A Harsh Awakening
Ryker settled into the hover car, his small fists clenched tightly on his lap. The events at the jewelry store weighed heavily on his mind. How could someone hate him for no reason other than his birthright as the heir of the Phoenix Clan? It wasn't something he had control over. Despite Mathias's warnings, it was hard to believe that not just an outsider, but a fellow clan member, could harbor such envy—envy so potent it bordered on hatred. He hadn't even met the guy before, let alone antagonized him.
At first, the thought saddened him, but as he dwelled on it, sadness gave way to anger. The more he thought about it, the more his anger ignited, his body reflecting his inner turmoil. The temperature inside the hover car began to rise as something deep within him stirred, reacting to his growing rage. His skin reddened, and the air around him seemed to pulse with an intense energy.
Mathias, seated beside Ryker, turned to look at him, startled. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing—the very atmosphere around Ryker seemed to shift and ripple in response to his emotions. The mana in the surrounding area became chaotic, vibrating violently as the heat inside the car intensified.
Realizing the danger, Mathias acted immediately, grabbing Ryker by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously in an attempt to break his trance. But Ryker seemed lost in his own world. Deep within, his bloodline roared to life, ancient and unyielding. Images flooded his mind—True Dragons and Phoenixes, Qilins and Vermillion Birds, all frolicking and battling in a realm that seemed otherworldly. The visions surged, vivid and overwhelming, before vanishing as abruptly as they had appeared. In the next moment, Ryker came back to himself, his fiery aura receding.
"Take me back to the estate," he ordered.
The driver acknowledged his request, and the convoy turned toward home. The guards, sensing his distress, slowed the pace, hoping the passing scenery might lift his spirits. But Ryker didn't even glance out the window. His thoughts remained trapped in the turmoil of what had just happened.
As the hover car exited the inner ring, a movement caught his eye. His gaze shifted to the side of the road, where a boy around six years old struggled to carry an unconscious woman on his back. A younger girl, no older than four, clung to his arm, her face pale with worry. Their clothes were ragged, their bodies frail, and their eyes filled with desperation.
Without hesitation, Ryker ordered, "Stop the convoy."
The vehicles came to a halt, and he stepped out, his concern outweighing his earlier emotions. He approached cautiously, not wanting to startle them.
The boy, noticing the approaching convoy and Ryker's fine attire, immediately tensed. He pulled his sister closer and adjusted his mother on his back, ready to flee at a moment's notice.
Ryker paused a few meters away, realizing the boy's wariness. He didn't want to scare them off. He could order his guards to stop them, but what good would that do? He wasn't here to capture them—he wanted to help.
My name is Ryker Phoenix," he said gently. "Please, are you in need of help? Is that your mother? What's wrong with her?"
The boy didn't respond. His wary eyes remained fixed on Ryker, unblinking and filled with distrust. He wasn't naive. He had seen enough to know how these so-called noble clans treated people like him. To them, he was less than nothing. He belonged to the outer ring—the realm of the unawakened, the poor, and the forgotten. A place for those who were considered a drain on resources, a blight on society, and little more than entertainment for the nobles when boredom struck.
Ryker shifted uncomfortably under the boy's unrelenting gaze, his confusion evident. "Can you not understand me?" he asked softly. "Please, I mean no harm. Let me help you. I'm sure I can do something."
The boy remained silent, his jaw tightening. He prayed Ryker would lose interest and leave, but the noble continued to press.
"Please," Ryker pleaded. "Let me help you. We're all human. I can't turn a blind eye to someone else's suffering."
That did it. The boy's expression darkened, and his voice, sharp and bitter, finally broke the silence. "What did you just say? We're all human? Since when did your kind see people like me as human? Since when did you care if we lived or died? You sit in your grand palaces, laughing at us, treating us like vermin just because your ancestors got lucky and awakened bloodlines."
His voice rose with every word, the bitterness pouring out like poison. "I've seen your kind force an old man to lick and swallow piss while they laughed and called him names. They made his wife and children watch as he was humiliated. One of you even wanted to have the man's wife raped by a beast, but she was lucky. Another one of you had limits. Instead, they made the man strip naked and shout, 'I am nothing but a dog, and a dog I shall remain,' over and over until you got bored and left. And that was one of the good cases."
Ryker took a step back, stunned, as the boy continued relentlessly, his voice shaking with fury. "And now you, a noble, dare to say we're all human? That you can't bear to see another human suffer? Bullshit. Pure bullshit. Aren't you tired of playing with us? Can't you stay in your castles and leave us to our misery? If beasts devour us, or pagans slaughter us, or dungeons trap us, it's still better than the humiliation we endure from people like you.
