Wasted

A person without a resolve can only dream of the greatness they will not achieve.

"What is it did you see about him?"

The seer's eyes glimmer in excitement.

"The last grandmaster we have known comes from Minerva's family bloodline..."

"...and it was centuries ago."

She holds herself still. Her mouth nearly refuses to believe what she is about to say.

"Mr. Marls is given the potential to break that streak." The seer turns to Leya.

"It would be a shame if he declines. But a choice is a choice. We don't force people out of their nature."

But alas, reality is often a disappointment.

***

Her eyes scorch like brimstone. An air of heat emanates from her. Even the bravest, naughtiest students dare not to come close. Their lives are like prisoners in a lion's den, carefully threading over the thin line they depend on for survival. At least, they are seasoned warriors. They know what buttons not to touch.

"Stand up. Start the basic compression routine."

Like trained knights, they get into position at a distance from each other. While some of them relax and close their eyes, others concentrate their minds, focusing on whatever is in front of them. Mirage starts to engulf the students, responding to the sudden spike in temperature.

Leya's eyes lock on one of the students in the third row. The student's body is visibly toned, with average height. One noticeable thing, however, is the distorting heat ramping up around him. A bit of her bitterness feels relieved looking at him.

The student suddenly gushes out hot steam, which immediately dissipates into the air. Emerging from it, his body becomes thinner, but his mass speaks otherwise. But in a moment, he sucks the air back to him through his skin, returning to himself before compression. That concludes his task.

***

Water gushes out from the faucet. Nobody except her is in the toilet. There is a span of mirrors that attaches to the wall from the left end to the right end.

She has been staring in the mirror. She looks into her own eyes. The silence of the toilet is the opposite of the fierce storm in her mind. People already call her upset even when she's not. What would they call her now?

Frustration is knowing what should happen, yet it is still stuck. It's like an annoying piece of the puzzle, only making you ask why and what makes it doesn't fit. Asking questions is the first step towards success. But a question left unanswered is comparable to a train that goes nowhere.

She turns the faucet off. Her mind is set.

Her body proportion changes without a thought. She's a much shorter woman, with short, wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. Her once rigid dark grey arms are now replaced with human skin.

Of course, she has to change her clothes to complete her disguise. But if someone sees her, not a single thought that the person they are looking at is Leya. Her appearance masks her even if she doesn't act differently, a convenient perk of a transformation user.

She hurries to walk to her destination before the sky turns orange.

***

Pieces of glass lay on the floor. The rug around turns brown. He is lucky the restaurant's perfume is still fragrant, but the smell will inevitably wreck the customer's appetite.

Marls' heart is racing. He just bowed down in front of the customer. With a broom in his hand, he strides towards the crime scene.

Fuck..! The first day at work, and this happens... 

His iris turns blank. The manager has been staring at him for a while, watching him clean up the mess he shouldn't have made.

"I'm sorry manager, that was purely an accident."

"It's fine." The muscles in the manager's face fight for dominance. But for sure she is gritting her teeth.

"Is it reall-"

"Yes! It's fine! Accidents happen. But I have to say, maybe we should put you on another division."

Her hand forms a fist. On her desk is a letter from Minerva's family. It is an apology statement for being unable to attend the restaurant today due to urgent business. She just dodged a bullet.

"yeah... let's have you help the employees carry the ingredients, shall we?" Her eyes stare at Marl's soul.

"Y-yeah... good idea." He smiles and nods in agreement.

"Very well. Meet Bill and tell him you're going to help. Now leave, before they get off to the market."

The door closes. He takes a deep breath.

This is fine.

The restaurant is a building occupying a block. On the left side of the building is a small alleyway connecting to the kitchen door. Other than bicycles and a huge dumpster, stands the wagon.

"Marls, ready? It's gon' take a bit long trip. Should be easy going there, but might need help coming back though."

"Yeah, I'm through. Let's go."

It is common for one to mistake the wagon for something insignificant. But the wagon serves a much longer time than the building itself. Made out of reinforced wood and iron from Calibora, the wagon is an engineering masterpiece. But it doesn't matter. It is in its nature that humans see things as insignificant to themselves. To the face of the crowd, it's just another wooden junk that fills the space. But for her, it is a huge spotlight.

A blonde lady in blue walks through the street, blending with the anonymous crowd. It almost feels unfair that such an experienced hunter faces an innocent, careless bunny like him. But her eyes do not flinch. It's not about how. It's about what comes out of it.

