Aaron awoke slowly, the darkness around him thick and oppressive. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was or how he had gotten there. The cold, hard floor beneath him was a harsh contrast to the comfort of his bed back home, and the air was heavy with the scent of mildew and decay. It wasn't until the events of the previous night came rushing back that the reality of his situation hit him like a punch to the gut.
He sat up quickly, his eyes darting around the decrepit room. The walls were cracked, with paint peeling away in long strips, and the windows were shattered, letting in the faint, eerie glow of the city outside. It was then that he noticed Nicholas, lying beside him, his small body curled up tightly, as if trying to make himself disappear.
"Nicholas…" Aaron whispered, reaching out to his little brother.
But Nicholas didn't respond. His eyes were open, staring blankly at nothing in particular, his face devoid of any emotion. It was as if he were somewhere else entirely, his mind detached from the horrors that had unfolded. The light in his eyes was gone, replaced by a hollow, vacant stare that made Aaron's heart clench painfully.
"Nick… please," Aaron pleaded softly, gently shaking his brother's shoulder.
Still, there was no response, just that same blank expression. Nicholas's small body trembled slightly, but his face remained passive, as if he couldn't process what had happened, or perhaps didn't want to.
Aaron felt a wave of despair wash over him. Seeing his brother like this, so broken and lost, was almost too much to bear. He wanted to reach out, to comfort Nicholas, to tell him that everything would be okay. But he knew that was a lie. Nothing was okay, and the world they knew had been shattered beyond recognition.
Desperate for some semblance of hope, Aaron reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone Ezekiel had given him. The small device felt like a lifeline in his hand, something tangible that he could cling to amidst the chaos. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, Ezekiel would answer, that the old man would somehow make everything right again.
But as Aaron stared at the phone, a sinking realization began to set in. Ezekiel had given him his only phone. There was no way for Ezekiel to reach out to him now, no way for him to know if Aaron and Nicholas were safe. The hope that had briefly flared up inside Aaron flickered and began to die.
He refused to give up, though. He couldn't. Not with Nicholas in the state he was in. With trembling hands, Aaron scrolled through the contacts in the phone, finding names he didn't recognize—people Ezekiel had once known, perhaps trusted. He selected the first name and pressed call, holding his breath as the phone rang.
"Hello?" a gruff, older man's voice answered.
Aaron's heart leaped with hope. "Please, I need help! My brother and I—"
"Who is this?" the man interrupted, his tone impatient.
"My name is Aaron," he said quickly. "Ezekiel gave me this phone, and—"
"Look, kid," the man cut him off, his voice now tinged with annoyance. "I don't know who you are, but this isn't funny. Don't play games on this line."
Before Aaron could say another word, the call ended. The harsh beep of the disconnected line echoed in the quiet room, making Aaron's chest tighten with fear. He didn't have time to dwell on it. He had to try again.
He dialed another number, this time a woman's name. The phone rang, and Aaron's anxiety grew with each passing second. When the woman answered, her voice was cold and professional.
"Hello, who is this?"
"Please, I need help," Aaron began, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. "My brother and I—"
"Is this a prank? Where did you get this number?"
"No! I'm telling the truth! We're in Vale City, and we—"
"I don't have time for this," the woman snapped, cutting him off before ending the call.
Aaron dropped the phone into his lap, his hands shaking. Each call he made, each time he tried to reach out, he was met with the same cold dismissal. They didn't believe him. They didn't care. He was just a child in their eyes, not worth their time.
His vision blurred with tears as he stared at the phone, feeling the last threads of hope slip through his fingers. For a moment, he was paralyzed, unsure of what to do next. The weight of responsibility, of being the one to protect Nicholas, was crushing him.
He glanced at his brother, still sitting there with that blank, hollow stare. Aaron's heart ached with the need to do something, anything, to bring Nicholas back to him. He couldn't let his brother slip away like this, not after everything they had lost.
Taking a deep breath, Aaron wiped the tears from his eyes and steeled himself. He couldn't rely on anyone else. It was up to him now. He had to be strong, for both of them.
"I'm here, Nicholas," Aaron whispered, his voice trembling but determined. "I'll protect you. I promise."
With that resolve burning in his chest, Aaron slipped the phone back into his pocket and stood up, gently pulling Nicholas to his feet. The world outside was dangerous and unknown, but they couldn't stay here. They had to move, to find something, somewhere that would keep them safe.
Aaron led Nicholas to the door, his grip firm but gentle. As they stepped out into the harsh light of Vale City, Aaron cast one last look at the abandoned building. It had given them shelter for the night, but it couldn't protect them from the dangers that lurked in the city's shadows.
