In the heart of the urban jungle known as Elis, a peculiar event unfolded.
[ Welcome User Xale Donovan, to the Abyssal System. ]
[ Do you wish to accept? Y/N. ]
A mellifluous feminine voice, laced with mechanical undertones, echoed inside a young man's mind.
Xale's eyes bore into the semi-transparent interface hovering before him. His face was a canvas of incredulity, a tableau of bewilderment. "What in the world... Just, what in the bloody world," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
'This day has been nothing short of a ceaseless deluge of absurdities,' he contemplated. His mind felt like it was floundering in the tumultuous sea of chaos. He rationalized his hallucinations as the products of mental distress. It was a convenient assumption, given the circumstances.
'Really, isn't this just a little too much?' Xale mused, tracing the swirling thoughts in his mind. He was a man deprived of sleep for over 24 hours, drowned in the melancholic remembrance of his father's death anniversary. His emotional fortitude was shattered, his psyche fragile, like porcelain on the verge of fracture. Adding to his woes was a recent physical altercation in a dim-lit alley. 'How can anyone expect me to stay sane amidst this? My mind is playing sinister pranks on me, concocting this ludicrous scenario about me having some system. This is adding insult to injury; I already bear the shame of an F rank ability. Please, no more painful reminders,' he internally pleaded.
A deep sigh escaped from his lips as the dam of his suppressed emotions broke. Tears welled up in his eyes, cascading down his weathered cheeks.
In the hierarchical societal structure, a rank F ability was a fictitious denomination, a derogatory term concocted to belittle the less fortunate. The official grading started at rank E. People with abilities like Xale, who were merely capable of altering their iris color and possessed only a marginal increment in strength, were relegated to this imaginary rank F. These unfortunates were the butt of societal ridicule, the subjects of pitiless jests.
Xale, like others bearing the same cross, was viewed as a walking anomaly, an aberration in the survival of the fittest. People like him were never meant to endure the merciless world they found themselves in.
***
The icy tendrils of a winter night clawed at the stillness, turning the atmosphere crisp with an invigorating chill. Each exhalation morphed into visible wisps, vanishing as quickly as they appeared, like ethereal specters on the wind.
A solitary figure, swathed in layers of winter clothing, leaned nonchalantly against the gnarled bark of an ancient tree. His gaze was lost in the inky canvas overhead, punctuated with brilliant pinpricks of distant celestial bodies. At six feet tall, he was an imposing silhouette against the starlit backdrop, his face bearing the allure of youth, yet shadowed with a mature, somber gravitas. His pitch-black hair was a disheveled masterpiece that perfectly complemented his rugged good looks. His physique, bereft of the chiseled muscles of a fitness enthusiast, spoke volumes about his indifferent attitude towards exercise, which was limited to sporadic bouts for financial reasons.
The solitary figure was Xale Donovan, only three days past his seventeenth birthday. It was also the grim anniversary of his father's tragic demise four years ago—a brutal murder within the cold, hard walls of a dungeon. That day, a government official had arrived at their doorstep, bearing the tragic news that shattered their world. The once invincible figure in their lives, their beloved father, a revered Rank A warrior, was no more.
Family was Xale's beacon in this relentless darkness, his raison d'être, his tether to life. His mother, Nova, was the personification of enduring love, while his younger sister, Quinn, at the tender age of fourteen, was the embodiment of innocent charm. His eleven-year-old brother, Zander, was a spirited young lad who brought light into their somber existence.
When Xale turned sixteen, his life took a brutal turn. He awakened as one of the weakest amongst the Rank E, an ignominious mark that painted a target on his back. Daily humiliation, brutal beatings, and social isolation became his routine. The age of sixteen, an already tumultuous period in anyone's life, turned into his darkest phase. Suicidal thoughts began to haunt him, only kept at bay by the thought of the tears his family would shed in his absence. His affection for them was his lifeline, the anchor holding him back from plunging into the abyss of despair.
In a world teeming with monstrous threats lurking around every corner, society had restructured itself around the principle of 'survival of the fittest.' A strength-based hierarchy was established, mirroring the unforgiving law of the jungle.
Being anchored at the lowest rung of this Darwinian ladder had severely hampered Xale's existence. Despite possessing a strength comparative to a bodybuilder, in a world brimming with supernatural might, his physical prowess was laughably meager—akin to the irksome persistence of a mosquito. His aspiration to become a formidable fighter remained an unattainable fantasy, his reality a crushing suppression.
Despite the bleak outlook, it wasn't all grim. A majority of individuals viewed Xale through the lens of common humanity. Yet, as with any social group, there existed those who, rotten to the core, found perverse satisfaction in directing their frustrations towards him, an easy target.
"I miss you, Dad," Xale confessed to the vacant heavens, his voice a fragile thread of sorrow in the cold winter air. A flood of pent-up tears blurred his vision.
