New Albion looked beautiful from far away—steel towers glinting under the morning light, cars buzzing like worker bees, holographic billboards flashing brighter than the sun. But down where Alaric Ward lived, beauty didn't reach that far.
The air smelled of rust and rainwater. Neon lights flickered over cracked pavements. Somewhere in the alley below, a vending machine groaned before spitting out a can that someone kicked a second later.
Down in the city's lower districts, where the glow dimmed and the smell of oil replaced perfume, lived Alaric Ward. A 16 years old boy
A boy who didn't take life seriously — because life had never taken him seriously either.
Alaric! You're gonna miss the bus!"
His mother's voice cut through the haze of morning like a distant alarm.
Alaric groaned, his face buried in a pillow that probably hadn't been washed in weeks. He waved his hand lazily toward the door, mumbling something that sounded like 'five minutes'.
"Five minutes ago you said that ten minutes ago!"
Alaric sat up, his hair an electric mess. His small room looked like a storm had passed through — clothes tossed everywhere, old gadgets scattered across his desk, and a cracked tablet glowing faintly with an unfinished video edit.
He yawned, pulled on his hoodie, and glanced at the mirror. His brown hair stuck up like static, and a faint scar ran across his chin — from a prank gone wrong when he was twelve. He grinned at his reflection. "Still handsome."
Their apartment was small — one bedroom, a kitchen that doubled as a living room, and a balcony just big enough to stand on. The ceiling fan buzzed weakly as if it, too, was tired of surviving.
His mom stood at the counter, still in her hospital scrubs. She worked the night shift at New Albion General, and her eyes carried the same exhaustion every morning. Bills were stacked on the table beside a cup of cold coffee.
"You know, most kids your age are thinking about college," she said, not looking up from the tablet displaying overdue payments.
Alaric grabbed a slice of bread, smeared it with peanut butter, and replied, "Yeah, but most kids my age aren't me."
"That's the problem," she muttered, sighing. "If you actually tried—"
"Mom, I'll figure it out," he interrupted, forcing a smile. "You worry too much."
"Someone has to," she whispered.
He didn't answer. Because deep down, he knew she was right.
By the time Alaric reached school, the first bell had already rung. The halls were a blur of noise — laughter, sneakers squeaking, the faint smell of cheap deodorant and instant noodles.
He walked straight to his locker, found a note taped on it that said:
"Try not to blow up the lab this time."
He grinned. "Nice to know I'm famous."
Alaric wasn't a bad student; he was just disinterested. Everything felt scripted — the lessons, the teachers, the future everyone kept talking about. He spent most of his time sketching designs for gadgets he'd never build or daydreaming about doing something that mattered.
During lunch, he met up with his best friend, Evan Hart, a skinny kid with glasses and a backpack heavier than his body weight.
"Bro, you sure about this?" Evan asked nervously, glancing at the teacher's car parked near the gate.
"Relax," Alaric said, shaking the can of spray paint. "We're giving Mr. Kane's boring car an upgrade."
Five minutes later, the words 'VOICE-ACTIVATED FLY MODE' were proudly written across the car hood in bright neon blue.
As they ran away laughing, Evan gasped, "One day you're gonna get expelled for this!"
Alaric replied between laughs, "Yeah, but until then — I'm legendary."
When Alaric returned home, his mom was gone again — another shift, another night.
He threw his bag on the floor, turned on the TV, and let the noise fill the silence.
A news anchor was talking about something called the "Aurion Initiative," a global scientific collaboration aimed at "human evolution through technological means."
He changed the channel.
Dinner was a cup of noodles. The lights flickered twice — a sign that their power credits were running low again. He sighed, leaning back against the wall.
"Legendary," he muttered. "Yeah, right."
He scrolled through his phone — memes, group chats, junk mail. Then something new.
A message.
It wasn't from any normal domain. Just a single name as the sender:
Dr. Elias Krane
Subject: "Aurion Human Enhancement Program — Invitation"
> "Mr. Ward,
You have been selected for an opportunity to contribute to humanity's next step.
Our experiment seeks capable young volunteers to undergo an innovative process designed to amplify human potential.
This project is confidential.
Full housing, compensation, and anonymity are guaranteed.
And if you succeed we'll provide you 5 Grands.
If you're ready to change everything you know about yourself — click below.
— Dr. Elias Krane (A.K.A. Shepherd)"
Alaric stared at it for a long moment.
"Human enhancement? Yeah, right…" he muttered, almost amused. It looked like spam — too good to be true, too perfectly worded.
But when he tried to delete it, the cursor froze. The "delete" button didn't work.
Then, the screen flickered — just once — and for half a second, he swore he saw something.
A logo.
A circle of light split by a single black line.
A serpent coiled around it.
Then the message was gone.
Alaric shut the laptop, heart beating just a little faster. He laughed nervously. "Weird glitch. Whatever."
He turned off the lights, crawled into bed, and stared at the cracked ceiling. Outside, thunder rolled faintly in the distance, though the sky was clear.
I Think I should Give it a try for 5 Grands