Old Memories

A young child sat on green, moisty grass, while holding a rusty ring on his tiny hands. The sound of a flowing river could be heard.

Sloshing! Sloshing! Sloshing!

A "yellow" fiery sun on it, the shadows of birds flying across at low flight level passed by the river and grass. Cool breeze swayed his natural purple hair backwards...

He cradled the ring, staring at the river with a lonely gaze and mind full of thoughts at such a young age of four..

....Suddenly, a soft human hand touched his shoulder. He tilted his head toward the hand, noticing the same ring he held on the picky finger of this stranger. He then raised his gaze, and saw a beautiful young woman - cladded in a brown gown, barefooted and a graceful features: short blonde hair, brown eyes, oval face, sharp nose and a slender figure. Around her neck was a blue scarf with intricate patterns, the end rising and dropping back from time to time.

"Mother..." The little boy's eyes were slowly getting filled up with tears. A drop fell from his eyes, shimmering like a crystal.

Plop!

"Don't cry, you will meet me one day if you can stay strong till then. Goodbye, my little Griffin.." Vanishing slowly into thin air, Griffin's mother said with a smile.

"Mother!!"

...

As the first ray of morning sunlight filtered through the rusty pine window, a young teenager stirred awake. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing dark-brownish pupils in both eyes with huge dark circles under his eyelids.

He blinked, trying to shake off the rememants of sleep. The air was thick with the scents of oil and metal, punctuated by the faint tang of coal smoke escaping in from outside. Above him, a network of rusty gas pipes twisted across the ceiling, their surfaces peppered with seams and rivets.

Another dream of mother... The oversized teenager, Griffin, sighed as he stared at the ceiling above.

In the corner of his room stood a workbench, a chaotic mass of discarded junk gears, cracked glass tubes, and copper contraptions, a brass clock - its face was cracked and decorated with filigree, chiming softly as time moved by.

Sketches of bizzare adventure and half-formed ideas were pinned haphazardly to a corkboard.

Griffin fell in love with machinerys after the passing of his father and mother during the first war of ten years ago. His father's rough inventions and ideas had clung onto him. At that time, he was only six and had to survive on the street fumed with various challenges that made him wiser over the while: Being oversized and unpopular nor having awakened any ability caused him turbulence in making connections, therefore limiting his experience and creating a lone wolf.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed; a makeshift of old springs and patched fabric, pushed against a wall cluttered with junks. His bare feet met the cold gritted wooden floor. Dust motes floated briefly in the beam of light before setting on the myriad of unkempt items strewn about.

On the walls, gas lamps flickered, brightening the room with a warm, crimson glow over the room, their glass covers were slightly tarnished but still functional.

The wall clock ticked by each second that passed as he slid his fingers through his tousled hair. He then tilted his head towards the window. Outside, he could hear the clank of city life beginning to awake.

The city of Ironhaven, situated in the western side of Mugen continent, stretching for about 1,223.59 square kilometers (472.43 square miles) in total area. This includes 778.18 square kilometers (300.46 square miles) of land and 445.41 square kilometers (171.97 square miles) of water. The city was divided into two sections: the opulent Upper district where the wealthy elite resided in grand, embroidered buildings built with bricks, filled with various and completed machinerys, lush gardens and the Range Academy of awakeneds, where all young teenagers are admitted to three days after clocking the age of sixteen and taught heavily to prepare for the impending war as the first war had ended thanks to the first set of awakened humans who had managed to push back this unknown race of monsters, striving to colonize humanity. Since then, there whereabouts have been shrouded in mystery but rumoured to be outside the citadel's of Ironhaven city, that were built to hold off this race.

The Lower District, where Griffin resided in - a labyrinth of narrow streets and crumbling tenements, filled with coal, steams and junk machinerys. Only a few from this side were awakened humans and couldn't access training techniques that were meant to be known before joining the academy. However, it wasn't a compulsory requirement of joining the academy. Most of the wealthy class children had been taught various combat techniques by expensive tutors, some were even teachers at the academy.

Griffin stood up from his bed and walked over to the broken mirror, placed on the floor. The mirror stood tall, about his height - 5'5 tall. He stared at his features in the mirror with a solemn expression: a round figure, short and unfit, blue underwear, round cheek, natural purple hair that made many curious about how he was born with such, pale skin tone due to lack of a certain vitamin, B12, caused the paleness of his skin.

Let the day begin, I think It remains about a month and two days before I get admitted into the academy, since I would be clocking 16 by then.. I wonder if I would be able to make an ally. However, It's impossible in the world nowadays to trust anyone.

Tap Tap! Tap!

A knock came onto the antique steampunk door. He quickly rushed to the door with enthusiasm as he unlocked it and moved it open with a creaking sound. Looking down at the water-drenched floor, he saw a bolt cutter in a puddle. He picked it up as if that's what he had been expecting, then quickly closed the door, not bothering to study his surroundings.

Creak! Bam!

"Hehehe. That douchebag mechanic have finally brought you. It's been two weeks since my wait began, " Griffin muttered. "Now, let's to work."

Workers/Mechanics were primarily based in the Lower District, they worked in coal and metal-related jobs, handling machinery, repairing devices, and maintaining the industrial aspects of Ironhaven.

