A new bond

For a moment, the city's noise faded into the background, as if it belonged to someone else. I felt a fragile hope flicker inside me as we stood deeper in Lincoln Park, near the lake.tge fence.
"Well… you might not be wrong," he said quietly, turning his gaze to the lake,as if seeing it for the first time, letting the breeze brush against his face with quiet wonder.
For a while, the wind spoke for us, combing through the trees.
Then he said, "We never introduced ourselves earlier. My name's Leo," a small smile playing on his lips.
"I just arrived this morning, and… to be honest, everything I see, everything I smell… it's all new to me," he said, letting the words linger in the breeze.
Everything? My mind whirred. What kind of place had he been living in then?Was I somehow right?
"My home city is Sancteros," he continued, his voice dropping, nearly swallowed by the wind threading through the trees. 
He looked at me and searched my face for recognition, but found none.
"Have you ever heard of it?" he asked.
"No, I haven't," I replied.
"This is… new," he said, a faint frown tugging at his lips, like he didn't quite believe his own words.
"Everyone I've met seems to know a lot about that city. It's more popular than I even thought," he said cautiously.

"Well… I've never heard of it. Maybe you could fill me in i like to know more about other cities? I'm quite curious," I admitted.
"Okay, I will tell you," he murmured, a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips.
I braced myself, ready to hear about this city that sounded more like a warning than a home.
"They say Sancteros is a holy city. To me, it was nothing but a gilded cage. They dressed chains as commandments, fear as faith. They took joy, love—even the right to breathe freely—and smothered them under the word 'virtue.' There, a smile was treason, laughter was rebellion. The streets echoed not with life, but with silence. If that was purity, then I wanted no part of it.
For a long time, I thought the whole world was like that. Empty. Silent. Cold.
And then he looked at me—looked at me as if the world could be something else.
But this city… it's the complete opposite. Here, the air feels alive. I hear music in the streets, people laughing like it's the most natural thing in the world. Every corner holds something new, something Sancteros never allowed me to even imagine. To you, it might be ordinary—but to me, it's freedom. And freedom feels like the first breath I've taken in years."
I stood there, letting his words sink in.
I never imagined places like that really existed. The way he spoke, Sancteros had to be one of the cities twisted after the Lightfall. We were taught about it in school, but only in fragments. They never told us how people lived, or what they'd lost. They didn't even bother with names, just vague warnings and half-truths. All we were told was that people changed. Changed how? Into what? 
Looking at him now, hearing the weight in his voice… this was the first time I was seeing the answer for myself.
And it made me realize—there was so much I didn't know about this world.
"I think you made the right choice,"I whispered, my gaze lingering on him. "A smile is the light in the window of the soul. If you couldn't smile there… perhaps your soul was never meant to dwell in that place. Maybe it belongs somewhere brighter—like here."
He smiled, a quiet warmth breaking through the shadows in his expression. His shoulders eased, his eyes softened, and the sunlight kissed his skin like it had been waiting for him. He lifted his chin, letting the glow claim him as alive.
'You're right. Definitely right. Good thing I left. Because here… here I don't just exist. My soul belongs. And maybe… maybe it's here my dreams can finally grow.'
"Your dreams?" I asked, leaning in slightly, curiosity tugging at my chest.
"Yeah. I'm going to be a hero." His hand rose, fist clenched tight, a quiet fire burning in his steady voice. And then he smiled—calm, certain, as if the world itself couldn't shake that resolve.

The words cut me open. I'd spoken them once too, with the same certainty, the same smile. But that was before my parents were stolen from me—before I realized how easily dreams can be torn apart. Part of me wanted to believe him And part of me… just envied him.
"This city… it's called the City of Heroes, right? I thought I'd start over here. In Sancteros, that dream like that were shattered the day I awakened. They treated me like a divine relic—something closer to a god than a person. But I wasn't. None of us were. Every awakened there was forced onto a pedestal, bound by rules and expectations. I was supposed to take pride in it, but I hated it. Who were they to decide what I was meant to be? I wasn't living—I was a puppet. Their puppet. And I hated them for it.
But here… here the awakened are free. Which means I'm free too."*
He turned toward the park, gaze stretching past the lake's fence to where families sprawled in the grass and children chased kites across the sky. Laughter carried on the breeze—fragile, fleeting, the kind of sound that could vanish if no one stood watch over it.
"Look at them," he murmured. "Their smiles exist because they believe they're safe here. I want to protect that. I want to see them happy, even in this broken world. I'll be their hope."
His voice was steady, his eyes burning with belief. And in that moment, I realized he wasn't just looking at them—he was making a promise to them
I turned as well, letting my eyes follow his.
"You have a fine dream, Leo," I said, my voice carrying a quiet relief.
