In our world, things like justice, ethics, and righteousness are seen as noble virtues.
These ideas shape our lives, mold our identities, and define who we are.
But in the same world, there are places where such virtues mean nothing.
Where survival is the only law that matters."
The boy I'm going to tell you about came from such a place. A place where living one more day was the only thing worth chasing.
On the banks of the Fluviana River stood Luxia City...a place hidden in the fog of smoke and silence.
It was a city of factories. No schools, no hospitals, no luxuries.
Just endless rows of crumbling apartments for workers, a handful of grimy bars, and the unrelenting roar of machines.
Cut off by forests and the blackened river, the only thing linking Luxia to the rest of the world was a single railway track.
Luxia City was like the engine room of a grand cruise ship. The country above floated in luxury and comfort...because Luxia bore the weight of it.
But like the engine room, it was hell for those who lived there. The air was so thick with pollution that breathing was a punishment. The once-blue Fluviana had turned pitch black, poisoned by years of chemical waste.
To anyone from a civilized city, Luxia was nothing short of a nightmare."
But human adaptability is no joke. They get used to anything...given enough time.
And so, even in a place like Luxia, people found a way to survive.
Those who couldn't adapt died.
And those who forgot how to adapt died just the same.
Beside the only railway track that connected Luxia to the outside world stood a station...if you could call it that.
A cracked concrete platform stretched alongside rusted tracks. The paint on the walls had long peeled away, revealing mold-covered bricks beneath. Rats scurried freely through broken crates. The air reeked of oil, metal, and something worse...something rotting.
Even the stray dogs avoided the place.
But in that forsaken corner of Luxia, where not even a dog would lie down to sleep… a boy was trying to.
He was curled up against a cold pillar, wrapped in a torn sack that barely reached his knees. His bones pressed against his skin, and his skin pressed against the dirt.
No one knew his name. Names held no value there. Hunger did.
He used to work as a porter, dragging sacks heavier than his own weight across cracked floors, dodging boots, curses, and flying fists. But for quite some time he wasn't able to do that because of declining health.
He didn't dream. Not because he didn't want to…
But because dreaming requires rest, and sleep requires peace. He had neither.
He tried to sit up as the train on the platform hissed, preparing to leave. His eyes scanned the crowd carefully, as if hunting for treasure hidden in a sea of boots and baggage. The station looked older than he remembered, like it had aged overnight.
But it wasn't just the station.
Ever since the vision, everything felt… wrong.
Everything changed.
Familiar places seemed warped, as if seen through fogged glass. And the people...faces he had seen for years, people who never knew anything about him except his silence...were now looking at him differently. Not with recognition, but with unease.
As if he wasn't supposed to be there.
"That damn vision. All because of that scholar," he muttered under his breath.
The vision itself was simple...strangely simple.
Everything around him faded into darkness. Then a ball appeared. Massive. Pulsing. He could feel it...dense, unbearably hot, like it was crushing reality under its own weight.
And then… it exploded. Light. Heat. Expansion.
And just like that, he would snap back to the present...sweating, breathless, and alone.
It didn't feel like a dream. It felt like a memory...from a life he never lived.
He knew what it was. He'd heard it before.
The creation of the universe.
"The Big Bang Theory."
"An illiterate boy like him wasn't supposed to know about something like that. But he knew it from a scholar. A talkative man who came to Luxia to write a report on the inhuman conditions there. The boy became his guide. He wasn't interested in the man's endless yapping, but the scholar fed him three full meals a day...better than anything he'd ever tasted. So he listened. Or at least, pretended to.
One day, the scholar asked him if he knew how the universe began. When the boy shook his head, the scholar explained the Big Bang theory. The boy didn't care about what happened billions of years ago. He didn't wonder about what could've been if the explosion never happened.
But not long after… the visions began.
The scholar had already left by then. The boy never got to ask if that was normal. Never got to ask if something had gone wrong inside him. All he knew was that ever since then, he saw that exploding ball in his dreams...and in places where dreams didn't belong."
The scholar had promised that his report would change everything. That Luxia would improve. That the boy's life would change too.
But nothing changed.
Not for the city.
Not for the boy.
In fact… his life only got worse.
Then, as the boy stood on the edge of the platform...lost in his thoughts and quietly cursing the scholar...he saw it.
The treasure he'd been searching for.
It flew out of the train window and landed on the ground.
He may have won the battle of seeing it first...
