Three Months Ago
In the Wastelands of Theater 2, a continent once known as Aether, hailed as the fastest-growing economy, now only a number in name.
Most of its cities remained, but a few like this one had turned into wastelands after the Great War.
Dry winds hummed over the collapsed buildings, their dusty and corroded metallic construct evident they were once buildings of prestige, probably skyscrapers.
Many such ruined buildings littered the dry, desert-like field. Though seemingly abandoned, not a single flora was found in sight.
Only strange black fungus lined its walls.
Radiotrophic fungus, nature reclaiming what was corrupted by man.
Special fungus that ate up the lingering radioactivity in the air.
"Dad, I am hungry..." An exhausted groan broke through the humming dry winds, its source one of the collapsed buildings.
Within its depth, what once used to be the parking lot of the building flickered with the orange luminance of a flame, though the sun was still out.
The sun's reddish-orange luminance couldn't light up the hidden parking lot, blocked by concrete slabs and large pillars, not to mention it was setting in the other direction.
"Don't worry, the sun will go down and we'll get something to eat," came the reply from the boy's father.
Sickly bags hung under his eyes, the whites of his eyes yellowish.
His face was wrinkled more from depression than the toll of time, his hair disheveled.
"Ok..." The young lad could only nod, hugging his stomach, an attempt to curb the hunger.
His hair was dusty and disheveled, making it difficult to notice their golden color.
Unlike his father he had more meat on his bones but his sickly arms proved he was still malnourished for his age.
He hadn't eaten for days now.
They were wondering beggers now on the streets of District 2.7.10.1, a district close to the Wastelands.
Getting a meal a day wasn't hard, as the people there weren't that cruel, but a few days ago, the soldiers came for an impromptu patrol, and they didn't take kindly to beggars.
Especially ones not registered with the World Government.
They had to flee, hiding in their usual spot.
They weren't privileged to live in the cities because, in the records of the New World Government, they didn't exist.
They had no choice but to inhabit the Wastelands; its radioactivity, though low, was still present.
"They should be gone now." The man narrowed his eyes, remembering the soldiers.
"These northern bastards," he spat internally, fragments of the war twenty years ago flashing through his mind.
He had fought in the Great War, but on the side that lost.
Now a rogue, running from the surveillance of the government, his teenage son with him.
He knew what the Northern Alliance was capable of.
He didn't really care about himself, but his son, the offspring of the conquered, also needed to be conquered for fear of rebellion.
And he wouldn't want that for his boy.
"Let's go."
The sun had completely sunk into the horizon, the pitch-black night sky illuminated by numerous stars, thousands shooting across the skies.
The two who had just gotten out of their hideout were stunned by the beauty in the sky.
The hunger the young lad felt seemed to disappear as his black eyes reflected the spectacle above.
As he stared, he felt a strange sensation in his body.
He had been feeling it for a while now, but it seemed to have intensified.
It wasn't painful, just strange.
A strange sensation, like the sensation of touch to one who had been paralyzed their whole life.
It was just strange.
A sensation brought by the cosmic dust that had already made its way into his DNA, registering itself as if it had always been there.
He ignored it; as long as it didn't hurt, there was nothing to worry about.
"Dad, that one is glowing." He pointed to one of the shooting stars, fluctuating between the colors of the spectrum.
"It sure..." The dad paused.
The boy turned to him. "What did you..." He paused, his pupils constricting as he watched his father slowly fall to the ground, blood dripping from a bullet hole in his head.
With a thud, which to him felt like hours, his father fell down lifeless.
His heart raced, unable to react, his brain still processing what had just happened.
"Target has been neutralized." He watched as a man clad in black tactical gear pressed his hand to his father's neck, checking for a pulse.
The man rose, the boy still unmoving, his gaze following him, horror etched on his face.
But maybe due to malnutrition or just the overwhelming shock, he was breathless, his head ringing.
The sound of humming engines echoed as headlights shone on them.
Several military jeeps drove toward them.
Numerous men stepped out, rushing past him into their hideout.
He still stood on his feet, his breath paused, his gaze now fixed on his father's body.
"They are the only ones there."
One of the soldiers approached the boy, kneeling on one knee, now at eye level.
"You are safe now," he said. The boy finally let out a breath.
Steam flared from his nostrils like a dragon. The man in black momentarily stunned, but before he could react,
The boy finally reacted to his father dying in front of him.
The man who would go hungry to give him the last morsel of bread.
The man who had taken care of him for the last fifteen years of his life.
The man who had protected him from wild beasts as they roamed Theater 2, running away from these people.
His father.
"Arrrghhh!" He screamed, no, roared, flames shooting out of his mouth, engulfing the man before him.
"Dad!! Dad!!!" He continued to wail, his tears a blackish mixture of silver, blue, and orange.
With heavy steps, he moved toward his dad, his eyes shining with a crimson hue.
"What the f*ck..." The soldier cursed internally as they quickly raised their guard, weapons pointed at the young lad.
"Stop moving or we will open fire!"
The boy, who couldn't hear them, moved.
A rain of bullets quickly followed; to their horror, it bounced off the boy's body as if it had hit tungsten.
"Arrgh... Dad!!" The boy, unfazed, continued to move toward his dad.
His steps heavy, seemingly hesitating, his body unconsciously delaying the truth of his father's death.
"Don't let up! Continue firing!"
The rain of bullets continued, yet he still moved, now kneeling by his father's side.
Before he could touch his body, the corpse, which was caught in the crossfire, riddled with bullets.
"NOOOO!!"
~~~~~
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A/N.
Seeing our first Starborn.
Don't forget to add to your library and show support through power stones.
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