Somewhere in one of the rundown alleys in the slums of Verdant City, you could hear a young man being beaten by three thugs. The boy's name was Cael, and he was covered in blood. He seemed to be grasping onto a piece of bread, which he had stolen and was now being punished for.
"You piece of crap!" the first thug shouted while kicking Cael in the stomach. He had a red mohawk and a motorcycle jacket with too many spikes on it.
"This is what you deserve," yelled the second thug, who had the same hairstyle but with one difference — his hair colour was blue. He, on the other hand, wore a black leather jacket and had tattoos all over his face.
The third thug was watching from the sidelines, also with a mohawk and purple hair. He was enjoying a cigarette with a smug face, apparently enjoying the sight in front of him.
"That's enough out of you two!" he said.
The two thugs stopped after hearing their leader, but not before spitting on the already beaten boy.
"Well, kid, did you learn your lesson?" the leader asked mockingly while squatting down to get a good look.
The boy stayed silent as if passed out.
"Guess we went a little too hard on the kid," the first one said while patting the second one on the back and bursting out in laughter.
"Guess so," the other one replied.
The leader ordered the two to take what they came for in the first place. While the first thug was reaching out for the piece of bread, he angrily said, "The son of a bitch already took a bite from it."
The leader, genuinely annoyed, replied with a stern voice, "Search his clothes. He may be hiding it somewhere."
As the thug with tattoos was searching his body, the first one went to take a look around, wary of anyone who might be watching. After a while, the thug with the tattoos replied,
"He's got nothing. Not even down there."
The other two suddenly looked at him with disgust.
"Why the hell would you search him down there? You think I'm eating bread that's been shoved down some kid's pants?!" the leader spat, letting the half-burned cigarette fall out of his mouth.
"Well, you said to search everywhere, didn't you?" the first thug replied, apparently taking the side of his comrade.
"Oh, what the hell," the leader sighed in dejection, as if regretting his life decisions up to this point.
"Well, whatever," he said, quickly regaining his composure. "Let's get out of here. I'm not fond of bystanders," he said while lighting a cigarette he took from the inside of his jacket.
After the thugs left, Cael lay there for a couple of minutes before starting to move. As it turned out, Cael was never unconscious — he was just acting, and very splendidly at that. This was a vital skill to have if you were poor like him and lived in the slums. If you didn't, well, then you would already be dead.
Spitting the piece of bread he had taken a bite of out of his bloodied mouth, Cael remarked, clearly displeased, "All that, for this?"
He tried to stand up, but it seemed like he couldn't — it felt like he was being crushed by a car. His body had yet to recover from the beating, and the pain was excruciating, but he managed.
After that, he took a good look at his own face through a puddle of water next to him.
A short boy with dark green eyes, black hair, a pale complexion, and a body full of scars stared back at him.
Cael was never gifted in the looks department, and after taking beating after beating, there was barely any part of him that wasn't out of place.
"That's what malnutrition does to you, I guess."
It's not like he cared.
Actually, it was a blessing in disguise. I wouldn't want to attract attention to myself, he told himself.
"Oh, how unfair the world is," Cael said with a grin. "If only I had the power to do as I pleased... God, I wish I could pay those sons of bitches back for what they did — scratch that, I wish that God would get what He deserved for putting me in this world."
He sighed, knowing such a thing rarely happened. But he wasn't about to give up — quite the opposite, actually. He would lie, deceive, and even kill, just for the sake of taking revenge. Being weak wasn't a reason to give up — it was a reason to fight.
While contemplating the only reason that kept him going, he blinked and then everything suddenly started to go dark.
He lost his balance and collapsed.
Did his body finaly reach it's limit after years of torture? no, that wasn't it. He had experienced far worse things.
Cael opend his eyes, clearly starteld by what had just occured.
He felt the grass under his feet, being unfamiliar with the feeling he yellped , he flinched as the humid air breezed against his bruised face, he could hear the bird chirping as they flew around, it was his first time seeing one — one that was still alive, at least.
As the scent of flowers filled his nose as he began to relax.
Various types of trees surounded him, each looking uniquely different. and each with fruits hanging from its branches.
Never in his wildest imaginations could he have thought that he'd be chosen by fate.
That not to say he didn't want it to happen.