From the moment Chronos was born, it was clear that he was different. His eyes seemed to take in everything around him, absorbing every detail with an intensity that was almost unnerving. However, his encyclopedic memory of the world around him was both a gift and a curse.
Once he was old enough to understand what was going on, his world was plagued with bruises, cuts, and broken bones. His father had seemed to take pleasure in the suffering of his wife and son. He remembered the way his father's eyes had glinted with a cold, calculating cruelty, and the way his voice had boomed with anger and disdain.
He had always tried to stifle and bury these vivid memories but his freakish memory afflicted him with every detail of every instance his abusive father had one too many drinks. And as he grew older, the liquor bottles turned into needles and his life was completely thrown into the abyss.
The constantly drugged up man of the house sold their home and pretty much everything they owned to fuel his addictive habits. Once everything had been squandered, he started loaning money from loan sharks and gambling in hopes of making money to fuel his addiction.
After a decade of torture, his mother reached the breaking point. The straw that broke the camel's back was when his father attempted selling her to pay his debts. The next morning, her dead body was found at the bottom of the neighboring apartment building.
A dark past can have a profound and lasting impact on anyone who experiences it, but for a savant with an eidetic memory like Chronos, the effects are orders of magnitude more pronounced.
[ 2 : 15 : 59 ]
*Rriing.. RRing*
Chronos walked out of the corner shop after spending all his savings, which he had hidden in the sole of his shoe, on food supplies, basic survival items like torchlights, batteries, fire-starters and a survival knife.
Chronos gazed emptily at the evening sky with his pregnant backpack in hand, lost in his own world amidst the array of passers-by, until finally, he reaffirmed the decision he made earlier.
He first made his way to the underside of the city bridge, then to the illegal hut in the heart of the slums but did not find what he was looking for. Finally, he arrived at an abandoned warehouse by the river and before even stepping in, he knew... he had come to the right place.
[ 1 : 12 : 38 ]
The air was thick and heavy, cloying with the sickly sweet scent of smoke and chemicals. The walls were stained yellow with nicotine and grime, and the floors were littered with discarded syringes and crushed beer cans. This was a crack house, a place of despair and destruction, a place where the darkest impulses of humanity had free reign.
The sound of creaking floorboards and whispered voices echoed through the dimly lit space, lending an air of danger and tension to the already oppressive atmosphere. Every sense was assaulted by the squalor and degradation, a sense of helplessness permeating the air like a bad smell.
Chronos, who stood in the doorway, surveying the scene with a mix of disgust and fascination, felt a deep sense of sadness and despair. He spotted the man that pushed his mother to suicide and the source of the anguish in his already impoverished life.
The man was slumped in the corner, his eyes unfocused and his movements sluggish. His skin was pale and sallow, his clothes stained and torn. His hair was matted and greasy, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was a shell of a man, lost in the grip of addiction and despair.
His eyes flickered as Chronos entered the room, a momentary spark of recognition before they glazed over again. The man mumbled something unintelligible, his words slurred and indistinct.
Chronos watched as the man fumbled with a makeshift pipe, his movements uncoordinated and clumsy. He could see the desperation etched on the man's face, the need for the drug that had brought him to this place.
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Chronos clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, affirming his decision one last time. He took a deep breath, there was no longer pain, no longer anger, just a cold determination. A smile appeared on his face as he innocently grabbed what was left of that man.
"Lettt… go… boy… before I kick y..your ass"
The man mumbled as Chronos picked him and placed his limp arm over his shoulder.
"Aunt Betty from Tai Chi gave me a nice tip today after I left the park, follow me, I'll give you half."
The 15 year old boy muttered coldly, the disgust on his face barely veiled by his awkward smile.
He briefly closed his eyes as map grids of astounding detail materialized within his mind. He had planned a specific path that avoided any form of surveillance cameras or foot traffic. His photographic memory coupled with his freakish observation abilities allowed for the simulation of a specific route in his mind; a route to a deserted forest area nearby.
[ 00 : 48 : 27 ]
Chronos guided the drugged up man into the forest nearby when he suddenly regained consciousness from his drug-induced stupor. Pushing Chronos to the side, he barked,
"Where...ar... are we? Where's the money brat! You better give me all of it or I'll break your legs!!!"
"Here, I have it here… I made $100 today," Chronos replied coldly as he paced slowly toward with his hand in his backpack.
The seconds started to slow down as Chronos inched toward his father, the survival knife hidden in his backpack was trembling in his clenched fist. A cacophony of screams and cries of both his deceased mother and his younger self flooded his mind from the deep corners of his memory.
