Chapter 2:
The morning light filtered through cracked glass, painting streaks of dull gold across the rust-colored floor. Dust floated in the air like ash, catching the light, silent and ever-present. The slums of Detroit didn't allow for luxury or peace, only the illusion of it when the sun managed to shine through.
Alex Williams sat on a worn-out mattress in the corner of a cramped metal room, shirtless and silent. He was tall for his age—just turning eighteen—but wiry, with lean muscle packed from years of lifting scrap and running from danger. His skin was a deep brown hue, toughened by the elements and flecked with small scars from years of survival. His face was sharp, his jawline defined, his black hair kept short with the aid of a dull razor blade. But what stood out the most were his eyes—hard, intelligent, and heavy with pain. There was always a quiet rage behind them, the kind that only grew in people who had lost everything too young.
He gripped a rusted knife in one hand, breathing slowly, his chest rising and falling with a determined rhythm. Last night, he had stared death in the face and only survived by a miracle. It had changed him.
He had made up his mind.
It was either become a Terra Being—or die trying.
The memory of the mutant wolf tearing through his team refused to fade. The blood. The screams. The helplessness. The knowledge that, had the Terra Spark humans not arrived when they did, his head would've been rolling across the dirt.
Alex had been through hell. From the age of ten, after losing his parents in the early days of the invasion, he had raised his little sister alone in the worst part of the city. The slums were less of a community and more a survival pit. Murder wasn't legal, but it wasn't rare either. You just had to be smart enough not to do it in the open.
But yesterday had been different. Death wasn't just nearby—it had reached for him. And he'd been powerless.
The Terra System had six known ranks. He only knew the first three:
Terra Spark: Beginners.
Terra Core: Intermediate warriors.
Terra Pulse: Monsters in human skin.
He couldn't even imagine facing a Pulse-ranked mutant. But even Spark-level beasts were death to ordinary people like him.
Still shirtless, he stood up and walked across the room. A faint creak followed every step he took. He passed the only clean space—his sister's bed, where a folded blanket lay neatly atop a worn mattress.
Sofia Williams had already left for work. She was sixteen but carried herself like she'd lived three decades longer. She had their mother's features—deep brown skin, soft yet alert eyes, and thick black hair braided neatly down her back. Despite the hardship, she kept herself clean and composed. It was her way of rebelling against the filth of their world. Her eyes always searched for hope in people. Her hands, though small, were always steady.
Earlier that morning, she had hugged Alex tightly, brushing her fingers across the scar on his neck.
"You've been through enough," she whispered. "Please… don't die before you're twenty."
Alex had given her a tired grin.
"Same to you, sis."
Now alone, he stared through the broken window, watching her silhouette disappear into the crowd.
Then he turned to the rusted desk, flipped open his battered laptop, and began his search.
How do people awaken as Terra Beings?
Hours passed. Most sources said it came naturally—an emotional trigger, an environmental reaction. But there were whispers of a way to force the awakening.
A life-or-death encounter with a Terra mutant. The potential had to already be in the person's body, but the pressure of imminent death could force the Terra System to activate.
No guarantee. If you lacked potential, you died.
If you had it… maybe you'd survive the awakening. Maybe.
Alex knew it was stupid. Insane even. But it was all he had.
He scribbled a note with a pen that barely worked:
> Sofia,
I might be gone for a few days. Nothing's wrong, just chasing something I need.
Please don't worry. Don't go out late. Lock the doors.
I'll be back.
I love you.
—Alex
He packed his scavenger gear. Old, dented chestplate, fingerless gloves, steel-toed boots, and the same black scavenger jacket patched three times on the right side. It offered little protection against Terra-ranked monsters, but it was better than nothing.
Then he left.
---
The slums were alive with chaos. Shouts. Curses. The occasional blare of gunfire. Children ran barefoot through alleys. Fires burned in rusted barrels. The scent of piss and grease hung thick.
Alex kept his head down, face partially wrapped in cloth. He navigated through twisted alleys until he reached a narrow stairway hidden behind a broken crate. He descended quickly.
The Underground Market.
Dim, hot, and dangerous. Vendors stood behind makeshift counters. Men and women moved in silence, brushing past one another, each clutching their secrets like weapons. A mutant skull hung above the entrance like a trophy.
He scanned the shops and found what he needed.
Vargo's Blades.
He walked in. The man inside had a face like leather. One eye glowed blue—a cybernetic implant. The other was a deep brown, full of suspicion.
"What do you need, boy?" Vargo rasped, sharpening a jagged machete.
"Rank one Terra weapon. Spear, if you got it."
Vargo smirked, eyeing Alex's clothes. "You look like you're about to rob me, not buy from me."
Alex dropped a pouch of coins and notes onto the table. It wasn't much, but it was everything he had.
Vargo sneered. "Three years of saving for this? Barely enough for a blade with rust on it."
"I just need one hit," Alex said quietly.
Vargo stared at him, unmoving.
"You going out there to die, huh?"
"I'm going to survive."
Silence stretched for a moment. Vargo finally reached under the counter and pulled out a long spear. The shaft was dented, but the blade gleamed faintly with Geo energy.
"Reforged. Wasn't mine originally. Cut clean if you strike right. Might last one fight if you're lucky."
Alex picked it up. It felt right in his hand.
"I'll take it."
"Can't refund a corpse," Vargo muttered, sweeping up the money.
---
He stepped into a quiet alley and dressed quickly. Scavenger suit. Gloves. Spear strapped across his back. A black cloak over everything.
Then, without looking back, Alex headed toward the outer gate—toward the wildlands, where mutants roamed and death waited with open arms.
His journey to awaken had begun.
To be continued...
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