Bad Born Blood
Chapter 168

Chapter 168

There are hierarchies everywhere in the world.

Even within a nation, there are class differences. Within the same class, wealth disparity is evident. The slums are no exception.

Even in a slum, there would be people flaunting their wealth, draped in expensive gemstone jewelry. And then, there are the untouchables who can fight until their bodies are broken yet never escape the "garbage heap."

"Is this your home?"

I spoke while looking at a hill formed by piled-up industrial waste and trash. Beside it stood a house pieced together from scrap metal and iron sheets.

"Krk."

Even though the Crawler couldn’t speak human language, it seemed to understand me.

Creak.

The Crawler led me inside. The door, patched with rusted iron sheets, groaned as it opened. I found it a bit strange.

’A creature with this level of combat power lives in a place like this?’

This was the Bellato Federation, a place where all sorts of alien species coexisted. Unlike the Empire, it did not strip aliens of their rights.

Yet this Crawler, despite its strength, lived under harsh conditions. Even among gang members, it wasn’t treated well.

I sensed movement from inside the Crawler’s home. The door opened, and someone stepped out.

"Father, did you get into another fight again? Huh? W-Who are you?"

The words were fluent in human language. But the child who spoke them was not human.

’A young Crawler.’

The little Crawler saw me and immediately hid behind the wall. It was quick.

Thud.

The Crawler placed Gabriel on the bed and then collapsed onto a tattered sofa.

Nod.

It gestured toward the refrigerator. The child let out a sigh before grabbing a beer and bringing it over.

"You’re looking for alcohol even after getting injured like that?"

The child grumbled. The Crawler snatched the beer bottle and chugged it down.

"Burrrp!"

It let out a loud belch.

"Kaha, ke, dodo..."

The Crawler muttered something to its child while pointing at me. It seemed to be speaking its own language.

"Translate, kid."

I said as I took a seat.

"...Are you rich?"

The kid asked.

"I’m not rich, but I work for someone who is."

The child’s expression brightened slightly. Seeing that expression while its father was half-dead didn’t sit well with me.

A conversation took place between the Crawler and the child. The strange thing was that the child didn’t speak the Crawler’s language.

"Father is asking if you can take me in. He wants you to get me out of the slums."

"I don’t quite understand. With that level of skill, you could work as a mercenary or a bodyguard."

"More than that, if they were honest, they could just do labor. But most Crawlers are trash. They don’t take on proper jobs. Instead, they prefer to fight and steal. They’re dull-witted, lazy, and narrow-minded."

The kid spoke about his own species with a tone of disdain.

’Interesting.’

Beyond my immediate business here, my curiosity about the Crawler and the kid deepened.

Our conversation continued with the Crawler speaking and the kid translating.

"My father has judged you to be a wealthy man with resources. And he believes you are an honorable person who knows how to respect warriors."

That was partly true. And partly false.

"So?"

The Crawler threw the beer bottle against the wall. The bottle shattered on impact.

"Krrt!"

The Crawler pressed down on the kid’s head, forcing him to bow along with him.

’A plea made while throwing away his pride.’

Even though our meeting had been brief, I could tell what kind of person he was. If it had been about his own survival, he would never have bowed his head, even if it meant death.

But for his child, he was willing to.

I didn’t know his full story, but the Crawler before me must have been an exceptional warrior, even among his kind. Someone with great pride and a sense of honor fitting his abilities.

There had to be a reason why such a man had fallen to the level of a mere cleaner in the slums.

’Damn it.’

I frowned. Seeing the Crawler with his head bowed reminded me of Hemillas. It felt as if someone was poking at the vulnerable flesh of my emotions.

I had too much on my plate. Once things settled down, I needed to take Gabriel to a proper hospital for treatment and figure out what had happened. I couldn’t afford to waste time on sentimentality.

"You provided me with a hideout, so I’ll at least listen to your story."

Only then did the Crawler smile. The kid opened the door to his room, motioning for me to follow.

"My father’s name is Regor. He has no tribe—he was exiled. My name is Boyan."

I glanced into the kid’s room.

It was shabby and messy, but... this was the room of a scholar. The walls were lined with books, though I had no idea where he had gotten them. Next to an old, broken-down computer, data chips were neatly organized by subject. It was clear that he was naturally meticulous.

