[Arc 1 | Volume 1]

  [Introductory Arc]

  Fire.

  It roared, consumed, and eventually smoldered.

  The raging flames enveloped what was once a little village among the coasts of a vast, endless sea. Fields morphed to ash, and the homes made by its villagers had fallen, diminished to nothing more than dust in the face of calamity. The rundown village resembled a deserted battleground, yet there was no clash, only a massacre. The sky, veiled by the thick smoke rising from ground fumes, only exposed darkness that reigned over its domain. The crescent moon towered above the twilight sky; even it was not exempt from the obscuring smoke.

  Yet, one remained amongst the destruction.

  A boy trod through the fuming village. He limped past the ashes of his fellow villagers, friends, and family as if they were remnants of the past. He could still hear the echoes of laughter from the village square, unceremoniously silenced by the crackling flames. His tears had dried, leaving only the hollowness of grief—a stark emptiness that echoed the loss of his people.

  The village of Litore had fallen along with the future of those who died.

  Soot from the inferno smeared the boy's tattered clothes. Burnt wood chips cluttered his hair, while sporadic ash-filled winds further dirtied his ragged locks. The smoke clawed at his lungs, each breath a desperate gamble.

  He would die. That much was clear.

  The nearest town was days away, and his body was shutting down. Yet he persisted, unsure why he still felt compelled to walk. Perhaps with everyone gone, he carried an obligation to go on and keep having hope?? But even a child like him understood that in hell like this, hope was futile.

  Through the haze, he barely noticed he couldn’t see from his left eye, if it was even there. The boy mused for a moment. Was it the outsider “diplomats” who spoke of “peace” whilst burning Litore to the ground?

  His exhaustive mind grew hazy, too tired to fully recall. In any case, it didn't matter. A miracle was his only chance of survival, a foolish fancy even a child like him could recognize.

  The broken body collapsed.

  The suffocating smoke overcame him. Not even an inch could he move to save himself from the surrounding red hell. As ironic as it was, dark clouds loomed overhead, painting the sky with a black appearance. It promised rain that would extinguish the flames, but it was useless.

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  The air shook.

  His eyes shot open, and he lifted his head with all the strength he could muster. Above the ruined land, a black sphere hovered, emitting a haunting violet glow that spread across the devastated land. It produced a sound reminiscent of a mystical power, as if ripping apart the world to pave the way for the presence that should never have been.

  Yet, it happened.

  There was no solar eclipse today, so why did this occur? It was undeniable that what was happening was a miracle. Its presence was truly a miracle. The young boy instinctively reached out his hand towards this miracle without even realizing it. Did he believe that such a gesture would somehow offer him help? Was he hoping that one miracle could lead to another and save him?

  It was a fool’s errand, but was that not what made one human to pursue futility?

  I don’t want to die. A single thought pierced through the boy’s mind.

  “I… don’t… want… to… die…” he croaked. His lungs, full of smoke, were irreparable.

  “I don’t… wanna… die. I don’t… wanna die… I don’t wanna die!”

  He croaked once again, begging the mass to make him live.

  “I can’t die here! Not here! Not like this!”

  He screamed at the glimmering abyss, commanding it to make him live.

  Abruptly, the purple illumination intensified. Efflorescent, it was to where it overshadowed the remains of Litore in its brilliant violet light—blinding the boy’s remaining eye. And suddenly, nothing but white was visible.

  “...Is that your wish? Then I will make that a reality.”

  If one strips away a child’s home, parents, and all such material things, there is nothing else for them to live for.

  That is why his body remained.

  Even as his heart withered and died.

  * * *

  "Oh my bloody days! Why does life hate me so much?!"

  Cursing the heavens at his utter misfortune, Acacia gave no sign of stopping his frantic dash.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The wind cut like steel against his scraggly frame, offering no respite as he fled. Streets, buildings, apartments—even towering skyscrapers—all blended into a dark canvas beneath the star-studded night sky, everything reduced to blurs at sprinting speed. Row after row of abandoned buildings lined the alleyways like silent sentinels, their shadows merging with the encroaching darkness.

  Right, left, diagonal—Acacia tried every evasive maneuver to shake the looming shadows advancing behind him. He darted through dimly lit alleys and twisted passages, seeking any route that might lose his pursuers. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears.

  There were still three of them.

  His jaw dropped. Acacia had been sprinting like a madman who needed to take a leak pronto for the past hour, surely passing half the city at this point. Logic dictated that at least one of his pursuers would have given up by now, realizing the futility of chasing an Irregular through the city's bowels. Alas, their rage had overcome reason. By now, they'd driven him deep into Ocarina's gutters—where only the shadiest dealings saw the light of day. Yet to fight against three Thaumaturges? Acacia didn’t need to be a genius to know that was sheer and utter suicide.

  He cursed himself for being too weak, nearly tripping on a black cat that scampered across from him. He risked another glance to gauge the distance of his pursuers, but instead of shadows, he saw only light.

  A crimson flash cut through the darkness.

  Red flames streaked past his head. He couldn’t react to it; it was just that fast. He only registered the deadly light moments later, because his eyes were already looking that way. The aftermath arrived like cannon fire, sound trailing destruction as it tore through the air. Acacia's head turned slowly toward the flames' destination, a cold sweat beading on his skin as he witnessed the carnage left in its wake.

