Gawder walked through the faded alleys,
heading toward the outskirts of the neighborhood.
There…
stood the giant landfill.
When he was a child,
a strange rumor had spread:
that beneath it flowed a river of cola.
He dreamed of visiting it one day,
to drink from it.
He grew up…
and realized it had only been a joke.
—
Despite the smell,
the place was quiet.
Empty.
Perfect for gathering his thoughts.
At the bottom of the hill,
there was a cemetery among the trees.
And in the distance,
the mountain could be seen.
Nature that had been erased…
but still refused to disappear.
He headed toward the cemetery.
The place was safe during the day.
But at night…
it was filled with the lost:
bandits,
drunks,
and faces that gave no hint of what they were hiding.
—
As he walked between the trees,
he thought about his father.
The way he had treated him was not right.
It was not respectful.
He knew that.
But…
he felt it was necessary.
He was not sad because he had been punished.
He was sad…
because of his father's gaze.
That look.
It was deeper than any scream.
Crueler than any blow.
It kept sinking into his heart.
It was the first time he had faced him like that.
And he was not satisfied with himself.
He did not know what to do.
—
At the entrance of the cemetery,
he raised his head.
And looked ahead.
Then he froze.
—
Two…
were suspended in the air.
He was outside their field,
so he could not hear the sound that kept them aloft.
But he could see them.
The first…
masked.
Wearing worn-out black clothes,
but they looked comfortable.
The second…
had bright green hair.
A confident smile,
as if he were enjoying himself.
He wore modern clothes,
with earrings in his ears and nose.
They were focused.
On each other.
—
From Gawder's perspective…
this was strange.
Most operators in the city
used devices for work.
Not for pleasure.
—
And in a single second…
they collided.
Without warning.
It was a magical display.
Like a dream.
He could not keep up with their movements.
Nor their strength.
Everything…
was beyond anything familiar.
He stood there, stunned.
Not asking: Why are they fighting?
But:
What are those movements?
As if the limits inside his mind had been a lie.
As if he were watching a living painting.
Freedom.
Pure.
He did not blink.
He did not breathe.
He heard nothing from inside the field.
But what he saw…
was enough to fill
the emptiness inside him.
To open horizons he had never known.
—
Suddenly…
the masked man in black struck his opponent.
And sent him flying.
He shot out of their field,
falling at an insane speed…
right beside Gawder.
He crashed into the ground.
Dust.
The sound of impact.
But Gawder…
was still staring above.
He did not move.
Shocked.
From the sky…
the masked man approached, shouting:
— ASHURA!
Gawder turned toward the fallen man.
He saw the green-haired man smiling.
Blood at the corner of his mouth.
But…
his eyes were confident.
He looked at Gawder without a care.
Then…
he extended his hand.
And unleashed his field.