But in a world like his the battle of grabbing it was a whole different war.
The moment his eyes locked onto it, he ran...
Pouring every ounce of energy left in his body into his legs.
He had to get it.
No matter what."
The boy's treasure was just a loaf of bread.
The word treasure refers to something of great value. To us, a loaf of bread may be cheap. But to a starving boy in Luxia… it was worth dying for."
He was weaker than other boys his age...hadn't been able to work for six months because of declining health. There was no one to look after him, no money, no food. The fact that he was still alive was a miracle.
That bread, thrown from the train, wasn't trash. It was a blessing. To that orphan, even a stale loaf was no less than treasure.
The boy ran with everything he had and grabbed the bread. No one else had seen it...he had no rivals. Or so he thought.
But when he turned, he saw her.
A little girl...barely four years old...stood behind him. Barefoot, rail-thin, dressed in filthy rags that barely clung to her small frame. Her face was smudged with dirt. But her eyes… those eyes were far too quiet for a child. Dark, tired, cautious.
The boy let out a breath.
She wasn't a threat. No need to fight.
She looked up at him, eyes glassy with hunger, and whispered in a trembling voice, "C-Can you give me that bread? I haven't eaten anything since lunch…
To someone else, those words might've stirred pity.
But not to him.
"You haven't eaten since lunch," he thought, "I haven't eaten since yesterday."
He didn't say anything. He simply shook her hand off and turned toward the platform.
But after a few steps, he stopped.
He turned back...and handed her the bread.
Not out of sympathy.
Kindness and greatness were not in his nature.
He gave it away for one reason only and that was cold calculation.
The bread was already going stale. The smell had started to turn. Eating it after a day of starvation would likely make him sick. And in Luxia, sickness was a slow form of death.
But the girl… she could be useful.
Girls like her often drew sympathy from the rare outsiders who passed through. Some even offered charity. Protection. Favors.
Maybe someday, he could ask her for something in return.
It wasn't kindness.
It was a transaction.
But the boy had doubts about how long the girl could survive in Luxia.
He had never seen her before...maybe she was new to the station. Luxia wasn't kind to newcomers. And she was a girl. Even boys weren't safe from the lustful predators that roamed its shadows.
The boy started to walk toward the platform. He had no dreams, no wishes...not even hope. Hope was too expensive a luxury.
He would've ended his life long ago, but he didn't know what waited on the other side.
Perhaps the afterlife was worse. Or perhaps there was nothing at all.
That uncertainty kept him breathing.
He didn't want to live...he simply wanted to pass the days quietly until death came for him.
But in Luxia, the desires of an orphan boy held no weight.
As he stepped back onto the platform, he was met by a crowd.
Thirteen people.
Some familiar faces. Some strangers.
And in the middle stood Dylan.
He wore the rags of poverty, but his body told a different story.
Broad shoulders. Sun-darkened skin stretched over lean muscle.
Each line of his frame carved by years of labor, not comfort.
His hands were calloused, fingers like tree bark.
He stood with the quiet strength of a man who had survived too much.
Though his clothes hung loose and torn, his form was solid...like a statue forgotten in the ruins.
They called him the Noble of Luxia.
Known for his justice, kindness, and righteous ways.
The people respected him. Admired him.
To them, he was a diamond in the ash heap.
But to the boy, Dylan wasn't that great of a personality.
"I heard you just appeared in this station, out of nowhere," Dylan said gently.
"You can't stay in a rogue place like this. Come with me."
"Out of nowhere, huh?" the boy muttered, barely loud enough to hear.
But he didn't move.
"You've got an attitude, don't you?" Dylan said, voice still calm. "What's your name?"
The boy opened his mouth.
He wanted to answer.
But he didn't.
Too much explanation would follow. Too many questions.
He chose silence.
Because he carried the most awkward name in the world.
His name was "Name."
His name was the only inheritance he got from his parents and that name was "Name". As if even his fate was joking with him.,
Maybe his parents were either too indifferent or too lazy to find something better. Or perhaps they had a cruel sense of humor.
Though joking with a child's name…not sure what kind of soul finds that amusing.
Shade continued, "Even facing a crowd of thirteen strangers, and a man like Dylan, Name didn't flinch.
He wasn't scared.
He knew what was going to happen.
And he knew what he had to do.
Without a word, he started walking...
Straight toward Dylan.
But Name didn't knew it was the wrongest choice he made in his life. The choice that will led him to hell.