Hello everyone, I started this book mainly to try my hand at writing. I don't know if I'll do any good; if I do well, give me some stones. I tried this genre because there weren't many BL Boys Love with action-type stories. It's nothing graphic, just small puppy love. Everything will only be action-based, with a few mentions of love between the characters.
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Residents went about their routines: a stall owner called out to passersby to buy his goods, while fishermen unloaded their daily catch. It was just another sunny day, accompanied by the familiar scent of the sea. However, everything changed with a single, primal scream that echoed through the streets, sending chills down everyone's spines.
"Run!" echoed the frantic cry through the small coastal town of the Mimbo Republic. Panic and fear filled the air as someone shouted, "We have to make it to the boats, hurry!" Chaos reigned in a place that had, not long ago, been a tranquil town living in harmony with nature.
Curiosity, instinct, responsibility, or perhaps anxiety compelled the townspeople to stop and move toward the source of the scream, driven by an urgent need to discover what was happening. The crowd at the docks began to surge forward, unaware of the horrors that awaited them.
As they ventured deeper into the town, more screams echoed around them, signaling that an attack was in progress; people were being harmed by someone or something. Those who quickly understood the situation began gathering whatever weapons they could find along the way. Being a small, close-knit community, everyone looked out for one another, but they were unaware that not many would survive the terrible catastrophe that had befallen their town.
At some point, the crowd stopped moving at a walk and began to run faster until they stumbled upon a shocking and bloody scene. Corpses of all ages lay scattered on the ground. It was then that they saw what was attacking everyone. "Those are carnivorous gibbons! What are they doing in town?" Every resident knew about the carnivorous Gibbon: a long-armed, ape-like creature with pointy ears, razor-sharp teeth, and obsidian eyes that gave it an eerie appearance.
The carnivorous Gibbon was a local species, alongside two other creatures that shared a symbiotic relationship with it: the giant boar and the titan snake. The Gibbon hunted the giant boar for meat, as it was the only animal capable of biting through the tough flesh and digesting it effectively. Additionally, the big boar was large enough to satisfy the Gibbon's substantial appetite.
On the other hand, the titan snake preyed on the Gibbon because their population was large and they reproduced quickly. In contrast, the titan snake had a longer reproductive cycle, making the Gibbons an abundant food source for them. Typically, they reside deep in the forest and avoid venturing into town because they must pass through the territory inhabited by pythons.
"Those creatures live deep in the forest. What are they doing in town?" asked one of the many men in the crowd. "I don't know, but they're extremely dangerous; we must call for help. We can't deal with these many," the man who identified the Gibbon said solemnly. The crowd's expression was dark and hopeless because fifteen of those terrifying predators were not charging toward them now that they had noticed them, and they were moving fast.
As the Gibbons noticed the gathering crowd, they let out eerie laughs, mocking their prey for showing up. To emphasize this point, one of the Gibbons holding a small child began to eat her. The girl had been unconscious until that moment. She let out a painful cry, unable to cope with the agony. Just before she fainted, she shouted for her dad, "Help, Daddy! Help!" The small girl screamed as she spotted her father in the crowd.
"Lily!" the girls' father shouted as he pushed everyone aside and rushed out, ignoring the danger posed by the Gibbons. His only thought at that moment was to save his daughter. "You fool! Stop— they will kill you too!" a man in the crowd screamed. But the father did not heed the warning.
Suddenly, two Gibbons lunged from the pack and attacked the man. One sank its teeth into his neck, while the other grabbed one of his legs and began to bite it off. They didn't even give him a chance to scream before they killed him. Though they enjoyed torturing their prey, with so many victims available, they relished the act of killing even more.
"Hurry! Evacuate the children and grab any weapons you can find. They won't leave us alone until their hunger is satisfied. We need to call for a hunter." As soon as the man finished speaking, the rest of the Gibbons rushed at their prey like hungry predators. He did not mention that a Carnivorous Gibbon could consume up to two hundred pounds of food and would not stop until it was full.
The chaos spread like wildfire. Fear and death hung in the air as two of the fifteen Gibbons had been killed by a group of twenty men over the course of two hours. In contrast, hundreds of townspeople had died at the hands of the remaining Gibbons. The town walls were stained red with the blood of the young and the old. The commotion had drawn the fishermen out at sea; the fleeing people tried to reach the shore and board ships to escape, while others sought refuge on those already anchored.
