2 Origin

"Murderer!" The civilians screamed out, walking up the war-torn stage, elves, the filthiest of the filth. The evil of the empire. The mistake that was meant to be fixed.

The boos increased, and the city screamed, a name for Apex Prime. The noises are heard across the solar system, the place where the poverty and the rich collide. Living in harmony but separated by the landmasses that cover the entire planet. Now, a time where the lowest of peasants and thieves are united with the aristocrats, the time of beckoning and execution and the time of praise. A city is known as the black sheep of the Big 3 cities.

Inside the crowd, the boy stood watching, his family that he had known for years about to perish in front of his ears. The cheers drowned out his sorrows and sadness, his tears and scream unheard by the masses. The only person was his uncle, behind him, trying to cover his ears and eyes to not see the violence. The boy saw his friend and her family, all locked in chains waiting for their death.

Their beautiful blonde hair, their pitch-blue eyes, and their long ears. They had all the traits of elves, and somehow they were proud. The proudest he had seen an elf be since the war. He stared at his friend as she walked up the stairs, lashes all over and scratch marks all over her face. All he could do was look.

The boy shrugged his uncle's arms away to see the wristbands placed on the elven people's wrists. They had rocks and glass thrown at their faces, sharp to call him out but as he tried to mouth the words nothing came out. He was in a state of shock.

"NOW LET ME PRESS THE BUTTON TO SEND THESE ELVES ALL THE WAY TO THE PITS OF FLAMES!" The executioner screamed out. Items entered their eyes but no emotion was evoked as they had finally been at death's door. As they were spat upon they looked upwards ,the girl glared at the guards giving them their execution.

"Now for the crowd down below, it is the time of beckoning, the time of execution of this horrible race, the worst and most vile of them all, their extermination is needed for the betterment of galactic kind so right now we shall destroy these few with the power of a button!" the man announced, proclaiming from his chest with all his might as he smiled towards the crowd of happiness below him.

The boy senses his superiority, his ignorance, and his ego, all of which was the pillars of the harm of man. The boy felt anger, the rage.

The boy's eyes widened as he could only watch, his uncle unable to stop him. As the executioner pressed the button the little girl with her family looked into Marcel's eyes exactly and smiled. As the shock ran through her body her pupils immediately became white and she fell to the floor, dead, her mother, her father, all of them had died.

His manifesting power grew as he tried to let all of his energy out but hands grabbed over his face and pulled him back towards the dark alleyway. The boy reached his hand out, trying to throw out all the power he had at the ones who mocked the death of others, the racists who didn't understand war but the anti-magic restraints were too strong. He tried to break free, but that wasn't going to work, he was never going to be free from the shackles of the hierarchy.

"Marcel, you must calm down, if you break free of these restraints we will both end up like Lilian and her family, you mustn't do anything." The man calmly said. He was Mr. Watson or more commonly known as Marcel's current guardian.

"Why must we suffer Mr. Watson," The boy proclaimed, shouting and releasing his anger over to the middle-aged man.

"You must understand, we must suffer for the sins of our society, it is what we must do," Mr. Watson dartingly said, keeping his eyes focused on the boy.

"Mr. Watson, the sins of our ancestors must not be brought forced upon us, the cruelty," The boy gritted his teeth, not saying another word.

Marcel stayed there, making sure not to utter another word as Mr. Watson's face immediately turned pale. A hand was placed on Marcel's shoulder.

Marcel looked behind him to see a hunkering giant of a Prok, close to 7 feet tall and in plaid gold armor.

"Mr. Watson, you must keep this boy in check, we wouldn't want him to end up like the family over there," The Prok said, huffing aloud as he laughed with the fellow 2 soldiers with him.

The boy stood there, trying to make the restraints go away, the anger and rage had been building up for too long. The boy looked behind and glared at the man behind him. The red eyes of rage and anger glared into the soul of the Prok.