They stepped out into the city, leaving the darkness of the building behind, with the knowledge that the struggle was just beginning.
Aaron held Nicholas's hand tightly as they navigated the grimy, narrow streets of Vale City. The lower part of the city was a far cry from the life they once knew. The streets were crowded and dirty, filled with people who moved with a purpose that had nothing to do with kindness or charity. The air was thick with the smell of garbage, smoke, and something else—something acrid and unpleasant that clung to the back of Aaron's throat.
They were on the outskirts of the city, but as they moved deeper into the heart of the lower district, the environment grew even more oppressive. The buildings were tall and close together, their facades crumbling and stained with years of neglect. The streets were littered with refuse, and the people who passed them by were hardened, their eyes cold and suspicious.
Aaron and Nicholas looked out of place here. Their clothes were torn and tattered, filthy from their desperate flight the night before. Aaron's shoes were scuffed, the soles worn thin, and Nicholas's small feet dragged as he walked, his energy clearly depleted. They were young—far too young to be wandering these streets alone—and their appearance marked them as easy prey.
Aaron's stomach growled loudly, the hunger pangs sharp and insistent. They hadn't eaten since the morning before, and the long night of running and hiding had taken its toll. But they had no money, no way to buy food, and Aaron's mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do.
As they continued down the street, they came across an open market, a small gathering of vendors selling various goods—grilled meats, fruits, vegetables, and other necessities. The sight of the food made Aaron's mouth water, and he could feel Nicholas's grip tighten on his hand as they both stared longingly at the stalls.
But Aaron knew they couldn't simply take what they wanted. They had nothing to trade, nothing to offer in exchange. They were just two hungry kids in a city that didn't care whether they lived or died.
Aaron led Nicholas down a nearby alleyway, away from the prying eyes of the market-goers. The alley was narrow and dimly lit, the walls on either side covered in graffiti and grime. He set Nicholas down on a small crate, kneeling in front of him.
"Nick," Aaron said softly, his voice trembling with a mix of determination and fear. "I need you to stay here for a little bit, okay? I'm going to try and get us some food."
Nicholas didn't respond, his eyes still blank, his expression vacant. He simply stared at Aaron, his small body trembling slightly. Aaron's heart ached at the sight, but he forced himself to focus. He had to do this. He had to make sure they survived.
"Don't move from here," Aaron continued, gently brushing a strand of hair out of Nicholas's face. "I'll be right back, I promise."
With one last look at his brother, Aaron stood up and turned back toward the market. His heart pounded in his chest as he walked toward the nearest stall, a fruit stand run by an older man with a balding head and a thick, scraggly beard. The man was dressed in a dirty tank top, his skin slick with sweat, and he was smoking what looked like a cigarette, the end glowing dimly in the shade.
Aaron approached cautiously, his eyes downcast, trying to summon the courage to speak. When he finally did, his voice was small, almost lost in the noise of the market.
"Excuse me, sir," Aaron began, his voice cracking slightly. "Could I please have some fruit? My brother and I… we haven't eaten in a while."
The old man looked down at Aaron, his expression one of disdain. He took a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke directly into Aaron's face.
"Dirty street urchins," the man muttered, shaking his head. "Always looking for a handout. Why don't you figure out how to get some money and stop begging?"
Aaron's face flushed with humiliation, his eyes stinging from the smoke and the man's harsh words. He opened his mouth to protest, to plead, but the man waved him off dismissively, turning his attention back to the other customers.
Defeated, Aaron stepped back, his mind swirling with a mix of shame and desperation. He had tried to do the right thing, to ask for help, but the man's words had cut deep. He knew now that no one in this city would help them—not out of kindness, at least.
He moved through the market, keeping his head down, his eyes scanning the stalls for any opportunity. His stomach twisted with hunger, and his mind raced with possibilities. They needed food, and if no one would give it to them, he would have to take it.
He approached another stall, this one selling dried meats. The vendor, a younger woman in her mid-thirties, was busy with another customer, her back turned to her goods. She was pretty, with dark hair tied back in a neat bun, and she wore a simple apron over her clothes. Aaron noticed that she wasn't paying close attention to the food on display.
This was his chance.
Heart pounding, Aaron reached out quickly, his hand shaking as he grabbed a small handful of the dried meats. Just as he was about to pull back, the woman turned around, her eyes locking onto him.
"Hey!" she shouted, her voice sharp with anger. "What do you think you're doing?"
Panic surged through Aaron, and before he knew it, he was running, the stolen food clutched tightly in his hand. He darted through the crowded market, weaving between people, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The woman's angry shouts echoed behind him, but he didn't dare look back.