The Gibbons were not just mindless creatures; they possessed the intelligence of a five-year-old child, lacking critical thinking skills but knowing enough to prevent their prey from escaping. Most of the Gibbons attacked the ships first, ensuring that no one could flee. They herded the remaining townspeople back into the town, effectively trapping them and leaving only one escape route: the forest. However, none dared to venture into the forest, as it was the Gibbons' natural territory.
A family of three, slightly tanned from the sunny days, was running through their chaotic town. They were among the last remaining people alive after the Gibbons had attacked the ships. All three had raven-black hair. The mother was a beautiful woman with long, straight hair. She had a figure that could captivate any man, but her heart belonged to the man running beside her.
The man was burly and more deeply tanned than his wife and child; being a fisherman, that was no surprise. He had short black hair and a bandana tied around his head. A stubbly beard adorned his handsome, masculine face—although he was missing his mustache. However, at that moment, his appearance was the least of anyone's concerns. He tightened his grip on his eight-year-old child while holding his wife's hand as they ran away from the screams behind them, not daring to look back.
The eight-year-old child was a reflection of his mother; he was cute, yet you could see his father's manly features. Many had told the couple that Jett looked like his mother but would eventually grow to be as handsome as his father. However, those thoughts were far from their minds as they ran. Jett's father thought of escape—where to hide, or better yet, any place that would ensure his wife and child's survival. His own life felt secondary to theirs. Jett's mother had the same thoughts, believing that her child would have a better chance of surviving with her husband than with her. In her heart, she was prepared to sacrifice herself for their safety.
Unfortunately, that thought became a harsh reality sooner than she anticipated. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a hairy hand reaching for her husband. With a burst of speed that could outpace most athletes, she pushed her husband out of the way, positioning herself directly in the path of the hand that was meant for him. If this scene had been in a movie, it would have played out in slow motion. As her husband turned around, he felt the gentle imprint of a hand—one he would never mistake. It was only when he glanced back that he saw his wife being captured.
"Run, Milo! Don't look back. Escape with Jett!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. Milo gritted his teeth and took off running. He sprinted forward, a haunted expression evident in his eyes. As he moved, he scanned his surroundings for a place to hide his son.
Approaching a ruined house, he noticed a small hole dug out beneath the edge—perhaps by a dog or a child at play. It was just big enough for his eight-year-old son to fit through. Without hesitation, Milo stopped and guided Jett into the hole. He could see that his son was terrified; throughout the chaos, Jett hadn't cried out or made a sound—he was frozen in fear.
"Jett, hide here. Daddy will go and find Mommy, okay? Stay quiet and don't make a noise until I come back for you," Milo instructed. Jett didn't respond; he simply stared into his father's eyes, a blank look on his face, as Milo turned to leave.
His wife struggled to make it harder for the Gibbon to chase after her husband. She had witnessed how fast the creature had killed others, and she was one of the few people who understood the Gibbon's nature. She knew that the reason the Gibbons didn't kill her right away was that they wanted to use her to lure her husband. This thought filled her mind with unwavering courage. Unknown to her, the birthmark she had behind her right shoulder, which resembled a double helix without the middle sections, turned crimson. She felt a surge of strength and, with her newfound power, kicked the Gibbon's knees, making it buckle under its weight and fall. Surprise, the Gibbon reflexively tightened its grip on her right arm, breaking it.
"Aah...!" Her scream echoed in the now-silent town.
Milo shouted as he ran at full speed and tackled the kneeling beast. Once "again" taken by surprise, the Gibbon loosened its grip on the woman, allowing Milo to grab her and run. Enraged by its prey fighting back, the Gibbon no longer cared about keeping them alive. It quickly stood up and chased, but it didn't have to run far, as twelve other Gibbons were blocking the couple's escape. In a panic, Milo hadn't noticed that he had run into full view his son's sigh. The boy's mother had seen the Gibbons perched on the roof where her boy was hiding. Desperately, she looked at him and pleaded for it to stop, because she had noticed that it too had seen her child.
"No, please!" Jett heard his mother's voice and snapped out of his shock, then ran outside.
"Mommy, Daddy!" he screamed, unaware that one of the monsters was right behind him.
