Earth, year 20XX. After a slew of pandemics, wars, and natural disasters, this planet experienced its very first interdimensional incident. Aptly called, The Collision, this event merged multiple worlds together. Creatures and races, once only in humans' imaginations, entered the planet along with a brand new continent in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The world leaders agreed to name it Fantasia to honor the new inhabitants it brought.
Eager to avoid bloodshed, the Otherworlders and Earthlings aimed to understand each other. The former learned about the confusing nature of science and modern society while the latter grasped the new laws of the supernatural and magic. And except for some radical minorities, both parties labored to stabilize the world for everyone's benefit.
Eventually, peace and order was restored and in order to keep that, the Supernatural Police Department was formed throughout the world. They dealt with all manners of magic-related incidents and prevented anyone from abusing the use of supernatural phenomena.
Everyone who was part of this organization was hard at work in protecting its citizens. However, on one of the beaches in Mexico, one of its officers sat still while soaking the sun. That's right, I, Andrew Roberts, aimed to enjoy this time away from the craziness of work.
"Yo my boy! Why're you just sitting there? Come pick up some local chicks with me."
Yes, just me, the sound of the waves, and the sun.
"Hey, you listening?"
My veins popped.
"Shut up old man! I'm trying to relax here!"
This middle aged man in front of me, who was wearing nothing but a speedo despite his obviously overweight physique, was my dad, Marcus Roberts. He had the confidence of a supermodel although he had no business of even having some. And worst of all, he had the gall to ask his son to pick up girls when he came here with his wife.
"Darling~" a woman's voice, sinister, called from behind him. "What're you asking our son to do with you?"
Yep, she was here too. My mom, Aubri Roberts. Unlike my dad who was showing his age, my mom looked the same as when I was a kid. Figures, she was a Sylph after all. She originally came from Fantasia and became part of the first cross-culture exchange that took place many years ago. She was an unparalleled beauty who had many suitors, but somehow along the way, she met my dad and married him.
The lifespan difference was obvious with my dad being human. So, the Spirit Society saw the marriage as a waste of time; a mere flash of the pan. They were not alone in this sentiment. As the races became more integrated, this issue of life-span differences became a hot topic. It even got so bad to the point that some radical factions of the races saw marrying someome who belonged short-lived race as an abomination. When I asked my parents about this issue, this was the only thing they said:
"It is what it is. People have their own reactions and choices. We chose each other and that's final."
With my mom adding:
"Well, once your dad dies, I'll just remarry anyway. Maybe with a handsome young Elf this time."
My dad pouted for weeks after that.
They were ridiculous. But I knew they loved each other, lifespan be damned.
"H-honey," my dad stammered. "You know, it's the beach and all. I wanna teach our son how to-"
His explanation was cut off by a swift twist of his ear.
"Leave the boy alone, Marcus. He just had his heart broken," she said.
"Y-yes that's why. Ow, ow, ow."
"Enough. Come on, let's get those couple massages. Or what?" she batted her eyelashes at him. "Would you rather hit on strangers than accompany your lovely wife?"
My dad's face instantly perked up and eagerly nodded. Then after she let her go, he immediately bolted for the shops. Yep, they were still very in love. So much so that it gave me shivers whenever they acted like this.
"And you," she turned to me. "Your dad's methods might be questionable but his intentions are the same as mine. It's not good for you to just sit here. Go have a walk. Talk to people, enjoy the sights. It should soothe your broken heart even for just a bit."
That was a mother's intuition for you, I guess. I may be in my thirties, but she still knew how I ticked.
"Fine, mother. I'll do that," I conceded with a sigh.
Satisfied with my answer, she tousled my hair and followed my dad.
"Come on, honey. Stop making me wait," my dad whined a ways away.
"Alright, alright, you horndog," she giggled.
I shuddered. Yep, I'll never get used to their lovey-dovey lifestyle. I better follow my mom's advice and leave before anyone connected me with them.
The beach itself was like any other. Hot sand, the smell of seawater, many people having fun regardless of race and standing. It was a sight that was impossible many years prior. It was enough to make me thankful for being born when I did.
Well, enough sentiment for today. I wasn't too much of a sap to stay in this noisy beachfront.
