June 16, 2015. Wednesday.
The Yami Hikari building.
The convention announcer made his way into a private room with a do not disturb sign. He went up to the utility closet and removed a chair that had been propped up against the door. An identical man tumbled out the closet with his hands tied to his back, mouth taped, half-naked, and unconscious.
"Tch. Such a nuisance," the announcer mumbled under his breath.
The announcer took out his knife and severed the man's rope, untied his hands, and carried him onto the sofa. Without waking the real announcer up, the imposter removed his clothes and put them back on the real announcer. His job was only half complete.
With quick fluid motion, the impostor then went and pulled out a plastic backpack from the cabinet. Inside were black jogging pants, a dark gray hoodie, a black pair of shoes, and some empty beer cans. He quickly changed into his own clothes and scattered the beer cans around the announcer.
He grabbed an unopened beer that he had stashed away in the bag and opened it. It bubbled and hissed as it foamed. He had a quick sip without it touching his lips to stop it from spilling over. He wiped his mouth with his hands and then left the nearly full can under the real announcer's hand that was dangling off the coach.
His eyes scrunched up with disgust at the taste of beer. The sour taste of it over powered his sense, and made him slightly light headed. He had already looked into the announcer background and habits and found out that he was a heavy drinker.
Lightly dipping a paper towel in the beer can, he gently tapped it on the real announcer's lips. With his other hand, he pulled out a small orange spray the size of an eye-drop bottle, and squirted it around the announcer's body. The pungent smell of alcohol permeated his nose and around the room.
Walking up towards a small wall mirror next to a desk, he peeled off the fake skin on his face, revealing a jagged scar on his cheek. Then he pulled out a lighter from his back pocket and burned the fake skin. Like a flash paper, flames engulfed it in an instant. Not a trace of residue was left.
A couple of small Yami Hikari trinkets lay on the desk. One of them was very interesting: it was exactly like the Yami Hikari logo. Underneath the light, it glistened and changed color from blue to red and vice versa. Its wings looked alive, ready to flap away from his hands. He had another trinket almost identical in size to this one he was holding. He kept a couple for himself. He enjoyed collecting small trinkets and buttons for every mission that he completed successfully. It was a personal hobby.
The man spun around, headed towards the unconscious announcer, and delicately peeled off the tape with his pocket knife.
Ding!
The man took out his black android phone and looked at the message.
To: BlackStar
From: TigerOne
Find the Seed.
x6x1x1x
With his job done, he picked up the backpack and quietly left the building without a trace.
#####
BlackStar sat in front of his computer working away. There were three different monitors splayed out around him that illuminated his dark room. Soft piano music was played from his computer. His workspace was spotlessly clean, and not a single bit of dust could be found anywhere.
Next to his desk was a glass of display case, full of rows and rows of buttons and trinkets. He was proud of his vast collection and accomplishments. He kept them organized according to size, shape, what mission they were from, and personal uses. There were some small trinkets he bought at the convention for his personal collection that didn't have to do with gaming—the latest popular anime characters that people drew or small buttons shaped like them.
There were two trinkets missing, but it didn't bother him much. He already had an extra Yami Hikari trinket and the other one he lost.
Click.
Click. Click.
There were at least ten thousand participants to Growth that already registered today from the convention. On his screen, he had about fifty different applicants that he kept tabs on. Each were unusual in their own way. Agnis's and Zero's profiles were uploaded on the right monitor. He leaned back and stretched. Hot steaming tea that he'd made ten minutes ago was now drinkable without burning his tongue. How he hated scalding things entering his mouth. He didn't like spicy foods either. Everything he ate had to be either just the room temperature, cool, sweet, or sour. When it came to hot soup, he would either ask for ice cubes or let it sit for a while to cool down.
He took a sip of tea and turned on his Alive Glass gear.
Welcome to Growth.
An unregistered player has logged in. Would you like to start a new account?
"Yes."
What would you like your name to be?
"Zeraph."
What race would you bzzzzzzttt...
The screen phased in and out.
Thank you for registering. All personal information has been deleted.
"About time." He smiled.
