Shilem, the port city of Sector 3, was a crowded city filled with towering office and residential buildings, each bearing a spire that reached up to the clouds. The buildings were clad in shimmering black glass and cold steel that reflected the blinding midday sun in a dizzying array of flashes.
The streets themselves were filled with people, all moving with purposeful strides. Men and women in business attire hustled about, clutching transparent file bags, briefcases, or speaking into their chips, as they weaved through the crowd with practiced ease, most likely returning from work.
Everywhere, Aodhán looked teemed with life and movement. People spilled out of office buildings, their animated chatter adding to the cacophony of honking shuttles. As they moved deeper into the city, they found a cluster of older, grandiose buildings, their neoclassical facades standing in stark contrast to the modern, minimalistic structures around them, adding a touch of historical depth to the bustling district.
The sector was everything Aodhán had expected it to be from his studies, and from the wide smile on Daruk’s face, it was obvious he shared Aodhán’s sentiment. Aldric, on the other hand, wore a scowl, overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and emotions he was probably feeling.
Aodhán had thought the 5th sector was crowded, and compared to the 8th or 12th sector, it was, but it couldn’t be compared to the 3rd sector. The number of people moving around him alone was astounding, and Aodhán wondered how crime was managed in a sector this large.
His question was answered a moment later, when they saw a group of security officials milling around, trying to manage and control the traffic of both people and shuttles.
Just as they watched, a security officer dove his hand into the crowd and pulled out a boy, about their age, from the shadow of an old woman. The boy froze like a deer caught in headlights, a coin purse still clutched in his hands, and when he tried to escape into another shadow, the security officer quickly placed a runic cuff on him and handed the old woman back her coin purse.
“This place is a mess.” Daruk frowned as the security officer handed the boy over to a colleague and continued his watch. “It's almost like no one even noticed what just happened.”
“They did.” Aldric snorted. “They just don’t care. A couple of them are too scared to speak up, though. I imagine those are the criminals among them.”
Aodhán narrowed his gaze and observed the crowd. Despite how tired most of them looked, they laughed, smiled, and partied. They didn’t look like oppressed people, which meant this was probably just business as usual in the port city.
“This probably isn’t the first time such a thing has happened." Daruk muttered. ‘In fact, I’d wager that it happens a lot. Look at the crowd in this place!”
Aodhán chuckled as they moved further into the city, towards a round black building covered in runes and glowing with reddish light. The building was one of the largest in the area and was easily identified as an annex of the Ministry of Awakened Affairs by the large symbol of a glowing Ragnar placed atop its shortest spire.
Aodhán chuckled as he took in the heavy traffic, which was a sight he’d never seen before now. Despite how large the roads were, each lane churned with a sea of vehicles, each one vying for a position in an unending stream of honking metallic beasts.
Private cars darted in an out-of-lane, much to the frustration of the traffic wardens. Mega-shuttles, another new sight, lumbered heavily along their routes, and shuttles inched forward in a slow yet determined crawl.
In the air, hovercars and buses flashed around endlessly, moving around in a formation that, although it made sense to the people of the sector, was utter chaos to Aodhán.
Above the hovercars, though, were flying people, some moving on their platforms while others used various other methods that enabled flight. Rather than create a platform and zoom off, an idea that Aldric was firmly in support of, Aodhán and Daruk decided to walk instead, determined to get the full mundane experience and really soak in the city.
They moved around the city, buying snacks and gawking at the new sight, but in their amazement, Aodhán and Daruk failed to notice the looks and attention they were slowly garnering, until Aldric tapped Aodhán on the shoulders and grinned evilly. “It seems to me that the people of sector 3 aren’t quite as uninformed as the residents of Willowsburgh.”
Aodhán turned in confusion, and that was when the first flash of a camera went off. As if the first was a signal, a flurry of camera flashes followed, blinding Aodhán with their intensity. It only took a few seconds before they were completely surrounded by people, and Aodhán cursed, hastily adjusting his storm scarf to conceal his face. He may have accepted his fate as a celebrity now, but he still wasn’t ready for all this razzle-dazzle.
