For the world, an orphanage is supposed to be a place where hope is rebuilt.
But for Scyte, it was nothing more than a cold stone cage.
"Useless trash."
"Just die already!"
Those were the words the other children threw at him.
From the very beginning, he was never able to blend in.
His eyes were always empty, his behavior unpredictable, and he often reacted to things no normal person could see.
"A strange child. A bringer of misfortune."
That was what the caretakers whispered whenever they saw him.
The breaking point came one stormy night.
Rain poured relentlessly from the sky.
The orphanage staff had finally run out of patience.
Without even a piece of warm clothing, Scyte's small body was shoved out through the iron gates.
He was cast into the cruel city streets, swallowed by the thick darkness of night, with not a single hand reaching out to help him.
With nowhere to go, Scyte wandered through the soaked alleys, shivering from the cold.
His bare feet eventually led him beneath a massive concrete bridge.
It was dark, damp, and reeked of urine.
But at least the bridge above shielded him from the piercing rain.
Scyte curled up in the darkest corner.
Unfortunately, he had one fatal flaw, he couldn't read.
He had no idea that right above his head, on the concrete wall, was a large warning sign from the city authorities:
"STRICTLY FORBIDDEN FOR BEGGARS AND THE HOMELESS TO STAY IN THIS AREA."
That ignorance would cost him dearly.
Near midnight, a group of drunken street thugs passed beneath the bridge.
Their eyes immediately locked onto Scyte's small figure.
Using the warning sign as an excuse, they began their "cleanup."
"Hey, trash! Can't you read? This isn't a place for rats like you!" the leader barked.
Before Scyte could even process what was happening, a heavy kick slammed into his stomach.
He coughed violently, vomiting stomach acid, there was no food left to throw up.
The thugs laughed in amusement, turning him into a living punching bag.
They beat, stomped, and kicked him without mercy.
Scyte's vision blurred, clouded by his own blood.
Satisfied, one of them lifted his limp body like a broken doll and tossed him into the massive drainage canal beneath the bridge.
BYUUR!
The black, foul-smelling, ice-cold water swallowed him instantly.
Panic surged as he began to sink.
Scyte struggled, but his muscles were destroyed.
He opened his mouth to scream, only for filthy wastewater to rush in instead.
His lungs burned.
His consciousness began to fade.
'Am I really going to die in a place this filthy?'
Just as he was about to surrender to the darkness below, his fingers touched something solid.
A piece of old wood.
Strangely, it wasn't straight, it curved like the blade of a scythe.
Driven by something he couldn't explain, Scyte gripped it tightly.
The rough texture seemed to send a faint surge of energy through his veins.
With the last of his breath and a desperate will to survive, he drove the wood into the muddy wall of the canal.
Slowly, inch by inch, he pulled himself upward, until he finally crawled back onto solid ground.
He coughed violently, expelling black water from his lungs.
Unfortunately, his suffering wasn't over.
The thugs were still there.
They watched him crawl out with mocking expressions.
"Oh? The rat's still alive?" one of them sneered, cracking his knuckles as he approached.
Scyte stepped forward and swung his wooden scythe, striking one of the thugs and knocking him down.
Then…
He looked up. His eyes were sharp.
He swung again at the leader with all the strength he had left.
But the strength of a dying child meant nothing.
The thug caught the wooden weapon with one hand, laughing mockingly.
"This is all you've got? Then die!"
He raised his fist high, ready to crush Scyte's skull.
But the punch never landed.
The air beneath the bridge suddenly grew unbearably heavy and freezing.
A man appeared out of nowhere, his very presence seeming to absorb all light.
It was No Name.
There was no emotion on his face. No shouting.
He simply raised his hand casually and flicked a finger toward the thug holding Scyte's weapon.
DUARRR!!
An invisible shockwave exploded.
The thug's body was launched like a bullet, crashing into the main pillar of the bridge at insane speed, shattering the massive concrete structure into pieces.
Dust and debris rained down, yet not a single fragment dared touch No Name or Scyte.
The remaining thugs fled in terror, screaming at the sight of such absolute, incomprehensible power.
No Name looked down at Scyte, who still clutched his wooden scythe with trembling hands.
"W-who are you…?" Scyte muttered.
Behind the boy's frail body and innocent appearance, No Name saw something else.
An anomaly.
Potential.
"You've got good potential, kid. Want to come with me?" No Name said flatly.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and began to walk away.
Scyte, feeling as though he had no better choice, forced his broken body to stand and followed the mysterious man.
They walked through the night until they arrived at a massive skyscraper, its peak piercing the clouds, the headquarters of No Name Corporation.
As they stepped into a private elevator, Scyte stared at the back of the man in the black suit.
Wiping the blood from his face, he gathered the courage to ask,
"Who are you… really?"
No Name didn't turn around.
A faint, almost invisible smile appeared on his lips.
"Heh… I don't even know myself. Just call me… No Name."
The elevator shot upward and stopped at the highest floor with a soft chime.
The steel doors slowly opened, revealing a vast, cold, futuristic room.
At the center of the room, Scyte saw someone about his size,
a boy radiating a wild, intimidating aura.
The first thing that caught Scyte's attention…
was the cloth covering the boy's eyes.