I ignored the nightlife of the city around me as I rounded upon an alley in an underground motorway, in search of a promising candidate.
It was time to pass on the mantle.
I saw the human, the one who would have to bear my burden, but also my powers and wisdom worth a lifetime.
This mortal, secured in a corner with a dirty and moldy blanket over him, was the most luxury bereft man I'd ever met.
He sat on cardboard to keep the cold of the concrete floor away.
From his posture I knew definitely that he was asleep.
This was a rat, a street rat who didn't look to be in his teens. He was a grown man, but he was nevertheless a street, homeless, rat.
And like a rat, I'm sure he'd swiftly wake up, spooked, as soon as I called his name.
I approached gently until I stood above his resting form.
"Clarke Chambers."
It was exactly as I'd thought.
His head shot up so quickly you would have thought he'd been awake all along, waiting for me to acknowledge him before responding.
But I knew that was not it, it was just a homeless man's well honed instinct responding to a possible threat.
I looked down into his green eyes as his body became tense.
I raised both hands in the air to show I meant no harm.
It worked.
This gesture was such a curious thing. His people, the humans, put such value and faith in.
But I could understand it, showing your hands provided evidence that you were holding nothing that could be a threat.
The beggar's eyes went over my empty hands but he still remained tense.
I would have smiled if the expression came naturally to me.
But I liked his spirit, he wasn't one to lose his guard just because there was no visible proof of danger.
He was indeed worthy, I'd known previously but it was nice to still be getting assurances like this that showed that he was a perfect choice.
Who would have thought, amongst all the seven billion people in this world, some of them presidents meant to lead and guide, or soldiers meant to protect and stand guard against evil, but it is a homeless beggar that's the only one who was worthy of inheriting my mantle.
"Who are you?" Clarke Chambers asked me, and there was no tremor to his voice.
This showed that he was cautious, but not afraid. Another assurance, I thought.
He looked a bit curious at my form. I hadn't bothered to disguise my looks. I looked exactly how his fellow humans imagined aliens to be.
My green skin was visible, and I was not dressed like a mortal.
His eyes went over my eight feet tall form, white waist-length hair, lack of any visible genitals and ears, and my one single eye.
"You're not scared," I noted, admirably.
He scoffed. "I've seen malformed dogs who look worse than you and for all I know this might just be a dream."
I looked deep into his eyes to judge his true feelings.
I was not a Bastion of Ativ who could read the life of anyone and anything, so I settled for just reading his expressions.
He was very bothered about my appearance, but at the same time he was not.
He was, as his people would say, 'weirded out' by it, but not concerned enough to be scared about it.
This was a man who had no stakes in life.
He looked like he only continued living, because he was not surviving. He may fight if he ever faced a fatal threat, fight with everything he has, but he'd be glad to face a superior threat that would cause him what he has wanted for years—death.
From my knowlege of his kind, there were two types of suicidal people.
The ones who took their lives, and the one who sought trouble which took their life.
The former were cowards and the latter were the most daring human beings that could exist, and this beggar was one. Which made him perfect for inheriting my mantle.
"You still haven't answered my question."
There was no answer to the question he asked.
"My name exceeds the pronouncing capabilities of your vocals. Regardless, it wouldn't matter as even I have forgotten it."
Chambers looked at me in confusion, his brows furrowed. "Then how'd you know I can't pronounce it if you have forgotten it yourself?"
"Because it is in the language of my people. That I have not forgotten, and I know that you can't speak even a word of."
"Ah," the man said in realization then shook his head, and ran his eyes over my form again. "So you're an alien right? Like extraterrestrial?"
I nodded. "Somewhat so. Not because I come from space, but because I'm from a realm beyond the reality of this planet and this universe."
He smirked. "So not extraterrestrial really, but extradimensional?"
Now it was my turn to furrow my brow at him.
This was a popular mistake, but it was one that was still wrong at the end of the day.
"Extra Dimension would still be within this universe."
He made to speak but I could guess what he was about to say and cut him off.
"It is neither an alternate reality. As that would be a mirror of this reality, making it linked and therefore the same reality, but separate from each other like a person and their reflection in a mirror.
If you seek exact words to describe where I come from then Extra Reality would be the word. Not exactly accurate, but a better fit than any of the previous terms."
"I see," Chambers said, nodding.
But I could tell that he didn't at all, he had failed to grasp my explanation.
It was fine though, once he accepted my offer he'd have enough time to come to grips with all this.
"So if I can speak your name, what will I call you."
"Acquaintances call me Primus, some of my enemies call me the Origin. I'm better known by my title, Bastion of Genesis."