little shoves, the kind of stuff teachers waved off as “boys being boys.” Reporting it only made things worse.

He’d even tried fighting back once. Threw a clumsy punch. Mike dodged like it was nothing, then landed a jab that knocked him flat. The laughter that followed had stung worse than the hit.

“Why me?” Arthur had asked through a bloody nose.

Mike’s answer still burned: “I just hate you.” Then another punch.

Some nights, Arthur had thought about ending it all. But something inside stubborn, stupid hope kept him here.

Flasback ends

Arthur gripped the sink now, breath shaking. That memory was sharp, so sharp it almost hurt. He whispered at his reflection, “If they were alive… would it be different?”

He splashed cold water on his face, shoved his glasses on, and walked out.

“Arthur! What happened to you?” Jason’s voice stopped him as he stepped into class. Jason the only person who treated him like a human being.

Arthur’s shirt still clung damply to him. “What do you think?” he muttered.

Jason’s eyes flicked toward the back of the room. Mike was lounging with his friends; smirk plastered across his face.

“Didn’t you tell him you were sick?” Jason whispered. “Couldn’t he let you off for once?”

“Jason! Arthur!” the teacher barked. “Do you have something to share?”

“No!” they both said quickly.

“Then quiet!” The teacher turned back to the board, ignoring Arthur’s dripping clothes.

Arthur sighed. Teachers never helped. No one did.

Later, at the lockers, Jason leaned close. “So, what’s your plan? You can’t just… let him beat on you again.”

Arthur shoved books into his locker. “I’ll run home the second the bell rings.”

Jason frowned. “That won’t work. I know a place. Hidden. I’ll show you.”

The bell rang. Students poured into the hallways, voices bouncing against the walls. Jason led Arthur toward the back, through a break in the fence into the trees.

For a moment, Arthur thought maybe just maybe there was a chance.

Then he froze.

Mike stood waiting. With his friends.

Arthur’s stomach dropped. He turned to Jason. Jason’s guilt was written all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispered. “He said if I brought you, he’d stop beating me.”

Arthur’s chest clenched. “You were my friend.”

Jason’s eyes dropped. He turned and walked away.

Mike’s laugh cut the silence. “See? No one cares about you.” His friends jeered.

Arthur’s hands shook. Not today, he thought.

And then he ran.

Branches clawed at his arms as he tore through the woods. His lungs burned, his heart hammered like it was trying to escape his chest. Behind him, feet pounded, voices shouted Mike’s voice above them all.

“Run, Arthur! Run faster!” His words sliced through the trees. “We’ll catch you!”

Arthur’s shoe caught on a root. He stumbled, arms pinwheeling but he still crashed to the ground. Mike and his friends were still hot on his tails, in one swift pull, he pulled his feet out leaving his shoe behind. He pushed on, panting, every breath like fire.

He got out of the forest into a crowed street of bodies. Students laughing, chatting, heading home with their backpacks. Arthur ran towards them shoving through them.

“Watch it!” someone yelled as he knocked him to the ground.

“Hey, what’s his problem?” another muttered.

Arthur didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He heard the footsteps behind him spilling out of the trees, Mike’s harsh laugh carrying.

He ducked between students, dodging elbows and backpacks, ignoring their curses. His lungs screamed for air.

The road loomed ahead, cars streaming past, horns blaring.

I can lose them in the traffic. Arthur thought.

He pushed harder, legs shaking. The world narrowed to the crosswalk, the blur of headlights, the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“Get him!” Mike’s shout was so close now.

Arthur didn’t look back. He sprinted into the street.

A horn blared. Tires screeched. Headlights swallowed his vision.

Impact.

The world shattered. Pain exploded in his skull. His glasses snapped against the pavement, shards skittering away.

Through haze, he saw Mike and his friends stop, then scatter, laughter fading as they ran. Jason, too vanishing without a backward glance.

So, this is it, Arthur thought. Finally… peace.

The driver leapt from the truck, shouting. A crowd gathered, faces blurring. Someone yelled, “Call 911!”

Arthur’s breath came shallow. Darkness pressed in at the edges of his vision.

“Mom… Dad… I’m coming,” he whispered.

A flicker.

Amid the black, a faint glow pulsed. A metallic chime rang softly inside his head. Words, sharp and clear, burned across his fading vision:

[Initializing Beast Tamer System…]

Arthur’s last thought wasn’t despair. It was confusion.

“What the he….”

Then darkness.