“The Threshold” was the gate that separated The Limbo from the rest of Havana. Guards hired by the government heavily guarded it. Passing through such a gate was difficult, but where there’s a will, there’s a way. It was a poorly kept secret within Havana that the guards at The Threshold accepted bribes of any kind, allowing people to pass through. Whether bought off with simple change or gratified to satisfy their sexual needs, it was too easy to sway the guards. People desperate to escape The Limbo would do anything, and pleasing the guards was a common and relatively easy method.
Once through The Threshold, safety awaited. The chances of encountering a monster were low, and a guild would swiftly handle any rift that opened. This security was one benefit of living in the lowest section of Havana, known as The Commons.
The Commons was the starting point of Havana’s extensive railway network, a lifeline for those seeking a better life. In The Commons, life was markedly different from The Limbo. Here, you could find employment, earn wages, buy food, and secure housing. It offered a semblance of normalcy, a chance to live like a human, at least compared to the harsh realities of The Limbo.
With enough savings, residents of The Commons could aspire to move deeper into Havana. The further in you went, the more affluent and comfortable life became. For many, The Commons was just the first step on a journey toward a brighter future, a place where hope rekindled, and the dream of a better life was within reach.
Lucky for Sabir, he didn’t need to struggle to get through The Threshold. His sister had given him a pass, a small but invaluable treasure he kept in his right pocket. A completely legal right of entry. It was his temporary exit from hell.
He walked for what felt like hours, occasionally settling down on a rock to eat some of his scarce Nutripulp. This was one of the very few foods available in The Limbo. Disgusting in taste and devoid of most nutrients, Nutripulp was easy to store and make. Invented after the second wave when food was scarce, it had become a staple for those who had no other choice.
Sabir didn’t know how Nutripulp was made, but he was certain it was the worst-tasting thing in the world. As a child, he once thought eating his own shit might be a better option, but Mrs. Norris quickly put that idea to rest with a grim story about her friend who died doing just that. Nutripulp was cheap, compact, and came into a tube, making it easy to consume on the go, even if it felt like eating paste.
Finally, after trudging through the sand, he could see it, a massive iron wall stretching endlessly. This was the wall that protected Havana, a wall that stood the test of time. No one ever breached or scaled it. Just like the first time he saw it, Sabir’s eyes shimmered in amazement.
“If it isn’t some fresh meat.”
A loud voice abruptly brought Sabir out of his reverie. He turned to see a group of five men edging closer to him.
“Shit,” Sabir muttered under his breath. Out of all the times to lose concentration, it had to be now, so close to safety.
Analyzing his potential opponents, Sabir bit his lip. These were dangerous men. They bore tattoos on a winged snake, a symbol of the dreaded wingwyrm, a monster even a strong Esper would struggle to kill. In The Limbo, the appearance of a wingwyrm often meant the destruction of entire settlements.
A wingwyrm tattoo signified members of the Wyrm Raiders, the most notorious bandit group in The Limbo. For years, they had terrorized the region, their strength and numbers unmatched. Any young man with a hint of Esper ability would try to join the Wyrm Raiders for a chance at a relatively comfortable life, at least by The Limbo’s standards. Sabir himself might have tried to join them, but he had no Esper abilities whatsoever.
Sabir’s mind raced as he considered his options. He couldn’t outrun them; they would catch him easily. Fighting was out of the question; outnumbered and outmatched. Death was in the writing. His only hope lay in staying calm and trying to talk his way out. The guards would not help. If they saw, it would make for superb entertainment. It was a dreary job, after all.
The leader of the group, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward. “Where you headed, kid?” he sneered, eyeing Sabir’s worn-out backpack.
Sabir tried to keep his voice steady. “Just passing through to The Threshold,” he replied.
The leader’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in the bag?”
“Just some personal stuff,” Sabir said, gripping the straps tight.
One of the other men snorted. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a tough guy.” He lunged forward, grabbing for the bag.