'This is for... the unrepairable scars of my childhood'
'This is justice for our... pain'
'This... is retribution for mom...'
"DIE MOTHERFUCKER!!!" Chronos's self-justifying thoughts mutated into a guttural roar as he yanked the survival blade out of his backpack.
*Slash*
A metallic gleam shimmered under the eerie glow of the moonlit sky.
"Ugrhhhh!!"
Chronos stood there heaving with exertion, his eyes glistening an ominous crimson. A sickening metallic scent wafted into his nostrils as his blood spattered face gradually calmed down to a stoic, emotionless gaze.
He watched intently as the man who had tortured him his entire life stumbled backwards, his hands clutching at his throat as blood gushed between his fingers. His eyes widened in shock and terror, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as he struggled to breathe.
His movements became uncoordinated and jerky, his body wracked with spasms as he collapsed to the ground. The sound of his rasping breaths echoed through the silence, an eerie and disturbing reminder of the violence that had just taken place.
The ground beneath him was quickly soaked with blood, the metallic scent filling the air. The sight was gruesome, and yet Chronos who stood over him felt no remorse, no regret.
'Mom... maybe now... you can finally rest in peace...'
Chronos closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. He could have turned away, but instead he etched every detail of his withering father into his consciousness, as if it were a tribute to his deceased mother.
He then continued to trek quietly toward the pond 30 minutes away, almost unconscious in his strides, not looking back at his father's cold dead body even once.
Soon, the ethereal reflection of the full moon on the surface of the pond snapped Chronos out of his daze.
He felt a strange sense of guilt. Not guilt of taking a life, but guilt that he felt no regret or remorse. Instead of feeling panicked or a heavy burden in his conscience, there was a chilling numbness within him that he didn't know how to feel about.
[ 00 : 08 : 42 ]
'Well, I've prepared some survival necessities and did what I've always wanted to do…'
'8 minutes left…'
He thought silently to himself, staring aimlessly at the reflection of the full moon on the surface of the pond. Although he suspected an impending death, he did not feel fear. There was no panic, no longing for life, just a twisted anticipation amidst a peculiar serenity.
[ 00 : 00 : 00 ]
Chronos clutched his chest, his face contorted in pain as a sudden, sharp sensation gripped his body. His breathing became labored, each breath coming in short, gasping bursts as he struggled to draw air into his lungs. He collapsed to the ground. His body convulsed with spasms, the pain was intense, a crushing weight seemed to bear down on him from all sides.
As his breathing slowed and his body grew still, the man closed his eyes, his face settling into a peaceful expression.
What happens after death?
An eternal darkness? Reincarnation? Heaven? Hell? Or... A voluptuous goddess waiting to send you to another world where you'd bask in the bosoms of an ever expanding harem?
These thoughts flashed across Chronos's mind as his vision blurred, the excruciating pain fading as his consciousness tore asunder.
Darkness.... An eerily alien sensation, or lack thereof, of having no physical construct to comprehend his surroundings. All that was left was nothingness and peace. He couldn't grasp the concept of life, how he lived, why he died... Did it even matter anymore?
With whatever sentience he had left slowly falling into an eternal slumber, suddenly, two sigils lit up the void.
One was a crest with an hourglass of sorts. It was emanating a white silvery hue, silent in its regality.
The other sigil was that of a diamond separated into four arrows pointing outward north, south, east and west. This sigil had an ominous dark-purplish aura reverberating, overbearing in its claim on its surroundings.
These whitish-silver and purple lights coalesced into each other forming a core that became denser and denser. The process of fusion was both graceful and intense, the particles swirled and spun around one another, weaving a complex tapestry of light and energy.
The particles seemed to come alive as they merged with one another, creating new forms of energy that were both beautiful and powerful. The synergy of the lights fueled the core's growing size and intensity, it started to pulse and expand as if it were a living entity.
Finally, the fusion process reached its climax, the palpitating core seemed to have reached its full potential. The brilliant light show was but a façade of the intensity of the fusion. A powerful shockwave rippled out the core, distorting the fabric of whatever space Chronos was in.
He had not the cognitive functions to understand what was going on but after a while he caught a glimpse of the two sigils now combined; an hourglass with four arrows pointing out at its sides almost staring down at him in an imperious manner.
It stood overbearing in its beauty, a testament to the incredible forces that exist in the universe. At the very moment at which they seemed to lock 'eyes', an explosion of a majestic blue consumed Chronos and what was left was... nothing.