Paralogue 1
Leonardo was despised.
A spirit has never before felt such hatred from his own people, his own race, his own nation, to such a point in which he is broken beyond repair. Where many could feel for others, he lacked such empathy for any creature that was human. Where many embraced their joys and sorrows, he pushed them aside, if he could feel them at all, if only to trade them for fueling rage. Where many allowed their hearts to love, he shut them all out and flourished in isolation.
Leonardo was a disgusting human being, to put it simply. No, he was no human at all. He was but a monster. A beast, waiting to be awakened to slay mankind and destroy civilization itself. That was what he convinced himself.
The boy, born with long, brown hair and large, chocolate-colored eyes, lived a life of misery. Third eldest of five, the only queer in the family, and with nothing but a mother and deceased grandfather to love him, Leo felt alone in the world. Never once did he get along with his peers, and those he treasured were as senile as himself. Beings who felt nothing for their race. Only admiration to those like them.
It was instinct to him, to hate, to feel such beastly desires. He would often find himself staring at a stranger, whether on the bus or train or simply walking alone the road, and he would imagine such terrible things. Their neck in his hands, his fingers wrapped around their throats as he listened to them gasp for air with a wicked grin. Or a blade in his hand jabbed into their heads, or chests, or stomachs, even. Only did his companions, as brief in his life as they were, tear him away from such thoughts.
They terrified him.
Yes, he was a beast. A monster capable of slaughtering hundreds if given the chance and ability. Were no consequences to follow his actions, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Take the lives of those who’ve wronged him—his father, his grandmother, old lovers, etc.—and go on his merry way.
But he was raised in such cruelty that he, ironically, had developed one emotion other than fierce, unquenchable hatred: guilt.
He had done many things considered wicked and evil. He once pushed a strange, elder boy into the public pool. He selfishly kept what little friends he had to himself, tearing them away from their own companions. He even stabbed another child in class as retribution for smashing his friend’s heart in two.
Leo often claimed to never feel sorry for such actions, especially that last one, but the aching throb in his chest as those memories came to him spoke of other truths. Truths he could not deny. He, Leonardo Ramirez, the Beast of New York, felt guilty for many of his actions.
It was no wonder his condition grew worse as age caught up to him. He realized just how wrong society believed him to be, how “insane” he was for his past, and took to fixing it for one reason only.
When Leo realized he could feel guilt, he realized something else. A longing. For what, he was not certain, until he watched his peers grow with a partner by their side, and then it came to him.
He longed for love. To feel love, and be loved, rather than love the idea of love. Something he’d done since adolescence, he realized now. Yet he could not feel it for the life of him. Every person he met tested his patience and drove him mad. Only the power of energy drinks to keep himself awake and the law hanging above his head, threatening his reputation, stopped him from smashing their heads into walls or ripping their guts out from their bodies. As a result, only the most logical thing could happen.
Which brings us to the here and now.
“Michael can fuckin’ step on me,” he said aloud, game system in hand. His eyes never left the screen, but his friends knew such words were directed towards them.
“Mood,” replied a long-haired girl, Eliz, which earned her a judgemental glare from their third party member.
“You’re both fucking weird. Ya weebs.”
“Technically we’re not weebs if it’s a video game,” remarked Leo.
“It’s got an anime art-style! It counts!”
“Says the furry.”
“I’m not a furry!”
“Can ya both shut it? I’m tryin’ to hear my husband,” Leo hissed.
The other boy, Donn, rolled his eyes. “It’s a fictional character.”
“Doesn’t stop you from sayin’ you wanna suck Peter Parker’s di-”
“Shut. Up.”
Annoyed by his companions, Leo blocked out the voices of the younger teens and focused on the screen before him. Amber eyes were focused on the screen in his hands behind a pair of thick glasses, nimble fingers carefully moving between buttons as he formalized a plan, and watched with great care as each unit moved across the board. His body was stiff as his full attention was aimed at the characters before him. He couldn’t afford to mess up. One wrong move, and it was all over.