#####
June 20, 2054. Saturday. 5:45 pm
Zeraph walked towards the slums on the east side of Kingdom of Terra. Beggars were littered around the streets. Some were begging for coins while others just watched Zeraph with solemn eyes. There was no life and will to live in them. They wished for quick death. In their lives hope was an absolute lie.
"Sir. Please. Would you spare some coppers?" said an old beggar as his wrinkly fingers clung onto Zeraph's clothes. His eyes were wrinkled up with stress and old age. This man was once a proud citizen of Terra, but now he was just a beggar.
Zeraph reached into his pocket and threw a handful of copper coins behind him. A swarm of beggars flocked towards the copper that was on the ground.
A dirty-looking boy wearing nothing but battered t-shirt bumped into him. With lightning-fast reflexes, Zeraph grabbed the boy's wrist right as the boy grabbed onto his purse.
"Tch. You guys fall for the same trick so easily," Zeraph growled as he roughly grabbed the boy. His hands tightened as he constricted the kid's movement.
"Let me go!!" The boy struggled hard, trying to get away with Zeraph's money, but he was mercilessly pulled into the alleyway. Zeraph threw him onto the wall. His sweet demeanor that he'd shown to Agnis was gone and was replaced with a cold, heartless mask. This was his real nature. His sweet personality was only one of the many different acts that he pulled out depending on different situations.
"Listen here, kid. You are going to do something for me," said Zeraph as he held the kid by the throat against the wall.
The haggard-looking boy spat at his feet. "I ain't going to do nothing!"
Zeraph eyes' narrowed in disgust. He smacked the boy roughly on the face and made him fall to his knees.
"That is for the disrespect you showed me," said Zeraph with a growl of anger. Zeraph crouched in front of him and held a silver dagger to the boy's throat. The sharp-pointed knife slit a small clean line. Drops of blood slowly dripped down his neck.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You choose," threatened Zeraph as he looked menacingly into the boy's eyes. The boy shivered in fright.
"Okay okay okay I'll give it back. Just let me go," said the boy as he gulped in fear. He turned his head away from Zeraph.
"Let you go? Who said I'll let you go?" said Zeraph with an evil chuckle, enjoying the boy's fear. He gave off a menacing look, ready to kill him in seconds if he made an unexpected move.
"Wha-wha-what are you going to do to me?" said the boy. It was as if he tried really hard to merge with the solid wall and disappear from Zeraph. Like a frightened rabbit, he wanted to hide in a hole til danger passed by.
"You got two choices: death for stealing, or your service to me." Zeraph rummaged in his small traveling backpack and pulled out a clean white scroll. It was made by skinning cow for leather. He opened it up in front of the boy's face. The boy looked at the scroll and looked at Zeraph.
"I don't un-un-understand, sir. I can't read," said the boy, hoping that would allow him to be free. If it didn't work, he had other ways to feign stupidity.
"Well, let's put it this way. You will be in my service doing jobs that I give you. All you need to do is sign this paper and our contract is sealed," said Zeraph.
"Um…how am I supposed to sign it?"
"Give me your hand."
The boy shakily gave his right hand to Zeraph, who pricked it with the silver knife. The boy winced in pain. Blood trickled down his thumb.
"Stamp it with your thumb," ordered Zeraph.
The boy nodded his head. The scroll glowed a brilliant, bloody red.
Ding!
A blood contract has been made.Zeraph has undergone an ancient blood magic contract. This contract cannot be reproduced, copied, or destroyed. If lost it will magically return to the owner. To terminate this contract, the owner must burn the contract over the holy fire.A total of twelve can be made. If all twelve are made no new contracts can be formed.
"Stand up. What is your name, boy?" asked Zeraph as he got up. He brushed dirt off his clothes and wiped his blade with a white handkerchief.
"I don't have a name, sir," the boy whispered. He was embarrassed to tell Zeraph that he was nobody. The boy slowly stood up.
"Your name will be Scion. Come; we have work to do." Zeraph turned around and silently went toward the dark alleyway.
"Yes sir," he squeaked quietly and followed after. They both silently disappeared into the dark streets.