The wet, muddy ground bit into Ain's knees. Dozens of Null crowded together, bent low beneath the harsh sun slipping toward dusk. Before them, a towering stone gate loomed, guarded by soldiers clad in light steel armor and spotless white cloaks. In their hands, long wands glowed with cold, pale blue light.
Ain, wrapped in ragged clothes, his body still weak, stood at the back of the line. His knees wobbled in the evening breeze. Beside him, his mother clutched his arm tightly, as if afraid he might throw himself at the iron fence that divided their world from the other.
The Null knelt lower, foreheads nearly buried in the mud when one soldier stepped forward. From his belt, he yanked a rough burlap sack stuffed with pale, rock-hard loaves. The edges were green with mold.
He sneered down at the crowd like a pack of rats. His voice cracked the air.
"Here's your share, Null filth! Take it—if you still want to live!"
He flung a loaf into the mud. It landed in a puddle of foul water, spraying filth across a child's face in the front row.
Chaos erupted. The Null lunged forward, elbowing, shoving. An old man collapsed beneath stomping feet. A young woman screamed, clutching her child's wrist to drag him clear before he was trampled.
Ain froze. His chest trembled, rage flushing his face hot. In his eyes, this was no different from an animal pit—humans degraded to beasts clawing for scraps of moldy bread.
His fists clenched. He stepped forward, mouth parting to shout. But before his voice broke free, his mother's fingers dug into his arm.
She shook her head, tears brimming, her lips quivering as she whispered so faintly he barely heard,
"Don't, son… Don't do anything foolish… We're just Null… They'll kill you without a second thought."
Ain held his breath. His throat tightened. Slowly, his clenched fists loosened at his sides. His teeth ground together to hold back the boiling fury. The humiliation struck deeper than any fist.
Behind the fence, the soldiers snickered. One kicked the crawling Null man in the head, sending him sprawling back into the sludge. Their laughter echoed off the high walls, pounding at the hearts of those still able to feel shame.
***
The sun had nearly vanished when the Null shuffled back to their shacks. They trudged through the muck, clutching scraps of rotting bread in scraps of cloth. Children whimpered. Mothers whispered curses at themselves for not fighting harder for more.
In his family's ramshackle hut, Ain sat cross-legged on a frayed mat. Before him, a lump of moldy bread lay on a cracked wooden plate. He stared at it as if it were carrion. His hands shook with disgust.
Across from him, his mother wrung her hands raw, unable to meet the burning fire in Ain's eyes.
"Why, Mother?" His voice came out raw and hoarse, trembling with the fury he'd swallowed since noon.
"Why do we have to live like this? Why do we eat their scraps? Why do they live in towers of magic, with golden chairs and fresh bread, while we—Null children—fight over mold and rot?"
His mother said nothing. Tears slid down her weathered cheeks. Slowly, she reached out, resting a trembling hand on his shoulder, and whispered a truth that sliced him deeper than any blade.
"Because we have nothing, my son. In this world… magic is everything. Without it, we're nothing. Null are born to serve, to clean, to die unseen."
Ain lowered his head. In his mind, a fleeting vision: the flash of a nuclear core splitting open. He remembered who he once was— the scientist who lit a man-made sun deep below Earth. There, he had power to shake the sky. Here, he couldn't even protect a single crust of bread.
He grabbed the rotten loaf, bit down. The sour taste of mold filled his mouth, scraping his throat. He forced himself to chew, to swallow the filth with every crumb that scraped his teeth—an insult digested with every bite.
***
Days passed. Ain wandered the village's muddy lanes. His feet waded through foul puddles, his eyes drinking in every hollow stare behind broken doors. He saw children half-starved, sprawled on torn mats. Mothers returned empty-handed when the rationed well ran dry too soon.
Amid this quiet misery, he met Nasuha—a Null girl his age, hair a tangled shoulder-length black, eyes wide, her slight smile a strange warmth in the cold air.
They met beneath a dead tree at the village's edge while Ain scavenged dry twigs for the fire. Nasuha appeared, dragging a half-torn sack of wild leaves and forest roots.
"You're Ain, right?" she called out, her voice bright despite the dull fatigue in her eyes.
Ain only nodded, awkward.
"I'm Nasuha." She thrust out her hand, then laughed softly when Ain just stared.
"I know you're stubborn. All you Null boys are. But relax— I'm the biggest troublemaker around here. Don't look down on me."
Their talk was short, yet somehow warm against the night chill. Nasuha sat beside him, sorting leaves, weaving small dreams of a world that could be different.
"If I ever get magic someday… I'll build a big house behind the city wall. I'll bring every Null child there. We'll eat fresh bread every morning, we'll bathe in warm water… No more bastard guards shouting at us like dogs…"
Ain just watched her silently. But deep inside, that simple dream sparked a tiny flame in the swamp of his shame.
***
But that night, Nasuha's dream was ripped away. Screams ripped through the narrow alleys. Torchlight flickered against broken walls as royal guards stomped through door after door.
Ain dashed outside, breath ragged. Outside Nasuha's shack, two guards dragged her away while her mother clung to their boots, sobbing and begging.
"Let her go!" Ain shouted, rushing forward, grabbing for Nasuha's hand.
A club smashed into his cheek. The world spun—cold mud swallowing him. Nasuha's sobs drifted away, smothered under the stomp of armored boots.
Darkness. Unconsciousness.
***
The next day, Ain stood by the city gate. One eye swollen shut, dried blood crusting his temple. He waited, watching the path where Null returned from inside the walls.
And there she was—Nasuha. Her hair a tangled mess, her eyes dull and empty.
The Null girls had been used— playthings for the noble swine.
That night, they'd stolen everything from her that no one could ever give back.
Nasuha clutched a sack bursting with fresh bread— more than they ever got before. Around her, other girls shuffled along, shoulders slumped, shame bruising their hollow gazes.
Ain stepped forward, gripping Nasuha's shoulders, looking into her swollen, tear-damp eyes.
"I'm sorry… I couldn't stop them…" His voice cracked.
Nasuha forced a smile that couldn't hold back the tears pooling in her lashes.
"I'm filthy now. They enjoyed my body," she whispered, her voice breaking, dead inside.
Ain pulled her into his arms, voice shaking as he breathed against her ear,
"Don't worry… We'll be alright. I swear it, Suha. I'll change all of this. I'll repay every bruise, every tear…"
Behind them, Null clawed at the sacks of bread the girls carried. No one cared where the bread came from—empty bellies drowned the last scraps of pride.
But for Ain, that day became an oath in the mud: if the gods had given him this second life, then his revolution would not die at the bottom of a ravine—
It would burn these walls of magic to ash.