  Before him, the street had been torn apart, as if a giant fissure had split it open. Trails of fire danced across the shattered asphalt, resembling wheels of chaos. Even after carving through ten meters of road, the inferno left a burning afterimage that scorched the surrounding air. Waves of heat licked at Acacia's skin, compelling him to come to a halt at this unexpected dead end.

  “That’s how you do it, Gio! You've got to teach me that move later!” one shadow barked, his laugh sharp and cruel as they closed in.

  "It's simple," Gio's voice dripped with spite. "Just vibrate the molecules in the air until flames appear, then control the shape and trajectory. It can turn even the most annoying-to-catch cripples to ash in seconds!"

  The three delinquents advanced slowly now, savoring their prey's predicament. Only five meters separated them. The flames behind Acacia cast enough light to reveal their forms, and what he saw was a twisted mirror. They all wore the same uniform as him: navy blue blazer, white shirt, red tie with yellow stripes, coal-black oxford shoes, and the imperial phoenix emblem on the right breast.

  Heinemann Preparatory Academy, Ocarina's leading Thaumaturgy school in the Tachyon Empire, had students easily identifiable by their uniforms. It was a secondary school where individuals blessed by the Convergence and those from nobility pursued the path of Thaumaturgy, each vying for an opportunity to reach greater heights. In the bustling port city, Heinemann represented a shining emblem of progress, but only for those considered deserving.

  Acacia, who possessed neither thaumaturgical talent nor pedigree, had still managed to enroll. The tuition rates without scholarship were astronomical, impossible for a boy surviving on instant noodles to even contemplate.

  His only path in had been through relentless study.

  I had to pull all-nighters, cram for a whole month straight just to get into this school, and I can't even use any cool esper powers! While these three idiots with the combined intelligence of a donkey can casually shoot fire from their hands?! Why is this world so unfair?

  "Hey cripple, is your tie blocking the flow of your brain, or are you just that stupid?" Gio played with his auburn hair while his lackeys snickered on command. "Heh, weak and stupid—that's a horrible combination you've got there. You've been standing there speechless like you don't know why we're hunting you down, you idiot! Should've minded your business like a good boy, and we wouldn't be in this situation. Surely a cripple like you would've learned by now to know your place and stay in your lane. Your existence is a mistake, so stop trying to play the hero, you failure!"

  The auburn-haired delinquent's agitation grew with each word until his final shouts dripped venom. But his target maintained a blank expression, seemingly untouched by the situation. Though cornered, Acacia appeared more at ease than ever.

  "Jeez… that's the reason you've been chasing me like a pack of hyenas?" He rubbed his forehead, gaze bleeding with disappointment. "Don't you guys have anything better to do, or are you just too braindead to figure out what else to do with your lives?"

  Red prisms of light danced before his face as Gio charged another ball of flames. The gang leader's silence beckoned him to keep talking—just so he could blast him point-blank.

  Acacia remained unfazed. After all, there was no heart left in him to signal danger. It had burned away long ago, along with the remains of Litore.

  "How pathetic are you three?" Acacia leveled his gaze at them. "Just because you're strong doesn't mean you should abuse your power so carelessly. I was walking back from school, wanting to get a drink at the local store, when I saw you all beating the life out of a weaker student just so he'd buy you stuff. So I stepped in. That's it."

  The flames grew brighter.

  "I mean, you guys aren't even that strong to begin with, even less compared to C.R.O.W.N of all things. Using what little power you have to beat up poor kids just makes you look pitiful by comparison."

  The conflagration aimed at his head.

  "You're no better than someone like me—just some morons drunk on power."

  And it burst.

  The fireball crossed many meters in half a second, tearing through pavement, asphalt, and what remained of the alley. If Acacia were a normal human, he wouldn't have been able to react to the incoming firestorm. However...

  Dumbasses.

  A moment was all he needed to escape their clutches. With tempered grace, he dove left just as the flames erupted, yanking open a door to one of the abandoned buildings and slamming it shut behind him as a makeshift barrier. The barrier wouldn't hold long against their power, but the trailing flames would force them to wait before further pursual.

  Time bought. Now then...

  Acacia retied his loosened tie, mind already racing to the next step. The good news: he'd shaken off those irritating idiots for the moment. The bad news:

  I can’t see anything.

  Although he got away from the delinquents safely, he had another problem to face: the bottom floor he entered was pitch black. The brats would surely wait until the flames extinguished so that they could mop the floor with him on the bottom floor. He needed to get to the upper ground and barricade himself on the rooftop. Using the building walls to find his way through the unlit room, he attempted to turn on one of the light switches; when he found one and flicked it, the illumination he hoped for never came—like unrequited love.

  There’s no light? Well, it’s called the gutters for a reason. He sighed, dismayed at his utter misfortune. Being chased for miles by Thaumaturges was already one serving of pain, but escaping only to find his planned refuge wasn't quite up to specification...

  This wasn’t ordinary misfortune.

  This was cursed.

  Almost the same curse that?

  Forget, forget, forget, forget, forget it!

  He felt it, the looming shadow of fate.

  He wasn’t supposed to live for this long.

  Existing beyond his destined death came with consequences. It seemed to desire his disappearance as if some cosmic puppeteer manipulated reality to ensure constant adversity. One must pay a price for every action. That was the world's immutable law.

  And the price for living beyond his fated time?

  Not even the price of the world was enough to rival it.

  That was why he had to run—from the shadow of sin.