"Let's break up."

Harold Etton couldn't believe the words he was hearing. He was getting dumped even after all of his efforts. "Wait, Val, why are you breaking up with me?!" he asked. The voices in the cafe were muffled; he could only focus on his beloved's response. Intently listening, he awaited her answer.

Val sighed, spinning the straw around her cup, not looking at Harold. "I just feel that you aren't for me, Harold. Yes, our time together was fun, but I think it's time for us to move on." Her answer sounded half-assed, as if she didn't even bother giving a proper response. She stood up, stepping away from the table. "Now, I have a date to get to; goodbye, Harold."

"Val... what do you mean by a date?" Harold asked, seeing Val walk away. Stopping in her tracks to respond, she turned her head back to Harold with a smirk. "Yeah, a date. I've already found somebody else."

Harold was speechless. He had spent so much time being there for Val, loving her, and giving her his utmost loyalty and dedication. He had truly loved her from the bottom of his heart. So to see her just simply toss him aside like some used cigarette shattered him. Without saying another word, Val left, leaving only Harold at the dinner table. 

Sitting there in silence, a clockwork waitress approached Harold's table with a bill. In a monotonous tone, the waitress says, "Your total is 23 silver coins." Her voice box was of an older generation, so it sounded quite raspy from its low quality.

Harold had realized that Val also left without paying her bill. 

"Crap."

*

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Rain poured in the city streets as Chad walked back home. He could call in a buggy to take him back, but that would cost him at least 10 silver coins. "I didn't even bring an umbrella..." Harold wore a cheap black tailcoat and torn leather boots. It was an outfit that he wore casually daily, as it was a gift his father gave him. "I was going to clean this at home, but I guess the rain will suffice."

It was cold, but the pain of losing Val was greater. He clenched his fist, thinking about her. "Damn it, what did I do wrong?!" In his sorrows, he accidentally bumped into a man rushing through the rain. "O-Oh, sorry," Harold said, taken back by the sudden collision. Looking at who he collided with, it was a man running away from some sort of pouch in his hand. He didn't appear to be the friendly type. In fact, his mean glare at Harold already proved it.

That's when a police whistle is heard blowing from a distance, followed by footsteps approaching their location. "You bastard, watch where you're going!" The thug shouts before running off. That thug couldn't get far though, as a chain of mystical green light enveloped him and tightened, constraining his movements. "Damn it!" The thug screamed as he tried to break free from the chains. As the officers approached the scene, one of them had the chain in the palm of his hand. The thug in his struggle taunted at the officers, seeing them approach him. "You think you officers are so high and mighty for having an Artifact, eh?! I bet yours is a common-level!"

Seeing the officer's Artifact intrigued Harold. As an Artifact researcher, he was always intrigued by any Artifact users he encountered, wanting to know the different types of Artifacts that people have unlocked.

Artifacts are unique items with mysterious origins. They begin as mystical stones and merge with their user upon contact. This is when the merging process starts, merging the Artifact to the user's soul and transforming it into a weapon specifically for that user. The shape and function of the weapon depend entirely on the user's soul, reflecting it in the form of a weapon.

You could find them in random places around the earth, but scientists were never able to create them. Some theories suggest that they were naturally formed by the Earth, and others suggest that they were gifts from God themselves.

Suddenly, the actions of the officers snapped Harold out of his analysis, seeing how cruel they were being to the poor thug.

The mystical light grew brighter, constraining the thug tighter against its grasp. The thug screamed in agony as the chains seeped into his skin. "Argh, stop it, it hurts!" the thug said. 

"Shut yer' trap!" The other officer says, slamming his baton into the thug. The thug made loud grunts as he was struck, repeating over and over again under the rain. As Harold watched the scene unfold, he saw the relentless onslaught ensue against the poor thug. 

"He's not stopping..." he thought.

"He's going to kill him!"

That's when Harold defiantly spoke up without a second thought. "Stop it, you've beaten him well enough!" he boldly yelled. The officer with the baton paused, seeing Harold's goofy self stand in the rain. "Civilian, are you attempting to assist a criminal?" he asked, giving Harold a menacing side-eye. "Yeah, from terrible people like you!" 

