"I sometimes wonder… who will stand beside me when I'm stuck in a moment where someone else has to give something up just to pull me out… Will they save me or just watch? I… wouldn't know…"
A young, skinny boy murmured those words to himself. His long, messy black hair fell over his ears and almost covered his pale white eyes. He moved slowly between the shadows of a place that barely looked like a place at all, just endless piles of junk stacked into uneven mountains. Rusted metal sheets leaned against old broken appliances, plastic bags fluttered in the dry wind, and crushed containers lay half buried under dusty heaps of waste. The air smelled faintly of smoke and rot, and the ground crunched under every step he took.
He was bent forward, digging through the junk with thin fingers. His clothes were old, worn-out things—an oversized shirt with dirt stains that never washed out, torn in places around the sleeves and the bottom. His pants were patched several times with mismatched cloth, and threads dangled from the edges. He didn't even have shoes, his feet were completely bare, marked with tiny cuts and pale dust.
Then suddenly, his eyes widened. A small spark of excitement flashed through his tired face. His lips curled into a bright smile as he lifted his hand.
There, resting in his palm, was a small knife, almost new, barely scratched, and still sharp.
"Woahhh! I hit a jackpot!" he said, his voice bursting with happiness.
He grabbed a black plastic bag that was already filled with other scraps he found useful. Carefully, he slipped the knife inside, as if it were something precious.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm and looked up. The sky above was dominated by a blazing hot sun that glowed like it was burning the world below. Beside it hung two moons.
One, on the right side of the sun, shimmered with a reddish-orange color, swirling like embers drifting inside glass.
The other, on the left, was pale silver, almost see-through, like a ghostly shell.
"It's sure hot today, isn't it…" he muttered under his breath.
"Let's go!!!" he declared, determination in his voice, and marched forward barefoot.
After some time, he reached an area where people lived, if it could be called living. Houses were made from anything people managed to find; stacked cardboard pressed together for walls, torn plastic sheets tied around wooden frames, pieces of metal balanced awkwardly on top. Some places had old bricks holding the corners down, though most were chipped or half–broken. The people walking around looked just like him: skinny bodies, dust-covered skin, tired eyes, and clothes patched more times than one could count.
The boy walked along a narrow dirt path, weaving through the crowded row of makeshift homes. After a while, he stopped in front of a small shelter. It was made mostly of black plastic sheets stretched tightly and tied together. Pieces of different colored plastics were layered over the sides to block the wind. Sharp wooden stakes were stabbed into the ground, holding everything upright like thin, crooked pillars.
He took a breath… and stepped inside.
"Mr. Moltur!!!!!..." Azren called out with a cheerful voice.
Inside the small shelter, an old man sat on a rough piece of wood. His eyes were closed as if he were resting, though the sweat rolling down his wrinkled face showed how harsh the heat truly was. He wore nothing on the upper half of his body, revealing his skinny frame, ribcage showing, shoulders sharp, skin darkened by years under the sun and a huge old cut mark on his chest.
"Oh, hello Azren. Got some goods today too?" he asked, his voice soft and slow.
Azren nodded quickly, excitement glowing in his pale eyes.
"Yes! And I got something very good too!"
"Oh?" Old man Moltur tilted his head with curious interest.
Azren lifted the black plastic bag and flipped it upside down. Everything inside fell out onto the dusty floor, pieces of metal junk, old gears, broken handles, a bent spoon, and finally the small knife that slipped out last.
He immediately picked up the knife with a proud smile.
"Look! I got this!" he said happily.
Old man Moltur leaned forward, his movements slow from age, and took the knife from Azren's hand. He inspected it carefully, turning it from side to side.
"Ho ho… you really got something good."
"I know right! So how much will you pay me for it!" Azren asked, eyes sparkling with hope.
"Ho ho… let me think," Moltur chuckled lightly.
He placed the knife beside him, then reached for the rest of the scattered items. Azren quickly bent down to help him sort them. They worked together quietly, dust sticking to their fingers.
After a while, Moltur finished checking everything and said,
"I'll give you one Bronze Stem for the knife and three Copper Sprout for the others. Is it good?"
Azren's eyes widened.
"Really!! Yes!! I'll take it, I'll take it!!!"
Old man Moltur nodded. He slipped his hand into one of his pockets and pulled out three small bronze-colored coins, each with a perfect circular hole in the center. The surface of the coins had a symbol carved into them, a pattern of many curved lines resembling small hana leaves forming a "V" shape, with a tiny circle gently enclosed inside the point of the V.
"Here, your three copper sprout for the other things."
Then he reached into another pocket, took out a small cloth pouch, and from it he counted five Copper Sprout.
"Here, your 5 copper sprout which is one Bronze Stem, for the knife."
Azren accepted the coins. A big smile appeared on his face.
"Ohhh thank you very very much, Mr. Moltur!!"
He quickly tucked the money into his pocket and said,
"Well then, I'll be going now!"
Old man Moltur nodded slowly.
"Yes, take care."
Azren rushed out of the house with light steps, his excitement pushing him forward.
"What a great day!" Azren said with a happy voice, skipping over a patch of uneven ground.
'Hmm… what should I eat today… I have enough money to buy meat… oh man, it's been so long since I had meat… but I have to save money too… ahhhh…' he argued with himself inside his head, rubbing his stomach as he walked.
He continued down the dusty path, kicking small pebbles out of his way, until his gaze drifted toward a stone on the ground. At first, it looked normal just another rock among thousands. But the small glint beside it made him stop, his feet freezing in place.
Lying right next to the stone… was a Copper Sprout.
Azren jumped back in surprise, heart skipping a beat. His eyes widened, glowing with disbelief.
He rushed forward and snatched the coin from the dirt.
"Wha-what!!! Is this really happening?!" he said, staring at the coin as if it were a rare treasure. He quickly looked around,left, right, behind him, searching for anyone who might have dropped it. But no one was close enough.
"Maybe someone lost it? I think… at first I should ask someone nearby if they lost their coin or I'll be just stealing," he muttered, frowning slightly as he held the coin tight between his fingers.
BUT.
The moment he took one small step—
A shock ran through him.
Not through his body like a normal jolt, but somewhere deeper… somewhere inside him. His entire body froze, his breathing stopped, and his white eyes stretched open, trembling.
Then the pain stabbed into him.
His vision blurred, colors fading until everything turned into a pale, washed-out white. Something appeared in that whiteness—something moving. He couldn't tell what it was. It had no color, no shape, just a presence that shifted in front of him.
He didn't see it clearly entering him. He just knew it did.
Then—
"Arghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"
His scream tore through the quiet area. The Copper Sprout slipped from his hand and hit the ground with a tiny clink. Azren dropped to his knees, clutching his head as the pain surged like flames racing under his skull. His vision snapped back to normal, but now his head felt heavy, spinning wildly.
Unable to stay upright, he fell backward. His body hit the ground, dust puffing up around him.
His eyelids slowly drooped.
And then… he lost consciousness, slipping into a deep, silent sleep.