A chosen one.

Despite the term being something one would be lucky to even witness, these days, it felt like a new one was discovered every day.

At least, that's what Ronan thought.

"The countdown for the last hour before the young, new Inheritors enter their Scenario has started…"

Ronan, a messy-haired boy wearing a typical school uniform, stared at a news anchor on a large TV screen atop a tall building.

He was quite the average boy, nothing particularly stood out about him other than his unusually bright green eyes.

Even his expression was blank as he stared at the screen.

It was hard to miss with it being dark out, its blue light illuminating the streets below and its noise adding a little life to the eerie silence of the night.

Looking away without a change in his expression, Ronan continued walking.

Which was it?

Did they live in a world now where everyone was chosen? Or did they live in a world where the meaning of the term no longer mattered?

'If everyone is chosen, is anybody really?'

Ronan thought, to which he soon concluded.

No.

So was the term meaningless in this day and age?

Maybe.

But it didn't change the fact that the universe was governed by a hierarchy.

Whether it was the strong or the weak, the smart or the stupid and even the wealthy or the poor, there was a peak and a bottom.

And in a hierarchy, there was always a single person at the top.

A peerless someone who far exceeded others, rightfully earning their title as…better.

If this person existed, wouldn't they be that chosen one?

Wouldn't they be the ones destined for greatness?

And if they were…who was…

'Tsk, whatever.'

Ronan rubbed his forehead, exhaling.

He'd done it again.

These days, all he seemed to do was question things that had nothing to do with him.

He would find himself dozed off for hours pondering on the topic.

And it would always lead to the same question before he snapped out of his trance.

He didn't know why, he wasn't even an Inheritor.

Without many friends, or really any at all, and most other things failing to excite him as he found them boring, it was easy to lose himself in his thoughts.

But as he stood before a run-down two-story home that seemed to deviate from the main road, isolated a few minutes into a dense forest, Ronan paused for a second.

-CREAK

Pushing open a short wooden gate that seemed like a formality when the home was built, but was now a sore sight as its rusty hinges threatened to snap at any moment, Ronan ignored it as if he were used to it, walking to the worn out door.

Keys jingled in his pocket as he quickly stuck it in, the key getting stuck for a second but turning after Ronan wiggled it inside a few times.

He walked into the home, the inside seeming just as aged as the outside with cracked floorboards, torn wallpaper and lights that barely illuminated anything.

"This generation of Inheritors is on the low side, however, where they lack in quantity, they thrive in quality."

"With teenagers suspected of possessing powerful Legends, some are tied to families known to always shock the world."

"Such as the Vanhearts, known for being prominent in the I.A."

"Their youngest girl is also entering her scenario. As well as the Vales who…"

"Boy, where have you been all this time?!" 

Looking to the side, away from the staircase he was about to walk up, Ronan's eyes fell on a poorly groomed ginger female with messy hair and a cigarette in her mouth.

"The library," Ronan answered, his voice monotone and expression just as plain.

"Tsk, again? Get a life, brat."

A large man with quite a large gut and a white vest sipped a little more of the beer in his hand.

He too smoked a cigarette that Ronan always found to smell funny.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what it was, especially after seeing the plastic bags, white power and greens on the messy table before them.

"Would you be friends with a retard? I don't think he's capable of even feeling anything."

The female sniggered, the man chuckling as well as he quickly lost interest, returning his attention to the small screen before him.

Ronan showed no reaction to this at all.

Like they said, he had little emotion to most things.

There wasn't anything wrong with him, but he knew most things simply didn't interest him.

This boredom and uncaring of his was constantly apparent by his expression and tone. 

Therefore, just speaking to someone would make it seem as though he was being sarcastic or outright rude.

Despite this, he did enjoy one thing. 

That was studying. 

Not just for the straight As he was privy to, but because knowledge and learning new things simply fascinated him.

Whether it was literature, physics, anatomy or history, he plunged himself into them all.

But because of the scarce resources at home where he didn't even have access to the internet, and school that took up most of his day, he was only able to indulge one or two hours a day and before bed with books from the library.

Therefore, he was only able to reach university-level academics.

"Hurry up and get dinner started..."

"Stop all your hollering, ya slag!" 

"What did you call me?"

"In other news, the terrorist group "League of Hydra" is only growing more dangerous while the I.A…."

The sound of the argument and the TV overlapped as Ronan turned away.

Ignoring it all, he climbed the stairs, the loud creaks drowned out by the yelling.

However, what he did pay attention to was the TV.

'Inheritors. It's their 40th anniversary today, isn't it?'

Exactly 40 years ago today, the first-generation Inheritor was born at the age of 15.

This was the age they awakened.

Waking with impossible abilities was definitely something that would draw attention, especially since it happened to thousands of kids in the US alone at the same time.

The world was instantly turned upside down.

Not that it lasted long.

Only two days after the kids awakened, they fell into a coma. 

No matter what doctors and specialists tried, they could do nothing.

The public immediately turned to the government. 

With all their rage, what were they supposed to do?

Blame a higher being that caused this? 

To them, the governments were the most likely to cause something like this.

With conspiracy theories suddenly gaining more sustenance and countless riots, the world was a mess.

However, a while after they'd started their "Research", the kids…woke.

Only, they were a little different.

They'd become Horrors.

It was the name for the monster that would arise if an Inheritor failed their scenario.

But of course, they didn't know that at the time.

