There it was again, the first blow.
Disdain, abuse.
Garbage, junk, scrap metal, waste.
Disposeable, useless.
A failed experiment.
This story begins with my birth. I was not conceived but created. My former master was out in search of power, in search of creating a machine for war. For the entirety of his life, he researched the possibilities of fusing beings in order to enhance abilities and the use of magic. He used the natural organisms found in his surroundings, creating failing organisms unable to withstand on their own. Again and again he tried until eventually, fusing a Seraph and an Alexander into one being was sucessful. However, the result was not what he expected.
What he saw that night was not the strong robotic weapon that he wanted, but a boy, a small and frail one at that. On top of that, it had maintained its Seraph-like qualities, refusing to engage in any sort of violence unless pushed to do so. Nevertheless, he was the only successful fuse that he had managed to create.
That boy was me. After a few months my former master had become restless with my attitude and began using more extreme measures in order to attain compliance. It began slowly; prohibition from eating or sleeping on various spread out occasions. Then, it became more frequent. Two days, three days, four. No food or sleep. He wanted to create hatred, a thing that in those days I could not muster; my innocence did not allow it. The more by body weakened to the lack of sustenance, the more my master fretted. Finally, he did it.
The blow came hard and cold on my back. It was unexpected. I was being given the first helping of food and water that I had in days. My happiness was boundless. I smiled as I wolfed down the piece of bread and the half-full glass of water. That must have done it, my smile. The last straw. I spilled what was left of my precious water when I turned to see my master with a metal rod in his hands and a look of insane anger on his face. All of his plans, ruined. An entire lifetime of work for nothing. I began to cry, unable to understand why the beating was occurring. As if he couldn't hear them, my master continued on. After what seemed hours, I was picked up and thrown into a cell. My vision was blurred by my own blood flowing down my face. I barely had any strength to try and brush it out of my eyes.
The beatings continued for a few more days. My body tried to regenerate itself, but the violence was committed too frequently. My master was right though. Hatred started to build inside me, a darkness that I despised more than my master himself. One night, when he came in again for another round, I ran. I don't know how I did it, since my body was still in shambles from the previous nights. I ran until I couldn't any longer and passed out.
I was sort of thrown into life, not raised. Any sort of ideals I uphold now are solely ones that I had picked up from those who decided to take care of me. When I came to, I was in a small house. A priestess had seen me and taken care of me, and did so until I was able to walk again. She also gave me my name: Caelum Agaetis Byrjun, Celestial New Beginning. Despite the priestess' kindness and hospitality, I decided to move on and try and socialize with others, become independent. The Academy was my best bet at making new friends.
And that's how I ended up here.