The balcony of our tiny apartment was my sanctuary. It was supposed to be a makeshift storage closet in the Hera Building, where we were moved only a month after my father's death. Nevertheless, it was a place where I could escape the harsh realities of life in the Muita family. I had learned the hard way that in life, just like the unpredictable weather of Ahnduim—where it could be hot in the morning and snowing in the evening—your position could change when you outlived your perceived usefulness.
I leaned against the cold railing, the wind blowing my shoulder-length black hair into my face. Staring out at the sprawling cityscape of Ahnduim, the setting sun bathed the city in hues of orange and gold, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. Below, the streets were bustling with people and vehicles, the sounds of the city a constant hum in the background. The Hera Building, where our family resided, towered above most structures—a 200-story testament to our long history, despite being Class 4.
My thoughts drifted to my father, Kaine Muita, known as the Lion of Muita. His mysterious death ten years ago during a hunting expedition in the outlands had left a void in my life that no amount of time could fill. I missed him terribly. Without his guidance and training, I had fallen behind the rest of the family in the Muita sword art, a prestigious tradition among our clan. Our family, being prolific fighters, earned their merit points by protecting the borders from dangerous mutant animals. My father's death not only deprived me of a mentor but also cemented my status as an outsider within the family. While others honed their skills and earned merit points through hunting, I was left to do menial chores and endure the disdainful glances of my relatives. His death had crippled our unit economically. Due to limited resources on the planet, the family unit was more important than ever. "Stronger together, divided we fall" was our motto. However, in the family unit, each family was divided into branches, and each branch was expected to contribute resources in the form of merit points.
Merit points were a concept I found intriguing. You had to make yourself useful to the federation to earn merit points, which would be converted into currency. The stronger you were, the more merit points you earned. In this world, only the strong could live well. It was very unfair—cruelty in the name of survival of the fittest was how humanity had survived in the first place. Knowing abilities were genetic, it was a misfortune to be born in the lower class, as it meant a lifetime of suffering and servitude. Some twisted part of me wondered if I could survive the IGE48. If I did, it would be absolutely life-changing.
The decree of 1111 weighed heavily on my mind. The IGE48 compound was supposed to enhance abilities, but it had only brought death to those who had tried it, especially those in Class 4 and 5, including my cousin Elara. Despite the risks, a part of me longed for the opportunity to elevate my standing within the family, to prove that I was more than just the son of a Class 5 healer and a deceased hunter—a waste of space.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the apartment door opening. My mother, Lucille Yammant, walked in, looking weary but radiant. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, its fabric worn but meticulously clean. Her long dark hair was tied back, and her golden eyes—a trait I had inherited—sparkled with warmth despite her exhaustion.
"Dominik, there you are," she said, smiling as she saw me. "Lost in your thoughts again?"
"Just thinking about Dad and everything that's happened," I replied, offering her a small smile. "How was your day at the clinic?"
"It was busy," she said, setting her bag down and sitting beside me. "But rewarding. The pill you worked on for Mr. Harlan worked perfectly. He's up and about, feeling much better." My mother, although Class 5, was a very talented healer, and we scraped by on what she made healing Class 4s and 5s. It was a very lucrative business she ran with Grandfather, considering that those below Class 3 had no access to hospitals while illnesses ran rampant in the slums. Although, we didn't earn much as our customers were poor.
"Really?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. "That's great to hear."
"Yes," she nodded. "Your grandfather says you have a real talent for healing. He believes you could be even better than the Class 3s at those fancy hospitals."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "I wish I could have been there to see it. I'm sorry I didn't help out at the clinic today."
"You're always helping in your own way," she reassured me. She reached into her bag and pulled out a wooden flask containing a meal a patient had given her in gratitude. "Let's eat. Mrs. Harlan sent this as a thank you."
We settled at the small table in our modest apartment, the aroma of the meal filling the room. Some steamed rice grains garnished with edible algae. As we began to eat, a bell rang out, signaling a meeting in the family hall.
"That's probably about the decree of 1111," I said, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.
My mother's face grew serious. "We should go. It's important."
We made our way to the family hall, receiving snide comments and disdainful looks from other family members as we entered. The hall was grand, with high ceilings and intricately carved wooden pillars that told the story of our family's history. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of past hunts and battles, a constant reminder of our lineage and duties.
We took our seats at the back, where no one else wanted to sit near us. Aaron and Gaia gave me pitying glances as they walked past, their concern evident. The murmuring of the crowd ceased as the family heads walked in. The matriarch and patriarch, both over a hundred years old, entered with their eldest son, Dante—Danil's father—and his wife trailing behind them.
The patriarch, his voice strong despite his age, began to speak. "Members of the Muita family, we gather here today to discuss an important matter—the decree of 1111."
My heart pounded in my chest. I glanced at my mother, who looked equally anxious.
"The IGE48 compound is intended to enhance our abilities and ensure the strength of our family," the patriarch continued, his voice rising in a dramatic crescendo. "After much deliberation, we have decided that Dominik will be the one to take the IGE48."
Gasps and murmurs filled the hall. I felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath me. My mother's hand tightened around mine, her face pale. A hysterical cry escaped her lips as she clutched my arm. "No! You can't do this! He's just a boy!"
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to us. The patriarch's gaze hardened. "This decision is final. Dominik will represent our family. This is an honor and a responsibility. We trust you will make us proud."
I wanted to protest, to explain the deaths and the dangers, but words failed me. Instead, I nodded, feeling the weight of my family's expectations settle heavily on my shoulders. Around us, I heard whispers of "Good riddance" and "Finally, that useless branch will be of some use."
As the meeting adjourned, my mother and I made our way back to our apartment in silence. The gravity of what had just happened hung between us, unspoken but understood.
Once inside, my mother turned to me, her eyes filled with tears and worry. "Dominik, you don't have to do this. We can find a way out."
I shook my head. "No, Mom. If this is my chance to prove myself, then I have to take it."
She embraced me tightly, her warmth and strength seeping into me. "Whatever happens, know that I am proud of you. Your father would be too."
As I lay in bed that night, sleep eluded me. My mind raced with thoughts of the IGE48, my father, and the future that awaited me. The path ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger, but I was determined to face it head-on. For my father, for my mother, and for myself.