"So go ahead, your highness. Return to your palace. Leave us, the vermin, to our fates."
With that, the boy turned away, adjusting his mother's weight as his sister clutched his side. He walked into the distance without a single glance back.
Ryker stood frozen for a moment as the boy's searing words pierced through him. His heart clenched, and for the first time, he truly felt the weight of the boy's pain, the raw bitterness of someone who had been crushed under the heel of the very system Ryker had unknowingly benefited from. Each accusation hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting, forcing him to confront a reality he had never experienced but could no longer ignore.
"I… didn't know," Ryker whispered, barely audible. His hands trembled slightly as he clenched them into fists. "I didn't know it was this bad. I—"
He cut himself off, realizing empty words and apologies would mean nothing to the boy. What did his ignorance matter to someone whose life had been shaped by suffering? What could he possibly say to someone who had endured so much? The weight of his privilege, his heritage, his title—everything he had been born into—suddenly felt like a burden, not a gift.
Mathias stepped forward, placing a hand on Ryker's shoulder, his expression a mix of concern and quiet understanding. "Ryker," he said gently, "you can't carry the world' on your shoulders. But if you want to make a difference, this is where it starts."
Ryker nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the retreating figures of the boy, his sister, and their unconscious mother. They were already disappearing into the distance, their silhouettes growing smaller with every passing second. Yet their pain lingered in the air, etched into his mind like a scar.
"Wait!" Ryker called after them, his voice firm yet earnest. He took a step forward, ignoring Mathias's hesitation. "I don't expect you to trust me or believe me. I don't even want your forgiveness. But… I want to help. Not because I'm a noble or because I have power, but because it's the right thing to do. Please, just let me try."
The boy paused in his tracks, his shoulders stiff. For a brief moment, it seemed like he might turn around. But instead, he shifted his mother's weight and resumed walking, his sister glancing back one last time with wary eyes before following him.
Ryker watched the boy, his sister, and their unconscious mother fade into the distance, their retreating figures small and fragile against the stark backdrop of the outer ring. The bitterness in the boy's words echoed in his mind, clashing with everything he had believed—or rather, everything he had been sheltered from. He felt as though the ground beneath him had shifted, leaving him unsteady, unsure of where to place his feet.
"I… didn't know," Ryker murmured, his voice trembling. His fists clenched by his sides as the weight of the boy's pain—an entire world of suffering he had never truly seen—pressed down on him. For the first time, he was forced to confront the truth: the privilege he had always taken for granted was built on the suffering of countless others.
Mathias, who had been silently observing, stepped forward. His hand came to rest on Ryker's shoulder, steady and firm. "Young master," he said quietly, "you've only just glimpsed what life is like for those outside the inner ring. It's harsh, unforgiving… and often worse than what you've seen here."
Ryker turned to Mathias, his voice hollow. "How could I have been so blind? How could I not have known?"
"Because no one wanted you to," Mathias replied simply. His tone was neither accusing nor harsh, but matter-of-fact. "That's the way the system works. The inner ring walls aren't just physical barriers—they're meant to shield people like you from the reality of what lies beyond."
Ryker's chest tightened. The anger that had simmered in the hover car now redirected itself—not at Mathias, not even at the boy, but at the system that had fostered such deep divisions.
"I can't… I can't let this stand," Ryker said, his voice firm despite the storm of emotions swirling within him. "I've lived in ignorance for too long. If my title means anything, then I'll use it to change this."
Mathias studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Change won't come easily," he warned. "And it won't come without sacrifice. You'll face opposition from within your own clan—maybe even from people you trust."
Ryker met Mathias's gaze, his resolve solidifying. "Then so be it. If I turn away now, I'll be no better than the nobles he spoke of. I have to try."
Mathias nodded, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Very well, young master. But know this—it's a long and difficult road, and you'll need allies who share your vision. Alone, you'll only get so far."
Ryker's thoughts drifted back to the boy and his haunting words. The boy might never trust him—might always see him as just another privileged noble. But perhaps, one day, he could make amends. Not with words, but with actions.
"Mathias," Ryker said, turning back toward the hover car. "Tell me everything. About the outer ring, about the people… about what I've been blind to all this time."
Mathias hesitated, then gave a small nod. "It's a long story, Ryker. But if you're ready, I'll tell you."
"I've got time," Ryker replied as he climbed back into the hover car. His gaze lingered on the horizon, where the boy and his family had disappeared. The faint hum of the engine filled the silence as the convoy began to move again, but Ryker's thoughts remained focused on the path ahead.