"Go! Kill the man!" A despairing shout echoed over the battlefield, but the order held no promise.
"Run! We can't win! " a voice shouted, quivering with terror. Their hope had dispersed like dust in the air.
Before them lay an endless sea of bloodied land, a huge battlefield filled with the dead bodies of dragons, elves, demons, vampires, and humans too. The corpses were in piles, their bodies mounting grim mountains over seas of blood that inundated the earth. The sky above was a broken canvas of cosmic destruction — stars and planets visibly falling apart, their shattered remains glowing softly against the red horizon, as if the very universe had fallen victim to the destruction.
At its center stood one man — the cause of the disaster. His sword, wet with the blood of thousands, shone menacingly. He walked among the bodies with a creepy tranquility, killing anyone who dared oppose him. With every swing of his sword, more fell, their enemies crumbling like autumn leaves in a hurricane. What was left of those proud warriors trembled at his sheer might.
Even those who retreated to escape were not saved. With a single swift gesture, he held his sword aloft, unleashing a searing wall of energy that cut across the battlefield, slaughtering those who opposed him and those fleeing in fear, leaving nothing but quiet and ash behind.
A harsh gasp. The realm of blood and death disappeared in a heartbeat.
The young man woke up with a jolt, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. His black hair stuck to his sweaty brow, and his razor-sharp black eyes scanned the tiny, dimly lit space wildly. For an instant, he tried to separate reality from the dream, his heart still pounding in his chest.
"Again… this dream," he grunted, an air of frustration creeping into his tone.
The small apartment that surrounded him was a shambles, a stark contrast to the wide, apocalyptic wasteland he had left behind. Shirts were heaped loosely over the floor, documents stacked precariously on a messy desk, and the faint light of a streetlamp filtered wearily through the dirty window. The air inside was thick and oppressive in the small space, a complete contrast to the dream that tormented him.
He slowed his breathing gradually, the aftershocks of the nightmare washing out of his brain. He sat upright on the edge of his bed, stroking his knotted black hair. The room was silent, darkness playing tricks on the floor as the streetlamp streamed lines through the window.
His eyes landed on the open instant noodle packets scattered on the floor. Sighing, he knew he had no more food. Everything was gone.
Quickly, he got dressed without thinking, donning a wrinkled shirt and frayed jeans. Picking up his keys from the messy desk, he stepped over the garbage and out into the corridor.
The building was ancient, its walls peeling away with disuse. His own footsteps resounded as he went down the stairwell, the distant buzz of televisions and muffled voices filtering through the closed doors of adjacent apartments. Beyond that, the city's constant din was waiting for him.
Despite the darkness of night, the streets were abuzz with neon lights, their bright signs lighting up the sidewalks. Sky-high skyscrapers towered above them, their windows aglow against the darkened sky. The crisp air was filled with the faint noise of traffic mixing with the sound of late-night strollers' chatter.
As he walked through the crowded streets, his thoughts went back to the dream, still clinging to him like a shadow. But the commotion and noise of the city diverted him, driving the nightmare further back as he walked to a dingy restaurant down the street.
Just as he approached the corner, the rumble of an engine caught his ear. A black BMW cruised up alongside him, headlights cutting through the night. The window lowered slowly to reveal a youth with bright yellow hair leaning out. The young man stared at him with a derisive glint in his eye, as if something about the situation was funny.
"Alexander!" the driver shouted, his voice cutting against the noise of the city.
Alexander halted, his eyes narrowing as he spun around to address the car, knowing the voice straight away.
The BMW passenger, a young man, shrugged in his seat with a relaxed ease, a smile playing on his lips. "Not every day one spots the University Topper on the roads. You must be occupied with your high-flying company deals," he told him, looking scornfully at Alexander's frugal dress.
Alexander simply looked at him with a disinterested air, undeterred by the taunt.
"Well, anyway," the driver went on, as if what he had just said didn't register, "You recall the university's beauty? She's my girlfriend now. We have a candlelight dinner at Rose Hotel tonight." He inched closer, his voice heavy with conceit, like he was sharing the good news of the world.
The words hung in the air, an obvious attempt to incite. Despite Alexander's flash of irritation, he did not appear to respond, simply letting the driver's show of braggadocio wash over him.
