“Who are you?” Two people interpellated a hooded man. Two, guarding a seemingly endless fortified wall, standing out from the deserted plain. Fortified with scraps that upon a second glance, seemed to be perfectly welded to form an impenetrable stronghold. A perfect wall whose gate was as grand as it needed to be to intimidate and leave an impression. It undoubtedly hid countless weapons and defensive systems…
“Hey, he asked you a question! Answer it if you don’t want to get fried hot blood!” Hearing the agitation in the guard’s voice, the man chuckled. Faced with the muzzle of a deadly weapon, he slowly raised his hands moving them to remove his hood. When he did, the bronze glow coming from his eyes dimmed as the suit covering his face was peeled away, revealing a brown-eyed man, full of vigor with flocks of red hair flowing onto his graceful face.
“My name is Galahad, I was forsaken and have come to seek refuge.” Hearing his words, the second guard scanned him from top to bottom with his glowing red eye before nodding toward his comrade. “You’re free to pass.” He put his hood back on, his suit acting quickly to heal his sizzling skin. The gate gradually opened, shifting its layers once after the other until he could finally step through. “You better not do anything stupid or those burns may become permanent.” The threat didn’t faze the man as he walked determined onto the busy desertic street.
As he stepped into the heart of the forsaken city, Galahad was greeted by skeptical gazes from the cyborgs who called this place home. They scrutinized him with their metallic glares. He knew that they knew that he didn’t belong, Yet he still set up shop, with difficulty and the help of the remaining assets he was able to scramble up before leaving the place he used to call home. Some mocked him, most ignored him while others grew curious. Knowledge was what he offered. The opportunity to become better than what they were, to attain what they could be. Eventually, amidst the skepticism, a few receptive souls began seeing a glimmer of hope beyond his teachings.
“Can you really help me change?” Among them was a woman, battered by life's hardships but with an unwavering spirit. She saw beyond the eccentricities and believed in Galahad's mission to awaken the potential within each individual. Her encouragement fueled Galahad's determination, and as their love grew so did their group. He paved the way for their awakening, introducing a new faction into the city’s inner circles. A faction with no greed for power, but one simply for the pursuit of knowledge.
“You can’t be serious, we have to do something! This is getting out of hand.” Yet, as their group grew, so did the fear of others. “I’m certainly not letting this go. If this continues, we will lose everything. It’s only a matter of time, through force or influence.” The power they possessed was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. With the enticement of powerful individuals no doubt, the locals began to view them as a threat, an unknown force that could disrupt the fragile balance of their forsaken existence. “Death to the Tainted!” Fueled by fear, violence erupted, and Galahad's love fell victim to the senseless brutality.
“Galahad… you have to promise me… don't lose yourself, stay the man I fell in love with… don’t let this brutal world lose your kind heart.” On her deathbed, she imparted her final wish upon Galahad. Her words resonated within him, and he vowed to honor her memory by embracing compassion even in the face of darkness.
Driven by grief and a newfound resolve, Galahad confronted the painful truth he had long avoided—the ulterior motives of Lord, the betrayal he had turned a blind eye to. He’d always known, the reason why his friend had sent him to this place. The worst of it was that they both knew this would happen. Galahad knew what Lord had done and yet he still followed his counsel. Whether it was out of hope or denial didn’t matter because when he reached the gates he understood the motive behind his actions. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t follow his will.
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Yet, here he was, now standing before the doors of the sealed bunker. “Sir Galahad identified: Access Granted.” Maybe he was a fool, maybe he was playing into the palm of his hand. But he didn’t care, he simply walked past the rows of endless vats. He didn’t need to inspect them to know what they were. Created from the codex of the genetic data harvested from countless Awakened. Clones incubating, awaiting his arrival.
With a heavy heart, he resolved himself, taking a seat on his fated cathedra. As the chair moved to restrain him, Galahad calmly exhaled. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, letting his domain flow through.
“Galahad, do you truly believe in this dream?” Memories flashed as the sorrow of his loss suddenly overwhelmed him. “I do, I think that one day every single human will be able to share the gift that we were given.” Her scent, her smile, her eyes. “What if you had to choose, between me and that dream?” Her laugh... “Don’t look so disgruntled, I already know you enough to know the answer.” Her death had scarred him more than anything else.
He’d sent the whole group away to the east, through the ocean away from all this chaos, to a prophetic land he should’ve probably left for long ago. “Sir, we can’t leave you here! Come with us!” His students had tried to stop him. “No, I have something I must do, a promise I must fulfill.” Yet he stayed, keeping his lover’s words close to his heart. “Always follow your dreams, Galahad, love is a fleeting feeling, what use is it if you have nothing to feed it?” With her words echoing in his mind, he felt his domain flow through him.
His nose began to bleed while his consciousness scoured the countless minds of the Awakened. Some were underdeveloped and others dull, almost vacuous but all were connected to a hive mind the likes of which made him shiver. “Oh Lord…” he murmured in horror. Seeing the truth with his own eyes renewed Galahad’s resolve.
Mixed with his agonizing scream, his powers surged through the city, creating a disturbance that was felt for miles. As a teacher, he couldn’t do much, but there was one thing he could do. If he could show people the way to salvation it meant he could also take it away. With all of his remaining strength, his remaining conscience, he created a fog that ever so slightly disturbed the link between the awakened and their domain. He could already feel the tenuous links of Arissa’s exosuits snapping. What a monster… He wouldn’t fall like the others. If he wanted to find him, he’d have to come here himself, or at least, send someone else who could push against his influence, but that man trusted no one enough for that. Feeling the stasis overwhelming him, Galahad smiled, getting a last look at the bunker’s fortifications engulfing him in complete darkness.
The City of the Forsaken was forever changed. It became a refuge, a beacon for those who sought asylum against the tyranny of the state. A fortress that the army couldn’t penetrate. Galahad who had been shunned and cursed, became revered as a messiah, a savior, and a protector. Although his teachings faded into the forgotten pages of history, his sacrifice became engrained into the minds of the people. What the people didn’t expect was that his gift came with a curse.
Without an enemy to fight, the city slowly degenerated, the walls crumbled, the militia dismantled and the order that once kept this lawless land united vanished. Internal divisions grew and factions emerged, each vying for control and power. The lawless land became home to crime and contraband that no other place would dare produce or provide. Yet, somehow through this chaos, the legend of Galahad remained, whispered in the alleys and shared in the stories of the forsaken.