[Constellation Zero offers its gift]
[Will you accept?]
A white-hot screen with deep, black text appeared in front of Apollo, below it two options struck out.
[Yes]
[No]
'What the..?'
He was awoken in the middle of the merciless night, where rain lashed out at his bare and uncovered body, disturbing his already restless sleep.
'I mean,' He interjected, 'there are the rags I call clothes that try to shield me'
Before him an incandescent white box floated, with no apparent support, glaring at Apollo, as if impatiently awaiting his response.
Using his right hand as support, he tried raising his body into a sitting position, his past wounds flaring up, just sitting up sent a white-hot agony through his nerves, muscles spasmed as the sharp, freezing dumpster behind him ate at his conscious. Looking closer, he examined the box studiously.
'It was today? Of all times, it had to be now?' A groan escaped his lips.
He raised his left hand in a sharp, deliberate manner, the pain biting at his pride as he saw dirt, mud ,and whatever "secret ingredient" was found in the bin next door caking under his fingernails. Using his index to underline the text.
"Constellation Zero?"
Apollo tread through his fractured memories, trying to recall any mention of a constellation named 'Zero'. Of every awakened he had heard of, not one had received a gift from a sponsor called 'Zero'.
'I'm a fan of the "underdogs winning" genre.. But "Zero" isn't the most ideal scenario considering I'm half dead.'
And what's the deal with only one offer? If awakened were given offers based on their potential, then even the most incompetent people received at least 2 or even 3 offers.
'Great, that makes me hopeless, utterly hopeless..'
Sat in his throne of Squalor, Apollo sighed- He grasped the air before him. True was the past and power that filled the Luminara with glory. How concepts such as 'Fear' or 'Pain' bowed to obediently to their coercion. From both raging the battle field and the game of chess known as politics.
It had slowly started to drizzle slightly again, water racing its' way down to Apollo.
A small puddle had formed, and through its' reflection Apollo saw the 'Oh-So Great' "Immortal" Luminaras' last member, sat helplessly in a configuration of sludge and grime.
It was a frail young boy, his bleak, copper eyes gleamed with negligence. His nose outwardly pointed, his bones poking at his skin from within from a lack of nutrition.
His only refining feature was his flaring hair, it was an astounding beacon of unwanted attention. And yet, it so furiously shone, despite the pain, resolute in its existence. Despite the fear that clung at him.
'Or it could be the rats and whatever else took refuge with me' clinging onto him for warmth in the bitter cold.
"Zero", he read out, a raspy voice holding out against the sputtering rain.
"My entire life was choked with how I was nothing, I don't need a God to confirm it for me!" He cursed out, scattering the rats swarming his body.
Not because he was popular, just for the need for heat and survival.
In a last act of self-preservation, he lashed out at the display. It merely flickered, as if mocking him saying 'You can't catch me!'. This only infuriated Apollo further. Even if the pain fritzed through his body he had one act of rebellion.
A manic, near insane, unhinged sneer lifted his lackluster figure. He upheaved his frail looking hand, the smile plastered ridiculously across his face as his hand reached for the options.
He didn't just press the 'No' button, he pierced it with such force it poked a hole through the bag of waste behind the screen.
As peels of rotten fruits were strewn across him, the smell so abhorrent it caused tears to his eyes, he laughed.
Like a true maniac.
[Option No selected]
A sigh escaped his lips, hand on his stomach, the pain burnt through his skin..
'Uh.. Now what?'
The laughter died in his throat,
'Why hasn't the screen vanished yet?'
The screen didn't falter, it stalled..
[Rejected]
The screen flickered from incandescent white to a warning red.
'R-rejected..?' He sat, mouth bolted open. 'Me..? Rejected?'
Imagine that..
"Did you just.. Reject my rejection?"
He had spent his last ounce of strength to say no to a god, to maintain a shred of dignity, and the god had looked at him and decided, 'Actually, I've changed my mind. You're too revolting even for me.'
[Initiating synchronisation]
Pain, no- It wasn't just that, it screamed through his body peeling his skin back. The 'Rejected' notification didn't vanish; it bled. The red text smeared across his vision like wet ink, merging with the rain.
[Sync Progress: 0.01%]
"Stop!" Apollo lashed out, but his lungs ripped apart, silently killing his breath.
[Rejected]
His spine arched so violently he heard the rusted lid of the dumpster groan beneath him. White light poured into his vision.
[Sync Progress: 3%]
[User status: Breaking]
"I.. Said.. No," he wheezed, the words dying in his mouth, fingers clawing into the trash as the world pivoted askew.
The last thing he distinguished before the agony turned the world into a blur of static was the floating white box, now vibrating with a rhythmic, mechanical pulse. It displayed one last message of ridicule.
[User body is insufficient]
'Great, I'm guessing my rags for clothes weren't party level after all'
Then, the darkness didn't just fall, it crushed him whole.