"Do you realize Rose Hotel is the best in the city?" the driver said, obviously taunting Alexander about his financial status.
His smugness increased as he went on, "The university stunner used to pursue you, but now it's different; now she is my bitch."
Every word oozed contempt, crafted to strike deep. Alexander felt the flash of annoyance increase, but he kept his face impassive, not wanting to give the driver the pleasure of a reaction.
Getting more and more angry with Alexander's peacefulness, the man leaned forward a bit. "No matter how good-looking or intelligent you are, ultimately, in society, money speaks. Now you're just a jobless individual, but my father has a ten-million-dollar business."
His words hung heavy in the air, heavy with contempt, as if he thought money was all that made someone worthwhile. Alexander said nothing, his face still serene, but a quick flash of annoyance danced behind his dark eyes.
Then, to no one's surprise, Alexander smiled, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Well, you are right that in this society, money is life."
The driver blinked, startled, then suddenly laughed, the sound echoing through the night air. "Now you know your place; that's good." But his laughter quickly dissipated as a triumphant grin spread across his face. "If you beg, I might take you on as a cleaner in my shop."
The tone dripped with scorn, but Alexander's grin stayed, a subdued defiance in the wake of the man's ridicule.
Alexander moved closer to the car, his mischievous attitude unshaken. "Thanks, boss," he said, and the man's smile spread further.
But then Alexander's following words made puzzlement flash across the driver's expression. "Boss, you are very fortunate today; your girlfriend may surprise you."
"Huh, what?" the man answered, his cockiness turning to confusion. Alexander's words halted him in his tracks as he continued, "After all, your girlfriend is dressed in red today."
The reference took the smugness from the man's expression, leaving him momentarily at a loss for words, his mind working overtime to put together what Alexander had just told him.
"What do you mean by dressed in red today?" Jake questioned, his voice rising in frustration.
Alexander's smile disappeared, replaced by a serene expression that rested uneasily on Jake. "A father will always be a father, and I am your grandfather, Jake."
The words dangled in the air, the abrupt change in tone making Jake shudder. Anger and confusion warred within his eyes as he endeavored to comprehend the meaning behind Alexander's statement.
Without a word, Alexander turned and started walking away, leaving Jake in shocked silence. The rage churned inside him, bringing him back to life. "Hey! Get back here!" he yelled, his tone full of rage.
But Alexander didn't even glance back, his cool façade unshaken as he continued down the street, the whirlwind of the city night engulfing him.
He walked into the low-class restaurant, observing the low-key number of people spread throughout. He ordered food and took a seat at an unoccupied table to wait for his meal.
Within a moment, a woman with rich black hair and blue eyes full of intrigue walked in, her world-class face and figure irresistible even in the sight of her everyday jeans and shirt. She came over with her meal, sitting at the same table as an uninvited guest.
Alexander gave a straightforward scowl in her direction, his mood unchanged, and went back to eating, completely focused on ignoring her.
The woman was taken aback by his lack of reaction, but a sly smile spread across her face as she kept watching him. Catching the weight of her stare, Alexander stopped mid-chew, his brow furrowing into a scowl. "Is something wrong?" he inquired, his tone tinged with vexation.
She just smiled at him, saying nothing, and proceeded to eat her dinner like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Alexander scowled, feeling that she was radiating odd energy. Brushing the notion aside, he quickly devoured his meal, the discomfort building with every second. Having finished it, he got up from the table and exited the restaurant, happy to leave the experience behind.
___________________________
As he strolled down the street, the loud, unexpected cry of a woman's screams resonated through the night air, grabbing his attention. With a touch of curiosity, he hesitated and trailed after the frantic calls. Tuming the corner, he came to a dimly lit alley and abruptly halted, recognizing the scenario that lay before him: five men covered in tattoos had the same lady he had seen in the restaurant.
He proceeded with calculated steps, his attitude unruffled. He drew nearer, the shouts and curses receding into the background as he took it all in. The darkness in the alley seemed to intensify around him, but he did not flinch, prepared to evaluate the situation with the same calmness he addressed everything else.
TO BE CONTINUED...