Damp soil clung to Nero's polished shoes, its earthy scent rising to mingle with the soft whisper of restless leaves. Above, a blanket of slate-gray clouds smothered the sky, casting the world in muted tones. Even the breeze seemed to sigh, carrying with it the weight of unspoken sorrow, as if even nature mourned the loss of a light that had been snuffed out far too soon.
Nero stood at the edge of the crowd, his shoulders hunched. His gaze fixed on the gleaming mahogany before him, its surface a mirror reflecting the somber faces of those gathered. It was the polished wooden casket that now held all that remained of Kai.
His fingers twitched at his sides, longing to reach out, to touch, to make real what his mind still refused to accept. Kai couldn't be in there.
The drone of a prayer reached his ears, words blurring into a meaningless hum. A hand touched his arm – meant to comfort, he supposed – but Nero flinched. The small movement sent a ripple through the crowd, a reminder of his otherness. Sympathetic glances darted his way, tinged with curiosity. Who was this outsider, this newcomer to their grief?
Nero's throat tightened. He swallowed hard, tasting bitter regret. The weight of "what could have been" pressed down on his shoulders, threatening to crush him beneath its burden.
He felt like a stranger here. He shouldn’t be here. This is my fault, he thought, his chest tightening with every breath. He could barely look at Kai’s family, their tear-streaked faces a reflection of his own guilt, a reminder that he had failed.
I should have been stronger. I should’ve done something… anything. But he had done nothing. He had listened to the recording, he had made the call, but it hadn’t been enough. It never would be.
'I shouldn’t have brought Kai into this Julian's mess in the first place!"
Kai’s father stepped forward, saying a few words, his voice cracking with grief. Nero barely registered it, his mind replaying that night over and over, the sounds, the pain, the desperation in Kai’s voice as he fought for his life. And in that moment, something in Nero broke. The abilities that had once made him feel powerful, the system that had given him hope, they felt like a curse now. They hadn’t saved Kai. They hadn’t saved anyone.
The casket was lowered into the ground, and Nero felt his knees buckle. He wanted to run, to scream, to do something, anything, but he remained frozen. He watched as the dirt began to cover the casket, each shovelful like a nail driven into his heart.
I’m not strong enough. I’ll never be strong enough.
When it was over, Nero slipped away, unnoticed by the crowd. He couldn’t bear the condolences, the sympathetic looks, the unspoken accusations that clung to the air. He stumbled down the path, his vision blurring with tears, his body moving on autopilot until he found himself alone, standing before an old, twisted tree at the edge of the cemetery.
“You could have saved him,” the voice in his head whispered, cold and unrelenting. “If only you had been stronger.”
Nero sank to his knees, pressing his forehead against the rough bark, the pain of it grounding him in reality. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” The words slipped out, barely audible, as if they could somehow absolve him of his guilt.
---
Nero stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back. He was dressed in black, a color that seemed to swallow the light from the room, matching the void that had settled in his chest. The funeral had ended hours ago, but the heaviness clung to him, refusing to let go.
Kai’s gone. He’s really gone.
The thought circled in his mind like a vulture, picking apart any semblance of peace he might have had. His AI hovered silently in the corner of his vision, not saying a word, but Nero could feel it urging him to keep moving, to keep going. He clenched his jaw, swiping it away with a sharp, dismissive gesture.
The days that followed passed in a blur. Nero shut himself in his room, the blinds drawn tight, casting his world in perpetual shadow. He avoided the mirror, unable to face the reflection of his failure. He stopped using his abilities, flinching away from the glowing notifications that flickered before his eyes. Every time he felt the tingle of his regeneration, every time his skin hardened against the touch of something sharp, he forced it to stop, clenching his fists until his nails dug into his flesh, desperate to feel something real, something human.
The AI’s voice was a constant, droning presence in his mind, urging him to train, to continue honing his skills, to keep moving forward. “You need to stay strong, Nero. You need to be ready.”
But Nero didn’t want to be ready. He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to forget. He shut the AI down every chance he got, refusing to respond, refusing to listen, even as it grew more insistent, its tone shifting from calm encouragement to frustrated commands. “You’re wasting your potential. You’ll never be ready if you keep this up.”