The officer suddenly whacked him with a baton, knocking Harold down. "It appears you need the same treatment then!" he said, grinning. When Harold attempted to crawl away, the cop with the chain redirected their target on Harold. 

Harold wondered if the poor thug could run as his constraints were gone, but what he saw horrified him. The thug was already mercilessly beaten nearly to death, and a large puddle of blood formed right under him. The blood puddle was so large that not even the raindrops could water down the puddle. "Guys, that man is going to die; you need to save him!" Harold shouted, only for another whack to be done to the side of his head. "Shut it, boy, it's your fault he's going to die!" the officer said, giving Harold the same treatment that the thug had gotten. Harold struggled to break free from the chains as the other officer exerted more power with each push. Continuing with the struggle, the officer gave one last blow that knocked him unconscious.

*

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Later that night, Harold groggily woke up to the voices of people chatting. His vision was still blurry, and he could see two outlines. His hands were in handcuffs, and the concrete floor was freezing. He lay there, struggling to sit up, still gazing at the two figures in his hazy vision. Muffled voices chatted in the air, only getting clearer as he woke up.

"Please forgive my son!" the man said, kneeling in front of the officer. 

"Hmm, we might forgive him... you just need to pay a hefty fine." the officer said, grinning. 

"W-What fine?!"

"Well... due to your son's interference, he gave a mark to my baton. I'll need around 1 gold to replace it."

"1 gold?! That price is outrageous for a simple baton!"

"Oh, so you're refusing? Mr. Etton." The officer took his foot and stamped it right onto his head, applying pressure by the second. 

"Okay, fine, I'll pay it, here!" he said, shuffling through his coin pouch and handing him the 1 gold coin. 

"Heh, you're lucky your son is 16. Any older and he'd be biting the dust!" The officer said, putting it in his pocket. He then slid open the jail cell and took off the handcuffs from Harold's wrists. The tight cuffs released a lot of tension, a huge wave of relief gushing over him. As his cuffs were released, Harold's father ran up to him and hugged him. "Thank god you are safe, son!" 

Harold sighed, saying, "Thanks, I guess..." Beyond his words, his face couldn't be hidden. It was in bright red, feeling his father's hug. 

The officer standing behind them grumbled at the affectionate sight. "You two, get out of here!"

After being forcibly taken out of the police station, Harold and his father walked down the dark city streets. The street lamps lit up, and the stone tiles on the floor glowed a neon fluorescent essence, bringing light to their pathway. Looking back at the scene before, Harold felt ashamed at what he saw. "Father, you didn't need to bow down like that for me." 

His father chuckled, seeing Harold's face. "Don't worry about it; I'm used to it." he said with a smile. 

His father was named Shannon Etton, a great clockwork robot engineer. He produced many different clockwork robots that society runs with, such as waitresses, builders, clerks, etc. Even though Shannon made such important architects, there were two types of clockwork robot production jobs. Homemade and company-brand. 

Although in some cases, homemade clockworks do function better than company-made clockworks, it requires immense talent to do so. The issue is that Shannon had no talent for making clockwork robots, yet he insisted on producing them. 

"Father, you had just given that police officer our month's rent." Harold said, still disappointed in himself. Shannon smiled, saying, "Don't worry, I have three more gold coins in my savings; we'll be fine." 

"But father-"

Shannon cut Harold off, saying, "Listen, I still got enough to pay for your school tuition AND to buy you an Artifact stone, great, right?!" The school tuition made Harold hide a tiny smile peaking through his lips. He always wanted to attend a prestigious school, but his parents could never afford one. "Thanks, Father; I appreciate it dearly. But I do have a question about the Artifact stone. Normally, Artifact stones of the elite level would cost around at least 20 gold. If I were to get a common-level Artifact stone, it would be useless to me."

Artifact stones are the precursor to determining your Artifact weapon's strength. They go from common-level, elite-level, to legendary-level. Once an Artifact is soulbound to its user, it cannot absorb any more artifacts, as the user's soul already contains one. This is why everyone usually tries their hardest to find at least an elite-level artifact, but due to how uncommon artifacts are in general, people typically stick with common-level artifacts as they are the easiest to find.

