Pest was born on a farm southwest of Aquilonis. The farm was small. It had only wheat as its harvest because his family could only provide wheat seeds.
He was a cute kid. He had a small face, naturally dark green hair, and a confident curiosity in his eyes.
He lived with his mother alone after his dad had died when he was seven years old.
His mother was sweet at first.
“Hey, my sweet bread Pesil, what would you like for breakfast?”
She always had a bright smile on her face. Shimmering like the sun in Pest’s viewpoint.
Pest used to smile and answer.
“Can you make a Honey Crust?”
His mom’s eyes went calm.
“Of course.”
A shout of joy: “Yaaaaaaaaaaaay.”
His mom started ruffling his hair.
“I would do anything for you, Pesil.”
***
The farm was far away from the villages, so there weren’t any kids that Pesil could play with. But Pesil had friends.
Pesil wasn’t a normal child. He could talk with animals: worms, bees, wasps, spiders, cats, dogs, foxes, and even bears.
He would listen to them, talk to them, and even play with them.
Once, worms and spiders quarreled over their webs and how they disturbed each other.
Pest suggested that spiders should put their webs in higher places, places where worms can’t enter. Spiders accepted and went on to build their webs in higher places.
But Pest was mostly…
…curious.
He used to ask all kinds of stuff.
He asked spiders,
“Why do you guys hurt wasps, bees, and other insects?”
The spiders answered,
“We need to eat. We need to eat to survive.”
He became sad.
“But why? Isn’t there another way?”
Spiders replied.
“We don’t know. We’ve never thought about it. There could be one. But they still die even if we don’t eat them. Is there a problem with eating something that will be wasted?”
Later, he asked cats and dogs.
“Why do you guys always fight?”
Dogs answered.
“We do not fight, we are playing together.”
Cats interrupted.
“Yes, we love playing together. Why did you think that we were fighting?”
Pesil replied.
“My mom told me that cats and dogs always fight.”
Dogs and cats both laughed.
“Humans are too funny. They think that they understand something they can’t hear or see, as if they had ever heard it or seen it.”
Lastly, he asked a fox.
“Why do you always hide from others? Dogs play with cats. Spiders spin their webs together. There are various worms that crawl together. Why don’t you play with others?”
Fox’s expression was dim.
“Why, you ask? I’ve tried to reach for the flask. It shone a path for me. A path full of life. But I wanted more. I wanted to take everything I had and destroy it, just for something… more. I walked and walked and walked… One more and it was gone. Everything… I’ve lost it. Now I wander in the wild—wild. Playing with others? I have no soul left. How can I ever play?”
Pesil didn’t understand what Fox had said. Only four words came out of his mouth.
“But playing is fun.”
He used to tell his mother about the animals, his friends.
“Mom, I’ve found a new friend. A fox. He looked sad. He said he can’t play, but I want to play with him.”
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His mom never really believed that Pesil could speak to animals, but she also didn’t want Pesil to be sad about it.
“Some don’t like to play, Pesil. There will be a time when you don’t want to play either. Playing isn’t always… fun.”
***
They were poor as a family. But one day, his mother had an idea.
“Why don’t we brew beer?”
They spent the next three days in a fever of labor.
Pesil’s task was the most tedious: he knelt on the dirt floor, turning the damp grain with his bare hands to ensure it sprouted evenly.
He watched for the tiny white "nubs" to appear, signaling the starch had turned to sugar. When it was time to grind, they had no mill; Pesil used a heavy smooth stone to crack the husks against the hearth, his shoulders aching until they went numb.
Finally, the house filled with the heavy, sweet steam of the mash.
"Stir it well, Pesil," his mother whispered, wrapping an old wool tunic around the tub to trap the heat.
That night, they sat in the silence of the cottage, staring at the tub. Then, a soft hiss broke the quiet. A thick, creamy foam began to rise, bubbling with the life of the yeast.
"It's singing," Pesil whispered, leaning close to the froth.
“Yes, it is,” his mother patted Pesil’s head.
The days passed as they brewed the beer. After three days, Pesil and his mother bought a caravan and started selling the beer they had brewed.
“Best beers in the whole Aquilonis just for fourteen routs. Please come and buy some, it’s delicious,” Pesil used to advertise in the streets.
His cuteness started to attract people to their stand.
First, one person tried the beer.
“You did this on your own?”
“Yes,” Pesil’s mother answered.
“Quite delicious. Here, twenty routs, you keep the change.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Then others came. Soon, the beer stand had quite a line waiting for beer. They started to earn money.
One person from the crowd approached, Pesil’s mother.
“Hello, madam. Would you like to expand your work?”
They became wealthier. Bigger houses, bigger caravans, better sales. Once, an idea turned the whole of poverty upside down.
But money doesn’t always give happiness.
Pesil’s mother started inviting people into their house. Each person was different.
They used to close the doors.
Sounds of screams.
Sounds full of lust.
