Kaelan drifted deeper into his restless sleep, the scenes of his past bleeding into his dreams like ink in water. He was seventeen again, standing rigidly in the cold, sterile training hall of the facility. The walls were a stark white, lit by harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed incessantly overhead, casting sharp shadows over the trainees assembled in line.
To his left stood a boy named Tariq, a fellow trainee he had known for years. They never spoke much beyond the commands they were given, but there was a quiet camaraderie between all of them—a shared understanding born from suffering. They were the only family any of them knew. And today, Tariq had failed.
A line of trainers stood across from them, faces impassive, eyes devoid of mercy. One of them held a flamethrower, its metal nozzle glinting coldly in the light. Tariq trembled, his voice breaking as he tried to plead, but the trainers showed no sign of empathy, no hesitation. Kaelan's fists tightened, his fingernails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his composure. His lips twitched, his eyes burned, but he knew better than to move, to speak. They had all been taught the consequences of disobedience.
With a cold, detached efficiency, one of the trainers gave a nod, and the next moment, the room was filled with the roar of flames. Tariq's screams pierced the air, shrill and agonizing, searing themselves into Kaelan's memory. His fellow trainee was engulfed in fire, his figure writhing and twisting, turning into nothing but a silhouette against the blaze. And all Kaelan could do was stand there, rigid as stone, his face expressionless, while his body quivered under the strain of forced obedience.
The voice, ever-present even in his dreams, whispered in his ear. "Remember this, Kaelan. Remember the cost of failure. Remember the price they make you pay."
And he did. He remembered, every day, every night.
He jolted awake with a gasp, his heart hammering in his chest. The dingy room around him was shrouded in early morning shadows, the faint light filtering through the curtains. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the sweat-soaked fabric of his shirt, the dampness clinging to his skin. The memory lingered, like the remnants of smoke after a fire, burning in his mind.
But today was a new day. He was no longer in that facility. He was free… or at least as free as he could be.
He got up, shaking off the remnants of sleep, and moved to the small desk near the window, pulling out an old, second-hand laptop he had taken from a pawn shop the night before. He powered it on, the screen flickering to life with a dull hum. He had no idea where to start, but he knew he needed information—anything that could help him understand this world, this city, and how he could survive in it.
The voice was silent, allowing him his space, and Kaelan was almost grateful. He searched through online articles, forums, and news reports, piecing together bits of information. The city was a sprawling metropolis, a hub of industry, culture, and hidden crime. Superhumans—those gifted with abilities from Cosmic Krystals—were both revered and feared. Some were celebrities, heroes hailed as protectors, while others were outcasts, criminals hunted down by authorities. The Society Avengers stood as the symbol of justice, but beneath the surface, corruption simmered in politics, gangs ruled the underworld, and organizations wielded power that rivaled governments.
Kaelan read on, absorbing all he could. There were stories of the Cosmic Krystals, the mysterious fragments that granted people powers, of the Krystal Cubes that summoned otherworldly creatures, and of the elusive Cosmic Divergence Spheres, shattered remnants that held godlike power. The world was more complex than he had ever imagined, layered with mysteries and forces beyond his understanding.
As the morning light grew stronger, filtering through the grime-coated window, Kaelan leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. The world was vast, more vast than he had ever been allowed to see. And yet, he was just one person, one weapon honed by the facility, a stranger in a city that had no place for him.
The voice finally broke the silence. "There's power out there, Kaelan. Power beyond what they gave you. It's time to stop surviving… and start living. Start building your own strength."
Kaelan clenched his fists, feeling a spark of determination flare within him. The voice was right. He didn't know who he was, or what he wanted. But he knew one thing: he would never be controlled again. And he would find his place in this world, no matter what it took.