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Maybe I don’t want to be ready, he thought bitterly, collapsing onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes. He picked up his game controller, the plastic cool against his fingertips, and switched on his console. At least here, I can be in control. At least here, I can win.
Days turned into weeks, and Nero fell deeper into the game world. He drowned himself in quests, in battles, in endless hours of leveling up, chasing achievements that meant nothing outside the screen. He didn’t need to think, didn’t need to feel. The real world faded, his responsibilities, his pain, all of it pushed aside, replaced by the simple, mind-numbing grind of the game.
But the AI didn’t give up. It pushed back, creeping into his thoughts when he least expected it, reminding him of what he was avoiding.
“Perhaps it’s time you get back on your feet,” the AI finally broke the silence one evening, the voice calm yet insistent. “You’re capable of so much more.”
Nero didn’t respond. He just clicked onto another game, his eyes vacant as he lost himself in the flashing colors and repetitive motions.
“You know this won’t bring him back,” the AI continued. “Kai wouldn’t have wanted this,” it whispered one evening, as Nero sat, staring blankly at the game’s loading screen. “You’re stronger than this.”
“I’m not,” Nero snapped, slamming the controller down. “I’m not strong, I’m not a hero, I’m nothing. Just… leave me alone!” He threw his pillow across the room, rage boiling over into frustration, his breath ragged and uneven. But the AI stayed silent this time, as if it finally understood the depth of his despair.
After a few moments, it spoke again, softer this time. “Running won’t solve anything. But maybe… maybe a fresh start might help.”
Nero glanced at the screen, curiosity momentarily breaking through his rage. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s a school,” the AI continued. “Out of town. A place where no one knows you, where you can start over. A new beginning.”
Nero scoffed. “And what? Pretend like nothing happened? Pretend I’m not a failure?”
“No,” the AI responded, and for once, it didn’t sound like a machine. It sounded… human. “You’re not a failure, Nero. You’ve faced challenges most people can’t even imagine. But if you stay here, in this environment, surrounded by the same people, the same memories… You’ll never get the chance to grow beyond it. You’ll always be trapped in what could have been. This is your chance to step away from that, to rewrite your story.”
Nero’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I care?”
“Because,” the AI replied, “I’ve marked it as a quest. And if you accept, you’ll receive a map to a legendary-level item. One that might be the key to unlocking your true potential.”
Nero felt his heart skip a beat. It was such a stupid, childish idea, but for the first time in days, he felt something other than emptiness.
A legendary item
“I… I don’t know,” Nero muttered, battling the flicker of hope rising in his chest. “What if it’s the same? What if nothing changes?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” the AI answered. “All you have to do is say yes.”
"Really?"
“You deserve a chance to heal. And there… there might not be any bullies. You can be yourself. You can grow.”
Nero’s fingers froze, hovering over the buttons. “You… you think that’s possible?”
“I believe it is. And if you accept this quest,” the AI continued, “the reward will be a map. A map to a legendary-level item. Something that might help you become stronger… when you’re ready.”
The decision gnawed at him, tearing him apart. Part of him wanted to reject it outright, to continue wallowing in this self-made pit of despair. But another part, a tiny part, longed for change, for something to cling to in the darkness.
Nero closed his eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. He took a deep, shaky breath. “Fine,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll do it. I’ll transfer.”
A chime sounded, and the quest window popped up, bold letters displaying the reward: [Legendary Map Unlocked]
Nero felt a strange sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
---
The next day, he stood at the bus station, a single suitcase in hand. The AI quietly pinged, reminding him of the destination, the new life that awaited him. As the bus doors hissed open and he stepped inside, he took one last look at the town he was leaving behind.
*This is it,* he thought, feeling the faintest flicker of excitement, the first he’d felt in what seemed like forever.
The bus started to move, and as it pulled away, a notification flashed before his eyes:
Quest Updated: An Unseen Adversary Awaits.
Nero’s heart skipped a beat. He leaned forward, pulse quickening as he read the next line:
"Warning: Not all new beginnings are as they seem." ⚠
---