Today was it. It had to be today.
Today was the day Orion would finally put his plans into motion.
Sitting on a pillow made of straps and ripped fabric in front of a table, Orion counted a few coins he had dropped there.
"57, 58, 59—wait, this isn't a credit! Fuck. But I remember I had one more…"
Orion stopped counting and searched the dirty floor of his house, littered with rubble, rat feces, and trash. It was almost impossible to find such a small coin among the mess. But after some struggle, he did find it.
"Here it is!!" He raised the coin high, whispering a scream so as not to wake the other residents of the house. He was leaving today, but that didn't mean he wanted to get beaten up before that!
He placed the coin in the middle of the table and stared at it.
59 credits. Credits he had painstakingly earned after months of effort. It was a measly 59 credits, but for a common back-alley folk, that might as well have been a fortune! Credits were the currency used by Radiants, holders of divine powers and heavenly gifts—the heroes that held humanity together!!
You could only attain a credit if it was issued by one of the Monarchs. And Monarchs only issued credits to Radiants! The only way one could obtain these rare coins was by working for them and receiving payment. Just one of these precious credits could pay for a whole week's worth of food. So 59 of them was… a bunch of weeks' worth of food! For suuuure!
Orion reached into his pocket and pulled out one last coin, carefully placing it on the table.
60… 60 credits. Months of saving, and finally… he had reached this amount. It was almost unbelievable. Orion wiped the little tears forming at the corners of his eyes with his dirty sleeve.
It almost didn't feel real. But it was. At long last.
He wiped the table with his hand and gathered the coins into a leather sack. Tightening the knot, he made sure there was no way the coins could fall out.
Orion stood and walked to his corner of the house. Although messy, he had managed to set up a somewhat comfortable little space for himself: a mattress on the ground, three shelves poorly screwed into the crumbling wall, and many jars and chests with his belongings—or rather, the trash he had gathered over the years.
Nothing here was of true value, so he didn't mind leaving it behind. Searching through the chests, he only grabbed what would be useful:
A worn-out backpack. It had a lot of space and was really sturdy, even sharp objects couldn't pierce its weird synthetic material. Good for carrying items of interest or weapons.
A few metal plates and some cutlery. He had to eat out there.
A few pieces of leather and some "clean" fabrics, a needle and a roll of string—the basic sewing kit. Walking for days nonstop with boots could wear holes, and he didn't have replacements. He had to keep them in shape!
"Ah, can't forget that." He closed the chest and stood to grab a tin can on the tallest shelf.
He dumped the contents on the ground without care; soon, he would get rid of all of this anyway.
Among the trash spilled on the floor, he found a small brass pocket watch. The object had a mysterious aura about it—its intricate patterns and fine craftsmanship obvious. While Orion held the clock, the golden glint of the metal illuminated his face as the sun slowly but surely rose on the horizon, shining through the window.
Orion smiled excitedly.
"Finally!!"
He checked everything he had one more time. After confirming he hadn't forgotten anything, he slowly walked out of the room.
Orion lived in a shared house with many other dwellers of the back alleys. He had to dodge the bodies lying on the floor on his way to the main corridor, and there he tiptoed into the living room. Sleeping on the sofa with several women was the owner of the house—the bastard who had been taking advantage of Orion for years.
Oh, how much money Orion had paid this man to live in this trash hole. The owner was a bloated drunk with a neckbeard, snoring loudly like a pig as he lay with three of the female residents, all wearing little more than underwear. It was incredible they could still sleep next to him.
He might as well be a pig, Orion thought, careful not to draw any attention as he reached the front door. From his backpack, he pulled out the brass watch.
He took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, but he couldn't. Orion had been waiting so long—it was finally happening!
He sucked in more air, filling his lungs.
"THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!"
He released it all in a powerful scream, immediately waking everyone in the house, even the fat pig who owned the place.
The place stirred awake in seconds, everyone still groggy from sleep.
The fat pig was the first to fully awaken. He looked around in a panic, then his eyes locked on Orion standing at the entrance. His expression turned instantly hostile—so hostile it could pierce skin.
"YOLK EYES!!!" the pig roared.
"FAT PIG!!!" Orion retorted.
He raised the brass clock above his head, a massive smile plastered across his face.
The pig's face went pale. "You wouldn't dare."
Orion didn't reply. His answer was to smash the priceless clock—the relic the fat pig had bought—against the floor, shattering it into a million pieces.
The clock released a deafening high-frequency sound that echoed through the house, forcing everyone to cover their ears in pain while Orion made his escape.
"Yep!! Now I committed! Can't come back here anymore!" Orion ran down the street as the back alleys slowly stirred to life, the streets flooding with people.
"I, Orion from Central, promise this under the heavens—" Orion raised his index finger to the sky. "I will be a Monarch!! No matter what!!