For a while, they just sat in silence; no words were said, and no distractions were made.
Then Kieran broke the silence.
"Is it today we start?"
Roy looked out the window, seeing the sun set and the skies' hues changing.
"Tis the day,"
Kierad nodded once… It was that time, the awkward time before you do something but you have nothing to do.
Then he stood up and suddenly cracked his neck like a boxer entering the ring.
Turned the TV on, then turned on his Playbox, inserted a disc, and pressed play.
Music blasted throughout the room as the game loaded, and the title popped up: 'Let's Dance Battle'.
"No better way to waste time," he said, "than with a dance-off, bitch."
Before Roy could register what was happening, Kieran had already kicked the centre table aside, rolled up the rug that was underneath it in one slick motion, and struck a dramatic pose with one hand in the air as if shouting to the stars. Who do you think I am?
Music blasted through the TV's speakers; a moment later, he committed. He started walking straight towards Roy.
Roy stared from the couch with a shadow over his face.
"... Oh? Are you approaching me? Instead of running away, you're coming right at me?" Roy replied ominously.
Kieran answered, "I can't beat the shit out of you without getting closer."
Roy sighed like a man preparing for battle, knowing that in the end he will, of course, win.
He cracked his knuckles, jumped up and down to loosen up, and began with a sarcastic two-step.
They stood in front of the TV, pressed two-player mode, and started the game.
3.
2.
1.
GO!
Kieran countered Roy with a body roll so outrageous it could've been considered a war crime in some countries.
Roy understood that he had to get serious.
The living room turned into a war zone, a battlefield.
Roy was sharp and deliberate, slashing the air with crisp movements like each beat owed him money. He slid across the wooden floor in his socks, shirt untucked and with a serious dance face.
Kieran was chaos incarnate – unpredictable, limbs flailing at times, then suddenly still and focused, pulling off a clean pirouette like he'd trained in a past life.
They kept going.
Track after track.
Hour after hour.
Sweat began to soak their shirts; hair stuck to their foreheads. Neither of them beat the game, since neither one of them was following the dance model on the screen; they were doing it on the fly.
The air inside the house was thick with heat; the humidity was icky.
By the time the clock struck 12:07 AM, they collapsed on the floor. Limbs tangled across cushions, music still thumped softly in the background as it moved to a slower-paced song than initially, like a heartbeat reluctant to fade.
And beyond the silence, they waited, and the world continued to turn.
Known by most, it turned because someone made sure it did.
There were four continents on this world: two less developed low-income continents and one high-income continent. Across the continent where Roy, Kieran, Tanaka and Brock lived, there was a force, a force that protected the land.
The Celestial Watch.
Ten divisions of power, who vow and work under the king. Each division held its own dominion.
Div 1: Vanguard
Div 2: The Recon
Div 3: The Enforcers
Div 4: The Mediccs
Div 5: The Shadows
Div 6: The Artisans
Div 7: The Sentinels
Div 8: The Scholars
Div 9: The Judicators
Div 10: The Warden
Each had their own area of what they deal in, and they have a hierarchy, from 1 to 10; the higher the number, the more power they have over the people.
The rain stopped. A dark fog falls over the city like a blanket, thick, warm and damp. Roy, still slightly soaked from the earlier storm, stands motionless beneath the stars. He closes his eyes.'NIGHT - ROOFTOP
FWSSHH
The same breath escapes Roy's lips, but now the backdrop has changed: he's crouched on the edge of a crumbling tower, a long dark black trench coat flutters behind him like a shadow.
Kieran on the other side of the tower kicking his legs up while playing with a Rubik's Cube, with only two sides completed.
Below them was a decaying mansion that was recently bought back to life, windows flickering with dirty yellow lights, laughter and screams leaking out like poisonous gas. Once an abandoned noble estate, now a drug den, crawling with traffickers, mercs, and the remnants of a fallen noble family who sold their soul for coin.
Now beside Roy, silent and sharp-eyed, face obscured by a cloak with a hoodie, stands Kieran – taller, wrapped in a darker cloak than Roy's.
If Roy is the ember, Kieran was the smoke.
Behind them, shapes materialise from the dark: cloaked figures, armed but silent, eyes glowing faintly with prana. Men and women once cast aside – orphans, slaves, fallen knights – are now reborn into something more.
Roy pulls out his half-mask and places it on his nose while the wind tugs at his cloak. A stunning drop of a bright, dark crimson teardrop jewel hangs from the mask.
Roy, standing over the edge, takes a step forward and falls.
With that, Nova moves.
A blur of black dropping from the tower.
The war drums are roaring silently.
But in the hearts of those below, judgement day has arrived for these fools.