The rain lashed down relentlessly on the city of Wayvon, apathetic to the struggles of the people below. Dark clouds suffocated the occupants of the slums, which were rife with pollution, crime and death. It was an average day in Wayvon with its harsh class discrimination: people born in the slums were most likely going to die there too. That's just the way it was.
Less fortunate ones were sat on beds of cardboard or under roofs of corrugated iron, vulnerable to the vicious climate. No one helped them, no one here could, and the important businessmen and nobles on the west side of town couldn't care less. It was a tough town. Almost everyone accepted their fate, focusing on getting by rather than changing things.
A woman lay on cold, unforgiving concrete, a malnourished baby nestled in her arms. Waste and mud slipped down the streets, leaving a squalid odor in the air. An old man was dragged down an alleyway by a younger group, nobody flinched, afraid of being dragged into trouble. The police didn't dare patrol this part of town, out of fear and disdain.
Yet, in this harsh, troubled world, a young man, who couldn't accept things stood out from the crowd and fought for his ideals.
Alberto Lynx, unable to stop himself, charged into the alley to defend the old man who reminded him of his late grandpa.
After his parents were murdered, his grandpa cared for him and his younger sister. Alberto couldn't wait and watch as a family was torn apart.
His mind was a mess. He was constantly in thought, 'Why am I doing this?im going to die.
Why must this world be so unfair?' He laughed inwardly at his childish inner monologue. Fair. Heh, nobody cared about fairness here. What mattered was strength, power. Without these, you'd be trampled on. Alberto knew this well.
With a conflicting mind, he crouched down and creeped down the alleyway. Short gasps of pain guided him to the violent mugging going on in broad daylight. In this world, might meant right, it disgusted Alberto that this could happen but he knew in his mind that none of that mattered. What mattered was that it was happening, and Alberto might be able stop it.
As a child, he wasn't a dreamer who wanted to be a hero, saving a princess from a tower. Instead, he was a thoughtful, sometimes impulsive child, who always stuck to his own beliefs. He didn't know whether he was right or not, always being a slightly skeptical child, but what purpose was there to life if you hid in the shadows, scared to make a move until it's too late. Alberto firmly believed in his decisions rather than worrying about needless things.
Back to the incident, he was surveying the situation, as the old man began begging for mercy to the gangsters who ambushed him.'Please. Don't do this.I have a family, they will die without me.' He sobbed violently whilst the three young men kicked and punched him ruthlessly.
A deep voice rung out , 'Give us the infiniter recipe, old man, or you die today.' the man coughed and wheezed until the beating stopped to allow him to speak. 'I don't have it. I don't know what that is!'. Seeing the commotion, Alberto slowly advanced, more rage building inside of him.
Although this old man wasn't related to him he was one of the few people in the slum area of Wayvon who remained kind and welcoming to all. Even though he was always struggling for food, when Alberto was younger, the old man had given his family a meal, seeing their lack of food and money.
In a deeper, more careful depth of his mind, he was processing what he heard. Infiniter recipe. In this world, there existed an elite group in the shadows, infiniters, people who used the worlds ingredients to make potions which gave unimaginable benefits. The exact properties were unknown to the public as they were a highly secretive bunch, but the result was a class which even nobles couldn't touch, a level where you were untouchable even, unless a higher infiniter had a grudge against you.
For Alberto, this has been a dream of his, though he knew it was impossible. Now, he thought, this was either an opportunity to break out of his chains and become powerful enough to help his family out of the slums, or he would be beaten here.
Suddenly a lot more careful, Alberto recalled a book he had read. Breathe through your mouth for quietness, walk on the balls of your feet to be nimble and stealthy. Following this guidance, Alberto advanced when a bucket of cold water was splashed onto his face. A creepy, grating voice echoed from the dark. 'Shit!' Alberto screamed in his mind. Infiniter. The three men looked puzzled and turned to the voice.
'Master, what's wrong.' The biggest one asked. A middle aged man dropped from a point in a wall and came into the light. His eyes were bright green and sparkling, his face toughened with age and training. The mans mouth was open in a sick smile, with sharp teeth on display. Alberto creeped backwards, knowing without doubt that this man could see him despite the pitch darkness he hid within.
If all else failed, he would at least save the old man. His eyes shone with resolve and his body tensed in preparation for his move. Three rocks flew from his hand towards the men and a brick was fired towards the creepy man. Alberto also saw an old petrol can and kicked it toward the men. One man was hit with a rock, the infiniter waved his hand and the brick missed.
As he was about to speak, the lit match in Alberto's hand was dropped into the petrol which now spilled closer to the men. As the fire made contact with the old petrol, an inferno was born. The petrol combusted and tongues of vermillion orange danced about like ancient dragons. The men jumped back. Seizing this opportunity, Alberto dashed forward, grabbed the old man and hoisted him up onto his shoulder. Holding him in the fireman position, he ran away, feeling scared and proud of his quick thinking.
The infiniter chanted slowly and waved his hand again, the flames were destroyed. 'Chase him' he uttered with audible rage, his fists were clenched and his eyes wide. A child had ruined his plan. Humph.
Alberto ran like the wind, the old man was surprisingly light and after years in the slums, his agility and knowledge of the terrain was tremendous. Quickly, he returned to his shack and payed the old man in his bed.