Oris-9, Moon of Planet Loran, Drawden System, Sterling Empire
"Leave me alone, Julian," I growled through clenched teeth, heart pounding as I stood rigid outside the dimly lit restaurant where I'd spent countless hours scraping by.
The flickering neon sign above buzzed like an insect, casting a sickly glow on the cracked pavement. I hated that place, but it was mine—one of the few things I could control.
Julian loomed before me, flanked by his thugs—low-level enforcers from the infamous Crimson Tiger gang. Their smirks radiated the unchecked power they borrowed from the gang's reputation, wielding fear like a weapon in this lawless corner of the universe.
"You remember what happened last time you ignored us, right?" he sneered, his voice thick with mockery and menace. "Didn't end well for you, did it?"
They were here to pressure me into signing another contract—one Julian claimed was "for my own benefit." But I knew the truth. This wasn't about business. It was personal. Ever since his family lost their status and mine refused to kneel, Julian had made it his mission to break me.
The last time I resisted, he beat me senseless over my sister's unpaid tuition, using it as an excuse to humiliate me. I'd signed in a daze, bloodied and broken, and the memory still haunted me like a recurring nightmare.
The paper Julian held wasn't just any contract—it was a low-level mana contract. Breaking it meant death or worse. And the cruel twist? He didn't even need me for anything. He wanted me trapped, indebted, and suffering.
I was a pawn in his twisted vendetta, and he was just a cog in the Crimson Tiger machine—desperate to prove his worth.
My name is Alastor Vexius. In a world ruled by Awakeners—those gifted with extraordinary abilities—a Dormant like me is worth less than dirt.
Especially here, on this forsaken moon where education costs more than most can dream of affording, and hope is a luxury few can afford.
I don't have powers. I don't have wealth. What I do have is grit—the kind that keeps you standing when everything else tells you to fall. I learned that from my father, who died of lung cancer after years in the factory.
My mother, shattered by grief, followed him soon after. At fourteen, I was left to carry the weight of our family, navigating a world that didn't care if I drowned.
Now, at sixteen, I worked three brutal jobs from dawn to dusk just to keep food on the table and pay for my sister's schooling. She was my only hope—my only dream. If she could escape this cycle, maybe something good could come from all this suffering. I had long stopped believing in miracles for myself.
"Come on, Allie, you know this is a great deal!" Julian laughed, his voice dripping with condescension. It reminded me of the bullying I'd endured in school—especially after his family lost their status and he redirected his bitterness toward me.
Law enforcement was a distant memory here, buried under corruption and neglect. The gangs made the rules now, their influence spreading like poison through every alley and institution.
"I already told you to leave, Julian," I said, pulse quickening as I began to map out an escape. I knew I couldn't win in a fight. Not against them. Not here.
"But Alastor, you know who we're with, right?" he pressed, stepping closer. The gang's oppressive presence closed in around me. Panic clawed at my chest as I weighed my options. My breath came in short bursts, and the edges of my vision blurred.
There was only one: run. Even if I somehow beat Julian and his thugs, the Crimson Tiger gang had Awakened members—monsters who bent the laws of nature. They'd hunt me down, and they'd find me. Eventually.
The only thing working in my favor was that they didn't know who my sister was. I'd changed her last name, moved her far away, and only saw her in passing. I told her never to come near me. She had a kind heart, though, and I knew she was just waiting for an excuse.
I told myself I did it to protect her. The Golden Raven guild kept client info sealed tight, and Julian—just a low-level thug—probably had no way to uncover her identity. Still, I never let my guard down.
I wasn't brave. I wasn't strong. But I was stubborn. And sometimes, stubbornness is the only thing that keeps you alive.
As my legs coiled, ready to bolt, I heard the last voice I ever expected.
"Alastor?" my sister called out.
My mind went blank. When thought returned, all I could think was: No, no, no, no, no, no, NOOO!!!
"Well, well, well! An acquaintance of yours, Alastor?"
Alyssa—my younger sister—ignored them. Her voice trembled with concern. "What's going on, Alastor? I heard yelling and came to check."
"Who are you? I don't know you," I said, desperate to salvage the moment. My voice cracked, but I forced indifference into my tone.
But Julian wasn't stupid. He saw the recognition in my eyes. He saw everything.
Grinning savagely, he shouted, "Looks like I was right! Let's show her what happens when you mess with scum like this!"
One of the thugs grabbed Alyssa and shoved her to the ground. The others followed, fists and boots flying. Her scream pierced the night.
"ALASTOR, HELP!!"
Her voice shattered my paralysis. I lunged forward.
"GET OFF HER!" I roared—but a punch to the jaw sent me sprawling. My head hit the pavement, stars exploding behind my eyes.
"Stop."
I looked up, dazed, hoping Julian had found a shred of mercy. But his next words chilled me.
"She means something to him. Let's kill her and make him watch. Then we'll finish him off."
He stepped toward her, knife in hand. I tried to crawl to her, but a boot slammed me down. My ribs screamed in protest.
"No, nooo," I rasped, struggling to breathe.
Alyssa lay there, tears streaming down her cheeks. She mouthed the words I love you, Alastor—just before the blade pierced her heart.
And then, everything went black.