SL Chapter 1 Legend

The stillness within the room was broken when the surface of the small table beside the bed lit up, and a dot of blue light appeared within its centre. After a mere second, it elongated into a thin line, then, defying normal conventions, the line rose from within the table to appear above it, floating within the space vertically. For a moment, that was all it did before it started pulsing, with small blue ripples radiating outwards, but not surpassing 10sqcm away from the 3D line.

When the pulsing reached a crescendo, the vertical line split in the middle, opening itself up like a vertical eye, or portal to another dimension, with the space within it, pitch black.

A light blue beak was the first to poke out before an entire head. Then the whole body, squeezed out, with the portal vanishing behind it. It's small talons, gripped the surface of the table as it took in the lay of the room. It's eyes, made of multiple pupils layered against each other first gazed at the figure curled up within the sheets of the bed before taking in the clutter of the room. Clothes, both clean and unclean, lay strewn about the room, except for the high surfaces, which were comprised of the table it was on, and a sink at the side. Snack crumbs, coupled with the packets themselves were also among the clutter of the room, making anyone wonder whether the person within the sheets truly cared about cleanliness.

A gentle breeze from outside fluttered the sheet serving as the curtains, exposing a small window, through which lights from the surrounding buildings penetrated into the dark room.

Then, with a flutter of its wings, the blue bird took flight, circling the room, while it's blue light exposed the walls whose paint was showing signs of flaking off, a testament to the advanced age of the building.

Moans from the wrapped up bundle within the bed attracted the bird's attention for a moment, but ultimately, it continued its circling flight around the room. After all, that had been a daily occurrence since its installation years ago.

Then, after a few minutes later, the table lit up once again, this time with digits denoting the time, which was now, 6:00AM, which caused the bird's beak to open before a sonorous chirp escaped from the table's speakers, blasting into the room.

The sound caused the figure buried within the sheets to abruptly sit up, which automatically turned on the light fixture above him. And the bird, dispersed into motes of light in the next instant, as if it had been an illusion all along.

Beads of sweat were dispersed along his forehead, and his chest was rising and falling with an abnormal pace, as if his heart was beating unusually fast, which it was.

His hand, the right one, moved towards his chest, like it had always done every morning, and caressed the glaring scar there, that ran down to his navel. It was vertical, and it's shape was reminiscent of burns inflicted by flames, or something hot. After calming himself down with that activity, his alertness due to the nightmare, that was also a constant in his life, dimmed, with sleep once again threatening to take him over. But, with a groan of annoyance, he slipped from the covers and let his feet touch the floor, yet what they fell upon attracted his gaze. It was a polythene bag, one whose logo denoted that it had at once, been filled with potato chips, yet now, it lay discarded on his floor, empty of its contents.

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That allowed him to finally take in the mess that was the room. How long had he gone without cleaning up? Two? Three days? He couldn't remember as overtime had been eating away at him. Maybe Cassandra knew. But it was better he didn't bring it up for now.

He hated this room. At first, with a goal to look forward to, it had been exciting. Fresh off graduation, he had been naive. Now, life had taught him far too many lessons, that the excitement had died. Not the excitement of his goal, but of going to work. He dreaded it immensely. There was the problem of minimum wage, coupled with the lack of true vacation time. Right now, if someone likened him to a zombie, he wouldn't refute them.

As he sat there, he waited for his mind to wake up, yet he knew, that wasn't going to happen unless he hit the shower. The bed was so tantalizing that all he wanted was to return to it, but ultimately, he had to endure another day at work. So, he stood up navigated the mess within his room, and entered the bathroom, a small cramped room with only a shower and toilet. Even though it was the cheapest apartment, it was still straining his wallet just to live within it. Most of his earned funds were being saved for his goal, a reason that made him subsist on snacks and workplace cafeteria meals.

Dropping his pants, and taking a good long look in the mirror, he winced at his thin frame. The thought that even a gust of wind might blow him away arose within his mind before being pushed away. He turned the knob of the shower and started to partake in his morning routine.

After the shower, he looked through his strewn clothes, and found an attire which still looked relatively clean, and donned it. It was a black suit that matched well with his dark skin and black sinewy hair, less than an inch long. It was an attire that elicited a grumble out of him every time he wore it, as it was simply too uncomfortable. But unless he became the boss, he would have to stick with it.

"Cassandra, open compartment Ryan." he ordered.

Then, on the side of his bed, originally seamless, a drawer rolled out, within which, laid a single book. He moved to take a sit upon his unmade bed, before gently lifting the large volume out of the compartment with extreme attention and care.

His hand traced the rough cover of the yellow book, tracing out the etchings of the words by feeling each letter, just as he had always done. After the words came the image, the etching of the reddish orange sun that took up a large part of the book's centre.

Legend of Musana.

Those were the words the letters spelled out. Just by thinking of the title, his heart rate sped up, while his mind went to the wondrous adventures he had read within it. Musana, the first Spirit Lord. That was a title only a single man could possess.

Getting this physical copy hadn't been easy. All the digital copies had been scraped off by the World governments because the secrets within weren't for the public to know. He had had to search extensively and thoroughly among many channels just to acquire it. It wasn't rare by any means, but just somewhat hard to acquire.

He closed his eyes and conjured the image of the man. Dark skin, a somewhat square jawline face, coupled with reddish yellow eyes and and hair of the same color, long, yet curling at the ends. The man was majestic. A legend many people looked up to.

Eric looked up to the man. He was a role model everyone, including himself, aspired to become.

He opened his eyes after getting his heart back under control and opened the book to the first page, where a small passage had been written. 

Legends aren't born. They are forged from the fires of struggle. By Musana. 

He read and reread the small number of words, etching them within his mind and repeating them like a mantra. Those two sentences were the things that stood out to him when the going got tough. From horrible bosses to unwanted assignments. He had endured all those things because of those two lines.

"Today is the last day of work, Eric." a voice came through from the speakers embedded within the desk. And when he heard those words, it was as if he had been injected by chicken blood. The previous lethargy was swept away and a smile, one handsome enough to attract a small number of ladies made its way to his lips.

How could he have forgotten what today was? He exclaimed within his mind even as the large book was carefully lowered back into its compartment, which slid back into the bed.

"Cassandra! Hologram please."

With that, a replica of himself appeared right before his eyes. Just like his reflection would appear in a mirror, the hologram was a lifelike representation of the current him. He gave it a once over to make certain that there were no glaring flaws within his attire. He could still remember the day when his shirt had been left untucked within his pants behind himself. That had been an embarrassing situation he didn't want a repeat of.

After making certain that everything was in order, he made his way towards the exit of his apartment, mentally making a note to take care of the messy situation within his room the next day.