Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Resurrection

Chapter 2: Resurrection

 

There was another being that was watching the obliteration of Dexith unfold. This being shrouded in black as if it was a walking silhouette, floated down to the corpse of Syro. It stared at the child’s body for a long while, thoughts rushing through its head that it would not share until it was time. For now, all the being did was merge itself within the child’s body while saying, “The world is not done with you yet, boy.”

 

Syro snapped awake and immediately grabbed at his stomach, only to see he had completely healed. He remembered dying. The feeling of his body going completely numb and his vision fade out. He doesn’t remember the pain as his body immediately went into shock to make the transition to the afterlife as smooth as possible. But he didn’t remember the afterlife. All Syro could remember was dying, then waking back up to see the town was still ablaze. He turned to hear a familiar chittering sound as his friend the finger primate squeaked and wrapped itself around his finger. Syro smiled at it and got to his feet. 

He remembered the owner running away from him. Remember when the being first touched down. He remembered everything that transpired as he exited what was known as Dexith and entered the woods that led to the next town. Along the way, other than the occasional crunch of a dead leaf from beneath Syro’s tattered sneakers, there was complete silence. The crackling sound from the fire in Dexith died down the further he walked. And as he walked, he passed several mangled corpses of several other citizens of Dexith. But, one in particular made him stop in his tracks and examine the body closer.

The cook. It was the cook that warned him not to go in the dumpster in the first place. He didn’t make it out. There was only one other body Syro was curious to find, but he wasn’t going to go out of his way to find it before reaching the next town, as the thing could still be lurking in the forest.

He still couldn’t believe it. He knew it wasn’t a dream or some sort of weird fear mechanism that kicked in and made him think he died. He pondered what even caused him to come back to life in the first place as he checked his hand, flexing it in front of himself before pinching his shoulder. He felt that. That was real. He was real.

He also realized two tattoos that had appeared on his arms; one on each wrist. They looked like wristbands, but they were part of his skin now. He had a feeling this had something to do with what brought him back to life, as he didn’t have the money to get a tattoo back in Dexith, nor would he have stupidly spent it on tattoos should he have ever received any. He didn’t have anyone to ask about the tattoos, so he just ignored them and kept it moving. 

He snapped to attention as he heard rustling of bushes nearby. He had no way to defend himself, but if it was the thing again, he would try anything other than laying down to die this time.

The rustling grew louder as a runner jumped out in front of him. Runners were quadrupeds that lived in well groomed packs. They had no mouths so Syro had no idea how they ate. Their skin or fur was reminiscent of the night sky as it was mainly black with sparkles scattered about that resembled tiny stars. Their eyes glowed a bright white. And they were herbivores, so they had no need for offensive or defensive evolutionary traits as speed was both for them. Instead of paws, that had rounded stumps that would bend or spread when pressed on the ground. Due to this, Syro wasn’t even sure they had bones. This one in front of him seemed curious, so he slowly approached it as his trusty finger primate cautiously chittered.

Before getting too close, he reached his hand out at it and couldn’t help slightly wincing before it came forward and put the top of its own head in the palm of Syro’s outreached hand. It  purred with content and as a result, Syro relaxed. He stood there in silence for a few seconds appreciating something that seemed to appreciate him. 

It heard something off in the distance, past the bush it jumped out of and returned to wherever it came from. Syro stood straight up and the finger primate chittered as if was saying something Syro could understand. Somehow, in a way, Syro understood and pushed forward to the next town, keeping his eyes forward. 

 

The Capital of the Plains Region, Ordimill, was Heaven in comparison to Dexith. Then again, when you compare something even halfway decent to Hell, anything will look like Heaven. The air was clear, the sky was almost always blue. The buildings were made of a mix of materials, mainly clay, but some had brick, wood, and bamboo for some roofs. The streets were smooth pavement that made it easy to walk or for merchants to move their carts. Plenty of trees evenly spread throughout. Power lines as this town got electricity like most. This town reminded Syro of every slice of life manga he’s read. There was a canal running through the middle of the town that there were multiple bridges for that connected the two sides. People would sometimes take their children to play in the clean water down by the bank. 

Best of all, it bordered a forest. Unfortunately it was the same forest that still had the decaying corpses of the Dexith townsfolk. Syro wasn’t even sure if anyone in Ordimill was aware of what happened. Or if anyone made it out. Ordimill remained untouched after the attack, so he assumed the thing was only out for blood in Dexith. 

It wasn’t the best, but Syro thrived more here. After spending upwards of seven years here, he grew accustomed to the plainness of the town. Of course, there were still small crimes, but what town was without them? Over the years, he got a job as a clerk in a manga cafe and this allowed him to buy his first studio apartment.

Syro stepped out of the shower and briskly dried his blue hair. One thing he loved about his hair was how easy it was to dry because once dry, it went back to its original shape of spiky afro. He brushed his teeth in the bathroom mirror as he blasted rap music from his bedroom. 