Another bandit, a stocky man with missing teeth, grunted and kicked the sand in frustration. “Damn, ever since those bastards took over our base, we ain’t had any fun.” He glared at Sabir, his eyes narrowing. “Now we gotta scrape for whatever we can get out here.”
“Yeah,” a third bandit chimed in, cracking his knuckles. “I miss the days we could steal from whoever we wanted and kill anyone in our way. Now we’re stuck fightin’ over scraps.”
The leader chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry, boys. Looks like our luck just changed. This one’s fresh. We’ll make up for lost time.” He turned his eyes back to Sabir, flashing a grin that sent chills down his spine. “Maybe you’ve got something to make our day a little more interesting, huh, kid?”
Sabir felt his heart racing, but he kept his hands tight on the straps. “I’ve got nothing. Just trying to make it to The Threshold.”
The leader’s grin widened. “Oh, we’ll see about that. Ever since those weirdoes came through, life’s been pretty dull. We’ve been itchin’ for a bit of fun. You might just be our entertainment for tonight.”
Sabir instinctively pulled back, clutching the backpack to his chest. “Leave it alone!”
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The leader moved faster than Sabir expected. He punched Sabir hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Sabir doubled over in pain, his grip on the bag loosening. The leader ripped the bag from his grasp and threw it to the ground.
The men rummaged through the contents, tossing aside worn clothes, a nearly empty tube of Nutripulp, and finally, a bundle of papers and books. The leader picked up one book, his eyes widening as he looked at it.
“Books and paper?” he said, incredulous. “A kid in The Limbo doesn’t need this crap. Where’d you even get it?”
One of the other men laughed. “Who’d waste time on something like a school here? What even is a school?” The leader slapped him on the head in annoyance. Garnering laughs from the rest of their group.
The leader’s expression changed, becoming more calculating. “If he’s got all this stuff, he must have been in The Commons and has a pass to get through the Threshold.” He looked down at Sabir, who was still gasping for breath.
“Where is it, kid?” the leader demanded, his voice dripping with menace.
Sabir shook his head, trying to regain his composure. “I... I don’t have one,” he stammered, desperation creeping into his voice.
The leader’s eyes narrowed, a cruel smile forming on his lips. “Don’t lie to me.” He nodded to one of his men, who stepped forward with a sadistic grin.
“It’s not often I get permission to let loose,” the man said, holding his arms out, palms open towards Sabir, lying on the ground. “I’m gonna enjoy this, kid.”
The man’s eyes began to glow with an eerie light, signaling the activation of his Esper powers. Sabir’s heart pounded in his chest as he felt an invisible force grip him, tightening like a vice. It wasn’t just his throat being constricted; his entire body felt like it was being pressed down by an immense, crushing weight.
Sabir gasped for breath, his limbs straining against the invisible force. Pain exploded in his chest, and his vision blurred as the pressure increased. He could hear the bones in his body creak under the strain, threatening to snap at any moment.
“Please,” he choked out, the word barely a whisper. “I don’t have it.”
The leader stepped closer, leaning in to speak directly into Sabir’s ear. “We know you have a pass, kid. You’re not leaving here until you hand it over.”
Sabir’s mind raced, panic clawing at the edges of his consciousness. He couldn’t let them take the pass. It was his only hope of escape, his sister’s last gift to him. But the pressure was unbearable, and his vision was darkening. Anger flared up inside him, a burning refusal to surrender.
“Get... off... me,” Sabir growled through gritted teeth, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. The anger gave him a focus, a sharpness that cut through the haze of pain and fear.
The man with the glowing eyes sneered, tightening his grip. “What are you going to do, kid? You’re helpless.”
But Sabir wasn’t listening anymore. Fueled by rage and desperation, he fought against the crushing force. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to move, inch by inch. With a roar of defiance, he pushed back against the man’s Esper powers, feeling a sudden release as the pressure lifted.
The man staggered, his concentration broken. His eyes widened in shock as Sabir lunged at him, adrenaline fueling his movements. With a burst of speed, Sabir closed the distance and drove his fist into the man’s face with all his might. The impact was solid, the force of his punch knocking the man out cold.
