Chapter 35:The Boy Who was Fed to Power
The Kain family wasn’t noble.
They weren’t respected.
They were feared.
A cursed lineage known for one thing—
Berserkers.
Not warriors.
Not knights.
Weapons.
Every generation, one child would awaken it.
Not talent.
Not training.
A curse.
Draven was five years old.
Too young to understand anything.
Old enough to scream.
They lined the children up.
Dozens of them.
Brothers.
Sisters.
Cousins.
All Kain blood.
An elder walked past them slowly.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then—
He stopped.
In front of Draven.
“You.”
That was it.
No ceremony.
No honor.
No choice.
They threw him into a stone pit.
Dark.
Cold.
Wet.
Then—
They dropped something else in.
A beast.
Starving.
Maddened.
Bred for one purpose—
To trigger the bloodline.
Draven didn’t fight.
He ran.
He cried.
He begged.
Above him—
His family watched.
“Survive.”
The beast caught him.
Claws tore into his back.
Teeth sank into his shoulder.
Something broke.
Not bone.
Not flesh.
Him.
The screaming stopped.
The fear disappeared.
And something else took its place.
When the elders looked down again—
The beast was dead.
And the boy…
Was standing.
Covered in blood.
Not his.
Eyes glowing.
Empty.
Hungry.
They pulled him out.
Not with concern.
Not with relief.
With satisfaction.
“It awakened.”
From that day on—
Draven wasn’t treated like a child.
He was trained.
Broken.
Rebuilt.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Pain wasn’t punishment.
It was fuel.
If he hesitated—
He was beaten.
If he showed fear—
He was starved.
If he lost control—
They praised him.
Because control…
Was never the goal.
“Power is freedom.”
But Draven learned something different.
Power wasn’t freedom.
Power was the only time—
The pain stopped.
So he chased it.
Again.
And again.
And again.
He was twelve.
They sent him on his first real hunt.
Not a beast.
Not a monster.
People.
Bandits.
Weak.
Terrified.
Begging.
Draven hesitated.
For a moment.
Then the bloodline surged.
When it was over—
Everything was red.
Bodies everywhere.
Silence.
And for the first time—
Draven smiled.
Not because he was happy.
Because it felt…
Quiet.
Draven doesn’t love violence.
Not really.
He loves what comes after.
The silence.
The emptiness.
The absence of pain.
That’s why he fights.
That’s why he loses control.
That’s why he keeps going.
Because stopping—
Means feeling everything again.
When Draven looks at others—
He doesn’t see enemies.
He doesn’t see allies.
He sees:
Noise.
And when he looks at Lucifer—
For the first time—
He sees something different.
Not noise.
Not prey.
A mirror… that didn’t break.
Draven isn’t evil.
He’s what happens when:
Pain is mistaken for purpose.