The world suddenly fell into an apocalypse. Nothing short of the end of the world.

However, with these Horrors arose the teenagers who completed their Scenario, far stronger, smarter and far more powerful than before.

Ronan knew first impressions mattered.

Where these new types of humans could have easily been classed as freaks and monsters, the world instead witnessed them shed a ray of hope for the future of humanity.

Children Born From Light.

Heroes are what they became as they rid the world of Horrors.

Shortly after, the Inheritor's Association (I.A.) was formed. 

And since governments all over the world were in a weakened state and had lost the trust of the public, it was easy for them to spread their influence throughout the whole world.

However, there was one part to this story Ronan always enjoyed.

When the Inheritors did return, they told a story of what happened when they were gone.

They'd seen a whole new world.

One of Aliens, advanced technology, Magic and almost anything you can imagine, like something out of movies and fantasy.

Additionally, they were quick to figure out that the Inheritors weren't all sent to one world.

Two.

Inheritors were split between two different worlds.

Today, they are most prominently known as Marvel and DC.

'Though, I still don't understand why those names were chosen. They seem random. I can't find anything on it either.'

Despite this, as Ronan made it to his room, slamming his shoulder on the door as it was known to stick, the unclear names didn't change his fascination for it.

He was content with his world and even enjoyed its history.

However, whether it was the Renaissance or the Industrial Revolution, the countless wars or the unanswered question, none excited Ronan as much as Marvel and DC.

'But unfortunately, it was only the Inheritors that were privy to specific details.'

Ronan paused, his thoughts continuing, looking at a small calendar on his desk showing the date as January 1st.

'And I am not…will never be one of them.'

Not that he dreamed of always being one, since these days, the inheritor world seemed more like a popularity contest.

However, there was something that he'd always found appealing about it.

Shaking his head, Ronan tossed his backpack to the mattress on the floor he slept on.

Despite the room being scarce, it was surprisingly clean and well-kempt compared to the rest of the house.

With a simple closet and simple desk, Ronan had long decided to tear off the limp and dirty wallpaper, revealing the bare brick behind it.

However, rather than undressing, Ronan turned to his closet, swinging it open as he kneeled.

Under a pile of clothes, inside a box, he pulled out quite the vintage-looking camera.

The type that would instantly print any photo it took.

With his, he rose to his feet, splitting his hanging clothes in the middle and spreading them to reveal a dozen photos stuck to the wall of the closet.

Photos of a familiar fat man holding a bleeding Ronan by the shirt.

Another showed the same man holding a gun to Ronan and even the ginger-haired female in another case.

The wall was filled with incriminating photos, showing what happened in the house.

All these photos were taken by this camera.

'A few more should do.'

It didn't take a genius to realise what this was.

Ronan was adopted.

He'd soon realised he was only adopted by the Granger couple so they could live off the cheque the government gave them to make sure he was taken care of.

Who knows, maybe they were trying to test their luck with adopting a potential future inheritor too.

All it took was some acting and lies to make the adoption centre believe they were good people.

And Ronan simply drew the short end of the straw.

But if all went well, he'd be able to put away the Grangers for a long time, sue his adoption centre for their poor judgment and if he was feeling risky, sue the state.

He'd have enough money to put himself through college and he had no doubt he could start a business in Weapons Manufacturing or Pharmaceuticals.

All he needed now was a few more pictures.

And so, he quietly pulled open the door to his room.

Usually, they'd never hear him through their yelling, but it seemed they'd stopped arguing.

'This either means they're high off their horses, distracted by the TV or engaging in their spontaneous copulation.'

Either one of these was good for Ronan.

Besides with the last one, he was less likely to be caught as the loud groans and grunts would drown out any noise he made, as if two cows in a barn were left to mate.

As he walked out, his footsteps seemingly controlled as if he knew the exact places on the floorboard that were prone to creak, he took a few steps down the staircase.

He kneeled till his camera had a perfect shot of the open living room while he had enough cover to somewhat remain hidden.

Looking down, he noticed the TV still playing, the two Grangers sitting on the same run-down couch facing away from him.

He could see her dishevelled hair and his bald head, but most prominently, he could see the table filled with miscellaneous drugs.

-CLICK

-VRRR

The camera clicked, capturing the scene as it instantly started to print.

As it did, he pressed his eye against the camera for one more perfect shot.

However, as he was about to click, he paused as he witnessed something enter his line of sight.

No, not something, but rather someone.

A tall figure wearing a trench coat with a vividly familiar emblem on its breast, and some sort of red visor before his eyes.

'League of Hydra…'

Ronan thought, seeing that skull head surrounded by curved blades that made it seem like tentacles, an emblem frequent in the news nowadays.

But before Ronan could get a better view, he witnessed the man raise his hand, placing it on the side of his visor as it started to glow, intensifying until…

-VUAMMM!!!!

-CLICK

-VRRRR

Ronan jerked up, his eyes widening as the man suddenly shot out a laser from his eyes, seemingly burning the Grangers, as evidenced by the couch burning from behind.

Unexpectedly, Ronan's finger had pressed the button accidentally by surprise.

And it seemed that little click and vibrating printing played like an orchestra in the quiet home.

Because of this, the figure turned his head, his line of sight running along the staircase till his eyes locked with the green ones of a frozen boy.

And in that moment, Ronan had one thought on his mind.

'What the fuck?'