Chapter 1 The Unbeliever's Witness

The midday sun beat down on Joy City, its rays reflecting off the chrome towers of the Tech Hub and glinting off the dust motes dancing in the air. Akin, fresh off the transport from his village, walked through the marketplace, a mix of awe and apprehension in his eyes. This was his first time in the city, and he was eager to explore, to see what opportunities it held.

He observed the vibrant chaos around him: vendors hawking their wares, hovercrafts zipping through the air, crowds of people from all walks of life. But beneath the surface, he sensed a tension, an undercurrent of unease.

He stopped by a stall selling cybernetic enhancements, fascinated by the intricate technology.

Two men, their bodies augmented with gleaming metal, argued heatedly.

"It's God's will that we are stronger!" one of them declared, gesturing to his enhanced arm. "We are chosen!"

"Chosen to exploit the weak, you mean," the other retorted. "You use your 'gift' to bully those who can't afford such upgrades."

Akin frowned. This was the first instance he'd witnessed of what he'd only heard whispers about: the way power, whether technological or seemingly divine, was used to justify inequality.

He moved on, his initial excitement fading. He saw a group of Tech Hub enforcers, their faces grim, patrolling the marketplace. They stopped by a stall selling herbal remedies, harassing the elderly woman who ran it.

"These practices are outdated," one of the enforcers sneered. "The Tech Hub provides superior medicine."

"But… but these remedies have helped my community for generations," the woman pleaded.

"Your community is behind the times," the enforcer scoffed. "Progress demands sacrifice."

Akin's fists clenched. He recognized the familiar rhetoric: the powerful justifying their actions in the name of "progress," just as the augmented men had invoked "God's will."

He'd heard it all before in his village, where similar justifications were used to maintain the social hierarchy.

He remembered his own life, comfortable and fulfilling without any belief in a higher power. He didn't need faith to be good, to be just. And he refused to believe that a god, or any higher power, would condone such blatant cruelty.

He saw a young boy, no more than ten years old, watching the scene with wide, frightened eyes.

The boy reminded him of himself, years ago, witnessing similar acts of injustice in his village. He felt a surge of protectiveness towards the child, a burning desire to shield him from the harsh realities of the world.

He hesitated. He was just one person, new to the city, with no real authority or influence. But he couldn't stand by and watch this injustice. He had to do something.

He took a deep breath, his resolve hardening. He stepped forward, his voice low but firm. "Leave her alone," he said.

The inspector turned, his sneer deepening. "And what are you going to do about it?" he sneered, his hand resting on the energy pistol holstered at his hip.

Akin didn't reply. He wasn't sure what he was going to do.

He just knew he couldn't stand by and watch. He focused his mind, trying to access the power he knew resided within him. It was like trying to grasp smoke – he could feel it, but controlling it was another matter.

The inspector chuckled. "Looks like you're all talk," he sneered. He gestured to the elderly woman. "Take her away."

Two other enforcers moved forward, their hands grabbing the woman's arms. She cried out, struggling against their grip.

Akin felt a surge of adrenaline, mixed with a flicker of fear. He had never used his powers in public before.

What if he failed? What if he made things worse?

But the image of the frightened boy, watching the scene with wide eyes, spurred him into action. He couldn't let fear paralyze him.

He focused on the enforcers, willing his power to manifest. He felt a tingling sensation in his hands, a warmth spreading through his body. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he pushed the feeling outwards, directing it towards the enforcers.

Nothing happened.

A wave of disappointment washed over him. Had he imagined it all? Was he just a fraud, a dreamer with no real power?

The inspector laughed. "Looks like your 'hero' is a dud," he mocked.

Just as the enforcers were about to drag the woman away, something did happen.

The ground beneath the enforcers' feet seemed to… ripple.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to throw them off balance.

They stumbled, their grip on the woman loosening.

Akin, surprised by the unexpected effect, realized he had done something.

He hadn't controlled it, but he had triggered something.

The elderly woman, seizing the opportunity, pulled away from the enforcers and scrambled behind her stall.

The inspector glared at Akin, his face now flushed with anger. "You… you did that, didn't you?" he growled.

Akin didn't reply. He still didn't understand what he had done, but he knew he had to keep the enforcers distracted. He took a step forward, trying to project an air of confidence he didn't feel.

The inspector raised his energy pistol. "You're going to regret this," he snarled.

Before the inspector could fire, Akin acted instinctively. He thrust his hands forward, mimicking the motion he had used earlier. This time, he felt a more distinct surge of energy, a jolt that made his muscles tense.

The energy manifested as a small, but powerful, concussive blast. It wasn't directed at the inspector, but at a stack of crates behind him. The crates exploded, sending debris flying.

The inspector and the other enforcers were startled by the sudden explosion.

They turned their attention to the scattered crates, giving the elderly woman a chance to escape into the crowd.

Akin, still feeling the aftereffects of the energy surge, stumbled back. He was exhausted, his body trembling. He had used his powers, but he had barely controlled them. It was a messy, uncontrolled display, more luck than skill.

The inspector, regaining his composure, glared at Akin. "You think you're clever, huh?" he hissed. "You're just a punk."

Akin knew he was outmatched.

He was still learning, still discovering the limits of his powers. He couldn't take on three enforcers at once.

He turned and ran, disappearing into the maze of stalls and crowds. He could hear the inspector shouting after him, but he didn't stop running until he was far away from the marketplace.

He found a quiet alleyway, his heart pounding, his breath ragged. He had used his powers, but it had been a clumsy, uncontrolled display. He had a long way to go before he could truly protect anyone.

But he had taken the first step. He had stood up for what was right, even when he was afraid. And he had discovered a spark of power within him, a power that he knew could make a difference. He just needed to learn how to control it.