I wished I could say I once held that same dream, but the words refused to leave my lips. My past still terrifies me. Perhaps next time… when I'm fully back to normal again
Instead I forced a smile and said.
"I like heroes too—the way they fight for others, risking everything, putting their lives on the line. Not everyone can do that. They're… special in this world." I shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets, gaze drifting back to the park, where laughter rose like fragile sparks in the wind.
"Yeah… they are special. Especially the Apex Pair—they're my favorites," he said.
His words scraped against old memories I had buried deep—memories I didn't dare touch.
"I grew up hearing their stories from my grandfather. It wasn't allowed, so he'd call me in secret, stealing little moments to tell me about them. He told me every hero story he knew, but somehow the Apex Pair always stood out—the way they fought for the people fifty years ago, right after the Lightfall, when the world was teetering on the edge of ruin. To me, they were the best."
His voice faltered, eyes shadowed with memory and longing. "But it broke my heart to hear they died. I wish… I wish I could've met them, even just once.
But they're gone, and I'm still here. Who knows—if it weren't for them, maybe I wouldn't even be alive today."
He turned to me then, smiling—not the smile of innocence, but one forged in conviction.
"My mission," he said, his voice steady now, "is to carry on what they left behind—their legacy. I will become the greatest hero this world has ever known, just like them. I'll bear their name, and I'll prove I am a hero."
My eyes widened in surprise, and a smile tugged at my lips—but it wasn't joy. It was something darker, an echo of the past.
He spoke with quiet, unwavering confidence—the kind that didn't just sound like words, but destiny shaping itself before my eyes.
The Apex Pair… they weren't just stories to me. They weren't myths or legends to admire from a distance.
They were my parents.
My dead parents.
Even when I try to forget, the pain lingers.
To the world, they stood as heroes—untouchable, immortalized in glory. But to me… they are the nightmare I can't wake from, the bloodstained memory I can never outrun.
I had never imagined someone else wanting to carry their legacy. Not once. I never even gave it thought. That had been my duty once—a duty I abandoned for reasons only I knew.
And now, looking at Leo, I saw everything I had once possessed—his determination, his fire. His hope. And instead of envy, I found myself wanting to see him chase it, to see him grasp what I had lost.
"I believe in you," I said, voice low but steady.
He wasn't me. He was Leo. And no matter how much I wanted to believe otherwise, our paths were different. He carried a different story from mine.
I glanced at Leo, a small grin tugging at my lips.
"Since you're new here, how about I show you around the city sometime? Trust me, there's way more to this city than this park."
I'd only meant it as an offhand offer, but the truth was, it felt like more—a step I hadn't taken in a long time.
His whole expression brightened, his eyes sparkling as if the sun had risen just for him. He nearly bounced on his heels, like a kid trying to keep from leaping with joy.
"Wait… really? Better than this park?" Leo's eyes widened, half in awe, half in disbelief.
"Of course," I said softly. "There are plenty of them."
But then his expression faltered. The spark dimmed, giving way to unease.
"But… I haven't even found a place to stay yet. I don't know where I'll end up tonight. I should figure that out first… then we can plan the rest later."
"You can stay with me," I said—the words tumbling out before I even thought them through. "If… if you're alright with it."
Maybe I offered because, deep down, I wanted him close… so I could see with my own eyes the dreams I once lost, still burning alive through him.
Then I noticed it—a single tear sliding down his cheek.
"Hey… why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?" I blurted, panic tightening my chest as my hands shot free from my hoodie pockets, hanging helplessly in the air, caught between reaching out or retreating.
"No, not at all," he said quickly, brushing it away.
"I left home without even thinking. I didn't care what would happen to me—all I wanted was to escape that city." His voice wavered, soft but raw. "And now… to meet someone kind enough to take me in? I don't even have the words for how grateful I am. Is there… anything I can do in return?"
Then, as if struck by a sudden memory, he reached into his bag.
His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled out a bracelet—gold, its surface glinting in the fading light.
"You can have this… as payment," he said, holding it out to me. "I was told it's worth a lot.I don't really understand why, and I never cared for it… but maybe this is the only way I can show you my gratitude."
A strange warmth bloomed in my chest—something I hadn't felt in years.
 "My name's Cain," I said, my voice low but steady as I met his gaze. "And you don't owe me anything. That gold… it's worth more than you think. Hold on to it—it might save you one day."
I pushed his hand back softly.
"Keep it. If you're going to be a hero who saves countless lives—something I couldn't do—then let me be a hero for you, right now."
A spark flickered in his eyes, soft but unmistakable—like awe, like trust.
"Let's get going," I murmured. "I've had enough of today—and I need to let Mira know you'll be staying with us. You must be tired from your journey to. Some rest will do you good."
The heat pressed against us, and I tugged my hood down, finally letting the air touch my skin.