On the desk, an open notebook lay in disarray, as if he had just been studying a moment ago.

"Do you understand what this room means?"

The kid, Boyan, gave a bitter smile as he spoke.

I didn’t know much about the Crawler species. But I did know they were a fierce warrior race, one that had little to do with academics.

A species’ standard traits don’t always apply absolutely to each individual. Intelligent species tend to have significant individual differences. However, it’s rare for an individual’s temperament to completely deviate from their racial norms. Even if someone is born with such an anomaly, society and life usually erode or suppress it over time.

Occasionally, an individual is born with a distinct personality, separated from the norm. But in most cases, their environment and society press down on them until they conform.

However, among those rare outliers, there are a few who refuse to be crushed. They either struggle against their surroundings and die in despair...

’...Or they reshape their environment and society to fit themselves instead.’

Anomalous, uncomfortable individuals—ones that others and society struggle to accept. We call them "Irregulars." They are the seeds of chaos and the harbingers of change.

I replayed Boyan’s words and actions in my mind. He didn’t speak the Crawler language. He despised and loathed his own race. Even his feelings toward his father were a tangled mess of love and resentment.

It wasn’t hard to see why Regor and Boyan had ended up here.

“...Your own kind must have turned against you, tried to kill you. So your father took you and hid in Border City.”

Boyan’s eyes widened in shock.

“How did you—”

“It’s nothing to be surprised about. You’ll get used to it... No, never mind. Just keep talking.”

I bit my lower lip mid-sentence. Why was I already deciding to take him in? Damn it, what an idiot move.

“...Our species is dying out on Planet Novus. We have to compete with other races that have highly developed social structures, yet we still choose our leaders based on who fights the best. Winning a mere battle gives someone the right to make decisions that determine the survival of the entire group!

It’s not just barbaric—it’s primitive. We fight, fight, and fight, only to die! We’re used like fools! We don’t know what politics or diplomacy are, and we don’t even try to understand them!”

Boyan’s voice shook with anger. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Even his father, Regor, probably didn’t understand him. Regor was the very embodiment of everything Boyan despised about their race.

“I said that leaders shouldn’t be chosen based on who hunts and fights best, but on who can foresee the future and make wise decisions. And for that, they all tried to kill me, saying I had insulted a warrior’s honor. Those idiots don’t even know what’s right or wrong!”

"You were just young. It was a statement lacking wisdom and insight. Ignoring long-standing traditions—of course, they tried to kill you for it."

I spoke indifferently, but inside, I felt a stir. More than anyone, I understood Boyan.

Hemillas kept coming to mind. During our first meeting, he had given me some advice.

’Being better than others is fine. But you must never be different. Not if you want to live long.’

The young—too young—often dismiss the wisdom of those who came before them. Only with time do they come to understand its meaning.

"What do you plan to do once you leave here?"

"...I’ll study and become an official in the Federation."

The moment I heard that, a smirk escaped me, along with a short laugh.

"Ridiculous."

Boyan bristled. A low growl, unique to the Crawlers, slipped between his lips. Someday, this kid would grow into a monster capable of tearing apart humans with ease.

"If you’re going for it, aim for something bigger. A politician, or better yet... what was it again? Ah, right, the president. You should at least aim for president. Probably impossible, but give it your best shot."

I chuckled.

The Bellato Federation was, at its core, still a human nation. No matter how much it preached freedom and diversity, it would never hand the reins of power to a non-human race.

’A different species—especially one as unpalatable as a Crawler—will never make it to a high-ranking position, let alone a leader.’

Boyan would surely face reality head-on. He would crash against it, break, and be shattered time and time again. His life would be anything but happy.

And yet, I wanted to help him. If he had the courage to choose a life of hardship, then he deserved a chance.

Damn it, this is where I end up again.

The moment I saw Boyan’s room, I knew this would happen. I had a few psychological weaknesses. This was one of them.

I couldn’t turn my back on those who chose to fight the world alone.

"Pack your things."

I said as I stepped out of the room.

"Kha-hah!"

Regor let out a hearty laugh, chugging down another beer. He must have heard our entire conversation.