The other bandits were momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events. Their leader, however, quickly regained his composure. “Get him!” he barked, rallying his men. Despite their shock at Sabir’s unexpected resistance, the three remaining bandits focused their telekinetic powers on him. Their eyes glowed similarly to how their friend had done. Sabir felt himself lifted off the ground. His limbs forcibly extended, arms stretched wide, rendering him helpless.
The leader sauntered towards him, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “You’ve got some fight in you, kid,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “I admire that. But now, it’s my turn.” He stopped in front of Sabir, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. “Hold him steady, boys. I want to have some fun.”
Sabir struggled against the invisible force holding him, but it was no use. The leader reached out and roughly grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. “For hurting my friend,” the leader hissed. “I think I’ll start by plucking out your eyeballs.” He paused, then added with a twisted grin, “But I do commend your spirit. Too bad it won’t save you, unless you grovel and kiss our feet.”
He had to fight back. Summoning every ounce of defiance, he spat in the leader’s face. “Do your worst,” Sabir snarled. “I won’t give you the satisfaction of seeing me beg.”
The leader wiped the spit from his face, his expression darkening. “You’ve got guts, kid,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “But guts won’t save you.”
As the leader raised his hand, preparing to make good on his threat, Sabir’s mind raced. He had to think of a way out, some way to break free from the telekinetic hold. But as the pressure mounted and his limbs ached from the strain, resignation crept in. His odds forever stacked against him, and he felt a sense of hopelessness. The Threshold seemed further away than ever.
He closed his eyes, accepting his fate. If this was the end, he would meet it with defiance, not fear.
But then, nothing happened.
Sabir cautiously opened his eyes, expecting the worst. Instead, he saw the leader’s hand frozen an inch from his right eye. Confusion washed over him as he realized someone was gripping the leader’s arm, holding it back with incredible strength.
The leader’s eyes widened in shock and anger. “What the-?” he sputtered, trying to free his arm from the iron grip.
Standing tall and confident, a figure glared at the leader, exuding an aura of power and authority. Sabir’s curiosity peaked. The figure, clad in a sleek, dark blue uniform, with dark cyan hair that framed their handsome face, adding to their imposing presence.
The man in the dark blue uniform tsked, a sound of disapproval that cut through the tension like a knife.
“I can’t comprehend why rats insist on squabbling among themselves,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice carrying a sense of boredom.
With a casual yawn, the man in the dark blue uniform raised his hand, his blue eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. In an instant, the serene night sky crackled with ethereal energy. Thunder rumbled ominously, and the air itself seemed to shiver with anticipation.
Bolts of lightning, as bright as the sun that could sear retinas and as fierce as a lion, lanced down from the heavens with startling precision. Each strike found its target among the bandits, embracing them in a blinding cascade of electric blue fury.
The first bolt struck the leader with unerring precision. Electricity surged through his body, illuminating his form with a blinding blue light. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably as the intense voltage coursed through him, searing flesh and bone alike. The smell of burning hair filled Sabir’s nose as the lightning discharged its lethal energy, leaving behind nothing but charred remnants where the menacing figure once stood.
The second bolt descended upon another bandit with a crackling roar, enveloping him in a brilliant flash of light. His screams echoed through the night as the lightning surged through him, reducing his form to smoldering embers in an instant.
Before the rest could react, a third bolt struck the ground with deadly force where the remaining three bandits stood. The lightning tore through the air with a deafening crack, splintering the earth and hurling shards of rock and debris in all directions. The sheer power of the impact sent the bandits sprawling, the searing energy consumed their bodies convulsing with the electric current.
The air was thick with the acrid scent of ozone, mingling with the lingering smoke of burnt flesh and hair. The once imposing figures of the bandits now lay scattered, their bodies reduced to ash and cinders by the overwhelming power of the elemental onslaught.
They didn’t stand a chance.
This was Sabir’s first time meeting a hunter.