The Primal Hunter

William looked at the now pitch-black clearing where Casper had disappeared from earlier. He had been standing there for minutes now. William didn’t get it. But more infuriating than that was that he didn’t understand why he didn’t get it.

That power was something William wanted… he needed it. But he couldn’t even begin to understand what it was. No clue remained either, as all of the spikes and the corpses of the beasts they impaled were gone.

Casper claimed it was some kind of emotional power… resentment. William understood being mad at someone, but how could that possibly be so tangible? His claim of doing everything and reaching the power he had due to love was also… ridiculous. Illogical.

He had never gotten it. Love was a weird ethereal word not commonly found in his internal dictionary. He knew that his parents had claimed to love him. But if love was such an all-consuming feeling as the trapper claimed, why had the parents who claimed to love him chosen to abandon him?

Why did people think he was broken?

William had always thought himself a smart kid. He had been quiet, controlled, and done as he was told. His school-years were straightforward and easy. He never had any friends, and he did recall seeing ‘specialists’ who concluded that he just had a hard time understanding empathy. Putting him on some spectrum, something that allowed him to avoid much suspicion later on in life.

At only 11 years old, he had found an old book and looked up the word ‘love’ and tried to do as it said. Do to others as you want them to do unto you, which meant that the next many years were fine. He was a well-behaved child and never did any wrong. The problems only started arriving when his brother was born.

He remembered his parents being happy, having fulfilled their biological quota of two children to carry on the bloodline. He also remembered them being sad when they discovered that the child was a defect. A product that Darwinism would have claimed if nature was to run its cause without the interference of society.

William was 12 when the kid was born, and he would never forget the difficulties it brought. His mother had to quit working, and all semblance of free-time and family outings stopped. William may have had his issues, but he still enjoyed what other children did and sorely missed going to amusement parks and the zoo.

As the years passed, the problems continued, and William tried just to do his own thing. His parents had forgotten their otherwise ‘troubled’ teenager, being far too busy with his little brother who required constant care.

Then, and even now, William never understood why they kept the child. They knew even before the birth that it wouldn’t come out whole. It would never amount to anything; it was a failed attempt. In all other areas, you were told that if a product turned out terribly, you just throw it out and start over or move onto more important matters. But his parents had used the ever-ethereal argument of love to bring the child into the world.

Once more, William didn’t care. As long as he did nothing illegal, his parents didn’t care either. Back then, William had big plans. He enjoyed studying, he liked to learn, and he found great pleasure in learning about other humans, most of all. He learned how they worked and how he was supposed to act around them. But more importantly, how to make them act as you wanted.

His plans were grand. He still remembered the day he found out he had gotten into the best university in his area. He remembered the genuine joy he had felt. But he also remembered his parent’s slightly reluctant attitude to his happiness.

It turns out that having a child requiring a person to care for it every hour of the day, combined with a lot of medicine, is expensive. They never told William, but he discovered it himself as he heard his parents whisper in the middle of the night. They were about to go into debt. William would have to move to go to the university… he would need money - money they didn’t have.

William did not take the news well that his plans for the future wouldn’t become a reality. The child, his so-called brother, was making that impossible. So, William did as he had read in that book so many years ago. He did unto others what he wished they would do to him. So, he helped them.

He knew the law. He knew that the child, now 5 years old, was still wheelchair-bound, and quite frankly, at risk of dying to any unexpected danger. It wouldn’t be suspicious if it happened.

the night. The thing they called his brother was so defective it couldn’t even do that without help. The night was also the only time the child was

18, he got to work. He considered bringing it up to his parents, but he knew no legal

most straightforward thing and simply twisted one of the tubes delivering oxygen, stopping the flow. And with that, he went back to bed and slept like a baby. He had done a good deed, after

in the way but a possible legal investigation, but he had made sure to make the twisted tube look like it happened on accident. So, if anything, it would be some

and his mother was even worse off. His father had been at work, as he was working nearly every waking

slept in, never having even woken up. And now he would never wake up ever again. William was proud of himself. After the panic and mourning, an investigation was made, and it was ultimately

been suspected. He had only been questioned once, and he just claimed that he was

improve. Despite having removed the burden, his parents didn’t get newfound freedom, and the focus of their family didn’t go to making sure his university plans were fulfilled. Instead, it became endless mourning, and his mother even deliriously wanting to sue both the caretaker and the company that

legal proceedings would put the family even further in debt, for what even he could see was a pointless legal-battle, he decided to finally come clean- There was a

acting deceitful was not okay after all, but the reaction was way out of proportion. He tried to explain; he tried to

yelled more than ever; his mother broke down crying. After that, he had been sent to his grandparent’s place. He was forced to talk

he had done,

logic dying, and from then, it all turned into a blur with only moments of clearness - one and a half years he spent living like that. Even now, his memories of the time

as he managed to fool some new hire that he was getting. That he understood what they wanted. That he understood the emotions that they all found oh so important. But he could only

It freed him. Not

manipulate, exploit, and do everything possible to win. He

that belief. Was he missing something? Was

called ‘mentally ill’ before; it wasn’t new. Casper was

someone didn’t hold value for him, there was only the value he would get from harvesting

was rewarded for every kill. Not punished like the old world. Rules didn’t apply to the strong. And William… William

only one he had

a straight line. He did see some beasts, but

the build, and he was wearing an upgraded common-rank archer cloak, but he saw no bow in sight. Nothing else about him was of interest, as the cloak concealed

made him pause. There was a presence to the man. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but through all the evolutions and levels, a certain

on the man. He knew he was terrible at remembering to use it, as he hadn't even bothered to use it on Casper before. Or anyone really. Something to improve, he told himself. But when

[?]

he had gotten the Identify skill to common-rarity,

opportunity. Casper was an anomaly; he reminded himself. This lone person in front of

huge smile. Completely back in his faux persona. “Haven’t seen anyone else for a while out here.