"Get the fuck out, Darren!" My father yelled, his green eyes burning with anger as he threw a backpack with a few of my clothes in it at me. "Don't come back unless you're bringing me money!" He shouted, slamming the door behind him.
I held back a sob and picked up the bag, the heavy rain quickly soaking my black t-shirt, blue jeans and short dark green hair. My dad always had a temper, I knew that much. But how was I supposed to know that he'd get so angry over a stupid bent poster? All I did was put one small crease in it and he had picked me up by the collar of my shirt and literally threw me out of the house. Although considering I was only thirteen, it wasn't that much of an accomplishment.
I wiped a tear away from my light brown eyes and just walked the empty nighttime streets of Vale, hoping I could find someway to win my father's forgiveness. I contemplated trying to find my mom and trying to convince her to get back together with dad, but considering how they were divorced, I don't think that was an option. I also couldn't live with mom because she constantly brought home a new boyfriend and they'd have sex in the next room while I'd be trying to sleep.
I wandered past a store called 'From Dust 'Till Dawn' and headed inside, hoping I could make some money to buy my dad a whole new poster. I walked up to the counter and stood on my tiptoes so that I could look the shopkeeper in the eyes.
"U-umm… excuse me?" I asked the old man. "C-can you give me a j-j-job?" He merely took one look at me and shook his head sadly.
I felt tears well up in my eyes as I exited the store and headed off to a local restaurant where dad took me once for my birthday. Unfortunately, the woman who was the manager said I was too young to be a busboy or dishwasher. At that, I started crying and moved on, determined to make this up to my dad.
I continued to visit store after store, all of them turning me down due to my age. I decided to sleep in an alleyway for the night and try again tomorrow morning. I threw down my knapsack to what I thought was an empty spot, only for it to hit the leg of someone wearing a grey hoodie and matching sweatpants. He had a big bushy beard that obviously had not been trimmed in quite some time and several beer bottles around his spot, indicating that he was homeless.
"HEY!" He shouted at me. "What's the big idea!?"
"I-I'm s-sorry mister I-I was just…"
"Tryin' to steal my fuckin' spot, I know!" He then pulled out a switchblade from inside his hoodie. "Someone's gotta teach you a lesson, kid." He said with a menacing grin.
I immediately panicked and turned to run in the opposite direction, only for the man to grab me by the foot and drag me towards him face up. He held the knife up and stabbed downwards as my survival instincts kicked in and I rolled away from the blade. The man looked surprised at how fast I moved and with all my strength, I bit his wrist, making him cry out in agony and release the weapon. I grabbed it and held it like a two-handed sword, occasionally stabbing at the man to keep him at bay.
"I'll tear your head off for that!" He screamed, charging towards me. I closed both my eyes and thrust the knife forward and after hearing a sickening squelch, let go of it. I opened my eyes to see the man gasping for air as the weapon stuck out of his chest and he stumbled around, falling onto the concrete shortly after.
The sight of all the blood brought a nauseating feeling to my stomach and I promptly vomited next to the dying man, blood and rain staining the street. After I'd emptied the contents of my stomach, I turned back to the man.
What do I do!? I thought worriedly. If I go to the police, they'll arrest me and no one else will help me!
"Pathetic." A raspy voice whispered.
I looked around to search for the origin of the sound. "W-who's there?"
"I'd expected better of you, Diskaden." It came back.
I continued to search around until I found a pair of glowing red eyes akin to that of a creature of grimm with black smoke billowing out from underneath them staring at me from over the dead man's body. "W-who-who are you?"
"I had thought you would send me one sooner, but then again, as they say in this world: 'better late than never,' correct?"
This world? "Who are you?" I repeated with a little more confidence.
"Not the cleanest or quickest kill, but a kill nonetheless." The pair of eyes continued to ignore me as the shadow moved around the body, examining it.
"Who are you!?" I shouted.
The eyes glared back at me. "Now that's no way to talk to your father, is it?" The bodiless figure whispered.
I cocked an eyebrow. "B-but my dad is…"
"Not your true father. He and your so-called mother were your mere caretakers until this moment."
"What?" I said, genuinely confused.
"It was an agreement among all of us that all demigods not born from pure god blood would be banished from Olympus." It began. "Theseus, Hercules, Perseus, Helen of Troy, Harmonia, Zethes, Orion and many others. You however, were born from my blood and your true mother's blood; Athena. Many of my fellow deities considered the spawn of our relationship to be heretical, and demanded that you be cast out. Even my brothers turned against me, so I had no choice but to banish you to a mortal realm. However, they failed to mention which realm you would remain in." The voice said in an almost smug tone. "This place known as Remnant is your home for now, and also allows for your power to grow much easier. The other mortals have an inborn shield known as aura, and although yours is no stronger, you have been given two abilities. The first: a gift from your mother, the goddess of armor, among other things; Aegis Skin."
"What?" I replied.
"If that knife had struck you in the throat, it merely would've pricked you rather than killed you." The voice replied.
My eyebrows shot up, astonished. I had always wondered why other kids' knees were always scraped up when mine never were and why thorn bushes hurt others more than myself.
"Your second power is my gift. I didn't give it to you from birth because I wanted to see if you were capable of taking another man's life, which you just proved." I felt my left hand burn up as if it was on fire and screamed in agony. The shadow ignored my outburst and spoke on. "With this, I give you not only my symbol, but also the ability to raise the dead to fight at your side." The voice said. After the pain had subsided, I looked at my hand and saw that a picture of a snarling three-headed black dog manifested itself on my palm, covering most of my hand and ending just short of my fingers.
"B-but-but why?" I asked, gazing at the illustration.
"You will become a huntsman, earn the people's trust, their hope, their hearts and minds. After that, you will slay a monster I will unleash upon this world and become leader of the entire planet. Your power will then rival that of a god's and then will destroy my brothers at my side."
"What-what about my parents?" I asked the shadow.
"They are not your true family, nor have they acted like it. They neglect you and your adopted father not only physically beat you into submission, but also threw you out of the house while your mother is the most well known whore in this area." He stated bluntly. "I however, have only been in your life for less than two minutes and given you incredible power. So it is up to you, Diskaden. Who do you think is your family?"
I opened my mouth to say that my adopted parents were, or so this shadow said, but it made a good point. Mom was never around when dad went berserk and started yelling and hitting me, and she had just treated me like some sort of animal, not even acknowledging my existence. This… thing that claimed to be my dad however, had just given me the power to raise the dead! I had never heard of any huntsman with such an ability, and I was going to be the first.
I felt a mischievous smirk grace my lips. "You are."
The eyes bobbed up and down, as if they were attached to a head that nodded. "Very good. Your mother has also requested that I give you this upon meeting you." My dad said as a large steel flail, about the size of a pumpkin with spikes appeared on the ground in front of me. I grabbed the metal handle and tried to lift it, but even with both hands, it proved difficult.
"Get stronger, son. Grow your power and soon, we will become the ultimate gods." The shadow said as it started to dissipate.
"Wait!" I called, reaching out with my marked hand. The black smoke returned. "Two things: why do you call me that name and what is your name?" I asked.
My father's red eyes lit up as a low chuckle erupted across the air. "I call you Diskaden because in a very old language from another realm, it translates to who you are: my son."
"And what's your real name?" I asked.
"Hades. King of the dead." My father replied.