Beast Blood

"Leon, you little mongrel. We’re gonna teach you a lesson today!" A group of boys approached me with nasty looks in their eyes. Mongrel. That damned word again. That was the one word I hated the most in this world. I looked at them with hostility in my eyes. Grunting, the blood went to my head. No longer caring how many I was facing, I rolled up my sleeves and pounced at them. "Try me!" I gritted my teeth as if nothing would please me more than to swallow them whole. Alas, two hands could not beat four. I was soon pinned to the ground and showered with kicks and punches. I struggled, but there was nothing I could do. Very soon, I could taste rust in my mouth from their violence, and I spat out the crimson fluid. The sight of blood stimulated them, causing them to harden their fists even more. Maybe this is how I'm going to die, I thought weakly. But I did not seem too sad about it. "Hey, what are you brats doing!" Someone was approaching. The boys must have been scared, so they ran following the noise. I struggled to stand, and in defiance, I grabbed the boy at the very back, socking him with all the strength left in my body. "You're f*****g crazy, let go of me!" The boys pounced on me and pried my hands away. Then, kicking me a few more times, they left in a hurry. Holding my wounds, I grimaced as I walked home. In fact, they were not wrong. My birth had been a tragedy to begin with. I was a “mongrel”, just like they said. It might just be a common insult, but it genuinely reflected who I was. Who am I? What made me a “mongrel”? Who is my father? These were all questions I had always wanted answers to. I asked my mother many times, but each time, all I got were her sad tears, and I could not stand to see her like that. So, I stopped asking. As I grew up, from the gossip I picked up around me, I got to learn about my origins. My father was a beastman. That was right, he was not human. That was why they called me a "mongrel". "You got into a fight again? How are your injuries?" Granny looked at the beaten and bruised me with sympathy. "I'm fine, Granny. It's nothing serious. The next time I see them, I'll beat them up," I said, unwilling to show weakness. Who knew how many times I had come back like this, but Granny was clearly much calmer than during the first time it happened. "Fighting again, Leo? Come and sit down, let me take a look at those wounds." My aunt sat me down and brought out the ointment, rubbing it skillfully on my injuries. "That’s quite a deep cut. I'll have to disinfect it." My grandmother and my aunt are the two closest people to me. If only I could count my mother too... "Thank you, Auntie." I thanked her while enduring the pain. I was truly grateful to them from the bottom of my heart. If they had not fought so hard to protect me, I was afraid I might have been strangled to death by my mother as soon as I was born. That was right, my mother loved me, but she also hated me. She could be truly gentle with me, but I could still feel the hate radiating from her. Sometimes, I could see it in her eyes. She wished that I would just disappear so that she would not have to suffer the humiliation of having given birth to a "mongrel". I did not want to die, however, I wanted to live. Even if it was humiliating, I wanted to live, only so that I could be cleared from this humiliation one day in the future. The village that I lived in was located at the border of the empire where war and banditry were rife year-round. It could be described as the most chaotic area of the empire. Humans, beastmen, as well as a small number of elves, undead, and goblins existed in this continent. For what reason in this great world, formed by the four continents in each direction, are children born from the unification of a human and a beastman to be called “mongrels”? Even if humans and beastmen had been at war with each other for hundreds of years, why should I be the one to bear this hatred? What was more, I looked no different from any other human in appearance. Only, I was taller and stronger than my peers. So, I often wondered about their gossiping. We all looked the same, so why was I the mongrel? I had to prove to everyone that that was not what I am, I was not a "mongrel"! If I did not have a high-ranking uncle who was guarding the border, then I would have probably been killed long ago. In fact, today was nothing. The worst time I remembered was when I was targeted by a group of kids my age at the market, some of whom were even taller than me. They were clearly several years older than me. When they saw me alone and well-dressed, they might have figured that they could have gotten some money out of me. So, they dragged me to a deserted alleyway and robbed me clean. I resisted to the best of my ability, but they were a large group, and many of them were older than me. I was no match for them. After some resistance, I still had everything taken by them. I was beaten to the point where my nose was bruised and my face was swollen. As I lay on the ground, I thought that that was the end of it, but when they were about to leave, they happened to see what was hanging around my neck. It was a peculiar-looking stone. Other than its appearance, I did not notice anything special about it. However, my mother gave it to me. She told me it was important, and that I should take care of it and make sure that I never lost it. I had always kept my mother's words in my heart. When I saw the man's greedy eyes, I knew it was going to be bad. Sure enough, he shouted to me, asking what it was that was hanging off my neck. I rushed to cover up the necklace and hoped that I could get away with it, but his words caught the attention of the group, and they turned back toward me. I crawled up and tried to escape from their encirclement, but the injuries I had sustained up to that point had been bad. With them keeping a constant eye on me, I was kicked to the ground before I could even take two steps. Then, my hands were held down by two of them as the one who spoke earlier came forward with a smug look, stomping on my face. "Come on, let's see you run!" Saying that, his hand moved toward my neck, and with a hard tug, he freed the stone hanging around my neck into his hands. He carefully examined the stone. It had a strange appearance, and with how precious this rock seemed to me, it was clear that it must be worth a good deal. Laughing, he looked at me who was pinned down, panting, and moved over again, slapping me twice across my face. "Little mongrel, what are you gonna do about it if I take this from you?" My blood had rushed to my head from their beating, and when I heard that detestable word, my anger erupted. My surroundings suddenly turned silent. The only thing I could see in my eyes was that wretched boy who was scolding me. Very soon, my eyes turned red, and my skin turned from normal to dark, then from dark to red. But that was not the end of it. A layer of fine brown fur was growing all over my body. I had no idea whether my appearance had shocked them, but I was able to break free and I lunged at the boy. But with a roar, he pushed me back onto the ground. My mind was filled purely by fury at that moment, and I could not remember what I did to them. The only thing I remembered was the group of boys fleeing in the end, and that I had torn off one of that wretched boy's arms.