Aaron's Aura flared around him, giving him a burst of speed as he dashed down the alleyway. In moments, he was back at Nicholas's side, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.
"I got it," Aaron gasped, holding up the stolen food. "I got some food."
Nicholas barely reacted, his blank stare still fixed on the ground. Aaron's heart twisted painfully at the sight, but he forced a smile and handed Nicholas a piece of the dried meat.
"Here, Nick. Eat this," Aaron said, his voice gentle despite the turmoil inside him.
Nicholas took the food mechanically, his movements slow and deliberate. He chewed in silence, the sound of his teeth grinding against the tough meat the only noise in the alley.
They ate in silence, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken grief and fear. As they finished, Nicholas suddenly let out a small moan, his eyes wide and unfocused. He mumbled something under his breath, his voice barely audible.
Aaron leaned in closer, his heart racing. "What is it, Nick? What's wrong?"
Nicholas turned to Aaron, his eyes filled with confusion and a glimmer of fear. "Where's Mom?" he asked, his voice small and trembling. "Where's Mom, Aaron?"
The question hit Aaron like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of him. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The reality of their situation, the horror of what had happened, all came crashing down on him at once.
He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. How could he explain to his little brother that their mother was gone? That she had died protecting them, and they would never see her again?
Tears welled up in Aaron's eyes, but he blinked them back, forcing himself to stay strong. "I… I don't know, Nick," he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know."
Nicholas didn't respond. He simply turned away, his blank expression returning as he stared down at the ground.
Aaron felt like he was suffocating, the weight of everything crushing him from all sides. He had stolen food, gone against everything their mother had taught him, and still, he couldn't protect Nicholas from the truth.
For the first time, Aaron truly understood the depth of the struggle they were facing. It wasn't just about survival—it was about holding on to who they were, to the values their mother had instilled in them, in a world that seemed determined to strip it all away.
As they sat there in the alley, the stolen food sitting heavy in their stomachs, Aaron made a silent promise to himself. He would protect Nicholas, no matter what it took. He would do whatever he had to, even if it meant compromising his own morals.
But as he looked at his little brother, so broken and lost, Aaron couldn't shake the feeling that they were teetering on the edge of something dark and unforgiving.
And he wasn't sure if he could pull them back.
The sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden light that filtered through the buildings of Vale City, painting the gritty streets with a fleeting warmth. For a brief moment, as the rays of sunlight touched his face, Aaron felt a sense of peace, a small reminder that despite everything, the world continued to turn. The sun still rose and set, and perhaps, just perhaps, things might be okay.
But that moment of peace was short-lived. Aaron quickly shook the feeling off, refocusing on the task at hand. They needed help, real help, and they needed it soon. His mind drifted to Ezekiel, hoping against hope that someone in the city might know him, might be able to guide them to safety.
Aaron and Nicholas continued to make their way through the lower district, their steps weary but determined. The area was rough, filled with the kinds of people who had learned to fend for themselves in a world that offered them little kindness. The buildings were tall, casting long shadows over the narrow streets, and the air was thick with the scent of smoke, sweat, and desperation.
They kept their heads down, moving quickly, hoping to avoid drawing attention. Aaron's eyes scanned the streets, searching for any sign of the Aura Guards, the enforcers of the Nexus of Balance. They were supposed to keep order in the city, to protect the people. If anyone could help them, it would be the Aura Guards.
Finally, after what felt like hours of searching, Aaron spotted them—two men in the distinctive uniform of the Aura Guards, patrolling the street ahead. They were young, maybe in their early twenties, and they moved with the confidence of those who believed themselves untouchable.
Aaron's heart leaped with hope, and he tightened his grip on Nicholas's hand, pulling him toward the guards. "Come on, Nick. We're going to get help."
As they approached, Aaron felt a flicker of anxiety. What if these guards didn't know Ezekiel? What if they couldn't help? But he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the fact that they had no other choice.
"Excuse me," Aaron called out as they neared the guards. "Please, we need help."
The two guards turned to look at them, their expressions hardening as they took in the sight of the two boys—dirty, disheveled, clearly out of place in this part of the city.
"What do you want, kid?" one of the guards asked, his tone dismissive.
Aaron swallowed his nerves and spoke quickly, trying to convey the urgency of their situation. "My name is Aaron, and this is my brother Nicholas. We… we need help. We were with a man named Ezekiel—he used to be an Aura Guard. Do you know him? He's tall, about 6'5", older, in great shape, with short gray hair. He—he saved us last night."