"I’m taking your son with me. As for you, I could also hire—"

Before I could even finish my sentence, Regor shook his head. He tapped his chest twice.

"Once my father gets rid of the burden that is me, he’ll leave Border City immediately. He was never suited for civilization or city life in the first place."

Boyan spoke from inside the room.

I checked Gabriel’s condition while waiting for Boyan.

Thud!

In the meantime, Regor swung his fist, slamming it into the wall. The patched-up metal dented and cracked, revealing a small box hidden inside.

Click.

When I opened the box, gold coins and gemstones glittered inside.

I didn’t refuse them. Rejecting the gift would be an insult to Regor.

"I’ll accept the gesture."

Boyan soon came out of his room. His luggage was modest—almost embarrassingly so, considering the sheer number of books he had.

"...I’ve read them so many times that I’ve practically memorized them."

Noticing my gaze, Boyan explained. He was sharp.

"Kat, Toha. Rui..."

Regor said as he hoisted Gabriel onto his back.

"He’s saying he’ll guide us out of the slums. If he’s with us, no one will dare to cause trouble."

"He’s ridiculously tough. His bones should’ve been shattered..."

At my remark, Regor let out an even louder laugh.

"My father is exceptionally strong, even among Crawlers. If not for me, he could’ve challenged for the position of chieftain. But my existence... was an obstacle—"

Before Boyan could finish, Regor shot him a glare. Boyan immediately shut his mouth.

‘Complicated.’

Their relationship was tangled with both love and resentment. Whatever conflicts they had faced, I had no way of knowing.

‘Regor is a textbook Crawler. If Boyan weren’t his son, he would’ve torn him apart long ago.’

He had likely resorted to violence more than once.

‘In the end, Regor couldn’t change his son’s nature and gave up. He chose to accept him as he was.’

I couldn’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for him to come to terms with his son’s differences.

Just as Regor had predicted, we didn’t encounter any trouble as we moved through the slums. Even after leaving, Regor carried Gabriel for quite a distance.

‘People are deliberately avoiding him.’

No one wanted to be involved with a Crawler. And there was a reason for that.

Even among warrior races, the way people looked at Crawlers was completely different from how they viewed Equessians.

‘It’s probably because most Crawlers are impulsive and reckless.’

Crawlers resorted to violence over the smallest things, constantly causing trouble. Unlike the Equessians, whose violence operated within a strict set of principles, Crawlers had no such restraint.

Regor carried Gabriel all the way to a top-tier hospital. The moment I paid the hospital fee, a swarm of medical staff in pristine uniforms rushed out, pushing a mobile bed as they took Gabriel inside.

"You should get treated too."

I spoke to Regor’s back. He was about to leave without even considering medical care for himself.

"Keda."

Regor turned back and spoke to me. I didn’t understand the Crawler language, but I could tell that what he said meant thank you.

"You might never see your father again."

I said as I gave Boyan a light push forward. Regor took a deep breath and looked at his son.

Neither of them spoke—neither in human language nor in the Crawler tongue. They just stood there awkwardly, staring at each other.

Boyan was the first to break the silence.

"Finally, you’ve managed to push me off onto someone else, so now you must feel reliev—ouch!"

I quickly raised my hand and smacked the back of his head.

"I grew up an orphan, without a family. So listen carefully, Boyan. I don’t believe that family owes you anything just because they’re family. You should be grateful—not to your father, but to Regor. The only reason you’re still alive is because of his efforts."

Boyan seemed to think for a moment. Then, for the first time, he spoke in the Crawler language. I didn’t understand most of it, but I recognized one word.

"...Keda."

He bowed his head as he spoke. So ‘Keda’ really does mean ‘thank you.’

Regor waved his hand as he disappeared into the distance. Despite his severe injuries, his steps were light. He truly seemed relieved.

He must have been struggling all this time, torn by the fact that his life had been derailed because of his son.

"He wasn’t a good father. He hit me a lot. So much that I can barely see out of my left eye."

Boyan murmured.

‘...But he never ran away from you.’

I didn’t say it aloud. That would’ve been arrogant of me. Their emotions were something I had no right to define.

"Still... I think I’ll miss him sometimes."

Thick tears began to roll down Boyan’s cheeks.

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