Marls walks on the right side of the wagon. Creaks and thumps are inevitable. If only the restaurant is not busy, such a problem can be avoided by just giving it a rub of oil. The timing is tight, but at least it got better pay.  They hope.

His eyes wander, looking at the sky. It is painted in thin shades of blue, which only gets weaker as the orange bleeds through the canvas. Why bother? The more you try the more the current holds you back. It's like trying to reach the sky. It trends down.

No, it's not. Marls frowns at that thought. What about airplanes? What about those rockets that surpass our understanding of gods?

It's all luck. His face relieves. Circumstances just happen to be on their side. Lowly life forms such as him are doomed to be a ladder for those who are privileged. Why bother? Climbing up for what?

It is much better to accept your fate. Happier that way.

The ground shakes. Commotion arises near the right side of the road. A kid is lying on the ground.

"Police! I caught the thief!"

Curiosity untames itself. No one can take their eyes off the scene. Hot news is served in front of them, it's food for the family to enjoy. Like a circus, the old man is the host, the kid is the performer, and the crowd is the audience, including Marls.

"Look around and be ashamed! Kids like you are ones with no future!"

He lifts his leg. It proudly falls, parting the air. The gasps can't mask the sound of the loud thump. A piercing scream of anguish calls for help, but nobody can move. Nobody wants to.

Marls stares at the kid. For each kick, his heart shrieks in pain. His eyes won't move.

"Marls..?"

Leya swiftly moves past the commotion, pushing people off, and making her way to the scene. She shouldn't have picked a shorter build, alas, an unfortunate decision she rarely made. Upon entering the front row, she is ready to shout before she gets stunned.

"Stop it."

Bill grits his teeth, he facepalms himself imagining the upcoming mess he's about to face.

Marls looks at the kid. On his ribs painted the color blue and purple. Trembling, his legs folded with his arms hugging it.

"Don't you see he's a kid?"

The old man stares at Marls with disbelief.

"Does it matter if he's a kid? A thief is a thief! I'm paying a huge service punishing such evil for the rest of the merchants!" He raises his hand, stretching it far and wide. His eyes wander around the crowd looking for acceptance. He knows the crowd supports him. A deluded conclusion.

His frowning eye turns to Marls. "Who are you anyway? His parents? His guardian?"

"What did he steal from you anyway?"

"Look for it yourself!"

Marls moves to the trembling kid. His hand grabs the kid's hand.

"It's fine." He whispers.

The kid stops resisting him. He finds on him two apples.

Marls immediately stands up, fuming.

"It's just a pair of apples!"

"So what? I will let him steal from me every day? Giving him free food? Oh lovey-dovey this world is full of sunshine and rainbows!"

Marls grits his teeth. He admits he is cornered. He clenches his fist.

"How much is the apple?" His voice asks calmly.

"OH, now you are going to pay for him? What an act of kindness! Would you pay for the rest of the slums too?"

Marls looks towards his stall. An apple for 3 Vallas, a pair for 5. He takes out of his pocket 6 Vallas and stretches his hand to the old man.

The old man looks down on the money. He takes it and counts the amount, but he stops midway. His frown comes back while he puts the money in his pocket.

"The kid still needs a lesson." He steps forward.

"What are you doing? You got the money! Just leave the kid alone!"

"Oh, and just hope someone pays me if another thief stole from me? This has to be a lesson for all those junks out there!" He takes charge and lifts his leg.

"I suggest you move away young man, my feet might hit you too!"

Marls is ready for the impact. He is committed. His heart races before the kick falls. Which will never arrive.

The old man grunts. A small hand grabs his shoulder.

"Don't you think enough is enough?"

"Who in the world are you now?" The old man shrugs his shoulder but it doesn't move. He gasps. A second attempt results in the same. Just for that moment he finally acknowledges the voice coming below him.

It's a blonde woman with blue eyes staring at him.

"Another brat!" 

He pushes her away, but all he receives is feedback. The woman doesn't move an inch, instead, the old man's arm is now locked. At that moment he realizes, she is a transformation mage.

"But what did I do wrong? The kid is the one you should've arrested!"

"If it's not for your act of  street justice, yes."

Marls stares at the woman. An air of familiarity circles her, though it is vague like a fog obscuring his memory. She moves past Marls, and holds the child, leaving. Marls can't help but feel a familiar pressuring stare... which only comes from that red-haired lady.

"Marls."

Marls turns to the voice behind him.

"Whose money did you use to pay the old man?"

He smiles.

"It's the restaurant's"

Bill smiles back.

"Don't worry I'll have it cut from my pay" He pats Bill's back.

Then he walks away.