"Do you ever regret that decision?"
Ezra's smile faltered, stiffening on his lips. Across from him, the interviewer waited in a heavy silence. It had been five months since he had been kicked out of the Olympic team, yet the question seemed to follow him into every room he entered.
He always gave the same answer.
"Never."
He had never once regretted choosing his wife and their unborn child over a slot on the Olympic team.
The interviewer studied him, eyes narrowed in a search for some hidden crack in his resolve. A strange mix of emotions flickered across the man's face. Whether it was pity or disdain, Ezra couldn't tell. But one thing was certain…..
"Our company requires someone reliable."
….he wasn't getting this job.
This was his twentieth interview, and every time, the rejection was masked behind that same word. Reliability. Ezra took a sharp breath, forcing the polite mask back into place.
"I hope you find a candidate who meets your standards. Thank you for your time."
He offered a brief bow and turned toward the exit. He was halfway to the door when the interviewer's voice drifted after him.
"You still have a chance."
Ezra paused- just a half-step-then kept walking. He knew he still had a chance. But he had already made his choice.
Family.
*
* *
It was the beginning of summer. The temperature was supposed to be warmer, but for some reason, a gloominess covered the sky.
Bundled in a thick coat, Ezra paced the paved paths, his breath hitching in the damp air. He pulled out his phone, a small vibration signaling a message from his wife.
[Your Owner: I am waiting for you at the hospital. Come asap, or you are sleeping on the couch today.]
A genuine smile broke through his weary expression. She had saved herself in his contacts that way on their wedding night, laughing as she did it, daring him to change it.
He never had. Today was her five-month checkup. He hated that he had missed it, but the interview had been a necessary gamble.
After all, their savings were dwindling faster than he cared to admit. The noon had already passed.
He needed to move faster.
The community hospital was on the city's far outskirts, the only facility within their meager budget. By public transport, it was a grueling three-hour trek.
Ezra reached the bus stop, a desolate patch of sidewalk marked only by a rusted timetable. Not even a bench for people to rest.
"Fucking capitalists," he muttered, leaning his weight against the metal post and closing his eyes for a fleeting moment of rest.
A sudden surge of noise from across the street snapped him back to attention. A crowd had gathered around a sleek promotional stall. Ezra's pulse quickened when he recognized the branding.
"Crusades?"
The name carried the weight of his former life. They were the titans of the industry, masters of every sporting craft.
Back when his face was on every highlight reel, they had hounded him with endorsement deals and custom gear. He still remembered the balance of their bows. Almost involuntarily, his feet began to carry him toward the display.
Behind a glass partition lay a recurve bow that looked less like equipment and more like a work of art. The woman staffing the stall spotted him immediately. Her professional smile faltered into a look of genuine intrigue as she took him in.
Ezra was difficult to ignore. He stood well over six feet, his hair dark as a moonless night. His hazel eyes were sharp, framed by the rugged contours of a face that had seen too much stress of late.
Despite the dark circles and the unkempt shadow of a beard, he carried the unmistakable, coiled grace of an elite athlete.
"Young man, are you interested in the challenge?"
Ezra tore his gaze away from the glass. The woman had closed the distance between them, watching him expectantly. He stepped back, a frown deepening the lines on his forehead.
"Not interested."
His bus was due in less than thirty minutes. He did not have time for games. But the woman was undeterred, sensing a spark of something beneath his cold exterior.
"Don't be so quick to walk away. Look at the prize," she said, thrusting a glossy brochure into his hand. Ezra's eyes skimmed the text until they landed on the bold figures at the bottom.
[4500 USD]
'What the hell!' His eyes almost popped out. This was what he earned in two months working every day without leave. He controlled his emotions as he read the conditions of the challenge.
Sure enough, the task was daunting. He had to strike the eye of a moving dummy a hundred meters away.
There were two rows of targets; the arrow had to pierce the eye of a dummy in the first row and continue its flight to strike the eye of a second dummy in the back row.
Most importantly, the arrow could not pass through the bodies; it had to be a clean, impossible line through the eye sockets.
It was almost impossible for anyone.
But for him...
A slow smile graced his lips, and the woman at the stall felt a sudden, awkward heat rise to her cheeks.
"Is the entry free?" he asked.
"Y-yes," she stammered, clearing her throat.
Ezra did not wait for another word. He stepped into the cordoned-off challenge area, his eyes fixed on the bow. Up close, it was even more impressive.
"It's called the Heavenly Slayer," she said, her voice regaining its pride. "Our new flagship model."
Ezra nodded, his hand reaching out to claim the weapon. Time was a luxury he did not have; he needed that prize, and he needed to catch his bus.
He stepped onto the plush rug, his fingers tracing the riser. It was forged from a proprietary magnesium titanium alloy that felt like a natural extension of his own arm.
The limbs, laminated with layers of cross-weave carbon, were finished in a matte obsidian that seemed to drink the ambient light.
On the table lay the arrows, which were miracles of aerodynamics with tungsten points and neon blue vanes.
In the world of archery, this was the pinnacle.
The moment his fingers brushed the string, Ezra's entire aura shifted. The weariness vanished.
His stance widened, his spine straightened, and his mind began to process variables: wind speed, humidity, and the rhythmic oscillation of the targets.
He nocked the arrow, the click echoing in the sudden silence of the crowd. He drew the string back to his cheek, his hazel eyes locking onto the target with predatory focus.
"You have ten minutes to ai—"
Before she could finish the sentence, the string hummed.
The arrow was gone. It blurred through the air, a streak of neon blue that hissed as it cut the wind. The sound of the impact was a sharp thwack.
The woman stared blankly at the targets, then back at Ezra, her mouth hanging open in total disbelief.
That was the last moment of the world she knew.
Without warning, the vibrant colors of the world were swallowed by a void so absolute it felt physical. It was not just darkness; it was a total sensory blackout.
Ezra tried to gasp, but his lungs refused to expand. He tried to blink, but his eyelids were fused in place.
Time itself seemed to have curdled into a thick, unmoving sludge. He was a statue trapped in a vacuum, conscious but paralyzed, suspended in a terrifying nothingness that felt like it lasted for seconds and centuries all at once.
"Am I having a stroke?" his mind dreaded. The images of his wife appeared in his mind. What would happen to her if he died now?
The simple thought of a five-month pregnant woman alone in this treacherous world terrified him.
Then, as abruptly as it had vanished, the world slammed back into existence.
Ezra stumbled. Everything returned to normal, yet everything felt abnormal. Suddenly, he heard a high-pitched whine from the right.
The sound died down in seconds, replaced by growling.
The woman before him collapsed, her body writhing violently against the pavement. Before his eyes, her skull split in two with a sickening crack.
A brain emerged from the gore, suspended by a pair of thick, slick tentacles. A pair of bulbous eyes hung from the grey matter, twitching as they adjusted to the light.
An involuntary gasp escaped his lips. The eyes on the brain snapped toward him, and her entire twisted body followed the motion.
Ezra did not hesitate. He pulled another arrow from the quiver and fired it straight into the pulsating mass.
The thing stopped moving.
The crowd was screaming now. Somewhere behind him, glass shattered. The world he had known twenty seconds ago was already gone, and he had a feeling it was not coming back.
He had only two worries now.
Would his wife be safe? And would he still get the rewards?
4500 USD was not a small amount. But first, he had to reach into safety.