Chapter Zero [Prologue]_A Field of Flour

The sun stung my back as I rolled my father's wheelbarrow down the road. The dirt crunched below my feet with every step. I was lucky, my dad had bought me shoes a few months ago, because if I didn't have them, my feet would've been singed.

I walked past the various stalls in the market, they'd shout and call out to me, looking to sell things. There were women sitting behind the stans fanning themselves, their young children running around them. Some of the younger girls carried large baskets on their heads, filled with a bunch of goods.

One of the girls was Mesi. She was really shy, but really pretty, even though she was a few years older than me I always had a crush on her. My heart was beating out of my chest as she came near me. She hadn't seemed to have noticed me as she was focusing on head-carrying.

I spotted my cousin, Davu, a ways away, next to Auntie Dayo. He was trying to get my attention. He pointed to me, then to Mesi and drew a heart in the air.

"Talk to her!" He mouthed.

"No!" I mouthed back.

"Do it!" He mouthed again, this time he punched the air with his fist, as of he was gonna hit me later. I knew he wouldn't, but I had to talk to her now.

I slowed my pace so I could walk next to her.

"Hey Mesi!" I said.

"Ah!" She jumped, the basket and a bunch of water spilled out. "Oh no!"

"Oh- I'm so sorry."

"No, it's fine, it was my fault, I need to get better at carrying anyways. I'm such a late bloomer." She laughed.

"I'm sorry for scaring you." I scratched my head.

"It's fine, I gotta go back and get more water now." She laughed again.

"Oh- uh I can come with yo-"

"No, I'm good, you've got harvest to deliver."

"Oh- yea."

As she left, Davu came up to me. "Bro, that was the worst thing I've witnessed. And I've been witnessing for 17 years. We gotta get you better game."

"I know.." I sighed.

Davu at that age was the village heartthrob. Girls loved him. Though some of the girls had grown immune to his player-ways, he still had no trouble finding a girl who liked him. He was tall and attractive, and his personality took up entire rooms. On top of that, his mom was the best seamstress in the village, so he always had nice clothes. And even nicer clothes to give to girls.

When I saw him I called out, "Hey! Davu!"

"You taking this to old Obi?" He asked, slapping his hand on the bag of wheat behind me.

I nodded. "Come with me."

"Okay, I'm gonna tell momma." He jogged back to his Aunti Dayo, who was sitting under her stand weaving an intricate bright red piece of clothing.

The slouch in his shoulders after speaking to his mother told me that he didn't hold good news. He walked back over.

"Mom says I can't go.." He muttered.

"Aw, please Auntie Dayo!" I called to her.

She shook her head, "He has work to do! And so do you! Now get going, don't keep your father waiting!" She continued fanning herself.

"Yes ma'am." I sighed. I picked up the barrel again and started leaving.

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I could feel Davu's longing look on my back.

The village was on the lower half of a dry dusty mountain. It's separated by a jagged landslide caused by an Earthquake years before I was born. You had to be careful crossing it because the sand floor was slippery. Usually the older men build a small walkway across it, but it always wares down overtime.

Mr. Obi's shop was in the other half of the village, so I had to cross it.

By the time I arrived to it, it was waring away again, but it was still sturdy enough for me to trust it.

It was about a five minute walk, the sounds from the market behind me faded away.

I remember it was about midday. Sweat rolled down my forehead as I pushed the barrel. The part of the village I was going didn't have many shops, most families were away from home, selling in the market I'd just left behind.

It was no suprise when I strolled into the town and was met with silence. I didn't think anything of it. All I thought of was selling this wheat so I could go home and cool off, or chill at the market with Davu.

Maybe I could've been more cautious, more aware. Maybe not. Obi's bakery was in it's own part of the village, connected to his house. He was very favored by the village's council, so, they gave him a larger plot of land. He was an older man, his children were grown, living elsewhere, so he had no use for all the yard space. So usually he'd sit out and let the younger kids play there instead of sitting in the market with their parents all day.

He was a sweet old man. Many of us called him grandpa from time to time.

But, when I arrived there was no one there. No kids out playing, no Obi in the yard. It was understanble, it was a hot day, Mr. Obi was probably inside, and the kids had probably decided to stay home. Probably.

By then, I'd felt something was off. But I'd come all the way there.

I'm just imagining things.

I'm being stupid.

I'm being over dramatic.

I told myself.

Despite the lump in my stomach and my shaking hands I knocked on the door.

I only knocked once, but the door creaked open. As if it were never closed. His house was dark, it looked empty and lonely, not like the lively welcoming home it usually was.

I was scared something happened to him, so I stepped in.

"Mr. Obi?" I called, shakily.

Thee was no response. I grew worried.

What if he's grown sick, or fallen down?

As I searched his house, the iron stench of blood became apparent. I grew frantic, I searched for him everywhere. Until I landed in the kitchen. There he was. His head was bleeding, everywhere was bleeding.

"MR. OBI! MR. OBI!" I shook him trying to get him up. He was still warm, with that reassurance I lifted him up as much as I could. I was gonna put him on the wheelbarrow and roll him back.

"D..Dante..?" Obi uttered. I was in the middle of heaving him onto my back and I had no time to look behind me.

"Hang in there Mr. Obi, I'm gonna save you."

"no.....run."

"Huh?" I turned my head to look at Obi, but instead, there was a giant man in front of me. His head almost brushed the ceiling, in the dark lighting, I could only see his glowing red eyes and his long white locs that flowed to almost half his height.

"Hello boy." His teeth shined gold as he smirked.

I dropped to my butt, frozen in fear.

"Sorry about this." He drew his large sword and plunged it towards me.

I flinched, shutting my eyes.

When I looked up, Mr. Obi was pulling the sword towards him, trying to stab himself.

"M-mr. Obi.."

"Dante! Run!" He ordered.

I should've. But I didn't. Instead I decided to fight. I decided to strike the man in the face. It did nothing, obviously. My fifteen year old self wasn't going to do anything worthwhile to that man except anger him.

And that's exactly what it did.

He drew his sword back from Mr. Obi, and sliced me with it.

My entire chest was ripped open. The pain I felt was indescribable. My body immediately went into shock and I fell to the floor unable to move. The man got ready to stab me again.

All I could do was shut my eyes and flinch. But his sword didn't hit me again.

When I opened my eyes again Mr. Obi was laying on top of me. A blade through his chest. His heart.

I wanted to scream. But I was barely conscious. At that moment I thought I was just having a nightmare. And I was waiting to wake up.

But I didn't.

The last the I remember from that day, was a bright light coming out of Mr. Obi. The other man looked startled. And then I passed out.

●●●●●

A new lineage has just been openned.

And by a nameless boy nonetheless.

Nonsense! He must be a son of our divinity!

Angels are made of human passion. The lineage does seem quiet passionate.

But really? Another angel? How many is that now.

The true number of Angels are unknown and possibly infinite but, they are hard to come by, and hard to bond with.

But we've only ever gotten so many since the destruction.

Yea, what makes this boy so special as to create a new one after all this time?

No angel wielder is special just lucky.

It seems that this boy has encountered something new. An angel never before touched by man. A new passion no one has seen, he is forever bonded with it. We must await what power is in store for him.

Oh please, I can tell you. That boy is nameless. He has been given a useless angel. He will stay nameless.

Your discernment is not as clear since the, Clair.