CHAPTER ZERO: Prologue
"My love… make sure you live a life where you mean something. Okay?"
I woke up with those words seared into my mind, as if they'd been nailed there. Sweat drenched my collar, and the city's machines were already breathing outside—steady, mechanical, relentless.
I wiped my face, dressed, and grabbed the pistol from the counter. It was small, unremarkable—a tool people liked to pretend didn't change them.
Outside, smoke hung low over the street. Somewhere nearby, a Teliosian broadcast droned on about safety and order—the same tired lies packaged in fresh words. I shut the door before it could finish its mantra.
The bar was exactly where it always was—crammed into an alley like a forgotten mistake. Inside, it was loud, packed, and rotting. Every table carried the same stench: sweat, alcohol, and the things people had chosen to ignore.
I had just settled in when a man loomed over me. His beard wrapped around his throat, and his tall, paunchy frame towered over me. But the most striking thing was his overwhelming odor, like he had just returned from a hog farm.
"What's a kid like you doing here?" he asked, smiling too much for my taste.
I glanced up at him. Strangely, I felt no anger.
"What I'm doing," I replied, unfazed, "has nothing to do with you."
His smile twisted, darkening.
"You don't know how to respect your elders?"
When his hand clamped down on my shoulder, the atmosphere of the room shifted.
Not sound.
Not light.
Weight.
A familiar pressure settled in the air—subtle, yet undeniable. People straightened involuntarily. Somebody near the bar swallowed hard.
I drew the pistol and fired once.
The shot wasn't loud.
The man's scream was.
He collapsed, clutching his shoulder, begging before he even hit the ground.
"Please—please—I didn't mean—"
I stood and pressed the barrel to his forehead.
That's when I felt it.
Not guilt.
No doubt.
Nothing.
And that frightened the people far more than the gun.
"Tell me," I said, pressing the barrel harder against him, "If I killed you right now, where would you go? Heaven or Hell?"
Before he could beg again, I pulled the trigger.
The sound cut through everything else.
When his body hit the ground, all was silent. Whatever emotions I had felt while holding that gun had vanished, and I found myself craving that emptiness.
The silence eventually faded as people returned to their conversations. I approached the counter and dropped a 50-credit coin as compensation for my inconvenience.
Turning around, I noticed a trio entering the bar.
Their presence demanded attention and compliance.
They were dressed in formal attire, far too expensive for this part of town.
A shared thought rippled through the crowd: this trio must be with the National Defense Committee.
The air in the bar thickened.
The man in the center was tall and, even in his loose suit and overcoat, it was clear he was well-built. His hair hung in front of his face, reaching around to his shoulders. His dark red eyes weren't bloodshot or glowing—just unsettling, like they belonged to something that fed on fear.
The man walked toward the body of the man I had just killed, and stared at the body for an unusually long time.
"Who killed this man…" he demanded in a voice that was soft yet imposing.
My hand rose slowly, while the other gripped the pistol in my pocket.
The man moved closer, locking eyes with me. He casually pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
"Want one?" he offered.
I shook my head, refusing, and he tucked the pack away.
"Any reason for killing him?" he asked, his tone neutral, as if he were merely assessing a situation.
"No reason at all," I shot back, locking my gaze with his. Our eyes met, and I could feel him dissecting every detail about me.
"Nice gun…" the man observed, tossing his cigarette to the ground.
My eyes narrowed.
I yanked it from my pocket and fired at him.
To my astonishment, the bullets halted in midair.
"Whoa there, tiger… I didn't even get to introduce myself," he joked, before kneeing me sharply in the gut.
I doubled over in pain, gasping for air. Looking up, I saw his expression remained unyielding, his crimson eyes cold and calculating.
"My name is Iseph Eldra, and I lead the Concord Division," he stated, delivering the information with a casual arrogance that was anything but reassuring.
The Concord Division was Telios's most feared enforcers, known for doing the high council's dirty work, and here they were, standing before me.
"We are here to recruit you… Dushata Vinashakah," Iseph said, a smirk creeping onto his face.
"You have two choices: come with us willingly, or I'll beat you to a bloody pulp."
His smirk faded into a serious glare.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
I knew there was no point in resisting them—they were among the strongest in Telios, and their leader was more beast than man.
"I'll come quietly…" I said, standing up slowly, determination coursing through me.
END OF CHAPTER 0
Thanks for reading! This is my first time writing a novel so please do give some advice about what to change!