His father's presence would have altered the equation drastically. The bullies would have thought twice before crossing paths with him. His family wouldn't be submerged in this constant struggle for sustenance. And Xale, most importantly, wouldn't be toying with the bleak idea of ending his own life.
Rank A civilians were an elite rarity. Their numbers directly influenced a city's prestige and bargaining power. In a quaint city like Elis, only three such individuals existed among millions, Xale's father being one before his untimely demise. The other two, out of power-thirst and connivance, had orchestrated his murder to consolidate their influence. And was there retribution? The notion was laughable. They were too invaluable for any punitive consequences.
Those names, Yuna and Terrance, were etched in Xale's mind like a malevolent mantra. "Curse those wretches! I swear, I will kill you both. You'll pay for what you've done," he seethed, his fists clenched in impotent rage. It was a promise steeped in vehemence but lacking any means to achieve it.
Brushing away the crystalline trails of sorrow from his face, he pushed off the tree. "Alright, no more wallowing in self-pity," he declared to the uncaring night, striding purposefully towards a general store about ten minutes away.
Magic-infused lampposts cast pools of luminous tranquility on the path as he sauntered through the city streets. His thoughts wandered to the possibilities of academic exploration. 'Perhaps I could delve into magic engineering at the academy...' he contemplated, only to abruptly realize the folly of his musings. 'Wait, I need to actually possess magic power for that.'
His ephemeral dream, once again, was crushed under the weight of his harsh reality.
At the precipice of seventeen, adolescents were mandated to enroll in specialized institutions, where the cultivation of supernatural abilities superseded traditional academia. Xale stood on the brink of this transformative phase. The forthcoming academy session would usher in a new cohort of students, him included.
There was an inexplicable hint of optimism for Xale in this impending change. It bore the promise of lifting the financial yoke that weighed heavy on his mother's shoulders. With the academy providing free accommodation and a living allowance to its students, Xale's enrollment meant one less mouth to feed at home. Of course, the shadow of bullying loomed ominously in the backdrop. He anticipated a merciless onslaught at the academy, likely more severe than he'd ever endured. But the prospect of physical and emotional torment barely phased him. After all, only the extremes of torture and death could make his current existence more unbearable.
'I'll cross that bridge when I get there,' Xale thought, pushing his worries aside as he continued towards his destination. His journey was abruptly halted, however, when he was forcibly yanked into a shadowy alleyway. "Hey! What're you doi-"
His protest was swiftly silenced by a coarse hand clamping over his mouth.
He fought back with every ounce of strength he possessed, but his struggles were futile against the stronger assailant.
"Stop struggling. Or I'll make sure to do more than just beat you and take your money," a gruff voice issued a grim ultimatum.
Recognizing the futility of his situation, Xale ceased his resistance, partly due to his diminished strength, but more importantly, because he couldn't afford the ultimate price—his life.
"That's a good Xale, now come and be a punching bag for a bit," the voice chuckled with a chilling cruelty.
The owner of the voice was no stranger to Xale—Ren, a chronic tormentor from his high school days. Born into a financially deprived family, Ren's life had taken a turn for the better upon awakening a Rank D ability that significantly amplified his strength. His physical prowess was roughly five times superior to Xale's, an aspect he never hesitated to exploit.
Out of all the bullies Xale had encountered, Ren had been the most tenacious. While the rest had eventually lost interest post high school, Ren's tormenting persisted. He was a living embodiment of the stereotype of a brutish thug, robbing others as his main source of income, while being utterly inept acadically. Why he didn't leverage his Rank D status for gainful employment was a mystery to everyone. Ren chose instead to prey upon the weak, exerting his perverse dominance with glee.
Plunged into the cold, unforgiving corner of the alley, Xale was subjected to a brutally familiar onslaught of physical torment. Even with the numbness that came with habitual torment, each blow ignited a firestorm of pain through his battered body.
On this day, a sacred observance of his late father's memory, Xale found himself reduced to a whimpering, beaten figure. The searing injustice stoked the embers of his anger and frustration. 'Is this the depth of my pathetic existence?' he thought, a stream of hot, angry tears tracing the contours of his bruised face. 'I need to find a way to grow stronger!'
He was a protector, a support for his family in a world that seemed set on crushing him at every turn. His heart pounded in futile rebellion against his weakness, against this helpless shell of a body that could offer no resistance against even a street thug. His thoughts roared in defiance, bitter lamentations at his own impotence and the ceaseless humiliation that seemed to be his lot in life.
Mocking his own pathetic power, he thought, 'What am I to do? Change my eye color to provide a better target for his fists?'
In a surge of pent-up frustration and adrenaline, Xale pushed himself up from the cold alley floor, his determination giving him the strength to bolt.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going? I haven't taken your money yet!" Ren's voice echoed menacingly behind him as he initiated the pursuit.