"Listen, you're going into a prestigious academy; almost every person there will have an Artifact! You must get one too, okay?"

He was right. The academy he was about to enter was called Kane Academy, one of the top schools in his city—Argon City. Running on large cogs and contraptions, it was also considered one of the most complex academies in the nation. If people were attending there, they would most definitely have an Artifact. 

His father's financial status was poor due to his profession, and his mother had disappeared 7 years ago; he was in no condition to be picky.

In a reluctant tone, he looked down, eventually agreeing. "Okay, fine, I'll go to the Artifact market and get one." 

Delighted, his father teared up. "Oh dear, my young boy has turned into a fine gentleman!" Shannon said, having an outburst of tears. "S-Stop it, Father, someone might hear us!"

As they continued walking down the city streets, a figure could be seen watching them from behind a steel steam pipe chimney in one of the buildings. Harold, sensing the staring intent, looked in that direction, only to see nothing. "Strange..." he thought. Focusing even further, he saw a clockwork robot sweeping the roof of a different building, continuously doing the task that it was assigned to. "Maybe the clockwork was looking at me." he said, moving forward without thinking.

Getting back to their home was many clockworks in the making. Some were odd, like one with a chicken head or a birdhouse with arms and legs. The same sight as usual for Harold. Not to mention the one clockwork that always had Harold on the edge. Its eyes were bulging out of its head, and its pupils were functioning to always stare at anyone walking by. "Father, when will you get rid of that thing?!" Harold asked, sick of its presence. "Don't call it a thing! This was the last thing your mother made before she disappeared!" Shannon said, wiping it squeaky clean. 

Harold sighed, seeing how it was no use. Before going back to his room, he saw another clockwork—one that stood out from the rest. Its design was just like average clockwork, but it was in a glass container, full of a bizarre liquid with many tubes interlocked inside of its head. "Father, what type of clockwork are you making now?"

"Oh, that? That's my biggest project yet!"

"And that would be...?"

"I've been researching the possibilities of clockworks and how I could insert a soul inside of it!"

"A soul? Dad, have you gone insane? That's impossible."

"Well, no human has been able to do this before, but if you manage to merge an Artifact within the clockwork robot, it will give it a soul, turning it into a real living being."

His dad has gone senile. Maybe it was because of their lack of money, or it was due to his wife abandoning them early on in their relationship. All that he knows is that these theories make no sense. No one has ever been able to inject an Artifact into an object—better yet, a clockwork robot. An Artifact needs a soul as a vessel to commence its merging process, so it's essentially impossible for his father to do this type of experiment. 

"Whatever you say." Harold said, going into his room. He removed his coat and boots and planted them into the corner of his room. "I guess I'll have to resort to getting a cheap Artifact. If Kane Academy's emission fees are 1 gold, I'm pretty sure the budget my father has given me is 1 gold as well, knowing that he said he had 3 gold in his savings." Knowing that Artifacts are stuck with you for the rest of your life, Harold accepts his harsh reality. Knowing that this reality might make his ideal career a struggle worsened the pain.

"My father told me my mother was a great monster hunter. She killed monsters for a living and went out on many different expeditions. It's just that one day, she never came back. My father requested multiple search parties, but they were all futile." 

She was an irrelevant monster hunter, one that no one cared about. She was included with hundreds of other monster hunters who lost their lives while performing their duties. 

Didn't have enough money for a funeral.

Barely any of her loved ones cared.

It was only my father and I who had been emotionally affected by this terrible situation. 

People on the streets only looked at us like idiots, thinking it was probably our fault that she died. 

"You shouldn't have let her become a monster hunter." they said.

"She should've been stay-at-home mother." they said.

"If your father had made more money from his job, she wouldn't have taken such a risk." they said.

"A wasted life, all for the sake of greed." they said.

Harold punched the wall in anger, shaking the whole house. "You damn bastards, stop talking about my family like you know them!" He let out heavy breaths, his anger subsiding with each one. "I'm getting too angry again; I need to calm down." He lay on his bed, getting in a comfortable position. "Too many things had happened today; I need to sleep."

He sighed, closing his eyes, slowly falling into a deep slumber.

"Damn, what a cruel world."