In the year 1300, the world was a place of shadows and light, of ancient customs and futuristic technologies, where time had become an indistinct blur. The towering cities gleamed in the moonlight, with their spires reaching into the sky, their faces made of cold metal and shimmering glass. Beneath the dazzling cityscapes, the streets were a labyrinth of misery. Amidst the bustling crowd of rich merchants, soldiers, and nobles, there existed the forgotten ones—the poor, the disenfranchised, the damned.
Miko was one of them.
He was born in the slums of the City of Ashes, a sprawling metropolis where the rich lived in citadels made of strange alloys, while the poor were relegated to rusted, crumbling hovels in the shadow of their wealth. The air here was thick with the smell of metal, burnt oil, and decay. Technology thrived above, while the people below struggled to survive. The rich had access to the wonders of the future: automated factories that ran on arcane energies, flying ships, holograms, and advanced weaponry. Meanwhile, the people in the underbelly fought with knives, scavenged for scraps, and died young. The elite controlled the means of production, the military, and the arcane sciences, and their power was absolute.
Miko had always known his place. He was born into poverty, raised in a broken family, and cursed from the start. His father, a lowly street trader, had been caught in a conspiracy against the city's rulers and had vanished, swallowed by the ever-watchful machine. His mother, a once-joyful woman who had danced in the streets before the fall, had succumbed to grief and poverty, drowning in the bitter rivers of despair.
But Miko's story was not just one of despair—it was one of hatred. A deep, burning hatred that had been kindled from an early age, and which would one day rise to consume everything.
It had started with a curse.
He had heard the whispers of it as a child, spoken in hushed tones in the market alleys, beneath the flickering light of ancient lampposts. "His parents were cursed," they would say. "It was their fate." They spoke of the strange ritual performed by Miko's father, a deal with the dark forces that ruled the underworld. It was said that Miko's parents had wanted to escape their poverty, to rise above their station. They had sought the aid of an ancient sorcerer, a being who had existed long before the current world of machines and steel.
But the price of such magic was steep, and it was always paid in blood. They had been betrayed.
The sorcerer had bound their souls to the earth, cursing them to live in eternal suffering. Their bodies had aged prematurely, their minds broken by the knowledge of their own damnation. The spell was incomplete, unfinished—but it had done its damage. Miko's parents had been left hollow, their spirits fractured. His mother had cried endlessly, her sanity crumbling, while his father had fallen into a strange, soulless stupor.
As for Miko himself—he was the final price of that deal. The curse had marked him, from the very moment he was born. His life would be one of suffering, one of pain and loss. He had no memories of his parents' love, no warmth from their embrace. Instead, he had been raised by the streets, hardened by the endless struggle for survival. His very existence was an insult to the world around him, a reminder of a deal that had gone horribly wrong. He was a product of failure, and that failure had cost his family everything.
But Miko was different from the others. He was not content to live in the shadow of his parents' mistakes. No, he would rise. He would seek revenge. He would destroy the system that had cursed him, the system that had cursed his parents, and the system that had enslaved the world.
The City of Ashes was not a place for the weak. Its streets were ruled by the Syndicate, an alliance of criminal organizations that had risen up in the absence of true governance. The Syndicate controlled everything: the black market, the city's power grid, the food supplies, and the high-tech weapons that kept the lower districts in check. The Syndicate was ruthless and efficient, a machine in its own right, much like the rest of the world above.
Miko had learned to survive in the slums through sheer willpower and cunning. He was small, wiry, and fast, with a mind sharpened by the endless need to adapt. He had fought in the back alleys, stolen from the market stalls, and learned to navigate the underworld. But despite his skills, he knew that to defeat the Syndicate, to overthrow the rulers of the City of Ashes, he would need something far greater than mere survival.
He would need knowledge.
Miko had spent years studying the old texts, the forbidden knowledge hidden in the catacombs of the city's ruined libraries. The technology of the past was as much a mystery to the people of the slums as the magic that once ruled the world. But Miko had an advantage—he was determined to unlock the secrets of the old world. His parents' curse had twisted the very essence of his being, and that curse had led him to the knowledge he sought.
He had discovered the truth.
The world, the city, the Syndicate—it was all built on a lie.
Centuries ago, in a time before the machines, before the great cataclysm that had shaped the current world, there had been a great war. It was a war between the ancient civilizations and a race of beings who had come from beyond the stars. These beings had brought with them advanced technology, technology that had allowed them to conquer the earth. But the ancient civilizations had fought back, and the war had devastated the world.
In the aftermath of the war, the surviving humans had rebuilt society, using the remnants of that ancient technology to shape the future. But the beings who had come from the stars were not gone. They had left behind their legacy, hidden deep within the heart of the world. And it was this knowledge, this technology, that Miko sought to claim for himself.
The more Miko delved into the ancient texts, the more he understood. There were artifacts scattered throughout the world—artifacts of unimaginable power—that could change everything. These relics were the key to overthrowing the Syndicate, to breaking the curse, to finally getting his revenge.
But he was not the only one searching for these artifacts.
The rulers of the city, the Council of Elders, had known about the ancient technology for centuries. They had made use of it, to keep themselves in power, to control the masses, to ensure that no one would ever rise against them. The Council had created a vast network of spies, assassins, and enforcers to hunt down anyone who dared challenge their rule. And now, Miko was a target.
He had been marked.
The Syndicate, the Council of Elders—they would all come for him. They would send their best assassins, their strongest warriors, their most deadly machines. But Miko was ready. He had spent years preparing, building alliances with the outcasts, the forgotten, the rebels who lurked in the shadows. And now, with the knowledge he had unlocked, he was ready to strike back.
One fateful night, Miko stood on the edge of the city, looking out over the sprawling metropolis. The lights of the towers glittered like stars, distant and cold. In the alleyways below, the cries of the hungry and the desperate echoed in the darkness. Miko could feel the weight of his parents' curse, the fire that burned within him, urging him to act.
His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the ancient relic he had stolen—an old key, a key that could unlock the secrets of the past. It pulsed with energy, and Miko knew that he was close. This was it. This was the beginning.
With a final glance at the city, Miko turned and walked into the shadows.
The world would burn, and from the ashes, he would rise.