The monster let out a hysterical laugh of joy.
Jett had always been gentle and kind, with a strong sense of justice. Whenever he saw someone having a hard time, he would offer his help without ever asking for anything in return; it was what his parents had taught him. But that changed the moment he decided to leave his hiding place, and emotions he didn't know he had began to surge inside him. This was the moment he witnessed his mother being killed.
The monsters lived to torture their prey. The screams of their victims brought them an emotion they didn't understand, but they knew it gave them a feeling of joy. It wasn't as exhilarating as when they watched their prey cry for those they were torturing.
That moment marked the birth of something new inside Jett's tiny body—a dark, searing heat that boiled his blood. Like Jett's mother, Jett bore a distinctive birthmark on his right shoulder: a deep, red mark that glowed like lava. Suddenly, a white aura erupted from his body. At only eight years old, Jett was confused by this new sensation; all he knew was that he wanted to hurt the monster that had harmed his mom and dad.
Overwhelmed by a sudden influx of power, he felt compelled to act but had no idea how. His small body was still undeveloped, and he was unfamiliar with his sudden strength coursing through him. In desperation, he charged at the beast that still clutched his father. Although he had never fought before, he ran wildly toward the creature. The Gibbons, who were initially cautious, soon realized that his strange aura did nothing as Jett attacked; their hesitation faded, and they retaliated with full force.
Despite the sting of their punches, Jett's newfound strength allowed him to withstand the blows. Yet, even with this newfound power, Jett still felt powerless to save his parents; his efforts seemed futile against the overwhelming odds.
With their bellies full and Jett being the last prey they had found, the Gibbon decided to kill his father. Jett watched as the neck of his father was grasped; he observed in horror as the Gibbon snapped his father's neck like it was a broken toy. In that moment, something inside him broke, and what happened next froze all the Gibbons in place. An extremely dark and sinister aura began to emanate from Jett's body.
"Mommy, Daddy... please wake up; I don't feel good; it hurts. My chest is burning." The burning sensation in Jett continued to increase without stopping; he felt as if he might explode. He also sensed, or perhaps it was more of an instinct, that if he embraced that emotion, he would feel much better. Clenching his tiny hand against his chest, Jett looked at his dead parents. The approaching monsters were slowly blocking his view of their corpses, and, seeing this, he gradually let the overwhelming feeling take him. He didn't know that those emotions were hatred and killing intent; he wanted to kill those creatures, but he had no idea how to express those emotions that he had never felt before.
His head felt fuzzy, and a high-pitched noise filled his ears. His mind slowly sank deeper into a dark place. Just as he was letting go, he felt two phantom hands reaching out to him from the emptiness. Jett recognized those hands; they belonged to his parents, who held him daily and told him they loved him.
"Mom, Dad?" he called out, sure it was them.
"Run, Jett. You can do it. You have the power to run and live," his mother's ghostly voice urged.
"Run and stay alive," his father's voice added.
"I don't want to. Can I go with you? I don't want to stay alone," Jett cried.
Jett no longer hesitated, let go, and the strange power responded to his emotions. A transparent silhouette of Jett emerged from his body and embraced his parents. They simply smiled at him, took his hands, and began walking toward an unknown destination. Jett glanced back at his body, feeling a pull that reminded him of something he needed to do. He realized he couldn't leave until that feeling had subsided.
"Please, please help me; make them pay," Jett said.
He didn't fully understand to whom he was speaking or why he said those words, but it felt right. He sensed that he was somehow addressing the blue flame surrounding his body. With those words, the strange pull vanished. Just as he was about to turn and walk with his parents, he heard a distant voice.
"Okay. I swear I will make these creatures pay."
The now-deceased Jett had no way of knowing that he had unwittingly created a contract with an unknown entity, allowing it access to the world. Jett's powerful emotions influenced his nen, compelling Jett to seek out a being capable of fulfilling his last wish. In that moment of profound emotion at Jett's death, his nen reached into the void and drew in a soul from a distant realm. This was a phenomenon known as post-mortem Nen, which became more powerful depending on the person's resentment at the time of their death.
A silhouette of a young teenager emerged from the void. As he materialized, he could hear Jett's plea. The silhouette quickly surveyed his surroundings and grasped the situation. Without hesitation, he responded; this was an opportunity he could not afford to miss.