Aldric's grin widened. "I hate to say I told you so, but we should have taken off when we had the chance."
Aodhán grimaced and conjured a storm platform big enough for all three of them. Just as he stepped onto it, an explosion shook the entire district, catapulting him into the path of an oncoming mega-shuttle.
Bang!
The last sound Aodhán heard before blacking out was a piercing, high-pitched whine that stabbed through his mind like a spear of lightning.
***
Ten minutes before the explosion.
Nikolaus Valerion leaned against the walls of a particularly busy tea house, watching the bustling crowd go by. He was dressed in his usual black cloak that looked like a rag to the unperceptive, which most of the people in this sector were.
To those who knew what to look for, the cloak was instead an epic-grade magical item, tuned specifically to the concept of sunlight.
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Nikolaus had stolen it from a rich merchant in Rys, along with his boots and his current girlfriend, Denise, whom he loved oh so dearly for her cloak and disguise abilities.
He grinned at the thought and shook his head, his gaze roaming the busy streets and noting the positions of the security officers stationed around the area. They would be gone soon, by the time their shift ended, and another set of officers would take their place. But it didn’t matter; all he needed was that small window of opportunity before the new officers arrived.
It would be enough. He assured himself. This wasn’t the first time he was carrying out this sort of heist, and in his experience, it was usually over in a few minutes. Ascendants willing, he would make away with just enough money to set him up for the next few weeks.
A man brushed past him, and Nikolaus scowled. The man apologized hurriedly, but Nikolaus waved him off. There was no need to call attention to himself by getting into an altercation with the man. That would only ruin his plans. Instead, Nikolaus adjusted his bandana in an attempt to conceal his signature pink hair, and with a sigh, he settled in to wait for a few more minutes.
While he waited, a newspaper peddler pushed his cart past him, and Nikolaus’s gaze caught the familiar smile of his younger brother, Artemis, on the front page, along with his girlfriend, Geneva Ryntharion. Didn’t they have a messy breakup a few months ago?
“Love sick imbeciles.” Nikolaus snorted in amusement, genuinely glad for his brother. Unlike Artemis, Nikolaus wasn’t a monster, nor was he a genius like Cyrus, and although he had his tricks and cunning, he never fancied himself anything other than mediocre, despite bearing the same affinity as the duke himself.
One would think that that little detail would have at least drawn his father’s attention to him, but Nikolaus had been cast aside and left to the Duchess to do with as she pleased. He was the first bastard son of Duke Valerion, and the duchess had made him pay for the duke's mistake. A single mistake hadn’t been enough for his father, though, and so, a few years later, Artemis had been born.
The duchess grew more bitter with each consecutive bastard, and although she took out her wrath on all of them, Nikolaus had suffered the worst of it. He tried to shield both himself and the other bastards from her wrath, but he rarely succeeded, and when his third half-sibling finally got admitted into the 3rd Academy, Nikolaus decided it was time to go off on his own too.
He wasn’t doing anyone any favors by allowing himself to perish within the Valerion estate while the other bastards spread their wings. The decision to leave had been a terribly hard one, though, and Nikolaus usually found himself thinking of his half-siblings from time to time.
After all that life had dealt him, was it really so surprising that he’d turned out to be a thief? Perhaps it was. Nikolaus admitted to himself and glanced across the busy streets again.
He perked up when he noticed the security officers moving, and with a languid smile, he prepared to do what he did best. He waited for only a few minutes until the security officers completely left the area before heading towards the Energy Pavilion.
Some might argue that any sort of thievery was best done at night, but considering Nikolaus affinity for sunlight, he obviously didn’t share such sentiments. Noon was the time he was most powerful, and night was the time he was most vulnerable. Not that he became completely useless or weak, but the absence of the sun usually sapped him of his strength, leaving him half as strong as he was supposed to be.
