A muscular-looking boy strolled through a market in the narrow, cobblestone streets of Avalon—a young country in the southwest. The market was bustling with sounds of merchants calling out their wares, the clinking of coins, and the occasional laughter of passersby.
"Nice outfit, Raijah!" Sean, Raijah's adoptive father, shouted from across the street. He was pushing a heavy wagon stocked with different kinds of watermelons, which he sold to make a living. Raijah often helped him on work days and profited a fair share.
"Thanks, Sean. The money I saved paid off in the end!" Raijah replied.
Raijah was a brown-skinned boy, and his most distinguishing feature was a mark on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had this mark for as long as he could remember. Unsure of what it was, he kept it hidden by growing long dreadlocks that practically reached his shoulders.
He wore a white t-shirt, paired with black pants and his most prized possession: a pair of brand-new white sneakers that he had saved for a month to afford.
Raijah had begun working for Sean at only ten years old, and other than his age, the boy had no memory of his life before that.
His first memory, as he remembered, was opening his eyes in the middle of the streets of Avalon, unaware of how he got there or anything that occurred prior. Thankfully, Sean found Raijah not long after he appeared. He carried the boy off the streets and took him into his home.
He offered Raijah a place to live in exchange for work in the market and cared for him as a father would. Sean had even enrolled Raijah in a martial arts dojo where the boy proved to be adept at various martial arts.
As he made his way through town, Raijah found himself lost in thought. For the last six years, since his appearance, he had spent his free time searching for clues, but to no avail. If not today, he wasn't sure he would ever find out about his past.
Raijah pressed his finger against the marking on his forehead, its texture was jagged, almost scar-like. Although he never thought much of it, Raijah was coming to realize that in moments like this—when he experienced intense emotions, the marking would sting.
That sting sparked some hope within Raijah. His legs kicked into a higher gear, and each breath came in thick bursts as he ran. His surroundings became a blur. He dodged through crowds of people and leaped over market stalls, not caring to stop even for a minute. He could no longer contain himself; there was nothing he wanted more than to discover who he was and where he came from.
Raijah's destination was the Great Coliseum of Avalon—where Avalon's annual Awakening Ceremony took place.
***
Raijah came to a stop before a monument of a building. He craned his neck upward, feeling small in its colossal shadow. He was far beyond the marketplace, in a stretch of land he'd only ever heard stories of.
Still, the Coliseum was many times bigger than he had imagined, and much more beautiful. On the outside, it had a white marble-clad facade. However, inside the walls were as red as roses, with countless arches—which acted as entrance gates, surrounding the coliseum from top to bottom.
As Raijah approached, a red-haired lady greeted him at a nearby entrance. In addition to her, a worker was stationed at every entrance gate on the coliseum's ground level.
"Are you here to spectate or become a Saint?" the lady asked, seemingly uninterested.
"I'm here to become a Saint," Raijah responded.
Without looking up, the woman handed him a slip of paper with 108 stamped on it.
Confused, Raijah raised a brow at her.
"Saint Aziel will explain everything before he begins performing awakenings," she said while signaling for him to enter the arena.
Stepping through the marble arch, Raijah noticed that hundreds had shown up for the event. The stands were filled to the brim with people from all walks of life, both common and noble. While he combed through the crowded arena in search of an available seat, Aziel Creed—Avalon's Signed Elite, took a step into the coliseum.
The Awakening Ceremony was about to begin. . .