15 years later.
Westvale City had finally found peace. The streets that once echoed with fear now hummed with laughter, freedom, and safety. People walked without looking over their shoulders, children ran home without worry.
But inside a cramped, fading little house on the city's edge, peace was a stranger.
The family there lived poor and quiet just a father, a mother, and their teenage son.
That afternoon, the boy came back from school. Sixteen now, tall and calm, his presence was always steady. His white hair with streaks of red caught the dying light, and his eyes, one gold, one blue seemed to carry more weight than a boy should bear. A scar slashed across his left eye, a silent mark of pain.
He entered quietly, the way he always did.
What greeted him wasn't warmth. His father, Silas, was raging again. His voice boomed through the house as he waved a bottle of wine, threatening to strike his wife with it.
"I regret the day I married you, woman!" Silas shouted, spit flying from his lips. "Every damn day I come home starving, and still no food on the table!"
Veyra, weary from her day at the factory, could only plead.
"It's not my fault… You know how hard I work, Silas. I'm on my feet all day scrubbing floors just to keep this house alive. I can't do everything."
Silas snarled. His grip tightened around the bottle, ready to throw it.
But before it could shatter against her, their son moved. Kaelith stepped forward, catching the glass mid-air. His voice was sharp, louder than ever.
"Enough, Dad!" His eyes burned as he stood between them. "Every time you drink, you turn into a monster. Why can't you see what you're doing?"
For a moment, Silas faltered. His mouth hung open, shocked that the boy dared raise his voice. Then his face twisted. He stepped forward and slapped Kaelith hard across the cheek, the sound echoing through the room.
"You…" Silas hissed, finger shaking as he pointed. "The first day Veyra brought you here… I hated you."
Kaelith froze. The words pierced deeper than the slap. His chest tightened, his throat burned, but no tears fell. He only stepped back, silently wounded, wondering what did he mean?
"Silas, stop!" Veyra rushed in, covering her son with her arms. Her voice cracked, breaking apart under years of pain. "I'm done watching you hurt him. Done watching you tear us apart!"
Silas only smirked, his lips curling in cruelty.
"Your son?" he scoffed. His eyes narrowed, venom dripping from every word. "Since when did you ever give birth?"
"Didn't your mother or should I say, your fake mother ever tell you? She stole you from your dead parents on October 19th, 2009… at Lester Road."
Kaelith's eyes widened. His pupils trembled as he stumbled a step back, gaze flickering toward the woman he had always called mother.
Veyra shot up instantly and rushed to embrace him.
The only sound Kaelith heard was glass shattering, sharp and loud, like something had been hurled against a window.
He pushed Veyra's arms aside, his heart pounding, and turned toward the noise. Silas was sprawled across broken shards, his glare fixed narrowly on Veyra.
What Kaelith didn't realize was that the impact had been caused by the surge of air Veyra unleashed when she shoved him out of harm's way. She didn't apologize. She didn't even offer Silas a hand.
Without hesitation, she grabbed Kaelith and pulled him outside. They hurried to the courtyard and sat down on the wooden benches beneath the trees.
"Mom,"
Kaelith's voice was cold, heavy with doubt,
"is that true?"
Veyra's lips trembled. "I… I'm sorry for hiding the truth all these years. That night… I was cutting cassava."
Kaelith's brows drew together.
"Cassava? At night?"
"Yes. That day I came home late, and there was nothing else to cook but cassava," she said, weaving the lie with a calm face.
Inside her thoughts, however, the truth echoed.
'I have to lie. That night I was on a mission… I was the one who rescued those teenagers and brought them to the police station.'
She continued aloud, "A heavy truck lost control and crashed into your parents' car, sending it into the trees. I rushed in, searching for survivors… but you were the only one left alive. So I took you away."
Kaelith swallowed, his voice strained.
"What happened to my parents?"
"They didn't make it," Veyra whispered. "They died in the crash."
Kaelith didn't cry. Instead, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around Veyra, then whispered softly.
"Mom… it's fine. I'm not your real son, but you still raised me. You gave me food, shelter, and care. Who else would do that for me?"
Veyra lifted her head, a gentle and cheerful smile on her face. She brushed her hand through his hair, kissed his forehead, and whispered,
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Hand in hand, they walked back inside. Silas, who had been shouting harshly at them earlier, sat in silence now. His sharp words were gone, replaced by an uneasy calm as he watched them quietly return to the bedroom.
"Mom… can I ask you something?" Kaelith's tone carried a quiet curiosity.
"Yes, go on," Veyra replied softly.
"Why do you always let Dad bully you? You've taught me how to fight, yet you never fight back."
Veyra exhaled, her eyes drifting toward the curtains. Through the narrow gap, she caught sight of Silas slumped in his chair, drunk and lifeless.
"I love Silas," she began, her voice low but steady. "I truly do. From the very start, he was there for me when I needed help most. I made a promise in my heart to repay him, so I married him. Back then, we were happy. Life was peaceful, full of warmth… until that night."
Her eyes darkened with memory.
"We were attacked in our own home. Everything fell apart—our wealth, our reputation, even our peace. We became poor. At first, we still held on to each other. But the following year… he changed. He drowned himself in alcohol, picked fights, and started acting in ways I didn't recognize. When he raised his hand against me for the first time… I realized the love he once had for me was gone."
She turned to Kaelith, her gaze firm. "I don't fight back because I don't want you to grow up believing strength is for revenge. What matters most is that you don't reveal your power. Ignore the taunts, ignore what others say."
Kaelith nodded faintly, his pale face mirroring the man slumped in the other room.
"So… if you love someone, does that mean you should allow them to hurt you?" he asked quietly.
A bittersweet smile tugged at Veyra's lips. "Maybe I can endure it… but others shouldn't."
"I wouldn't," Kaelith muttered. "I hide my strength, like you said. There are bullies in school, but I ignore them. Some kids even have strange powers, magic, I think. I don't know if I do."
Veyra's head snapped toward him. "What did you just say?"
"Some of them have powers," Kaelith repeated. "One can summon lightning. Another can read minds. There are others with different abilities too."
Veyra's eyes widened, her breath catching. This generation… it's so strange.
Kaelith picked up a small mirror from the bench and studied his reflection. The scar etched across his face, the streak of red cutting through his white hair, and the two different-colored eyes stared back at him.
"Mom… do I look like a freak?" he asked in a hushed voice.
Veyra's heart ached. She reached out, brushing his hair back tenderly. "No, my son. You're not a freak. You're extraordinary. You're far more special than any ordinary human. The day I found you… I saw a boy with courage. I saw a future worth protecting."
She pulled him into a tight embrace, whispering into his ear.
"Be careful who you trust at school. Never reveal your true strength. And most of all… don't put your faith in the wrong people."
Kaelith hesitated, uneasy at the sudden shift in her words, but after a moment, he nodded.
---
Underground Factory
"Dr. Fenris, tomorrow Project 22 will be released across all the schools in Westvale City," one of the scientists reported.
"Good. Have you given them names yet?" Fenris asked.
"Yes. But there's one… he's different. His strength is unusually high, and his mind works about twenty percent faster than a normal human."
Fenris narrowed his eyes. "Who is this child?"
The scientist hesitated before replying. "He used to be called Chris… we picked him up off the roadside. Now, he goes by Arion."