He strolled over to his workbench, and dived his hands under it, drawing out a small iron box that seemed to have been tightly jammed. His father had left this box with him. Despite many trials over the years in attempt to open it - all failed sadly. He used: Steam - Powered Saws, Mechanical Shears, Rotary cutting machines, Hand - cranked iron cutters, and this last one - a bolt cutter, was his last hope.

The bolt cutter featured long handles forged from steel. Each handle were robust and stout. It extended well over two feet in length. At the heart of the cutter was a pivot point, a brass mechanism polished to a shine, where the handles met the jaws. The jaws were made of hardened steel. They met at an acute angle, fashioned to create a strong pressure point that could cut through chains, locks, or any metal barriers.

First, he tried the obvious. He jiggled the lid, pushing and dragging, but it didn't bulge. He grunted then ran a finger along the seam, feeling for any signs of weakness or a potential entry point from his earlier trials. However, the metal was still solid.

"Right then," he muttered, carefully handling the bolt cutter. He donned a pair of thick gloves, then positioned the box on a sturdy anvil. He tested its thickness once again near a rusted area, finding a slightly thinner section near the hinge.

With a deep breath, he placed the bolt cutter on that spot, the jaws gripped the iron. He began to squeeze with hardened grunts as he squeezed harder. The metal resisted, sparks showered around him. He continued, slowly, steadily, the bolt cutter began inching its way through the tough metal. A slight grin appeared on his lips.

He paused several times, shifting his grip and re-positioning the cutters to take advantage of the weakened area, working slowly to avoid breaking the cutters or sending sharp shrapnel flying. Beads of sweats collected on his brows...

Alas, after what seemed like forever, a small crack appeared. He widened it, then with a final, satisfying snap, the lid of the iron box sprang open with a clang. Inside, nestled in a layer of faded velvet, was a purplish-black jem - the use of which remained a mystery, for now. Griffin smirked, wiping sweat and grease from his brow after dropping the bolt cutter.

Bam!

Intrigued, he picked up the jem and studied it. Suddenly, a faint glow resonated through it. Then, he felt a tingling sensation like an electricity spark going through him. A sharp pain struck through his head like an arrow. He dropped the gem hastedly, and staggered backwards. His eyes began to grow dull, then blur till finally, it went pitch - black like a television that switched off.

His body fell onto the wooden floor in a soft manner since it was a short distance.

Thump!

...

Thirty minutes later, a blurry crimson bloom spread across Griffin's vision, slowly resolving into his gas pipe celling, hissing and releasing steams. His eyes struggled to focus. The world swam in and out, a dizzying kaleidoscope of rusty pipes. He blinked, the sharp sting of light made him wince. His head throbbed, a dull, persistent ache that radiated outwards, clamping down around his temples.

His body felt heavy, leaden. Each muscle found it hard to follow the slightest movement. His limbs were stiff, most intensely in his hands and feets where a tingling numbness persisted. He tried to swallow, his throat were raw and scratchy, like sandpaper. His breath hitched, shallow gasp that seemed more of a sigh. Each inhale was a deliberate painstaking effort; his chest ached with a dull pressure, reluctant to expand fully. Two... three... four... He counted his breath, which remained shallow.

Slowly, agonizingly, he moved. A wave of nausea rolled over him, making him clutch at his stomach. He gently supported and dragged himself to the wall, pushing himself to a sitting position against it. He then took several more slow, shallow breaths, concentrating on steadying his whole body.

Letting the dizzying rush subside. The pain in his head slowly fading, the nausea retreated. In a deep, shaky breath, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his legs trembling. He stood upright to his mirror, and stared...

His eyes widened in shock - his pale skin tone had changed back to normal: a fair, neutral undertone.

Swaying for several seconds, then staggering backwards onto the wall in shock. However, his body had also changed to a fit one, making the boxer he wore a bit bigger than him and almost falling off his waist but he held it. He couldn't believe how is skin tone could just return to normal over few minutes of him passing out, and how his body size could change suddenly. Was there something in cause of this? His face had changed drastically; he was more appealing than before.

What is happening to me..? Or, am I dreaming..? This can't be. I'm not taller, now I indeed resemble a nine year old with this new body. This can't be real...

Griffin struggled to grasp onto this realisation.

Out of the blue, series of fragmented memories began to surface in his mind, each one felt a bit clearer than the last. They felt familiar, from strange to relatable as if they had always been a part of him.

First, a memory came to him, a fleeting image of himself vanishing from one place and reappearing in another. The activation method flew into his mind, and claimed a spot there; it was for him to focus on a particular spot, visualise it clearly and he would be there.

Then, another came: he recalled himself snapping his fingers once and the hidden truths, items revealed itself. The memory was instinctive, like a forgotten one.. He was bewildered by where all this memories were coming from, each caused intense pain in his head like a victim recovering from amnesia - discovering all their lost self.

The third one then came, a more confusing one that broke in his mind like a fallen glass, shattered pieces that can't be picked up. Unknowingly, while trying to understand this one - which caused more pain than the last - a relaxing sensation ran through his mind. It was as if his body was leaving him, or perhaps he was creating another world altogether. In an instant, he found himself in a strange world that he had no idea of...