With the shore as my guide, I made my way towards the other side of the resort. Days prior, I explored the area and found a nice place beyond the resort. Ever since then, I've been going there every chance I get.
A few minutes in my walk, I was met with a sheer cliff that served as the natural boundary for beach-goers. To make sure that they won't be liable for stupid people, the resort put up some colorful warning signs for tourists about the dangers of drowning from riptides and falling from the cliff. For the most part, this prevented anyone from trying to see the other side. Thankfully, I inherited my mother's Sylph genes. Using wind magic, I just jumped over it with no problem.
And I must say, the trouble was worth it.
As I landed on top of the cliff, I admired the view that I've been hogging for a few days now. It was a nice cove, untouched because of its dangerous placement. The riptides that guarded the beach made it look like the sea was dancing to some tune. And because it was nestled between high cliffs, the entire area was covered by cooling shade. It was the perfect place for contemplation or a nap without the fear getting burned.
And it was all for me.
Well, that was what I thought until I caught a glimpse of a shadow on the sand. I narrowed my eyes to see if it was a person or just some weird driftwood. And of course, it was a person! So much for having a special place only I knew about.
I jumped down from the cliff as quietly as I could as to not spook them. Now closer, I could see the shadow better. From where I was, it was clear that the person was a girl. She seemed young, but I learned from experience that appearances didn't matter when there were races that could literally live for a millennium and still look like a child. She was tanned, probably from playing too much in the sun. But weirdly enough, she was wearing a grey jersey tracksuit in the middle of this sweltering heat. Her eyes were focused as she gathered and molded sand into what I assumed to be her attempt at a sand castle.
I sat down. Might as well watch for a bit. Watching someone make art out of sand is relaxing on its own.
I was there from start to finish. From wetting the sand to forming them, from completing a section to watching some parts crumble. During this painstaking process, she never noticed me. And for the entire time, she had the purest look of motivation and joy.
I thought that when my spot was stolen, I lost the chance to think. But watching this lady struggle and accomplish what she set out to do, I asked myself:
"I wonder what kind of look I have when I do my job? I sacrificed a lot for it. I lost sleep over it. But am I even a fraction as satisfied as her?"
By the time she finished, the sun has turned golden on the horizon. Just how many hours did I sit for? How entranced was I to have the hours escape me? The sand castle she made was not the most impressive or the biggest I've seen. But she took one look at it and with one nod, she decided that she was proud of it.
I smirked in defeat. I had a lot to improve on in my career.
I stood up and shook off the numbness from my legs. I gained so much from her in one afternoon, the least I could do was approach her and introduce myself. But before I could even reach within earshot of her, some guys appeared from the beach. They were mermen. Good looking and muscular, these guys could easily pose for a magazine or calendar. They usually travelled in schools so around twenty or so of them approached the girl to hit on her.
There was nothing wrong with what they were doing per se, but seeing them irked me. Perhaps it was because they reminded me of a certain old man.
Their conversation couldn't reach me but from the looks of it, things were heating up a bit. The girl remained calm and poker-faced but the veins on the mermen's temples were popping. One merman lost his composure altogether and used his magic to toss water onto the sand castle that the girl spent all afternoon making.
At that moment, the entire cove went silent. Then suddenly, intense pressure filled the air. The kind of killing intent that gripped my heart whenever I was catching criminals was emanating from the fragile-looking girl. I had to intervene quickly!
I quickly ran toward them. But before I could reach them, the girl took a piece of seaweed from the beach and slapped one of the mermen. The seaweed was soft, but when it hit the merman's cheek, it produced an audible crack that echoed throughout the cove. The seaweed disintegrated on impact so the girl picked up another one.
The rest of the mermen, afraid of her wrath, flip-flopped away like beached fish. However, despite their best efforts, some were caught before they could reach the water. Slap after slap, crack after crack, one by one they fell. By the time I was near enough to intervene, the beach was littered with unconscious mermen.
Never once did I think that I'd be a witness to a serial assault via seaweed but here I was. I sighed and approached the girl as calmly as I could.
"Excuse me miss, might I have a word with you?" I asked.
Then, as I tapped her shoulder, my world spun. My ears rang. The last thing my brain registered was the same echo I heard when the mermen were being terrorized. And before I knew it, everything disappeared.