“If I just move this guy here,” he said aloud to himself. He cared not if the other two heard him. Openly strategizing got him far without losing a single unit. “Then I can take out the archer so my pegasus units can move forward and beat these mages. Assuming this prick here doesn’t go to attack them. Maybe if I move Fraudis here, though...”
His time went by just like this. Leo would do this nearly every chance he had. Very rarely did he have the opportunity to use his Switch, which sat collecting dust ever since he started working again, but now that the holiday season was over he was free to play to his heart’s delight. Right after homework, of course. Which meant he’d finally finish his favorite game: Tales of Woe: Three Kingdoms.
He had beat it once before, playing through the most underrated but—in his opinion—the best route, and once that was completed he felt hesitant to move on. He couldn’t bear the thought of choosing one of the other two kingdoms. That would result in siding against his first pick, and he knew fighting them would break his fragile heart. Still, Leo was a completionist. Something he picked up from his eldest brother before he left. He’d leave small things alone, such as talking to certain NPCs or completing unnecessary quests that didn’t have a hint of lore to them.
Okay. So maybe he was a semi-completionist. But when it came to all aspects of the game’s story, he was determined to take every chance he could get in each route to unlock every secret. That included playing his least favorite, but he already planned to save that one for last. At the moment, he was only on his second route. Having previously picked The Forest Kingdom route, he moved on to the Snow Mountain route. Already he could see the vast difference in how the characters interacted with the MC compared to those in The Forest Kingdom. His MC, pre-named as Beret by the game’s developers, seemed much closer to the other team members in this route. Well, when he actually put in the effort to get them to bond, a factor from the series that he completely forgot about in his first playthrough, that is. But there was one thing that picked his interest.
The heir from the other kingdom, The Margraine Province, was just as flirtatious in this route as he was in The Forest Kingdom. A strange detail, but one the brunette didn’t want to focus on at the moment. Now he was in one of the most crucial chapters. The three kingdoms, after much turmoil and bickering, were thrown into an all-out war, and this was to be the first major battle in the timeline. One that, if his kingdom was to win, would turn the tides of the war. Leonardo watched his units move across the screen, keeping a close eye on their health bars as the enemy teams attacked. Thankfully, most of their units were aimed at on another, and over half of their army on the map was vanquished. But that still left the two most important units: Empress Valdin and Count Yulis. They stood at their ends of the map, the only remaining enemies, and Gabriel hadn’t lost a single unit yet.
So far, so good.
Leo took one of his knight units, the son of an imperial duke he managed to recruit named Winston, and set him in charge of his small group of mage and paladin units. Empress Valdin’s unit type was known to be weak to paladins and mages. A decent strategy, he believed. Then, to turn his focus on Count Yulis, he took two archer units, the youngest child of a kingdom lord named Milia and a peasant named Quintel, and lead an assault on the dragon-flying leader.
Both went down with ease.
The teen jumped up and shouted in excitement, catching the attention of his two friends. Another victory under his belt. He danced around the room with his Switch in hand just as the next cutscene began to play. When he heard Prince Michael, the heir to the Kingdom of Sacred Winter, speak, he immediately sat back down and watched the scene with adoration in his eyes.
“Damn! They’ve gotten away,” the prince growled. “We must go after them. We must avenge the fallen!”
Rya, Michael’s childhood friend, frowned. “Your Majesty, we should withdraw our troops. Many of our soldiers are injured and need proper care and rest. It’s best if we return to base.”
“No! We can’t. I can’t-”
The scene continued on for some time, and Leo felt his heart aching in his chest. Like many other players, mostly female fans of the game, he held a deep admiration for Michael. At first, it was because of the scene that played before the battle when he teamed with the Margraine Province. He witnessed how broken he had become, so vastly different from the noble boy he knew him as before the war broke out, and his heart was immediately shattered when, after completing the map, he had died offscreen.
He soon came to realize just how similar he was to the prince, and for once did he feel human, if just for a moment. Michael, as fictional as he was, made Leo feel warm inside. Something he was not familiar with.
That, and that alone, was why he chose the Snow Mountain route next.
