Chapter 3: Awakened Potential
The morning dawned cold and grey, the heavy clouds above Zenith casting shadows over the crumbling scrapyard. Kael sat perched on a stack of rusted machine parts, staring at his hands. He had been awake all night, the events of the previous evening replaying in his mind. The strength he had shown when shoving Jerik, the power that coursed through his veins, the strange warmth in his chest—it all felt unreal.
But the bent metal pipe at his feet was proof that it wasn't a dream.
Kael clenched his fists, the memory of Jerik's stunned face filling him with a sense of grim satisfaction. For years, he had been powerless, enduring every insult and beating because he had no other choice. But now, things were different. He wasn't the same weak, helpless boy anymore.
"Power," he whispered to himself. "I finally have power."
But as quickly as the thought came, doubt crept in. The vial had done something to him, but what exactly? Was this strength permanent, or would it fade? And what if there were… side effects?
Kael shook his head, trying to push the fear aside. He couldn't afford to let his mind spiral into uncertainty. If he wanted answers, he would have to figure things out on his own. No one else was coming to save him.
The sound of footsteps on gravel jolted Kael from his thoughts. He tensed, his instincts screaming at him to run. But when he peered down from his perch, he saw Garran limping toward him, his mechanical arm glinting in the dim light.
"Kid," Garran called out, his voice gruff. "You're making this scrapyard your new home, or what?"
Kael climbed down cautiously, his body still on edge. "I… didn't have anywhere else to go."
Garran grunted, looking him up and down. "Figured as much. Saw that bastard Jerik storming around this morning, muttering something about you. Looked like he wanted blood."
Kael's jaw tightened. He had expected Jerik to be furious, but hearing it confirmed sent a chill down his spine.
"Don't worry," Garran said, noticing Kael's expression. "I told him you weren't here. The guy's too drunk to search properly anyway."
"Thanks," Kael muttered, relief washing over him.
Garran shrugged. "Don't thank me yet. You've got bigger problems if you're planning to stay out here."
Kael frowned. "What do you mean?"
The older man sighed, leaning against a stack of scrap. "This city isn't kind to kids like you. You think Jerik's bad? Try dealing with the Enforcers, or the street gangs, or worse—the corporations. They don't care about your sob story. If they find out you've got something valuable, they'll chew you up and spit you out."
Kael's stomach twisted. He knew Garran was right. He had seen it happen before—orphans who disappeared, their bodies never found. The world of Zenith thrived on power, and anyone who couldn't protect themselves was little more than prey.
"But," Garran continued, his voice softening, "you're not like the others, are you?"
Kael blinked. "What do you mean?"
Garran pointed to the bent pipe lying on the ground. "That's not normal. I've seen you scrounging for parts before, but I've never seen you pull off something like that."
Kael hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in Garran's gaze felt… safe.
"I found something," Kael admitted, his voice low. "A vial of liquid. I don't know what it is, but when I drank it… something changed."
Garran's expression darkened. "You drank an unknown serum?"
Kael nodded, bracing himself for a lecture. But instead, Garran let out a dry laugh.
"Well, kid, you've either got guts or no sense of self-preservation. Maybe both."
Kael scowled. "I didn't have a choice."
Garran held up a hand. "Relax, I'm not judging. Just… you should be careful. If that serum came from one of the corps, it's dangerous—more dangerous than you realize."
Kael's brow furrowed. "Why? What could they do to me?"
Garran leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Those corps don't just make serums. They make weapons. Experiments. People who are more machine than human, designed to kill without a second thought. If they find out you've got their tech in your veins, they'll take you apart to figure out why it worked."
Kael's chest tightened. The thought of being hunted, dissected—it was almost too much to bear.
"So what do I do?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Garran studied him for a long moment before answering. "You need to get stronger. Whatever that serum did to you, it's just the beginning. If you want to survive, you've got to learn how to control it. How to use it."
Kael swallowed hard. The idea of cultivation had always been a distant dream, something reserved for the rich and powerful. But now, it felt like his only option.
"How?" he asked.
Garran smirked. "Lucky for you, I know a thing or two about bio-cultivation. Used to be in the game myself, back before I lost this." He tapped his mechanical arm with a bitter smile. "It's not going to be easy, though. You're starting at the bottom, and every step up the ladder comes with a fight."
Kael's hands curled into fists. "I'm ready."
Garran raised an eyebrow. "We'll see about that. Meet me here tomorrow morning. And kid—don't get yourself killed before then."
That night, Kael lay awake in the scrapyard, staring up at the polluted sky. Garran's words echoed in his mind: You need to get stronger.
He thought of Jerik, of the gangs that roamed the streets, of the corporations that loomed over everything. They were all predators, feeding on the weak. Kael had spent his entire life as prey, but now he had a chance to change that.
"I'll survive," he whispered to himself. "No matter what it takes."
As he closed his eyes, the warmth in his chest flared faintly, a reminder of the power that now coursed through him. It was still small, still untested, but it was a start.
And for Kael, that was enough.