Despite the disparity in strength, their agility levels remained comparable, resulting in a fraught chase through the labyrinthine alleyways of Elis. As Ren closed the gap with alarming speed, Xale employed every resource available, turning the urban detritus into makeshift barriers. Trash cans, discarded mattresses, anything he could throw in Ren's path served to stall his relentless pursuer.
Through his strategic maneuvering, Xale managed to outwit Ren, slipping away from his clutches. Running on the dregs of adrenaline, he made it to his home, slamming the door behind him with a triumphant finality. He collapsed onto his knees, gasping for breath, his body throbbing with a raw, stinging pain.
Upon hearing the thunderous slam, Nova sprang into action. Her eyes, wide with fear, swept over Xale's beaten form. "Oh my God! Xale, honey, are you okay? Let me help you up!" She rushed to his side, offering the support of her arms to guide him to his room.
"Thank you..." Xale's words were choked out between shallow breaths.
Nova shook her head, her own face tightening against the pain mirrored in her son's. "Don't thank me. Quinn! Fetch the first aid box!" her voice carried an urgent command to Xale's younger sister.
Moments later, Quinn appeared, her young face awash with concern, clutching a silver metal box adorned with a red cross - the universally recognized symbol of aid and safety.
"Xale, what happened?" Her voice trembled as she handed the box over to Nova. Tears glistened in her eyes, refracting the harsh truth of her brother's condition.
Having worked as a nurse, Nova was adept at administering first aid. She started attending to Xale's wounds, her hands moving with a deft precision that contrasted the severity of his condition.
"Ren happened." He managed to pant out as his mother bandaged and treated his injuries. The bitter taste of defeat was harder to swallow than his physical discomfort. "He cornered me in an alley on my way to the store... I couldn't take it, especially not today, so I just... I just ran. And, well, here we are."
"Of all days..." Nova's voice was a soft sigh, heavy with the weight of unspoken sorrow.
"I wish Dad was here." Quinn's words were almost drowned by her sobs, the thought of their lost protector opening a floodgate of emotions.
"Don't we all." Xale echoed, his voice a ghostly murmur of despair.
"Luckily, Zander's at a sleepover," Nova noted, a hint of relief punctuating her sentence. "I don't think my heart could handle seeing him in tears again."
Once the whirlwind of first aid, explanations, and emotional calming had subsided, Xale was left in the familiar company of his own lamentation, his room echoing with the profound silence of despair.
Suddenly, a floating semi-transparent screen appeared before him.
[ Welcome User Xale Donovan, to the Abyssal System. ]
[ Do you wish to accept? Y/N. ]
A mellifluous feminine voice, laced with mechanical undertones, echoed inside a young man's mind.
Xale's eyes bore into the semi-transparent interface hovering before him. His face was a canvas of incredulity, a tableau of bewilderment. "What in the world... Just, what in the bloody world," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
'This day has been nothing short of a ceaseless deluge of absurdities,' he contemplated. His mind felt like it was floundering in the tumultuous sea of chaos. He rationalized his hallucinations as the products of mental distress. It was a convenient assumption, given the circumstances.
'Really, isn't this just a little too much?' Xale mused, tracing the swirling thoughts in his mind. He was a man deprived of sleep for over 24 hours, drowned in the melancholic remembrance of his father's death anniversary. His emotional fortitude was shattered, his psyche fragile, like porcelain on the verge of fracture. Adding to his woes was a recent physical altercation in a dim-lit alley. 'How can anyone expect me to stay sane amidst this? My mind is playing sinister pranks on me, concocting this ludicrous scenario about me having some system. This is adding insult to injury; I already bear the shame of an F rank ability. Please, no more painful reminders,' he internally pleaded.
A deep sigh escaped from his lips as the dam of his suppressed emotions broke. Tears welled up in his eyes, cascading down his weathered cheeks.
Xale craved solitude. Was it so much to ask for a few unbroken moments of peace? Yet, even in the safe haven of his bed, an intruder dared to disrupt his quiet despair. This time, however, the uninvited guest wasn't a person, but a relentless specter conjured by his own mind.
'Absurd,' he internally scoffed, irritation seeping into his thoughts.
His gaze locked onto the relentless image, the static phantom that hung before his eyes, a testament to his frazzled nerves and overworked mind. He waited, his patience waning, for the hallucination to dissolve into nothingness. But it remained, unyielding and unapologetic, seemingly mocking him with its resilience. 'Leave me be, brain,' he silently begged, his plea a testament to his desperation.
'Enough,' he finally concluded, a weary surrender creeping into his thoughts. 'If it persists until morning, then I'll scrutinize it. But I refuse to believe this isn't some cruel jest.'
Resolving to confront the apparition on his own terms, Xale sealed his eyes shut, retreating into the comfort of darkness. As sleep wrapped him in its soothing embrace, he left the stubborn vision to its own devices, disappearing into the land of dreams where he could, at least temporarily, be truly alone.