Trapped in his island

The air was thick with the stench of rot and ancient rituals. This wasn't a funeral, it was an awakening.

Surrounded by men who looked more like starved beasts than humans, the atmosphere was suffocating. They weren't mourning a death; they were celebrating the birth of a nightmare.

Standing at the center of the madness was a man, barely twenty-eight, staring down the casket of the fallen Hunter.

"As it has been for generations, the bloodline claims the throne." a voice rasped through the gloom.

They stripped the shirt from his back. He had a name once, a life once, but in this circle of monsters, names were a luxury he no longer possessed. From this moment on, he was only The Hunter.

A rod of white-hot iron was pulled from the embers. At its tip, the word 'HUNTER' glowed with a vengeful, orange light.

As the brand pressed into the raw skin of his upper back, the sizzle of searing flesh filled the silence. By all laws of nature, he should have screamed until his lungs gave out. Instead, he remained a statue. His eyes turned a violent, bloodshot crimson, and beads of sweat rolled down his contorted face like liquid glass.

The Rule was absolute: A Hunter feels no pain. If he voiced his agony, he wouldn't leave that circle alive.

Then came the leather. A massive, hulking brute stepped forward, uncoiling a heavy belt that looked like it was made of lead and spite. He swung with primal fury, the leather cracking against the man's abdomen with a sound like breaking timber.

He didn't flinch.

The beating turned into a rhythmic slaughter. They lashed him like a rabid dog, tearing through skin and muscle until his entire torso was a map of crimson ruins. He collapsed to the dirt, his body slick with his own heat.

"Again!" the crowd roared, their voices a jagged chorus of bloodlust.

They didn't want a leader; they wanted a Animal who could bleed and still stand tall.

The first belt snapped under the force of the violence. A second was already waiting. The torture resumed, a relentless cycle of agony that made his jaw tremble and his eyes burn like stoked furnaces.

He wanted to scream, to let out a sound so loud it would shatter his own throat, but he swallowed the cry with the copper taste of his own blood.

The second belt frayed and died against his broken skin.

"HUNTER! HUNTER! ALL HAIL THE HUNTER!"

The chanting shook the very foundations of the island. He had survived the baptism of fire and blood.

Instead of staying down, he forced his broken body to rise. He spat a mouthful of thick, dark blood into the dirt and stood tall, a ghost returned from hell.

"From this breath forward." his voice erupted, a thunderous, predatory growl that silenced the island "I am your Master!"

The alarm clock had been screaming its lungs out for ages, but zaha was buried so deep under her thick blanket, she might as well have been in another dimension.

"Zaha, move it! We're going to be late for the bakery." Luna, her roommate, yelled over the noise.

"Let me die in peace... my head is splitting." zaha''s muffled voice came from beneath the fortress of blankets.

"Oh, please! You're 'sick' every other day," Luna began her daily morning lecture, hands on her hips. "I swear, you're made of glass, one breeze and you're sneezing for a week.

The manager is going to kick you out if you miss one more shift, zaha. And then how exactly are you planning to pay your half of the rent? Magic?"

"Okay, okay! Stop the sermon, I'm up!" Zaha grumbled, dragging herself out of bed with all the grace of a disgruntled toddler.

"And my mood is trashed, by the way." she continued, rubbing her eyes. "A customer was so incredibly rude about their cake yesterday.

I spent my entire break crying in the back. My eyes still hurt, which is probably why my head is throbbing."

Luna just stared at her, exasperated. "I have never met a bigger 'Touch-me-not' in my entire life. You're literally a drama queen, zaha."

"Oh, wait! You have to see what I bought." zaha said, a sudden spark of memory lighting up her face.

"What now?" Luna asked, her voice flat, clearly not expecting anything revolutionary.

Zaha reached into her drawer and pulled out a watch, but not just any watch. It was a digital one, the kind that flashed with bright, multicolored LED lights.

Luna stared at it in disbelief. "You are actually a psycho. You're a bigger kid than an actual kid, zaha. Even children nowadays don't have such... childish tastes."

Zaha didn't laugh. She looked down at the flashing lights, her gaze turning hollow.

"When I was little, I used to tell myself that when I grew up, I'd fulfill every single dream I ever had." she whispered, her fingers tracing the plastic strap.

"My family was so poor back then; we couldn't afford anything. I guess you could call this a promise to my younger self."

She watched the lights blink, but the excitement wasn't there.

"The irony is... the spark is gone. The craving for these things died somewhere along the way. Sometimes, it just feels so heavy, realizing that the passion I once had is just... gone."

"Okay, okay, cut it out! Don't open your 'Sad Girl' scrapbook this early in the morning." Luna said, rolling her eyes as she gave zaha's shoulder a playful swat.

"Are you insane?" Zaha shrieked, clutching her arm as if she'd been hit by a truck. "That actually hurt! My body is literally made of porcelain, and you're out here acting like a wrestler!"

Luna just sighed. "I barely touched you, Drama Queen. Now, move! The bakery won't wait for your tears or your light-up watch."