chapter 1
The name is Willock. Age 15, a high school student, but can't say been living a normal life. My story is like this: I have 0 friends. Not that I am a weak-looking twerp or a fat, smelly otaku, but literally the opposite. My lack of friends came from incidents that have been happening in my life. Backtrack to when I was 5 years old - since that is the oldest memory I have, I was exploring an abandoned building with three floors. When on the edge, I don't know what brought me there, the floor crashed, and I found myself falling face flat toward the ground. The cold, sharp air was cutting my skin, but instead of hitting the ground, I found myself levitating. My eyes became bulgy, my life flashed in front of me. After that, I practiced and owned it. I mean, I taught myself how to fly. It came naturally to me like me. I went back home and promised to never have friends, in fear that I might find myself in some lab on a remote area. I grew up to the age of 15. Along the way, I discovered that I had a good physique which made me dominate all types of sports throughout my school life. When I was still 15, the worst happened - or not. I got injured. I mean, my desk mate accidentally cut my wrist with a razor blade he brought for art class. It was pretty deep. I was taken to the school nurse, she patched me up, and I was given permission to rest early. I got home and just like any high schooler with free time, I played some online games. But in the process, I felt something crawling on my hand. It wasn't painful, but it felt disgusting. So I roughly cut off the bandage and what I witnessed horrified the hell out of me. I found my veins and blood connecting; the tendons and tissues were connecting themselves and in mere seconds, the place resembled like any other part of my skin: new and clean. That shocked me. I wasn't the freak in the family, if you can call it a family, when it is basically me and my dad only. I have never seen any other relatives of mine, not even my mom. My dad was ever young. He looked the same even in my baby photos; he looked above 20 but younger than 25. He was rich. We lived in a mansion that looked like a palace out of a fairytale, but my father never worked or went to the office. Sometimes some foreigners came, they begged my father to go with them, and he always rejected them. Something weird was that the man was always sad. On my birthdays, he did give me money to enjoy, but he never celebrated them. If it could count as weird among the car collecting of my dad, there was an antique black car that had no model, no number plate. Inside it, there were six buttons, which did nothing whenever I pressed them. That night, I decided to seek answers from him. He always arrived late, so when he came in, he said, 'So finally you want answers.' I didn't know how he knew what I needed but still I asked, 'Apart from levitation, flight, good physique, and this new healing factor, what else can I do?' He shook his head in a disappointed way and blurted, 'Being my son, you ought to do more. Dress up tomorrow; we are going back home to your forefathers.' I went to creating faces of cousins I will have. I imagined a big family in the countryside with a mansion, but I didn't know what the future held for me, so I slept looking forward to tomorrow. Abruptly, my slumber was invaded by light that was shone by the bulb in the room. I opened my eyes. It took some minutes to adjust to the light in the room. I found my father in the middle of the room, wearing a suit I never saw him wear. I mean the color; it was black with a noticeable black ring and a golden stick that had a Phoenix-shaped handle. He told me to dress up. As I was just like any other teenager, I wore black trousers, a white pullover, and some black sneakers, just like a typical New Yorker. Together we went to the garage. Upon stepping foot into the impeccably kept garage housing an array of vintage cars, my father and I were immediately drawn to a particular vehicle that appeared to be distinct from the others. It lacked the usual logos and intricate designs, giving off an air of mystery and intrigue. After a careful and thoughtful selection process, we decided to embark on a journey in this enigmatic car.
As we hit the highway, the smooth hum of the engine and the rush of wind against the car's frame enveloped us. Maintaining an average speed of 140km/h, the scenery outside blurred into a picturesque mosaic of colors and shapes.
Inquisitive by nature, I couldn't resist the temptation to inquire about the functions of the various buttons adorning the car's sleek interior. Turning to my father, I posed the question, "Father, what are the functions of these buttons?" His cryptic yet reassuring response, "You will soon find out," only added to the air of mystery surrounding our impromptu adventure.
With a swift and deliberate movement, my father activated one of the buttons, and the car's speed escalated dramatically. The sudden burst of acceleration was accompanied by a screeching noise, as if the car was pushing the limits of its capabilities. In a heartbeat, the surroundings outside became a blur, and before I could comprehend what was happening, we breached the spatial barrier and found ourselves hurtling into a rift, leaving the realm of the familiar behind.