The guards exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. One of them, the taller of the two, frowned slightly. "Ezekiel, huh? Never heard of him. And I've been with the Nexus for a while now. You sure you're not just making this up?"
"No!" Aaron insisted, his voice rising with desperation. "I swear, he's real. He—he's the one who protected us, but we got separated. Please, we need to find him. He's the only one who can help us."
The second guard snorted, shaking his head. "You kids are just wasting our time. Probably just another bunch of homeless brats looking for a free handout. You should be worrying about where you're going to sleep tonight instead of chasing after some imaginary hero."
Aaron felt a wave of anger and frustration welling up inside him, but he forced it down. "We're not lying," he said, his voice trembling. "We just… we don't have anywhere else to go."
The guards looked at each other again, and for a moment, Aaron thought he saw a flicker of something—pity, perhaps—in their eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a cold, hard indifference.
"Look, kid," the first guard said, his tone softening slightly but still firm. "We've got real work to do. We can't be babysitting every lost child who wanders into the district. My advice? Find a shelter and stay out of trouble."
With that, the guards turned and walked away, their conversation already shifting to other topics as if Aaron and Nicholas had never existed.
Aaron stood there, staring after them, feeling utterly defeated. The hope that had sparked to life when he saw the guards now flickered out, leaving behind only a cold, empty space in his chest.
"Come on, Nick," Aaron whispered, turning away. "We'll find someone else. Someone who can really help."
They continued to move through the streets, but the sense of despair was growing with each step. The sun was beginning to set, the golden light fading into a dull gray as evening approached. They needed to find shelter, somewhere to hide for the night, but every alley and side street they explored seemed more dangerous than the last.
As they rounded a corner into a narrow alleyway, Aaron felt a chill run down his spine. The alley was dimly lit, with only a few flickering lights casting long shadows on the walls. It was here, in this hidden part of the city, that they ran into the group of thugs.
There were five of them, all young men dressed in matching colors, their postures relaxed but predatory. They were clearly part of a gang, and the moment they saw Aaron and Nicholas, their eyes lit up with interest.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one of the thugs sneered, stepping forward. He was tall and lean, with a nasty scar running down the side of his face. "Looks like a couple of lost little lambs wandered into the wrong part of town."
The other thugs chuckled, their eyes fixed on the two boys. Aaron instinctively stepped in front of Nicholas, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew they were in serious trouble.
"Hey, boss," another thug said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Think these two might fetch a good price on the black market? I hear there's always a demand for fresh, young blood."
The leader of the group grinned, a cruel, twisted smile that sent a wave of fear through Aaron's body. "Oh, I'm sure they would. No one's going to miss a couple of street kids, right?"
The thugs began to close in, surrounding Aaron and Nicholas, cutting off any chance of escape. One of them reached out, grabbing Nicholas by the arm and yanking him away from Aaron.
The sight of his brother being manhandled like that sent Aaron into a blind rage. The fear, the despair, the frustration—it all boiled over, igniting something deep within him. His Aura flared to life, stronger and more powerful than it had ever been, even in his weakened state.
"Let him go!" Aaron shouted, his voice trembling with raw emotion.
The thugs hesitated, startled by the sudden surge of energy that radiated from Aaron. But the leader quickly recovered, his grin widening as he realized the boy was about to put up a fight.
"Looks like we've got a feisty one," he sneered. "Let's see how long you last, kid."
But Aaron wasn't listening. His world had narrowed down to one singular focus—protecting Nicholas. He charged forward, his Aura blazing around him, and threw himself at the nearest thug.
The fight that followed was brutal and chaotic. Aaron moved with a speed and strength that surprised even him, his blows landing with a force that sent the thugs reeling. He was smaller, younger, but his Aura gave him the edge, driving him forward with a ferocity born of desperation.
Within moments, two of the thugs lay motionless on the ground, their bodies broken and lifeless. Blood stained Aaron's hands, the sight of it both horrifying and surreal. The remaining thugs, beaten and bloodied, scrambled to escape, their confidence shattered by the unexpected power of the boy they had underestimated.
Aaron stood there, breathing heavily, his Aura still pulsing around him like a wild, untamed beast. He looked down at his hands, covered in blood, and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He had killed them—two men, dead by his hands. And yet, he felt no satisfaction, no relief. Only a deep, overwhelming emptiness.
Nicholas, who had been frozen in fear during the fight, now looked up at Aaron, his eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and awe.
Aaron's heart broke at the sight. He had done what he needed to do, what he had promised himself he would do—protect Nicholas. But at what cost?
He had crossed a line, one that he could never uncross, and the weight of it pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket.
"We… we have to go," Aaron whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling. "We can't stay here."
