Volume 1 : From the ashes
Rain fell in an endless rhythm, a steady drip, drop against the shattered remains of a once-bustling district. It showed no signs of relenting.
A small boy, barely eight years of age, stood in the middle of the devastation.
His messy black hair clung to his drenched skin, strands sticking to his forehead in tangled clumps.
His youthful yet hollow face was streaked with dirt and ash, his fragile frame trembling under the weight of the downpour.
His eyes—dark brown, no, black—stared blankly at the wreckage that had once been his home, their depth betraying an emotion far too heavy for someone so young.
Buildings lay in ruins, charred skeletons of what were once homes and shops.
Flickering streetlights cast an eerie glow over the wet pavement, their neon signs shattered, sparks hissing against the rain.
A storm raged within him, emotions colliding and twisting into something unrecognizable.
Grief.
Fear.
Emptiness.
But above all, one feeling burned brighter than the rest.
Anger.
Tears carved silent paths down his cheeks, mixing with the rain—indistinguishable, yet heavy with the weight of loss.
And then, just like that—
He woke up.
"Just a dream..."
Talio exhaled, his breath misting in the cool night air.
The worn leather seat beneath him groaned slightly as he pushed himself upright.
The old train car he had been sleeping in rocked gently as it passed through a dimly lit district, neon lights from passing streets casting shifting shadows through the cracked windows.
He was no longer the frail child from his nightmares.
No, the boy from before was long gone. In his place sat a young man, tall—nearly six feet—with a lean, hardened frame shaped by years of struggle.
His arms, once scrawny and weak, were now lined with firm muscle, his shoulders broad yet wiry, built for endurance rather than brute strength.
His once-wild black hair was now tied into a messy bun, though several strands slipped loose, framing a sharp jawline and high cheekbones.
His lightly tanned skin bore faint scars—faded remnants of battles fought and survived.
He sighed, rolling his shoulders as he gazed out at the cityscape rushing past.
"Eight years... I really need to stop having these dreams."
Ah, but I seem to have forgotten something, haven't I? An introduction is in order.
Better late than never, I suppose.
I am the narrator of this tale, you could say. In fact, you might even call me the author of this little story. But that—well, that is a matter for another time.
For now, you may call me Basileus. Or Basil, if you prefer. Just think of me as another reader, yeah I know how can someone be an author, narrator and spectator all at once. All I can say is keep reading.
The train came to a slow stop at a station lit by artificial sunlight, casting a warm glow over the streets.
Talio stepped out onto the cracked pavement, boots pressing against rain-slick stone.
A light breeze carried the scent of fresh street food and the faint tang of oil, the sounds of the city filling the air.
This place was nothing like the district in his dreams.
There, the sky had wept, the rain washing over blackened ruins and smothering dying embers.
Here, the world was alive—thriving. Skyscrapers stretched into the heavens, their glass exteriors reflecting the golden hues of a setting sun.
Below, a network of alleyways and neon-lit streets wove through the city, filled with people moving about their lives.
Talio barely acknowledged any of it. The glow of the city did nothing to thaw the cold weight in his chest.
Shocking, I know. Who would've guessed that fancy lights and street food wouldn't magically fix his deeply ingrained trauma? I really should not be criticizing my own story.
After a few minutes of walking, he arrived at a mercenary guild outpost—a repurposed high-rise, its lower floors bustling with activity.
The smell of sweat and gunpowder filled the air as armed men and women haggled over contracts, their voices a constant hum in the background.
Talio approached a massive digital request board, its holographic display listing countless missions—some simple, others deadly.
His sharp eyes scanned the requests, moving swiftly between high-risk bounties and corporate assignments.
After a moment, he tapped the interface, selecting a high-difficulty contract.
A soft chime confirmed the request, and he turned, heading toward the receptionist's desk.
A young woman stood behind the counter, offering him a polite smile, though concern crept into her voice as she spoke.
"How are you, Talio?"
He wasted no time with pleasantries.
"I'm fine Leah."
Leah frowned, her expression shifting from concern to exasperation.
"You need to find a proper place to sleep—not some abandoned train car."