Once he finished brushing, he stepped into his bedroom and got dressed. He glanced around his room, appreciating what he had. First of all, a bed. A soft bed that allowed him to get a good night’s rest every night. A plethora of books spread on the floor, a small bookshelf, and on his desk. They were mainly manga. But most of the manga was slice of life or battle shonen. He had a couple of horror ones, but he stopped buying them because he didn’t understand how anyone could be fearful of a still image. He also had a punching bag that helped him keep fit aside from his walks to and from work. 

But his favorite possession was his headphones. They contained the music that he liked to play aloud to his--and only his--ears. He played music on his mobile music player or MMP and had the sound come through his headphones when he walked. When he did this, it’s like his mind was transported to another world. Depending on what he listened to, of course. He also liked to go on strolls in the forest, but always stopped before he reached the dead bodies of Dexith. 

Syro finished getting dressed, grabbed his backpack, threw on his headphones and left his place. He switched the MMP music to soft electronic music as he reached the bottom of the staircase. He stepped outside and strolled to work. The beat was building as he noticed a woman getting her purse snatched. Syro exhaled, then sprinted at them. 

As the thief saw Syro coming, he let go of the purse and fully focused on fighting the young adult. The beat build reached a crescendo, then dropped. The thief grit his teeth and shouted as he swung, but Syro ducked and sent a right hook into his stomach, dropping him immediately. 

The lady thanked him and ran away from the thief as Syro stood over the groaning thief. The thief then flopped over, in too much pain to stand after Syro’s heroics. 

Syro walked a few more blocks and reached the Ordimill Manga Cafe. He noticed a few shady characters standing outside and eyed them, but went about his business, heading inside to start work.

The day went by slowly as Syro just looked for things to keep busy: organizing the books alphabetically, mopping, cleaning the coffee dispenser, wiping down the counter at the front, dusting the cushions that didn’t have someone sitting in them. He was slightly annoyed because there was someone sitting in one seat all day, reading shonen manga all day. He looked too old to be into that type of thing, as he had white hair already. Syro also found it strange that this man was reading with sunglasses on inside. 

“You keep eyeing me like you want to say something.”

“What are you reading?”

“A little Tamiaku. I love what he did with the shonen genre,” the old man said. Syro leaned forward on the counter. He was less annoyed now and more intrigued because the old man was speaking his language.

“Have you read anything from Yamatori?”

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“The original? Of course!” the man said, sitting straight up now, giving Syro his full attention. “I feel the other shonen authors kinda owe him ‘cause they wouldn’t be able to do what they did to the genre without him.”

Syro nodded. “He solidified a lot of the tropes so Tamiaku could play with them. But, Motokishi further popularized the genre and I feel was the bridge between the original and the more modern take on the genre.”

“Damn, kid. You’re pretty knowledgeable when it comes to this sorta stuff, huh?” the old man asked. 

“It’s just my opinion though. What I was able to pick up through reading,” Syro explained. 

“Fast learner then,” the old man said. “May I propose something?”

“I can’t stop you from offering something. I can only control what I do,” Syro said. 

“I’m a teacher for an academy opening in this town,” the old man said, standing up now and approaching the counter. Syro got a better look at him as a result. White hair, navy blue bandana over his nose, navy blue handkerchief, a black button-up short-sleeve shirt, man beads, scars all over his bare chest, capri pants, slip-on shoes. 

“What kind of academy?” Syro asked. “I’ve done basic schooling already.”

“Clearly. But, I’m offering something people wish they had access to,” the old man continued. “I want you to attend the Ordimill Academy of Virtue Learning.”

“Virtue?”

“What do ya say?”

“What’s Virtue?”

“Well, you’d learn at the academy.”

A long pause as Syro considered the offer. The old man’s face brightened with each passing second as he believed Syro’s long pause made it seem as if he was seriously considering attending. 

“Pass.”

“I’m so glad you’ve--what? ‘Pass’?”

“Pass.”

“Why? Don’t you wanna know more about Virtue?”

“I dunno know your name.”

“Haneo.”
“No, Haneo.” Haneo hung his head low in sadness. “And why are you wearing your sunglasses inside while reading? It’s driving me crazy.”

Haneo lifted his head and fiddled with his sunglasses before answering Syro’s question. “Oh, these? Because I’m blind without them.”

Syro’s eyes widened.

“B-Blind? Like ‘oh I can’t really see. Everything’s blurry’ blind or like pitch black blind?” Syro questioned.

“Pitch black.”
“H-How, old man?”

“Old man?!” Haneo hung his head low again.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about this world, kid,” Haneo said, lifting his head again and heading for the door. “Like the fact that the thing that wiped out Dexith was using Virtue to do so.”

Syro obviously wanted to ask more questions, but Haneo was gone. At the same time, in walked the shady characters that Syro glanced at outside.

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