Nicholas nodded silently, his expression still distant, as if he couldn't fully process what had just happened. Aaron took his brother's hand, his grip firm but gentle, and led him away from the alley, away from the blood and the bodies.
As they walked, the last remnants of sunlight disappeared, plunging the city into darkness. But Aaron didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He had to find a way to protect Nicholas, no matter what it took.
Even if it meant becoming something he never wanted to be.
They walked in silence, the chill of the evening settling in as the city around them darkened. The adrenaline from the fight was fading, leaving Aaron exhausted and on edge. Every shadow seemed to hide a new threat, every noise a potential danger. But they couldn't stop, not yet. Not until they found somewhere to rest, somewhere safe.
But as they continued, a figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the dim light of a flickering streetlamp. Aaron's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the expensive suit, the red tie, the slicked-back hair. The man stood tall and confident, his presence dominating the space around him.
He was probably in his mid-thirties, with sharp features and piercing red eyes that seemed to glow in the low light. He had a small amount of facial hair, neatly trimmed, and held a cigar between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the air.
"Quite the show you put on back there, kid," the man said, his voice smooth and laced with a mocking tone. "I've got to say, I'm impressed. Didn't think a kid like you had it in you to take out those thugs so easily."
Aaron stiffened, instinctively moving Nicholas behind him. The man's presence was overwhelming, and there was something deeply unsettling about the way he looked at Aaron, as if he could see right through him.
"Who are you?" Aaron demanded, his voice wavering slightly despite his attempt to sound strong.
The man chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. He took another puff of his cigar before answering. "The name's Dante. Dante Omen." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Aaron's. "And you, my young friend, have caught my interest."
Aaron didn't respond, his body tense as he watched Dante carefully. There was something about this man that screamed danger, but at the same time, Aaron couldn't ignore the small flicker of hope that sparked in his chest. Maybe this man could help them—maybe he could get them out of this nightmare.
"I've been where you are, you know," Dante continued, his tone almost conversational. "Lost, desperate, willing to do whatever it takes to survive. We're a lot alike, you and me."
He took another step forward, and Aaron had to fight the urge to back away. Dante knelt down so that he was eye level with Aaron, his expression softening into something that almost resembled compassion, though the cold glint in his eyes betrayed the facade.
"You're strong, kid," Dante said, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Stronger than most. I can help you, give you the training you need to harness that power, to protect your brother, to never feel weak or afraid again."
Aaron's heart pounded in his chest. The offer was tempting—too tempting. But there was something about Dante, something that set off alarm bells in his head. This man wasn't good. Aaron could feel it in his Aura, a deep, instinctual sense that Dante was dangerous.
But what choice did he have? They were alone, vulnerable, with no one else to turn to. They needed food, shelter, safety—things Dante was offering. And Aaron was tired—so tired of running, of being afraid, of feeling like the world was closing in on them.
Dante's smile widened, as if he could sense Aaron's hesitation, his internal struggle. "All I ask in return is that you let me train you, that you work for me. In exchange, you and your brother will have everything you need—a safe place to live, food, clothes, protection. Doesn't that sound good, Aaron?"
Aaron's breath hitched at the sound of his name. This man knew who he was—he'd been watching them, knew more than he let on. But even with the unease that coiled in his stomach , Aaron found himself nodding slowly.
"What about Nicholas?" Aaron asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Will you protect him too?"
Dante's gaze flicked to Nicholas, who was peeking out from behind Aaron with wide, frightened eyes. The man's expression softened, but the sinister undertone remained. "Of course, I'll protect him. I'll protect both of you. You'll be like family."
Family. The word hit Aaron hard, a pang of grief stabbing through his chest as he thought of his mother. The idea of having someone—anyone—who could help them, who could offer them a semblance of safety, was too much to resist.
With a shaky breath, Aaron reached out and took Dante's hand, the man's grip firm and cold. "Okay," Aaron whispered. "We'll go with you."
Dante's smile widened, a gleam of triumph in his red eyes. "Smart choice, kid. You won't regret it."
But as Aaron looked into those eyes, a chill ran down his spine. Deep down, he knew he had just made a deal with the devil.
Five Years Later
The world had changed. Aaron was no longer the scared, desperate boy he had been. He had grown, hardened by the years of training under Dante's watchful eye. Nicholas, too, had changed, though in different ways. The city that once seemed so large and terrifying had become their home—a twisted, dangerous home, but a home nonetheless.
But as the years passed, the weight of the decision Aaron had made that day continued to press down on him. The deal he had struck, the path he had chosen—it all led to this moment, five years later.
And now, there was no turning back.