Orin stood on the rooftop of his school, the cool breeze brushing against his face. The city stretched out before him, a sprawling labyrinth of glass, metal, and light. Towering holographic billboards flashed advertisements in vibrant colors, while sleek, floating vehicles glided through designated air lanes. Below, pedestrians moved along high-tech pathways, their faces illuminated by the glow of their devices. It was a world of efficiency and order, but to Orin, it felt hollow.
He leaned against the railing, his silver gray eyes scanning the horizon. His hand instinctively moved to his chest, where his heart should be. But there was nothing no beat. Just a painful emptiness. Since birth he was diagnosed with the special case: Atrium null. This case is very unique, it identifies him not as human being but something with no heart, no core.
---
The classroom was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Sleek walls lined with holographic screens displayed shifting visuals and dynamic content. A large screen at the front showed historical images as part of the lesson. Each desk was embedded with advanced tech devices, allowing students to interact with the material being presented.
The students, a mix of boys and girls, sat at their desks, their expressions ranging from curiosity to boredom as they watched the teacher. They wore school uniforms that combined traditional elements with tech-enhanced fabrics.
The teacher, a middle-aged man with short gray hair and thin, circular glasses, stood at the front. His tailored jacket had small glowing patterns that indicated his rank. His demeanor was calm but authoritative as he pointed to the screen, explaining humanity's journey from the Home planet to their current one.
"Technology developed rapidly," he said, "leading to space exploration." The screen shifted to images of Earth's deteriorating environment. "As the planet became increasingly unstable, humanity was forced to search for a new home."
He gestured to the screen, now showing images of failed space expeditions. "There were many attempts to find another habitable planet, but all of them were unsuccessful."
Next, he displayed a digital diagram of humanity's ships in space. "Over time, 200,000 people went into dormancy to conserve resources while maintaining the population."
The teacher paused, looking around the room. "Humanity survived in space for over 20,000 years, with the human race evolving inside the ships, isolated from the rest of the universe."
The screen changed to show Raptor, a massive planet far larger than Earth. "Eventually, we discovered Raptor, a planet ideal for human settlement," the teacher continued. The students watched in awe as the screen zoomed in on the vast planet.
"But Raptor wasn't suitable for humans," the teacher added. "While it could support life, the environment was not habitable for us. We had to live inside protective domes and study the native creatures."
He switched to an image of these creatures, each one with a strange core visible in its body. "These cores," he explained, "define the creatures' abilities and powers. This discovery was crucial for humanity's survival on Raptor."
He went on to explain the breakthrough of genome enhancement. "We used liquid extracted from the creatures' energy cores to enhance human genes," he said. The screen showed an animation of the enhancement process, followed by images of initial failures, humans who succumbed to madness, illness, or poor health.
"As generations passed, the descendants began to show results," the teacher continued. "Some humans showed improved health, longer lifespans, and eventually, the rare appearance of cores within humans."
He paused, letting the information sink in. "Now," he concluded, "there are two types of humans: Earthlings, who adapted through genetic enhancement, and innates, those who possess the core which allows them to possess extraordinary abilities. But innates are rare, only one in a hundred humans is born with a core."
The lesson was moving along smoothly until a voice from the back interrupted.
"Teacher, which kind are you?"
The classroom fell silent. The students turned their heads, curious about the question. A black-haired, overweight boy sat with his hand raised, his expression honest and expectant.
The teacher chuckled. "Hahaha, I'm just a regular person."
The fat boy didn't seem satisfied. "What about those with no heart or core? I've heard of them, but there's no information on the network."
For a brief moment, the teacher's expression shifted, his usual calm demeanor faltering. Then he waved it off casually. "Alright, alright… class is over. Everyone, get home safely."
Groans of disappointment rippled through the students as they gathered their things. The fat boy looked let down, clearly wanting more answers, but no one pressed further. One by one, the students shuffled out of the room.
The teacher stood by the door, watching them leave. Soon, only one student remained. An 18-year-old boy with white hair and gray eyes, sharp as silver blades. He wore a black hoodie, jeans, and white shoes, standing casually near the exit.
The teacher smiled. "Such a coincidence… I was surprised to see you in my class. How's your first day at school?"
Orin met his gaze with indifference. "That's what you said last time… and many times before. I know you intended to teach my class from the beginning. And by the way, my day is quieter than usual."
The teacher chuckled. "Glad to hear that. You can't blame a father for being a father, right?"
Orin walked past him, barely pausing. "And you can't blame a son for being a son," he replied. "You can't keep an eye on me forever, Dad."
The door closed behind him, leaving the teacher alone in the empty classroom. He turned off the screen, a smile playing on his lips. *This is the 367th time he actually called me dad, hahaha.* Then he walked out. To him it was a great day and a big achievement.