The energy pavilion loomed ahead, a fortress of glass, which indicated to Nikolaus the sort of affinity the merchant who owned the establishment had. When he approached the entrance, he activated {Sun Cloak} and seamlessly blended into the light of his surroundings. With practiced ease, he weaved through the bustling crowd and, a moment later, stepped through the doors of the pavilion.
Nikolaus released his aura as soon as the merchant looked up, and a bristling wave of heat suddenly engulfed the whole building. This wasn’t his first rodeo, obviously, and after several years of thievery, Nikolaus had gotten quite good at his job. Merchants, especially, were like children's books, and robbing them was almost as easy as breathing.
Pavilion merchants were usually strong considering the nature of their business, but what sort of thief would he be if he attacked a merchant who was stronger than he was? A foolish one, and Nikolaus was no fool.
From the information he’d gathered on the merchant, the man was barely tier 60 yet, which put him within Nikolaus’s usual range of victims. The merchant glared at him, and just as Nikolaus expected, he slowly moved to flip the alarm switch.
Nikolaus immediately activated {Sun Beam}, and the concentrated beam of solar rays melted the red button to slag before the merchant could flick it.
Nikolaus smirked. It was always the same routine with these merchants. If he wasn’t the sort of person to take joy in life’s little gifts, he’d have grown bored of his job by now.
As expected once again, the man moved to flip the runic switch directly behind him, but another {Sun Beam} destroyed that option before the merchant could move more than a couple inches.
The merchant paused, his eyes wide with alarm, and Nikolaus tensed slightly. This was the moment he loved the most, the point where the merchant contemplated either fighting or surrendering. Their eventual decision was always obvious in their stance, and Nikolaus grimaced when he noticed the path this merchant had chosen.
Without hesitation, Nikolaus shot out another {Sun Beam} just as the merchant moved, and that was when things went to shit. Usually, when faced with danger, humans respond either with a flight or fight option. In rarer cases, they employed the third option: freeze. This merchant chose neither and decided to fuck everything up.
He took out two large advanced cores, neither of which were less than the 75th tier, and with a grin of utter malice, he smashed both cores together just as the concentrated beam of solar rays struck.
The cores exploded in a volatile mix of unstable energies that soon spiraled out of control as the smaller cores, which had been displayed on the shelf behind the merchant, smashed to the floor. Essence surged, mixing and roiling violently as several incompatible energies mixed and undulated.
Alarmed, Nikolaus grabbed the closest pouch of cores from the counter, barely a dozen in number, but he would forever hate himself if he left this pavilion without stealing anything. He sprinted towards the exit just as the threads of reality began to unravel.
Cursing, he weaved several layers of sunlight to protect himself, but just as he burst out of the front doors, a massive explosion rocked the entire building to its core. Concrete and steel from the foundation blasted out, accompanied by a wave of energy, fire, and glass that propelled him forward.
Nikolaus hit the ground hard, his ears ringing and his vision blurred.
He staggered to his feet immediately, the pouch of cores he’d stolen mercifully intact. He ignored the moans and cries of the bodies around him, hurrying to leave the premises before the security officers came, but before he could take more than a few steps, a group of security agents immediately surrounded him, their runic weapons drawn.
“Nikolaus Valerion, you’re under arrest.” One of the officers shouted, his voice barely audible over the ringing in Nikolaus’s ears. He looked around, trying to find an escape route, but his luck had run out, and he couldn’t fight off a dozen security officers in his current state.
With the weight of his failure crashing down on him, Nikolaus dropped the pouch of cores and raised his hands in surrender.
“Take him away, and send for the healers immediately.” One of the officers, presumably the leader, said to the others, his gaze roaming the pile of broken and injured bodies now littering the street. “We have news that the child prodigy is here somewhere. Find him immediately. If he dies, we’re looking at an unending stack of paperwork along with a very pissed-off high duke, and trust me, we do not want that.”