The Weight of Zero

Kael Arvid moved through the narrow alleys of Nevaris, his gaze fixed on the ground, trying to blend into the shadows. The city pulsed around him, a living organism of light, noise, and the dazzling abilities of its inhabitants. But amidst the brilliance lay the shadows—figures huddled on the ground, their bodies broken by hunger and despair. Kael clenched his teeth. This is what Nevaris looks like when you're worthless. This is where I'll end up if I don't do something.

A sudden crash snapped him out of his thoughts. A man with a rank of 67 sent sparks flying from his fingertips, aiming them at the motionless bodies on the ground. The crowd around him cheered as he used them like living targets. Another man, his skin hardened like stone, carried heavy crates as if they were weightless. Kael felt the bitterness of envy on his tongue, followed by a cold shiver as the stone-skinned man ordered a young woman to hold out her arms for one of the crates. She looked no older than 16, her face etched with fear. She stretched out her arms, trembling under the weight of the crate. For a moment, it seemed like she might hold it—but then the load dragged her down. A crack, a scream, then silence. Blood pooled beneath her, and her sobs for mercy were drowned out by the crowd's applause. Seconds later, she lay motionless, her arms twisted, her life extinguished.

Kael turned away, his stomach churning. He couldn't afford to stop and stare. When he glanced at Lira, he didn't see the reaction he'd hoped for—or rather, the one he'd expected. Instead of horror or disgust, her eyes gleamed with something far worse—admiration. Pure, unfiltered admiration.

"I need to get something," he muttered, leaving his sister behind as she watched the "show" in a trance. She nodded absently to show she'd heard him, while Kael slipped into the next alley. There, he gave in to the nausea, vomiting the meager contents of his stomach onto the ground. Wiping his mouth with a quick swipe of his hand, he headed for the merchant quarter, where Vestiges were sold.

These mysterious objects, said to grant abilities, were his last hope. Vestiges were rare, almost magical items that could only be used a limited number of times. No one knew where they came from or how they were made, but they were coveted—and expensive. Kael barely had enough money for a meal, let alone a Vestige. But he had a plan.

In a dark corner of the market, he found the man he was looking for: Garrick, a shady dealer known for his "special" wares. With a rank of 48, Garrick moved among the middle class, but his reputation was far from honorable.

"Garrick," Kael whispered as he approached. "I need something... unusual."

Garrick eyed him skeptically. "You? What does a kid like you want with my goods?"

Kael considered telling the truth but quickly dismissed the idea. Instead, he forced a grin and pulled a small, shiny coin from his pocket. "I've got money. And I need something to help me... improve my rank."

Garrick laughed, a rough, hollow sound. "Improve, huh?" His eyes flicked to Kael's wristband, the glaring zero displayed for all to see. He leaned in, his breath reeking of cheap alcohol. "You know what happens to people who try to pull stunts like that?"

Kael opened his mouth to reply, but Garrick suddenly grabbed him, yanking the coin from his hand. "You're a Zero! A slave! A thing to be thrown away! You've got no right to buy anything!" With a swift motion, he shoved Kael back, sending a shockwave rippling through the air—his ability.

Kael slammed into a shelf, pain shooting through his body as the shockwave tore through his skin and bones. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed an object from the shelf and bolted for the door. Behind him, Garrick's furious curses echoed through the market.

In his hand, Kael clutched a Vestige—his last hope.