Chapter 22: A Glimmer of Kindness

Thirteen-year-old Atlas trudged alone along the long, dusty road leading to the city of Fein. Each step stirred memories and regrets, his mind swirling with thoughts of what he had lost and what he still hoped to find.

A good life, a house, money, and freedom, simple dreams, yet they felt so distant after five years of slavery and endless battles. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and the longing for normal food and a semblance of life tugged at his heart.

As he walked, a distant rumble of hooves grew louder. A carriage drawn by two enormous horses approached from behind. Sitting atop it was an old man, his long white beard flowing over a well-worn shirt, his eyes kind beneath the brim of his hat.

"Hey, kid!" the old man called out, halting the carriage beside Atlas. "Are you heading to the city of Fein? I can help you get there faster."

Atlas, weary and wary, looked up at the old man with a cold, cautious gaze. After a moment, he nodded and climbed onto the carriage, settling beside the man.

"My name's Sergey. What about you, young man?" the old man asked, his voice friendly and warm.

"Atlas," came the terse reply.

Sergey nodded thoughtfully. "That's a unique name, boy." He paused before asking, "Why are you going to the city?"

Atlas stared ahead, his voice flat. "To find a place to live."

Sergey sighed, a deep, understanding sound. "It must be hard for you. I have a daughter as old as you. I can't even imagine her surviving out here alone. You're impressive, boy."

Atlas felt a pang of sorrow in his heart. Impressive? If Sergey knew who he was, what he had done—if he knew that Atlas was a Zeten—would he still be kind? Would he still offer him a ride? Probably not.

As if reading his thoughts, Sergey chuckled softly. "How are you planning to get into the city with that mark, boy?"

Atlas's heart skipped a beat. Shock rippled through him, and he turned sharply to the old man, who chuckled again, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Don't worry," Sergey said gently. "I will help you."

Atlas was puzzled and wary. "Why are you helping me? What if I lose control in the city?"

Sergey sighed deeply, his gaze distant for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong, but someone once told me that I should follow my heart. And my heart is telling me that you are not a Zeten that people should be afraid of."

Hearing this, Atlas's thoughts drifted back to the horrors of his past. He remembered the village he had slaughtered, the blood on his hands. Shame and guilt welled up inside him, and he looked away from Sergey, unable to meet the old man's kind eyes.

For a while, they rode in silence, the rhythmic clopping of the horses' hooves the only sound. Atlas's mind was a storm of emotions—fear, guilt, hope. Sergey's words echoed in his head, a faint glimmer of kindness in a world that had shown him little mercy.

Finally, Sergey broke the silence. "You know, boy, the world out there is harsh and unforgiving. But sometimes, a small act of kindness can make a big difference. Maybe helping you is my way of making a small difference."

Atlas's eyes stung, and he fought back tears. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for redemption. Perhaps he could find a place to belong, a place where he could start anew.

Atlas felt the weight of exhaustion settle over him as he bowed gratefully to Sergey and climbed inside the carriage. The journey to Fein would take the entire night, and the rhythmic sway of the carriage soon lulled him into a deep sleep.

In the dream, Atlas found himself submerged in water, his own reflection staring back at him with a cold, knowing gaze. His reflection smirked, the malevolent glint in its eyes sending a shiver down Atlas's spine.

"That old man is going to sell you," the reflection sneered, its voice dripping with malice. "Just like your family did. That's your fate, Atlas. Remember how happy you were before? And what followed that? Pain and Suffering."

Atlas whispered weakly, "No... he's not going to sell me."

The reflection's eyes narrowed. "He will not? Are you sure? He's probably scared. The moment you reach the city, he will scream to the guards for help. You're still too naive."

"No, no, no," Atlas muttered, his voice growing more desperate.

"You've already destroyed a village. You've killed many innocent people. What's one more old man to you? One more death will mean nothing," the reflection hissed.