Suddenly a cold breeze fell over the Prok as he saw the elven boy glaring at him. As the boy kept contact with him he was suddenly kicked in the stomach and sent flying to the other end of the alleyway. Corned in with a wall behind his back, nowhere for the boy to run.

"Know your place, you shitty elf," The Prok said, walking slowly towards the boy.

The boy still lay on the floor, coughing up sweat and blood, throwing up everything he had eaten that day. The boy couldn't stare at the being that had just attacked him. They were simply stronger than him.

As they walked closer, to cause more harm Mr. Watson jumped over the boy. SHielding him with his fat, frail body. The soldiers looked below, Marcel staring through the crack of Mr. Watson's elbow to see the soldiers scoff.

"Such a weird man, protecting elves like these, leave him alone, if we harm him we'll lose our jobs," The Prok said, turning behind to go back to the execution line.

Marcel watched as the Prok walked away, his eyes never leaving them. He had been saved by Mr. Watson, a man he didn't know much but had been there for him throughout this entire ordeal. Mr. Watson stood up, brushing off his clothes.

"Let's go, Marcel, I think it's safe now," he said, helping Marcel up.

Marcel stood up and looked at the Prok, then back to Mr. Watson. He could feel the rage and anger boiling up inside him, but he knew he couldn't do anything about it. His only option was to follow.

The two of them walked silently through the alley until they reached the edge of the crowd. Marcel looked up, seeing the faces of the people who had booed and cheered at the sight of the elves' deaths. He wanted to shout and scream, to let them know what they had done was wrong, but he kept quiet. He had already seen the consequences of speaking out.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a figure standing at the edge of the crowd. It was a woman, dressed in a flowing white dress and wearing a necklace with a crystal heart. She had long blonde hair, and her skin was glowing in the sunlight.

The woman turned her head and looked directly at Marcel. He could feel her gaze burning into his soul like she knew what he was thinking. He took a step back, afraid of what she would do to him.

The woman smiled at him and waved her hand in a beckoning gesture. Marcel looked at Mr. Watson, who had looked away and was in conversation with a human with black tattoos covering his body. Marcel made his move and cautiously approached the woman and stopped a few feet away from her.

"Young one, I can feel the anger and rage inside your heart," the woman said in a soft voice. "You want to do something about it, but you can't. I can help you."

Marcel looked at the woman in confusion. He didn't know what she was talking about, but he was willing to listen.

The woman continued, "You have the power to fight back against these people who have wronged you and your people. It's inside you, and I can help you find it. It's time to unlock your true potential and become a champion of justice."

The woman kept on rubbing the glowing ball while staring deep into Marcel's eyes.

Marcel looked her in the eye, his heart racing. He wanted to believe her, but he wasn't sure if he could. He had already seen what would happen if he tried to fight back.

"I...I don't know," he said.

"You will," the woman said, her eyes twinkling. "Trust me."

Marcel took a deep breath, then nodded his head. He didn't know what he was getting himself into, but he knew he had to try. He had to do something to fight back.

Suddenly Mr. Watson came and grabbed Marcel's hand, he pushed him back towards the way to the elf safe house, making sure he didn't look back at the woman.

Mr. Watson cursed at the lady in a language Marcel didn't understand and was suddenly thrust away as the woman kept staring at the boy

Marcel grabbed Mr. Watson's hand and dragged him away from the crowd. He knew what he had to do. The woman's words had swayed Marcel, the way it gave him power, he understood what he truly had to do.

"She was a nice woman, why did you take me away from her?" Marcel asked.

"They are scammers, trying to give you a free test trial so that they can get money from you in the future," Mr. Watson responded, his boots pounding over the concrete.

Marcel still held Mr. Watson's hand, he followed him, he wondered how he met him, years ago, back when he was a lonely elf trying to survive in a place that didn't want him to love.

His eyes became teary and he looked at the red sun, illuminating orange light as the sun set down and the clouds swayed and moved away.

He followed, knowing his goal.