But now that he has played the first half of his story, Leo’s liking towards Michael only grew, and the boy soon found himself in love with the blue-eyed prince that made every fangirl’s knees weak. He was a kind soul at heart, always considerate towards the other team members, and hated his position as the crown prince of his kingdom. Though his reasons weren’t very clear. His connection with Michael in-game could not be completed until he brought the prince back from the brink of insanity that he was flung into when the war began. And that made him frustrated beyond all belief.
Once the scene was over, and Leo had a chance to save his progress, the brunette saved over the file and placed his Switch back into its dock.
“Finally beat the level, did ya?” Donn asked.
“Yeah,” replied Leo. “I just wanted to progress the story a little further. So Imma head to bed.”
“G’night, shitface.”
“Night, bitchass. You too, furry!”
Donn growled, “I’m. Not. A. Furry!”
Leo laughed as he ignored his friend’s insistence and headed towards his room. He walked through the narrow hallway and opened the door on the far end of it. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and approached his desk.
Leo had “strange hobbies” as his friends would describe, but the truth of it was that he did not trust any god. He was brought up to, raised to be a good Christian, but when reality sunk in he found it no longer acceptable to worship a god who’d never answer his prayers. Again and again he would pray, begging for things he could not have.
“Let them accept me.”
“Please, just make them see I’m not what they think I am.”
“End my suffering! Just let me be at peace!”
“You made me this way! You made me a sinner in their eyes! Fix this!”
But no answer came. So, he turned to one who would answer his prayers. One who would keep their word, so long as he kept his. One who he’d serve until his body gave out, and returned to the earth.
Leo opened the bottom drawer by his desk and pulled out a black-covered book. On the front page was a pentagram, and Latin dialogue he could not understand. He bought it from a yard sale while visiting his cousin in Jersey. His cousin warned him to never purchase from the strange man, for he was a Devil worshipper, but when did Leo ever listen?
The teen bought the book and took it home, and was intrigued by the content within. He immediately began to practice the spells and incantations in the book, but with little to no success. He managed some things—changing a plant into a spider, animating objects, and harmless illusions when a situation called for it—but never something as big as he planned at this moment.
Leo wanted to perform a summoning.
He had years of practice under his belt, and many more if he wished to achieve much with his new abilities, but a summoning was one of his ultimate goals, and Leo felt ready for the challenge.
With his pentagram already set up in the corner of his room, the brunette took a matchbox and pried it open. He ignited a single match and, with it, lit the white candles on each point of the pentagram. Around the insignia were small, potted plants, while the inside held a cup of mixed berries and fruits. Leo dug around in his pocket and pulled out two things: a knife, and a small piece of bread.
He placed the bread to the side and held up the knife. Holding his hand over the cup, he sliced into the delicate skin with a hiss. He watched as blood dripped into the cup, covering the fruits in iron liquid, and pulled his hand away. He grabbed a bandage off of a nearby shelf and applied it to the wound, the blood seeping through the cloth. He returned his focus to the ritual.
Leo, using a wooden spoon he kept in the corner, mixed the berries, fruit, and blood together before setting it back into the center of the pentagram.
Then, on his knees, he whispered:
“Fairy of Change
Come to me
Be my best friend, forever
Show me love and affection
Be everywhere I am
So mote it be.”
Leo waited patiently, his eyes cast downward and head hung in respect, when he heard a twinkling bell come from the cup. He glanced at it and witnessed a ball of gray light emerge from it. He closed his eyes, doing as the book told him, and opened it when the twinkling died.
Brown eyes met sparkling pink, and he saw a tall woman smiling at him. Her wings matched her delicate, long dress, and her skin was a bright, baby blue. Her hair, white as snow, was tied up in a bun.
She greeted him, “Human. For what reason do you call to me?” He said not a word when she continued, her eyes sparkling in amusement. “You are lost. Lost and afraid. What do you seek?”
Leo, eyeing the bread, grabbed the small loaf beside him and offered it up to her. “A gift, for you, as a token, milady.”
The fairy shook her head. “Appreciated, but I can sense within you: you share a great deal of respect, simply for my being not a creature of the Lord, and as such no offering is needed.”
“Still. Surely you are hungry?”
“Yes. But matters must be attended to, wouldn’t you agree?”