"No! They deserved that. They treated me badly. They enslaved me. They forced me to battle for them. They almost killed me. I had no other choice but to take my revenge and escape ," Atlas protested, his voice trembling with the weight of his past.

The evil reflection leaned closer, its eyes piercing into Atlas's soul. "And now? Are you happy? You're right where you belong, aren't you?"

Tears streamed down Atlas's face. "No... I'm not happy. I... dammit." He cried, his sobs echoing through the watery abyss of his dream.

The reflection's laughter echoed around him, a cruel, mocking sound. "You see, Atlas? You're trapped. You can't escape your fate. No matter what you do, the darkness will always follow you."

Atlas sank to his knees, the water swirling around him as he wept. The weight of his past sins and the fear of his future crushed him. In the depths of his despair, he felt utterly alone, the shadows of his guilt and regret pressing in from all sides.

"Leave me alone," he whispered through his tears, his voice breaking. "Just leave me alone."

But the reflection only smirked, the cruel light in its eyes never wavering. "You can't run from yourself, Atlas. You can't run from your destiny."

With a final, wrenching sob, Atlas awoke, his body trembling and his heart pounding. The carriage rocked gently as Sergey's steady hand guided the horses.

Atlas wiped his tears, his mind a tumult of fear and confusion. The dream had shaken him to his core, but he clung to a fragile thread of hope.

Sergey's kindness had been genuine. Atlas had to believe that. He had to trust, even if it was the hardest thing he had ever done. Taking a deep breath, he resolved to face whatever lay ahead, determined to carve out a new path, one step at a time.

As the city of Fein came into view, Sergey called out to Atlas, his voice a low whisper. "Boy, we're close. I can distract the guards, but you'll need to be quick. Here, take this." Sergey tossed a necklace to Atlas. "It can hide your Neba, letting you slip past the barrier. But hurry, they might still notice."

Atlas nodded, clutching the necklace tightly. And jumped out of the carriage. As the carriage approached the city gates, guards stopped them and greeted Sergey.

Sergey was a familiar face, coming to Fein almost every week to buy food and sell his wood carvings. The guards barely glanced at him but insisted on checking the carriage. Atlas held his breath and slowly approached entrance of the Fein behind the guards, hidden by the enchanted necklace.

The guards, seeing nothing, quickly moved away and bowed to Sergey.

But then, one guard hesitated. "I feel something," he muttered.

Sergey feigned ignorance. "Sir, is everything alright?"

The guard's partner, Thomas, had a peculiar ability. "My partner can sense things others can't—like creatures, spirits, or ghosts," he explained. Just then, Thomas shouted, "Someone has sneaked into the city! Let's go!"

The guards sprinted towards the entrance. Sergey sighed, whispering, "Good luck, Atlas."

Atlas ran as fast as he could, his heart pounding. Thomas's uncanny ability made escape difficult. Atlas couldn't use his Zeten or Neba—revealing he was a Zeten, especially a purple one, would mean certain death.

He darted down a narrow street, only to find it a dead end. Five guards closed in, smirking. "Nice try, kid," one taunted.

Before they could strike, a figure with white hair and a scarred eye leaped from a nearby building, landing on one of the guards. The impact was fierce, and the guard crumpled to the ground. The other guards attacked the newcomer, aiming to subdue rather than kill.

Then, three more figures appeared. Two were twins, moving in perfect sync, and the third had gray hair. Together, they fought off the guards, their movements fluid and precise. Amidst the chaos, Atlas caught the white-haired guy's lips forming a word: "Run."

Atlas didn't hesitate. He bolted, adrenaline coursing through him. He couldn't believe his luck—twice in one day, someone had come to his aid. His heart swelled with emotion as he ran, a mix of relief and disbelief.

As he glanced back, he saw his rescuers making their escape as well. Laughter bubbled up inside him. For the first time in years, hope ignited within him. This was how he met the people who would become his most important friends.

Atlas ran through the winding streets of Fein, each step lighter than the last. He had found allies in the most unexpected place, and the future suddenly seemed a little brighter.