---
Orin leaned against his father's advanced car, arms crossed, his gray eyes scanning the scene with indifference. The streets were the same as always, clean, predictable, and utterly boring. His gaze drifted to the school gates, where a tall, handsome student stood in front of a red-haired girl, holding out a delicate white flower."Sara, why let's go out today what do you say?".
She didn't hesitate. she stepped forward, crushing it under her shoe before walking past him." Such a stupid way to ask!" She said.
The boy's face twisted in anger. "You'll never find someone better than me!" he snapped, his pride clearly wounded.
The girl ignored him entirely, stepping into a sleek black vehicle. Without a sound, it pulled away, leaving him standing there, stunned and humiliated.
Orin scoffed internally. *Hmph. Kids' drama.* Scenes like this were common outside the school, rejections, confessions, heartbreak. It was nothing new to him.
Unfortunately, the rejected student caught him watching. "What are you looking at?" he snapped before storming off, still seething.
Orin didn't bother responding. He just exhaled and glanced toward the road.
Moments later, his father's car pulled up. The driver's side window lowered, revealing his father's teasing grin. "Look who's waiting for Daddy…"
Orin's expression darkened. "Can we just drive home?" he muttered, opening the passenger door and sliding in.
---
Their house stood in a quiet district, surrounded by well-maintained greenery. The sleek, modern structure was made of polished glass and reinforced metal, reflecting the sky like a mirror. Automated systems controlled everything, temperature, security, lighting. A spacious garden stretched behind the house, featuring a pristine pool and a designated training area.
Orin crouched slightly as his dog sprinted toward him, its sleek fur shining under the artificial lights. Its piercing blue eyes locked onto him, ears twitching as it leaped onto him, licking his face with an excited whine.
"Alright, alright," he muttered, scratching behind its ears. "I missed you too."
His dog had been with him for years, the only real companion he had outside of his father. He still remembered the day he found it—an injured stray near one of the domes. It had been weak, barely breathing, but Orin refused to leave it behind. He nursed it back to health, and since then, it never left his side. His father had been reluctant at first but eventually gave in, letting Orin keep it.
The man was overbearing, annoying, and far too cheerful. But he was also the only person who had ever truly wanted Orin. When Orin was younger, he used to believe no one would ever care for him. His biological parents had abandoned him at eight, leaving him with nothing. The orphanage tried to mold him into a proper child, but he refused to stay caged. He ran away repeatedly, getting into fights, stealing food, doing whatever it took to survive. By the time he was twelve, he had built a reputation—a troublesome, stubborn kid no one wanted. Until a man with a ridiculous smile and an even more ridiculous obsession with being a dad came along. He had no children of his own. His wife had left him long ago, and instead of moving on, he threw himself into work. But none of it satisfied him. He wanted a son, and he couldn't give birth to one.
And so, despite Orin's cold attitude and resistance, he adopted him.
It wasn't easy. Orin pushed back, refusing to accept the man as his father. He expected him to give up, to get tired of dealing with him, just like everyone else had. But he didn't. No matter how much Orin ignored him, disrespected him, or lashed out, he never left.
Over time, Orin stopped fighting it. He never said it out loud, never admitted it, but deep down, he knew—his father was the only person who stayed.
And yet, even with that, something was missing.
Orin had no heart. No core. He wasn't like the other normal humans or those born with extraordinary abilities. He was just… empty.
That emptiness clawed at him every day. It made him question whether he was truly human or just some defective version of one.
But he had a dream. A purpose.
He wanted to become a monster hunter, to fight the creatures that roamed outside the domes. It was the only thing that excited him, the only thing that made his blood stir. But how could he fight monsters when he lacked the very thing that made humans capable of surviving on Raptor? Without a core, without enhancement, he was weak.
He hated it.
He hated standing on the sidelines, watching others become stronger while he remained stuck.
---
As night fell, Orin sat in his room, staring out at the cityscape. His father was in his study, speaking in hushed tones on the phone. Orin couldn't make out the words, but the tension in his father's voice was unmistakable.
"I understand," his father said, his voice low and strained. "But I won't cooperate. What you're asking for… it's too dangerous. I won't let you use it."
There was a pause, and then his father's voice grew sharper. "I don't care about the consequences. I won't let you exploit my work. Not now, not ever."
Orin frowned. *What work?* He had never seen his father so agitated. Before he could think too much about it, the conversation ended, and his father emerged from the study, forcing a smile.
"Everything alright, son?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes troubled.
Orin nodded, but the unease lingered.
---
Later that night, Orin was playing with his dog outside the house when a massive explosion erupted.
Boooom
The entire house was destroyed and both Orin and the dog were hit by the flying debris and scraps of metal and his chest was piersed and blood sprouted.
Lying there motionless unable to move while his consciousness faded away little by little.