A boy was walking along a narrow path. On both sides were patches of grass, scattered trees, and ruined buildings. The buildings were covered in vines, moss, and thick green plants. They were no longer suitable for living, so the people in this region survived underground. Numerous bunkers had been built beneath the surface, and residents had to pay to live in them.
This place lay in the far south, on the edge of the Southern Land. The Lawless Society ruled this region, and countless gangs controlled different areas. The people living in the bunkers were forced to pay those gangs just to survive.
The boy wore simple, thin clothes and was assaulted by winter on the way, but now the sun came as a protector. It rose high in the sky and defeated the cold. The boy was 17 years old, with black hair and a tall, lean build. He had one blue eye and one red eye. He soon reached a place and knelt down to tap three times quickly and two times slowly, with a short pause. Then he said, "Grandma, it's me."
There was no response even after some time. The boy grew scared and tapped three times quickly with no gap, then twice slowly with a short pause in between. He called out again, "Granny, are you asleep?"
There was still no response. The boy's fear grew even more, and he tapped three times quickly...but just then, a voice came from inside: "Zika, I'm alive. Wait, I'm opening the door."
The door was made of iron, round in shape, and only one person could pass through at a time. Granny turned the knob from inside and tapped on the door— a signal that it could be opened. Zika pulled the door open and climbed inside.
The space inside wasn't large; it was just enough for two people to sleep comfortably, with a small area for a fire and a chimney to let the smoke out. The door's height from the ground was about the height of a person. After entering, Zika pulled the door shut behind him.
He then took out some bread and uncooked vegetables from his clothes. Turning to his grandma, he said, "See? I told you I got this."
Grandma was eighty-six years old. She had blue eyes and white hair, with wrinkles on her skin and a slightly hunched back. A horizontal scar ran across her forehead, parallel to her eyebrows.
"Yes, you did it. I no longer have to worry about you. My only worry is that you still haven't chosen your power, and seventeen days have already passed since that entity appeared and started granting powers. All the powerful abilities have already been chosen by someone." she said, extending her hand to receive the bread.
Zika glanced at his grandmother, as if searching her face and gently reassuring himself that she hadn't been hurt while he was away. He then said, "Every powerful ability had already been chosen by the time I went to select one. I reacted late, thinking it was fake. Now there's no ability left that's strong enough to survive in this world after the trials. Besides, I have to take care of you. If I choose a power, I'll be forced to take the trials, and then there will be no one left to look after you."
Grandmother glanced toward the sound of his chopping. Then she said, "You're focusing too much on the idea of 'all-powerful' and 'invincible' abilities. There is no power without weakness. Someone may choose a strong ability, but they are not exempt from death. A simple stab can kill even the most powerful being. Just like you and me — we are also not exceptions to death. So choose whatever ability is left, and go through the trials. It's better to have a power than to have none at all."
Zika was preparing the vegetables to eat with the bread. He said, "You're right, old grandma… but I don't think there's any power left. Even the weaker ones have already been chosen by someone. And it's not like that entity will make an exception for me and let me choose an ability that's already taken…"
He was about to say more when a sudden inspiration struck him. His hands stopped mid-motion, his eyes widened slightly, and a slow smile curled onto his lips.
"Thank you, Grandma," he said softly, before returning to boiling the vegetables.
Then both ate their vegetables with bread. Zika was about to leave to finish some work outside when his grandma called out to him and said, "Take care of yourself, always. Good night, August Evening."
Zika smiled and said, "Grandma, who is this August Evening? I'm Zika—your fortune, your grandson."
Grandmother didn't reply immediately. She simply smiled, and after a moment said,
"If you want your charisma to be like mine, then never cry. Don't act emotionally—always question yourself before taking any action."
Zika had already turned the knob and was on the ladder. He turned to his grandma and said, "Are you dreaming or asleep? When did you have charisma? Even my charisma is better than yours. Just sleep, but please open the door a little faster this time. I have to freeze in the cold every time I knock."
Grandmother laughed and said, "Okay, my sugar syrup. Take care."
With that, he passed through the vault door and shut it behind him.
...
Zika returned in the evening. This time, the sun was no longer there to protect him from the winter; he had to fight his way through the cold. When he reached his bunkers, he tapped on the door with the same rhythm —three quick taps, then two slow ones with a pause in between.
There was no response. He tried again a second time, then a third, and even a fourth- but still, nothing.
A sudden, overwhelming uneasiness gripped him. Panicking, he grabbed the vault door and used all his strength to pull it open in one go— but the door was already open, and the force threw him backward.
He stood up and threw himself through the gate into the bunker. He found his grandmother sleeping, and after carefully observing her, he saw no wounds or injuries. Zika let out a sigh of relief. First, he shut the door, then went to his grandmother and said, "Wow, Grandma, you really sleep deeply, like a baby. You really had me worried there."
But there was no response. Zika thought about waking her by shaking her gently, but first he decided to make some food. Soon, he prepared the meal and returned to his grandmother. He placed his palm on her shoulder and shook her, but she didn't wake up.
Worry struck him—maybe she was sick? He touched her forehead and was shocked: her body was cold. First fear gripped him, then anger, then deep sadness. He leaned closer and pressed his ear to her chest, searching for her heartbeat—but it was gone, taken by the angels of death.
Tears welled up in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Then he remembered his grandmother's words: "If you want your charisma to be like mine, then never cry."
He now saw every word his grandmother had said from a different perspective—as if she had known, had seen the Angel of Death coming for her. He wiped his tears and hugged his grandmother.
Zika stood silently, watching his grandmother's cremation. He was alone, sending her body into the cosmos through fire. He watched until her form disappeared, carried away by the flames. Then he said quietly, "I want to wish for one power."
Suddenly, everything changed in front of Zika. Darkness swallowed his vision, then a blinding flash of light burst through, forcing him to shut his eyes. When he opened them, he was standing in a vast white space.
A voice echoed through the emptiness, calm yet resonant: "Name your power, or simply think of the kind of power you wish for. If it hasn't already been chosen, it will be granted."
Zika turned toward the voice, and once again he saw the same thing he had witnessed the first time. An uneven, black-colored mass of flesh about twenty meters in diameter, formed from countless interwoven hands stacked over one another. Numerous eyes—each with white pupils—and countless mouths were embedded in those hands. Ten fleshy wings, each around five meters long and completely white, floated around the grotesque mass at equal distances, forming a cross-like arrangement.
After seeing this entity, only two words escaped Zika's lips: "Supernatural creature."
The Supernatural Creature sighed through its countless mouths and said, "Yes, that is what the beings of this planet call me. Now, think of—or state—the power you desire."
Zika didn't waste any time and immediately thought of the power. Suddenly, every eye on the Supernatural Creature widened—shocked beyond human understanding—but soon, it calmed itself and said, "Granted."
Again, the space around Zika shifted, and he found himself back where he had been. He then glanced at the ashes of his grandmother.