Maximus awoke to the sound of rain pattering softly against a cracked windowpane. The room was small and dimly lit, with only the pale light of dawn filtering through the heavy curtains.
The smell of damp wood and the faint tang of iron from the old radiator filled the air, mingling with the musty scent of the worn furniture.
He blinked a few times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and slowly sat up. A dull ache throbbed in his back—a familiar sensation from too many nights spent on the uncomfortable cot that served as his bed.
The room around him was plain and ordinary; bare walls, a wobbly wooden table with just one chair, and a faded poster of a long-forgotten movie stuck to the wall. This was home, for what it was worth.
The world he lived in was called Terra, a bustling, urban planet with technology and culture similar to Earth. Skyscrapers reached for the sky, towering over the streets where the hum of traffic and the chatter of the city's inhabitants created a constant background noise.
It was a world where magic was as rare as it was strange—mostly confined to the myths told in ancient books and legends. Maximus, of course, knew none of this.
To him, this place, the City of Carrera, was simply his home—where the struggle to get by consumed the lives of ordinary people.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his messy, dark hair. His fingers brushed against a calloused palm—hands that had seen hard labor daily.
It felt normal and familiar. Maximus knew he was twenty years old, a construction worker in one of the busiest parts of the city, scraping together a living and never expecting much more.
His reflection looked back at him from the crooked, cracked mirror on the wall. He was just a young man with ordinary features—neither tall nor short, with dark blonde hair and dull brown eyes. His lean yet muscular build completed the image.
Maximus did not stand out. If anything, he blended into the background, the kind of face people passed by without a second thought.
There was a time—though he didn't know it now—when his presence could command the attention of entire worlds, his charisma could sway the hearts of nations. His aura alone could make the strongest of warriors kneel.
But that time was long gone, stripped away along with his memories and power. Now, he was just Maximus—no more, no less. He looked at his reflection, feeling a strange sense of detachment as if he were observing someone else.
He sighed and stood, stretching the stiffness from his limbs. There was no grandeur here, no feeling of significance or destiny. Just the reality of a small, shabby apartment in the heart of the sprawling city—a city that never slept, filled with ordinary people living ordinary lives. And he was one of them, as far as he knew.
"Another day, another dollar," Maximus muttered as he pulled a wrinkled t-shirt from a chair and pulled it over his head.
His memories were simple and unremarkable, a life without adventure or purpose. He had grown up in an orphanage on the city's outskirts, run by a kind but overworked matron who had done her best to care for the children in her charge.
He had left the orphanage as soon as he was old enough, finding work wherever he could to keep a roof over his head and food in his belly. Construction had been steady work—hard but reliable—and it paid enough to afford this tiny apartment and the occasional meal at the corner diner.
There was no sense of longing in him for something greater, no hidden desire for adventure or power. All he knew was the life he had now—simple, honest, and quiet.
Maximus pulled on a worn jacket and checked the time on the cracked wristwatch he had found at a second-hand shop years ago. He had a few minutes before heading to the construction site downtown, where the foreman would already be barking orders to the crew.
Another day of hauling steel, mixing concrete, and hammering beams into place under Terra's gray, unfeeling sky. But it was pouring rain today, so he might have to spend time sorting in the warehouse. He didn't mind as long as he got paid for the day.
He glanced out the window, watching the rain trail down the glass in crooked lines. There was something almost comforting about the rhythm of the city—the endless repetition, the certainty of the mundane. It was all he knew, and for now, it was enough.
With one last look around the small, cramped apartment, Maximus grabbed his keys from the table and stepped out into the cold, damp morning. As he closed the door behind him, he had no way of knowing how much his life would change.
For now, he was simply Maximus, the twenty-year-old construction worker. An orphan with no dreams of grandeur and no reason to believe he was anything but ordinary.
But somewhere, deep within his soul, something waited. A fragment of a memory, a spark that had yet to be ignited. The journey he sought was far from the beginning, and the clues he had left behind remained hidden, waiting for the day they would awaken him to the truth of who he was meant to become.
The rain fell harder as Maximus stepped out onto the busy street, blending into the crowd like a shadow lost in the noise of the waking city.
Maximus hunched his shoulders against the downpour, pulling his jacket tighter around him as he hurried down the rain-slicked streets of Carrera. The rain was heavier, pounding against the asphalt and turning the gutters into rushing streams.
His boots splashed through puddles, spraying dirty water up his legs, but he didn't slow down. The construction site was still several blocks away, and he had already spent too much time wrestling with the urge to stay in his warm—if shabby—apartment.
"Why it is freezing today..." he muttered under his breath, quickening his pace as the early morning chill seeped into his bones.
The city's neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors that made it hard to see clearly. Despite the dreary weather, the streets were still alive with people, hunched figures hurrying to work beneath dripping umbrellas, their faces hidden in the shadows of their raincoats.
Maximus's jacket did not have a hood, so he was soaked when he reached the busier parts of downtown. He hoped there would still be work today, at least in the warehouse, despite the rain.
It wouldn't be the first time a job got canceled because of bad weather, and he couldn't afford another missed paycheck. Maybe if there wasn't any outdoor work, he could find something to do inside—sorting supplies in the warehouse or stacking materials under the shelter. Anything that would get him paid.
As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with a young woman rushing in the opposite direction, an umbrella barely shielding her from the downpour.
"Hey! Watch it!" she snapped, sidestepping at the last second.
"Sorry!" Maximus called over his shoulder, already pushing ahead without breaking stride. He didn't have time to apologize; every minute mattered if he wanted to arrive on time. He dodged around a group of men huddled under an awning, deep in conversation, and slipped between two parked cars, taking a shortcut through a narrow alley.
The rain beat down harder, turning the city into a blur of gray and silver. His clothes clung to his skin, heavy and uncomfortable, but he didn't care. He was almost there. Just a few more blocks.
Maximus cut across another street, moving quickly despite the slippery pavement. His heart thumped as he weaved through the crowd, ducking around umbrellas and avoiding puddles as best he could. He didn't slow down, even when a voice called out to him from a familiar storefront.
"Hey, Max! You're gonna drown out here!" shouted Sam, the owner of a small corner café that Maximus passed by every morning. Sam's face was half-hidden behind the steam of a coffee machine, his eyes wide with amusement.
"Yeah, yeah, I know!" Maximus called back, flashing a quick smile. "I'll be fine. Gotta make it to work!"
"Good luck with that!" Sam laughed, shaking his head. "This storm's not letting up any time soon."
Maximus raised a hand in farewell and continued running, his breath coming in short bursts. He was nearly at the intersection, just one more street to cross, and he'd be close enough to the construction site to see if the lights were on.
The traffic light turned green, and he hesitated at the curb, squinting through the sheets of rain. The street was nearly deserted, the usual stream of cars reduced to a trickle as most drivers opted to wait out the storm. He couldn't see any headlights, just the faint, blurred glow of the streetlamps reflecting off the wet asphalt.
He stepped off the curb and jogged across the street, his shoes sliding slightly on the rain-slicked surface. He kept his head down, trying to shield his face from the worst of the rain with his hand. He was almost halfway across when he heard the sudden roar of an engine.
A car.
Maximus's head snapped up, eyes widening as a dark sedan barreled toward him, the headlights blinding against the rain. He froze, caught in the light beam, his body moving a second too slowly.
The car hit him with a bone-jarring impact. A flash of pain shot through his body, and then he was airborne, spinning through the rain-drenched air. He barely registered the sound of the car's horn blaring or the screech of tires on wet asphalt. Time seemed to slow for a heartbeat, the world spinning in a chaotic blur of colors and noise.
Then everything went black.