Pesil didn’t know what they were doing. He was scared that his mother was being hurt by those men.
But every time his mother and the man opened the door. His mother was happy. Pesil didn’t care.
Even though he was rich and lived in a village, he still couldn’t make friends.
“Weird kid.”
“Did you hear that his mother was a whore?”
“He thinks he can speak to animals, what a weirdo.”
But Pesil still didn’t care.
He spoke even though nobody listened to him. Nobody talked to him.
Because his mother was listening to him.
Until one day…
…she didn’t.
Pesil’s mother was now in love with someone. Couldn’t get her eyes off of him. She started to drink. She ate mushrooms just to fall into dreams with him and herself.
Pesil tried speaking to her.
“Mom, the worm…”
“Tell me later, darling,” his mother rejected, drinking her beer.
“Mom, the dogs here are…”
“I don’t care, Pesil, just leave me be.”
But Pesil continued to ask, continued to tell. He knew his mother would listen, right?
She would…
One day, her mother came with a man.
That man.
The man that she loves.
Her drunk eyes turned into glimmers. She put her hands on her chin in deep understanding. They talked for hours.
Pesil was bored, he asked,
“Mom, the spiders were…”
His mother interrupted him, putting her index finger to his mouth.
Another hour passed.
“Mom, did you know that ducks…”
His mother looked at him with disgust, commanding him to shut up.
Another hour passed.
Pesil was alone in his corner. His mother wasn’t listening to him. Forget listening, not even looking at him.
“Please look at me, Mom. Please, just listen to me.”
He cried—heavy.
The man told Pesil’s mother.
“Hey, your child is annoying. Can you shut him up?”
Pesil’s mother nodded.
“Of course, I would do everything for you, love.”
But he never wanted to cry loudly. It just happened.
A slap.
Right at the cheek of Pesil.
“YOU KNOW WHAT, PESIL? YOU ARE TOO DAMN ANNOYING.”
She started to wave her hands randomly.
“You always talk about your damn animal friends. You need to f*cking grow up. Animals can’t talk to you. And I don’t want to f*cking learn about your damn ducks, spiders, or any kind of animals.”
Pesil’s cry started getting heavier, louder.
“But, Mom, I just wanted you to listen to me.”
His mother laughed hysterically.
“LISTEN?!? You know what you are, Pesil? You are a PEST. A damn annoying PEST—worthless.”
Pesil stopped crying and looked into his mother’s eyes.
Disappointed.
Pesil started to chant a few words while rocking back and forth.
“Why aren’t you listening to me?”
“Why isn’t anyone listening to me?”
He remembered those kids and their parents talking about him.
“He thinks he talks to animals.”
Pesil started scratching his head.
“I am really telling the truth.”
Pesil’s mother took a step back.
Pesil remembered.
“You are a PEST.”
His eyes widened.
The man stood up.
“I’ll shut you up, you little shit,” he grabbed a knife and started walking towards Pesil.
Pesil stood up.
He turned his head sideways, looking toward both.
He laughed with tears falling down his face.
“I REALLY AM A PEST.”
The man charged toward Pest.
Pest’s aura changed; it turned into a dark-green aura flowing endlessly.
Pest twisted his body, slipping away from the knife.
Pest held the man’s face with all five of his fingers.
“Can we be friends?”
The man’s body twisted. His spine arched horizontally. His teeth fell off, and new teeth emerged from the fallen parts.
Big, terrifying.
His eyes grew bigger as well as his ears. Bat-like.
He turned into the same monster from before.
Pest’s mom looked terrified.
“Pesil, dear? What have you done?”
Pest laughed.
“PESIL? I am not Pesil. I am Pest.”
He lunged towards his mom and held her face. Her grin twisted into the same wide grin the man had. She had turned into the same monster.
Pest pointed to the front.
“Lead the way.”
The two monsters headbutted.
Their house was destroyed.
Later that night was…
…horrendous.
Pest destroyed every house in the village. Turning every person into a beast. He continued to destroy until one person came.
A kid no older than sixteen years old came. Gelled hair, clear skin, bladed nunchakus on his belt, and an Aquilonis sigil on his chest.
Harven Klutz.
After equipping his bladed nunchakus. Harven started cutting every monster he saw.
He didn’t care about their looks. He just…
…slashed.
Pest feared the man he saw. He wasn’t having a single problem destroying every monster Pest had produced. Every friend he made.
Pest ran, leaving everything behind. Every friend he had. He cried and cried and cried.
He ran for about thirty minutes in the forest.
At the end of those thirty minutes, he had come across a man. The man was in his twenties, looking sharp in his black armor.
Pest fell to the ground after seeing the man.
Pest was scared.
The man’s black aura was…
…overwhelming.
“Hello, little one. Are you lost?”
Pest couldn’t talk. He just stared.
The man offered his hand.
“Nice to meet you. My name is Stuart.”
“Stuart Corvane.”