Talio sighed, irritation flickering in his eyes.
"Don't worry about it. I like it—it's peaceful."
Oh yeah, totally. A rotting train car? Super cozy. Nothing says 'good night's sleep' like rust and the occasional rat.
She studied him for a moment before shaking her head in resignation.
"Alright… what job did you take?"
Without a word, Talio handed her the request data.
The moment Leah's eyes landed on the details, her expression darkened. A shadow of dismay crossed her face as she immediately tried to dissuade him.
"Talio, you know this is a step above the contracts you've been taking recently. Right?"
Her voice wavered slightly, concern creeping into her tone.
"You barely made it back from your last mission."
Before Talio could respond, a deep voice cut through the air, laced with amusement.
"Leah, it's fine. If he thinks he can handle a high-risk job, let him."
The voice belonged to a towering, bald man with a broad, muscular build.
His skin was dark, with a few noticeable scars running across his arms—trophies from a life spent in battle.
A massive rifle was slung across his back, its worn barrel a testament to years of use.
Ah, the classic 'big guy who's seen it all.' We love these ones. They always have the best one-liners.
His sharp brown eyes held a calm confidence, though they twinkled with a knowing glint.
Leah hesitated before sighing, grabbing a tablet and processing the contract.
"I still think this is a bad idea."
She muttered.
"But I'm not your mother. Whatever you do is up to you."
Talio's expression softened slightly, and for the first time in a long while, a rare smile crept onto his face.
"Thank you for taking care of me all these years. I'll miss you."
Leah stiffened. Her grip on the tablet tightened slightly as she let out a nervous laugh.
"You make it sound like this is the last time we'll see each other."
Oh how naive
Talio said nothing.
Leah let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, shaking her head as she watched him walk out of the station.
Just as she turned back to her desk, a whisper drifted through the low hum of chatter, barely audible over the sound of ringing phones and clacking keyboards.
"Goodbye."
And just like that, he pulls the classic 'mysterious farewell'
Her heart sank.
By the time she looked up, Talio was already gone.
Leah clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the pen in her hand.
"...I have a bad feeling about this."
She muttered.
The bald man beside her let out a low chuckle, arms crossing over his broad chest.
His shirt was slightly wrinkled, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms marked with old scars.
"You always worry too much about that kid."
He said, amusement laced in his deep voice.
"He's tougher than he looks."
Leah shot him a glare.
"And what if he's not? What if one day he doesn't come back?"
The man sighed, shaking his head.
"Leah, every contractor that walks through those doors knows the risks. Talio's no different."
She scoffed, setting the pen down with more force than necessary.
"He is different. He barely talks to anyone. He never stays in one place for long. And every time he checks in, he's got more bruises, more scars—like he's looking for the worst kind of trouble."
The bald man didn't answer right away.
He just watched her, his expression unreadable.
She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples.
"I just… I feel like he's walking toward something he won't come back from. Like he doesn't want to come back."
The man scratched his chin, considering her words.
"Maybe he isn't looking to come back. Maybe he's looking for something else."
He admitted.
Leah looked up, brows furrowing.
"What do you mean?"
The man turned his gaze toward the glass doors where Talio had disappeared moments ago.
"Some people do this for money. Others for reputation. But there are a few..."
His voice trailed off for a moment.
"A few who are chasing something far worse than death."
A chill crawled up Leah's spine.
She looked down at the job request form Talio had signed, tracing the ink with her fingers.
"...I should've stopped him."
The bald man let out a slow sigh before placing a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"No, you shouldn't have. You can't."
His grip was firm but not unkind.
"You can't stop someone from following the only road they have left."
Leah bit her lip, her heart tightening with unease.
She had watched freelancers come and go for years. Some reckless, some overconfident. Some never returned.
But Talio…
She had never seen someone with his eyes before.
Not empty. Not lifeless.
But carrying something far worse.
Something waiting to break.
She turned away, forcing herself to focus on the screen in front of her. But no matter how hard she tried, one thought kept repeating in her mind.
"Please come back, Talio."
Dang. She said it. Someone cue the dramatic foreshadowing music.