Leo didn’t object to it, and so he answered her question with a request. “Milady, Great Fairy of Change, I do not belong to this race. Yes, I am lost, for they refuse to show me the way. Yes, I am afraid, because they threaten my life with their glares and words. I seek your guidance, and, hopefully, your help.”
Intrigued, she asked, “And what help do you require?”
“If you deem me worthy, I wish to change my being,” he replied. “You can feel it, surely. My body is not what it appears. I have the tender curves of a woman, the finest breasts that leave men knocking on my door, if only for a chance to see them, and a...means of creation, if you understand my meaning. But that is not who I am!”
The fairy’s smile fell, and Leo could no longer read the feeling behind those pink irises. “Then tell me: who are you, Ramirez? If not Lilia, then who?”
With firmness and confidence in his voice did he reply, “I am Leonardo, great son of Chieftan Almir of the lost Native Tribe of Hispaniola. A people long dead, yet continue on through time.”
The fairy did not move, did not speak, but her silent words were as loud as church bells. She wanted Leo to prove himself. To show her his meaning, his dedication. Whatever it took to give her reason to help.
And so, Leo took his knife and discarded his clothing. He took off the black hoodie, revealing the feminine curves that disgusted him, and did away with the shirt beneath it. He was now left in only jeans and a bra, the latter of which he removed as well. Then, over his left breast, he dug into the flesh with a strangled cry, and carved a pentagram into himself. He did not see the way the fairy watched him, or the way her fingers twitched in anticipation.
When he was done, he offered the knife, stained with his blood, to her and said, “Drink my blood, and know of my devotion to our master, and answer my plea, Great Fairy. I wish to be accepted. I wish to take a form that will allow them to see me for the man I am, not the woman I was. Above all, do away with this form of mine. Take my breasts and tear them away from my body. Take my curves and erase them entirely. Take my voice, my stance, everything that once made me a woman, and do away with it. That is all I ask.”
The fairy gave a soft hum as she examined the blade. She took it into her hands, lifted it to her lips, and licked it clean.
“Pure intention,” she said, almost in a mutter. Her gaze returned to Leo. “I shall grant your wish, Leonardo of Hispaniola, but know this: I cannot change your form, but you will find acceptance among a group of peoples. You will join them on a great journey, and then, only then, along the way, will they take you as one of their own. They will treat you as they will treat any other. That, and that alone, I can promise.”
Leo nodded, unable to withhold his disappointment. But, in respect to the fairy, he thanked her, and in a blinding flash of gray light she disappeared.
Leo was left in the darkness of his room, the winter chill hitting his torn skin, and he turned to tend to his wound. He grabbed the bandages and, from his desk, a first aid kit, and headed towards the bathroom to work. He turned on the faucet, warm water only, and set a cloth hanging by the towels under the stream. When it was thoroughly soaked, he applied it to the wound on his chest and nearly screamed. Maybe stabbing himself to impress a fairy wasn’t such a great idea.
After cleaning off the blood, he took the antibiotic cream from the kit and applied it to the ruined flesh. Again, he held in any noise so as to not wake his housemates. He continued to clean the wound until he deemed his work satisfactory and finished the job by wrapping the bandage around his breast. Not too tightly, as it would be similar to binding, but just enough to keep the blood from seeping too far out and staining his skin and sheets while he slept.
Leo exited the bathroom promptly and rushed to his room. He looked to the corner again and figured he’d clean it in the morning. He discarded the rest of his clothing in favor of sleeping in his boxers, and, so as to not irritate his injury, didn’t bother putting on a shirt. He crawled under the covers, allowing only his neck and head to be exposed, and shut his eyes as his head hit the soft pillows underneath him.
That night, he dreamt of his conversation with the fairy, and wondered when he’d meet these people she spoke of. He waited all his life to be accepted by his kind. But his family refused him. His friends abandoned him. The doctors would not listen. Would not let him change, and so his heart became like stone to them.
Leo was hated, and, thus, became a monster. He promised to give them something to fear. Something to hate. And so he expressed his bloodthirst and hatred openly. But if these people, these mysterious beings the fairy promised him, would change all of that, perhaps he’d finally find a reason to kill the beast inside once and for all.