He nodded, shoulders easing as though a heavy burden had slipped from them. For just a heartbeat, the shadows of his past seemed lighter, and between us, the promise of tomorrow glowed a little brighter.
Leo carefully slipped the gold back into his bag, and together, we started heading toward the exit.
Then the warmth snapped. A sharp cold clawed through the air, twisting everything familiar into something wrong—like ice threading through sunlight. The calm shattered; children's laughter cut off like a frayed wire, and the scent of roasted nuts dissolved, replaced by a thick, coppery fog that clung to the skin.
At the park gate, children froze, eyes wide with confusion. Mothers instinctively clutched their young, their voices swallowed by the sudden weight pressing down on the park. Even the wind stilled, as if the city itself held its breath, waiting for something to emerge from the shadows.
The man stood just inside the entrance, and without meaning to, the crowd had formed a circle around him. Wide at first, but tightening with every step he took. No one dared move closer, yet no one dared turn their back either. Vendors abandoned their stalls, edging sideways until their carts formed part of the boundary. A street performer's drum lay silent at his feet, its last echo fading as if the air refused to carry it.
Faces peered in from every side—fear, pity, confusion. Children craned over their parents' arms. Teenagers, usually bold, bit their lips and hid their hands in pockets. The circle was not protection; it was a cage, and he stood at the center of it.
Leo stopped dead. His breath caught, heart pounding. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The man moved with a slow, terrible grace. Crusted blood clung to his skin and clothes, cracking with every movement, a dry echo of violence long finished but never washed away. Each step marked the ground like a heartbeat—a dark pulse against the city's light. His eyes were hollow wells, endless and searching.
He didn't run. He didn't hide.
Every gaze he passed was dragged to him, caught fast by a gravity too heavy to resist.
Leo's breath hitched.
"is that… man really covered in blood?" he whispered, voice trembling small against the silence.
I wasn't sure I needed to answer. I'd never seen anything like this before.
But looking at him, my mind raced. Every instinct screamed caution. Was he dangerous? The way he moved—slow, deliberate, each step leaved brittle stains behind—made the hairs on my arms rise. Yet there was something else, something fragile buried under that terrifying presence. Did he need help? Could he even hear me if I called out?
His silence wasn't calm—it was the stunned stillness of someone whose world had just cracked, and he hadn't yet decided what to do.
Sirens wailed, their shrill cries tearing through the night, chasing away whatever scraps of quiet still lingered. Red and blue lights slashed across the park’s iron gates as five black-and-white cars stormed in, tires spitting gravel and dirt.
They screeched to a halt in a wide arc. Doors flew open, and men in dark uniforms spilled out, pistols already raised. The boots of the first wave hammered against the earth as they advanced, stepping off the asphalt and into the park’s open ground.
Which meant the blood-soaked man standing at the center of the circle wasn't just dangerous. He was a threat the city itself had decided needed erasing.
The crowd seemed to understand this in the same instant. Mothers clutched their children tighter, fathers drew them back a step, yet no one dared scream, as if noise itself might spark the coming violence. The circle tightened, breaths shallower, eyes wide, all of them caught between fear of the man and fear of those sent to put him down.
And still, he didn't move.
"Hands where we can see them!" one barked.
"Resist, and we will shoot!"
The man kept walking, unfazed.
A second officer stepped forward, voice cold and sharp
“You’re under arrest.”
The man’s eyes were hard—unyielding.
“You’ve killed countless civilians.”
"What are you even?"
"A monster?"
He was no rookie soldier. His uniform clung to him like a second skin, scuffed at the edges, but clean in its purpose. His eyes—steel-gray, sharp as a drawn blade—spoke of a life that had seen too much and endured even more. Faint lines carved into his weathered face weren’t just wrinkles, but maps of battles fought and losses carried. A faint streak of silver ran through his hair, not of vanity, but of time and responsibility. On his left wrist hung a battered bracelet, too delicate for a soldier, the kind a child might have woven from colored threads—frayed now, but clearly cherished.
He wasn’t just an officer barking orders; he was a father who still carried the ghost of a smile meant for someone waiting at home. That weight sat in the way his shoulders squared, not only with discipline but with a quiet determination—because every life lost out here meant another empty chair at someone else’s table.
The word monster echoed like a death sentence—a verdict carved in fear, written in blood. It wasn't spoken aloud, not fully, but it passed through the crowd all the same, whispered from lip to lip, etched in every trembling gaze that fixed on the man. Children felt it without understanding, shrinking behind their mothers' skirts, while the officers' grips tightened on their weapons as if the word itself demanded violence.
The man's smile curved wider, sharp as a razor, cutting every trace of warmth from the air.
The park stilled. Even the wind seemed to choke back its breath, the silence before the storm pressing down like a suffocating hand.
And then—he stopped.
For one trembling heartbeat, time itself held its breath.
End of chapter.