The entrance to the underworld was no secret to Roako. Every slum-born knew the location of it. The only problem was the distance from it compared to his current location. Whether the orphanage had been built with that cruelty in mind didn't matter now.
He knew the stakes. Whatever pain came next would be temporary. Freedom would not be.
Roako clenched his head, grinding his teeth as his mind accelerated. Routes of the slums to the underworld entered his mind: the alleyways, collapsed buildings, and the location of killers. No path was free. Each route came with a price. The orphanage. The starving. The killers.
The fastest route with the shortest exposure.
Forty-five minutes.
Roako let out a shaky breath. Whether his body could last that long was uncertain. The orphanage rarely handed out rations to orphans of his strength. His stomach twisted, head spinning with his heart struggling to keep up.
Food was scarce. Energy was even scarcer.
An alternative route to gather rations was a possibility. One that could come with consequences. Food didn't come easy in this area.
His mind continued to race. A vague memory played in his head. The list of the people who tried to escape. It was a long list. One with no successes.
Death followed them all.
Faces without any names surfaced. A boy with foam at the mouth, fingers clawing at his throat, attempting to breathe. A girl frozen mid-step, blood red eyes, hundreds of slashes across her body.
None had made it to the underworld. None had been fast enough.
Death in cruel, differing ways.
Poison. Fire. Ice.
Skewered. Butchered. Pulverized.
A slow, heavy breath escaped him. His hands trembled as his fingers glowed faintly. Swiping across his head erasing the symbol. Tracing new markings along his legs.
Identical markings flared to life. Pain surged through his legs, muscles tightening, veins screaming with unnatural strength. In an act of desperation, Roako dug his teeth into the necklace, the familiar taste of metal pressing into his teeth.
The taste was similar to blood. The cold, metallic taste. It reminded him of humans.
Roako gulped, remembering the tough, crunchy bones and the smooth unfamiliar texture of flesh. The metallic taste of blood.
He shuddered before clenching his fist, and sliding one foot back.
Then he ran, pressing his leg into the ground one after another, forming small cracks in the ground with each step. A dust cloud billowed behind him.
A blur tore through the desolate slums. An unusual sight, but most people didn't look twice. Another thief. Maybe a soul chasing survival.
Pushing past various people, some malnourished, some grown. Each step with intention. Jumping across various buildings as they crumble. Screams of others heard behind him, yet he continued, not turning back for anything. Blocked by various criminals, he broke through. Others shoving him as he directs himself back on course.
A roof collapsing beneath his foot. He twisted his body, slamming into the brick, shrugging it off. Pain coursing through his body, but stopping now, meant death.
Heat bloomed.
A red light flared behind him; it was too fast and too bright.
Wild, and untamed. A raging fire bolted towards him.
It grew in size with each second passing.
Destruction followed its path.
Deep crimson.
Sizzling as it neared.
The air warped around it.
Wood igniting to a crisp before the flames ever touched.
Windows bursting before the fire approached.
The fire had no obstacle.
It advanced.
Each second fed its hunger, spiraling it forward, streets bleeding with heat.
The crimson darkened, its anger grew heavier.
The flame wasn't meant to burn.
It was meant to erase.
Control was not its strength.
Destruction was.
The slums all shared one thought: Who was stupid enough to provoke the orphanage?
Roako's heart skipped a beat. He didn't expect this. But he didn't slow down.
Each step burned. Desperation followed with each step. Heat approached as it continued to consume the surroundings. He couldn't outrun the fireball. At least not conventionally.
Roako lunged, maintaining his momentum as he erased the markings on his legs. New markings flared across his arms, a crude and incomplete shield. Arms glowing a faint grey as he crossed them over his head.
Escaping from the fireball was impossible.
Escaping from the orphanage was not.
He bit down harder on his necklace, bracing himself. Pain was not a stranger. Today will not be the day he kneels before it. The fireball had struck.
The impact slammed into his arms, and the heat tore into his skin. Flame slid past his face, scorching flesh as the force hurled him forward. Sweat poured down his face as his heart quivered violently in his chest.
Roako was thrown through the air straight towards the underworld. Once filled with broken down homes, it was now left with a black crater. A dust cloud loomed. The air sizzled as it shined a slight orange. All surroundings burnt to a crisp. Charred figures crawled from the crater, skin burnt, movements desperate.
Behind him, a faint voice muttered, annoyed rather than impressed.
"Shit. The Director won't be happy with that one."
Roako crashed through the hollowed, collapsing buildings. Wood cracking. Stone tumbling across. Dust consumed the air.
Sharp pain agonized his body. Blood spilling from the torn skin. Gashes split his legs as burns pulsed along his arms. His body screamed. Heat still lingering.
He dismissed the markings as he gritted his teeth in an attempt to stand up, spitting out blood in the process. His legs failed him. His muscles gave way. His mind crumbling. Not today.
He crawled towards a slab of rubble. Slowly picking himself up with a shaky look.
The underworld had awaited him. A mere hundred feet away. It called out to him. So close. Too far.
The crowd fell silent.
A quiet breeze.
Dust settling as it swallowed the sounds.
A footstep echoed.
A figure stood across Roako. He hadn't moved.
Dust crystallizing with each breath.
A scream emerged before being cut short as ice climbed the man's leg, then chest, finally his throat.
Encasing him in with little resistance.
The crowd of people instinctively started to back away. Ice followed those too close.
It traversed onto their bodies, freezing them in mere seconds.
The shattering of wood. Pulverizing any obstacle in its way. The footsteps only got louder.
Behind the dust, a large burly man could be seen. A large pristine suit, skull mask and a grin accompanied. A breath of cold air followed as he exhaled. Frost crept slowly behind.
Fear tightened Roako's heart. The violent beating screamed. He slammed his fist into the ground and carved another marking into his leg. His muscles protested. They would tear if he continued to push.
Running was his only option, an option his body no longer agreed with.
A refined shield wrapped his left leg. Dark grey mist clung to it as pain drowned out his thoughts. He staggered forward.
Behind him, the man chuckled softly and licked his lips.
The frost crept forward. Inch by inch.
Stopped.
As if waiting.
"Haha," he said with a calm, steady voice. "You're starting to look like my next meal."