"Would the world be as cold if it wasn't for powers?" It was a question many asked while wandering around the so-called new world.

Unlike its paradise-like facade, it could be described as a disaster:

The darkness was suppressed in the city, from the neon lights popping out from ads and holograms advertising burgers to beauty products that didn't allow the stars to show.

The outer layers of the city were simple, filled with teenagers and citizens enjoying life eating food and hanging out.

But underneath it was the alleys:

The cacophonies of the city's nightlife in the underground could become a movie on its own about addiction and gang wars,

unlike the rule-abiding parts of the city, the cars honked at the never-ending traffic -- People cursing from the safety of their cars just in case somebody was armed.

Going back to the outer lay of the city, where light thrived, a boy named Crim stirred in the trash-strewn junk yard. The stench of decay assaulted his nose opening his senses as he slowly awoke from his grim slumber.

"My head hurts," The young man complained.

His chestnut hair spilled out from beneath a tattered raven cloak that acted as his blanket, his dark grey eyes peeking out the holes from the hood on his face. Stretching his arms -- He banged out of the metal dumpsters- getting out from a crack leading to an open alley.

Towards the end the entrance to the futuristic town stood, teasing Crim's eyes with its advertisements of burgers and fries, Unfortunately, looking at his wallet which had more holes than his cloak snapped him back to reality.

Limping toward the illuminated streets, he retrieved a crumpled piece of paper from his torn pocket with the word "Target" written on the top right. 

"Hmm, another mysterious job today," he mused with a weary yawn.

The paper contained information about an old man marked as "Today's Target."

The picture was blurry, and the details were hazy, but Crim was no stranger to such shadowy assignments.

At the tender age of 16, he embarked on a career as a bounty hunter, considered a prodigy in his field. In a world plagued by inflation and uncertainty, his choice to embrace the life of a killer was not uncommon.

Rubbing his growling stomach, Crim muttered, "I should hurry."

People passing by wrinkled their noses at the filthy, malodorous boy. His disheveled appearance and gaunt frame drew disdainful glances, but Crim paid them no mind. He could wash away the grime later; his empty wallet demanded his immediate attention.

Consulting the location on the job notice, he stumbled upon an old school building emitting a putrid odor of blood.

"Another murderer," he mumbled, entering the dilapidated structure.

As he closed the door behind him, darkness enveloped him. Unperturbed, he murmured an incantation under his breath, "Visa Op No-Li," while his hands came together.

With a flick of his hand, sparks ignited a fireball that hovered in his palm. He explored the abandoned building, peering into classrooms with glass walls instead of doors. Some bore marks of violent struggles, imprinted handprints smearing the walls.

Holding the light aloft, Crim deduced that the school was not abandoned, despite the exterior's illusion. It seemed he would confront a mage early in the morning.

He was prepared for the worst, but facing an illusionist always posed a formidable challenge.

Illusionists were notoriously difficult to defeat thanks to their constant trickery. Nevertheless, the cloaked boy continued his search, examining every corner until frustration set in.

The source of the bloodstained stench eluded him no matter how far he ventured.

Crim extended his hand and began another chant, "Sina O Pal." The sound of sizzling filled the air before giving way to a tremendous burst of flames within the building. But instead of burning, the surroundings trembled and dissolved.

Like a melting candle, reality melted away to reveal a desolate storage area littered with pools of blood and heaps of lifeless bodies. Crim had unwittingly entered a monster's lair, but where was his target?

Monsters couldn't cast illusions, and they certainly didn't have bounties on their heads. The map couldn't be wrong, could it?

"This is more complicated than I thought," the boy sighed, unamused by the sudden turn of events.

He waded through the sea of corpses, checking every door he encountered. Most led to empty rooms devoid of furniture or light bulbs, though the windows offered sufficient illumination.

Crim dismissed his fireball spell, tensed his muscles, and fortified himself with protective enchantments, drawing mana from his magic core just in case.

"This is gonna take a little while," He grimaced, disgusted by the squishiness of the hailed corpses.

He opened a door that had no window and found himself in a narrow hallway that led to a spacious room at the other end. "Visa Op No-Li" he created a lighter in his hand and melted the doorknob.

"Nice room."

He hurried down the hall with a wide grin on his face, his grunts he disguised as excitement when his legs had been shaking.

Continuing his search, he eventually stumbled upon an enormous nest of straw and hay. However, there was no monster in sight, only a man with disheveled dark gray hair and a sinister beard.

'What kind of vampire lair is this?' Crim mused, stretching out his tense arms.

Consulting his map, Crim confirmed that this was indeed his target, despite the man's different appearance.

'Did I get the wrong guy? Well, the card says he's the one?' He adjusted his cloak.

He was abnormally well-built for an elderly man, and his charm was evident, but being able to sleep in a beast's lair was far from normal.

Taking the opportunity, Crim summoned a quietly forming dagger made of solid ice and stealthily approached the slumbering man, careful not to make a sound.

Crim nearly avoided stepping on the guts of a corpse.

He raised his hand to strike when the man's deafening snores shook the room like a lion's roar, startling the boy.

"Never thought a man could snore louder than a monster's roar," Crim thought to himself, his nerves momentarily shattered.

Regaining his composure, he confirmed that the man was still asleep and let out a sigh of relief. Dispelling his enchantments, he prepared to recast his spell.

A clank of ice shattering filled the room, somehow not waking the man in his deep slumber -- Much to Crim's relief.

Unfortunately, due to his fractured concentration, the dagger crumbled, much like his confidence in his magical abilities. After conjuring the dagger anew, he stared at the man, poised to strike, his earlier jealousy of the man's handsome appearance forgotten.

As the blade closed in on the man's throat, Crim encountered an inexplicable resistance. His hand, and seemingly his entire body, was repelled by an invisible force, and he could feel his hand being crushed by an icy grip.

"Good morning," A mischievous voice remarked.

Turning his gaze back to the man, who now sported a calm smile and crimson eyes, Crim realized his fate.

As his smile widened so did a horn sprouting out of his head like a cactus.