August 10th, Year 215 of the Requiem Calendar.
University Campus, Shelter City 9
—
"I told you to stay the hell away from her, didn't I?"
The words barely left his mouth before his fist collided with the other boy's gut. The boy gasped, body folding from the impact, just in time for another fist to smash into his face and send him crashing to the cold, hard floor.
Books and papers flew everywhere, skidding along the ground. Their clatter was met with a few snickers from the watching students.
But the boy remained indifferent, as if he were accustomed to this treatment, and began to gather the scattered items from the ground.
Cole hovered above him, still fuming. "What, you think this is a joke?" he snapped, cracking his knuckles. "You deaf or just stupid?"
Grabbing a fistful of the boy's messy black hair, he yanked his head back, forcing him to look up. Then, without hesitation, he drove his fist into his face. A few drops of blood splattered onto the floor.
The boy went still. His shoulders gave a small twitch. His dull, dark brown eyes flicked toward the blood—then… nothing. Just a slow breath, as if the whole thing was no more than a mild annoyance.
He wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, barely glancing up. "I thought you 'genetic salads' were supposed to be stronger," he muttered, voice calm and flat — almost bored — as he went back to gathering his scattered belongings.
"What the hell did you just say?" Cole demanded, stunned.
"I said," the boy replied, still not looking at him, "even my pure-blood little sister hits harder than you, moron."
"You little—" Cole's voice cracked with fury.
No begging, no panic—just calm, biting insults.
His fists hadn't broken him. His threats had fallen flat. And now this reject had the nerve to mock him?
No one had ever spoken to him like that before—especially not some dirt-blood nobody. The humiliation twisted in his gut, feeding the fire of his wounded pride.
Grinding his teeth, hands trembling with fury, he lifted his foot, ready to slam it down on the boy's head and finish it.
Just then, a voice broke the tension.
"Hey, Cole. That's enough," one of his buddies said, stepping forward with a nervous glance. "He's had it."
"Yeah man, chill," someone else muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "Sure, he's a freak—but he's also Victor's close friend. Keep pushing, and we're the ones who'll end up in deep shit."
Cole paused, his foot still raised mid-air. His jaw clenched, frustration boiling in his eyes. But the warning sank in. With a grunt, he slowly let his foot fall to the ground and backed off, giving the freak one last glare.
"Let's go," he muttered and turned away.
The others followed, a couple throwing uneasy glances back as they trailed after him. And just like that, the hallway emptied, leaving only silence and a mess of scattered pages behind.
The boy didn't move for a moment. Then, slowly, he gathered the last of his belongings and stood.
"Guess no one taught them to never mess with the quiet guy at school," he chuckled—only to wince as a sharp sting shot through his lip. He brought a hand to his mouth and felt the blood.
For a second, he stared at the red smudge on his fingers. Something about the color... it was oddly soothing.
He brushed his hand across his mouth, tasting the faint iron as he exhaled. "Doesn't hit the same anymore," he murmured. "Might be time to pick up a new hobby."
And without another word, he turned and walked off as if none of it had happened.
He had barely taken a few steps when a loud, familiar voice called out.
"Hey, Adyr!"
Turning his head, he spotted the source—another student, barely a meal away from being called skinny. The boy was already striding toward him, his pace quick and unburdened, a wide, foolish grin plastered across his face.
"Yo, Victor. Thought you'd already gone home," Adyr said, a faint, perfectly fake smirk tugging at his busted lips.
"Nah, class ended a while ago," came the response, the guy looking him over with a casual gaze. When his eyes landed on the cut, he grinned wider. "Damn, man. Got your ass kicked again? That's what you get for messing with the queen of the school, huh?" He slapped Adyr's shoulder, chuckling.
Adyr shrugged, not missing a beat. "Told you, it's not like that. I'm just helping her with piano lessons," he replied, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. He acted like the rumors didn't bother him, but deep down, he knew exactly what he was doing—he thrived on the attention, especially the kind that came from the bullies.
He wasn't a masochist who enjoyed being beaten, but the pain was a method, a way to keep his addiction at bay. Since his reincarnation on this parallel Earth 18 years ago, he'd promised himself he wouldn't take any lives. Yet, that promise left a gnawing emptiness inside him, one he still had to manage.
Breaking an addiction was never easy.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Victor said dismissively, waving off Adyr's response. He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Maybe next time, teach her something with wind instruments. Who knows? Maybe she's better at... blowing?" He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself.
Adyr didn't even spare him a glance as he sighed, his voice laced with annoyance. "One day, that sense of humor of yours is going to get you killed, Victor."
Victor paused, but only for a beat, before scoffing. "Hey, come on, what kind of joke is that? Don't start pulling death flags on me, man. I've got plenty of years left." His steps matched Adyr's as they walked side by side.
"Anyway," Victor continued, his tone taking on a slightly more serious edge, "I came looking for you for a reason. The game releases tonight. You didn't forget, did you?"
The first virtual reality game to emerge since World War.
It had started as nothing more than a rumor, whispered across local internet forums and news reports a decade ago.
At first, most dismissed it—why would a world still recovering from an apocalypse waste resources on a game? But as time passed, the whispers grew louder.
The turning point came a few years ago when the 12 city managers confirmed the rumors and announced their direct involvement in the project. From that moment, the game wasn't just a rumor—it was a phenomenon that everyone was desperate to be part of.
"Yeah, I know," Adyr said, his voice flat as he continued walking without breaking pace, his lack of enthusiasm palpable. "Not interested."
Victor froze for a moment, caught completely off guard. "Wha—? What the hell did you just say?" He blurted out, rushing to keep up. The idea of playing without his best friend hadn't even crossed his mind. Especially not this game—something that was shaping up to be bigger than anything before it.
Victor hesitated for a second, uncertainty flickering across his face. Then, as if making up his mind, he grabbed Adyr's arm, stopping him in his tracks. His usual playful expression faded, replaced by something far more serious.
"There's something else you need to know," he said quietly, his voice dropping. He paused again, weighing his words before leaning in.
"My father told me… the game is using the latest genetic mutation research."
Adyr glanced at Victor with a spark of curiosity.
Genetic mutation has been the hottest topic of the past century.
It wasn't just a solution for most human ailments—from minor illnesses to terminal diseases like cancer—it also offered a means to vastly extend one's lifespan and unlock physical abilities far surpassing the limits of ordinary humans.
However, like all fateful gifts, it came with a catch: only the wealthy, the influential, and their families had access to it. Either that, or elite military personnel—those handpicked and sworn to protect the city from external threats.
'Is this some kind of joke?' Adyr thought, his brow furrowing. 'They're just handing out something like this to the public? It's too good to be true…' He was about to ask Victor if he was really saying all of this—if his father's words even held any weight—when the reason he had gotten close to Victor resurfaced in his mind.
His father.
Henry Bates...
Minister of Defense of Shelter City 9. The most powerful man in the city, second only to the City Manager himself, with complete control over the mutant army known as the Superhuman Task Force.
Anything that came from this man's mouth wouldn't be some casual remark.