The transition was nothing short of surreal as we emerged into a celestial scene unlike anything I had ever imagined. The road ahead of us shimmered with an otherworldly brilliance, crafted from a mesmerizing blend of emerald, glass, and gold. Despite the fantastical nature of our surroundings, a strange sense of familiarity washed over me, pushing back against any instinctual fear or disbelief.
For what felt like an eternity, we navigated this remarkable road, hurtling through space at speeds that defied comprehension, exceeding 500km/h. The passage of time seemed to warp and twist around us as we pressed on, our destination shrouded in mystery and anticipation.
Finally, after what felt like hours of exhilarating travel, we arrived at a grand castle gate, the imposing structure looming before us. Stepping out of the car, we were greeted by a peculiar event unfolding before our eyes, involving my father's interaction with the road itself, hinting at a deeper connection between him and this surreal world we had entered.
As we made our way inside the castle, we were met with a festive atmosphere unlike anything I had ever experienced. Unfamiliar yet strangely comprehensible chants echoed through the halls, exalting an enigmatic figure known as the "1st king," whose presence seemed to permeate every corner of the palace.
Our journey took a momentous turn as we approached a grand door guarded by imposing knights, who surprisingly granted us passage into the inner sanctum of the majestic palace. Inside, we were met with a sight that surpassed all expectations—a throne adorned with a rare crystal, occupied by a regal figure whose golden attributes matched the opulence of the surroundings.
Curiosity piqued, I dared to question the king's salutation, prompting a revelation that unraveled familial dynamics and unresolved history, casting a new light on the present and the past. Sensing my discomfort and confusion, my father urged me to explore the palace further, igniting a spark of apprehension within me about the consequences of straying too far within its mysterious confines.
As I meandered through the grand halls of the palace, my eyes fell upon a striking art drawing that gripped my attention. Depicted in vivid detail was a man, clad in a once black suit now drenched in crimson blood, towering ominously over a heap of brutally slain bodies. Beside this chilling display, another art piece awaited my perusal. Once again, the same man was present, his sinister figure commanding the scene. However, it was not his presence that captivated me; rather, it was the ethereal woman standing by his side. With hazel nut brown eyes mirroring my own and cascading silvery hair that gleamed under the gaze of unseen light, she possessed an otherworldly beauty. Clad in a breathtaking blue gown that seemed to flutter even in the stillness of the painting, she exuded grace and elegance. It was then that I forced myself to meet the gaze of the man depicted, only to be met with a shocking revelation - he was my father, the very same man responsible for the macabre scene before me.
The weight of this realization pressed upon my heart, threatening to overwhelm me. As I stared at the art piece in dismay, my eyes were drawn to the inscription at the bottom that read "KING SUMAN AND HIS WIFE ALTIA". The realization that the woman beside my father was none other than my mother, Altia, further deepened the turmoil within me. I grappled with a profound sense of loss, knowing that I would never have the chance to see her in the flesh or hear her voice. Despair consumed me as I sank to the floor beneath the haunting artwork, a raw cry of anguish escaping my lips and reverberating through the empty corridors of the palace.
In the depths of my turmoil, a sudden interruption shattered the heavy silence. The rhythmic click of heel shoes against the marble floor heralded the arrival of an unexpected presence. A smooth, melodious voice addressed me, inquiring about the cause of my evident distress and jesting about a potential earthly love left behind. Startled by the intrusion, I lifted my head to behold a woman whose identity remained a mystery to me. With a voice thick with emotion, I managed to croak out the question that burned within me, "Who are you, ma'am?"
The woman's gaze softened as she regarded me with a mixture of sympathy and familiarity. "Why is my only and favorite nephew so despondent?" she mused, her words laden with a hint of affection. Though her question was light-hearted, I sensed an underlying depth to her inquiry, as if she knew more than she let on. Confusion gnawed at me, mingling with a flicker of hope that this woman might hold answers to the questions that tormented my soul. Emotions warred within me - grief, anger, and a glimmer of curiosity mingling in a tumultuous storm of inner turmoil.
As I struggled to make sense of the situation, the woman before me remained a enigmatic figure, her presence both calming and disconcerting. In that moment of vulnerability and despair, I found myself drawn to her, seeking solace in the midst of chaos. With a heavy heart and a mind clouded with unanswered questions, I awaited her next words, hoping for a glimmer of clarity in the darkness that surrounded me.