...The situation is heating up more and more! At the council of all powers, the rulers of the six regions are on the verge of breaking down! They're barely holding themselves back from tearing into each other!
The young man sat on the train, scrolling through the news.
"As always, they're exaggerating for the hype," he muttered.
Around him, people stood or sat, engrossed in their own affairs.
Getting off at his stop, he walked home. It wasn't far.
Night had already fallen, 10:08 p.m. For him, this was routine. From morning to evening, he studied at the university, then worked as a waiter late into the night.
"I'm home," he said, stepping inside and kicking off his shoes in complete silence.
He hadn't heard a response to his greeting in a long time. His parents were asleep.
In his room, he changed and lay down on the bed. His room was tiny—two by two meters. It could only fit a desk, a bed, and a wardrobe for clothes.
Lying there, he did little more than watch shows and endlessly scroll through social media, hoping someone, anyone, would mention him.
He was 19, a first-year philosophy student. He hadn't come here dreaming of becoming a "superhuman" but out of shortsightedness. He thought it would be easy—just spew pretentious nonsense backed by quotes from famous figures. Reality, however, was far harsher.
He hadn't succeeded in anything. Not because of stupidity or lack of talent, nor even external circumstances. The culprit was laziness and a sense of "the pointlessness of it all."
He had already grasped the philosophy of nihilism, deeming life meaningless.
Sure, he had ambitions that exceeded any reasonable bounds, but why bother? He could just lie there, observe, and learn from others' mistakes without making his own. That was the stance he took to justify his endless procrastination.
Endlessly watching the lives of successful people, he had completely forgotten about his own.
"Tomorrow I'll be sleep-deprived again and stumble around like a zombie... Whatever," he sighed.
Suddenly, a piercing whistle cut through the air outside, as if something massive was slicing through it.
"Some overly loud plane. Isn't the airport far from here?"
*Explosion*
***
When he woke, he found himself under rubble. The collapsed walls of his own room surrounded him.
"What the…?"
With great effort and pain in his joints, he pushed a chunk of concrete off himself.
Not far away, he saw his mother's body, also buried under debris, dirty and bloodied.
His hearing returned after the shock, and he heard the piercing wail of a siren.
A second later, he came to in a hospital, watching as they operated on his body.
"He's awake. Administer another dose of anesthesia," a voice said.
Within moments, he sank back into painful dreams.
***
"…All six regions have simultaneously declared war on each other. In our region, Raifire, the border near Paralett has been heavily damaged. The city of Morphin has suffered the most casualties and injuries. Half the population is literally buried under the ruins…"
The young man lay in the hospital, watching the news. His heart bled, and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
His hometown was destroyed. He was now in a capital hospital, far from the war zone.
He had lost one arm. It had been pierced by countless shards, along with dirt and even insects, as he wasn't pulled from the rubble until two days later. They had to amputate.
His parents could have been saved if medics had arrived a day earlier.
"What am I supposed to do now? What have I even done? Nothing…"
He blamed himself and hated what had happened. If he hadn't been so weak, if he had at least gone to the gym, he could have carried his parents to the local hospital. But he had wasted all his time, fixating on others' lives more than his own.
He had suffered the least. If his parents had been saved, they would have been crippled for life, their existence a hell where they couldn't even reach for a glass of water.
"But at least they'd be alive. I could've talked to them…"
His parents had believed in him, always certain that their smart but lazy son would achieve more if he applied his knowledge.
"What am I supposed to do now? I'm alone, completely alone… No home, no family, no self…"
***
A month passed. The pain began to fade—both physical and emotional. He was undergoing rehabilitation, as his legs had been pierced by glass shards and wooden splinters from his bed.
He wouldn't be drafted to the front. With only one remaining right arm, he could barely hold a pistol.
He couldn't continue his studies—his university had been destroyed in a bombing.
The ruler of the region, Felga, announced that victims of the sudden enemy attack would receive no compensation.
He was now destitute. In a week, he'd have to leave the hospital and, it seemed, live on the streets.
But as he walked to his ward, he noticed a flyer taped to the door:
"Magic Study Club: Incatesimo. We invite you to take our qualification test, and if you prove worthy, you can study with us."
"Well, that's something," he thought.
Out of desperation, he decided to go and take this "qualification test." He had nowhere else to go, and maybe they'd offer him a place to stay…
"Sure, I'm not great at magic, but it's never too late to learn something new. It's not some stuffy discipline like philosophy. With magic, you can do amazing things. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to get revenge."
Imagining his future, his eyes burned with determination, and his heart raced. He wanted to destroy every regional ruler who had ruined his life, killed his parents, and forced him down a path he hadn't chosen. All because of their greed and selfishness.
His life hadn't yet become hell, but it was far from paradise. He snapped a photo of the address. He had to show up in a week, on the Day of the Rising.