The boy had an unbelievable night, most likely by far the best, and it seemed almost ironic how he chose these many ways to end himself like a plan layered with many back up plans to ensure its success.
For the split second that his body was still within the motion of walking off, that peculiar voice had done something to his soul.
Time had stopped and all background noise had vanished.
"God is dead."
The sheer power of these words was enough to smash colour into his soul.
His heart, motionless at first, had its gears turned, and the world around him began to move again.
As expected, the rope had no effect and tore off after a short decent. Bando bounced off of the countless balconies and 50 stories into the ground.
A loud PLAPP was heard in a 100 meter radius and silence followed.
Bando, completely uninjured, turned around and faced zenith.
"I can't even kill myself."
His lips were trembling, but no tears followed.
"GOOD! ALL YOU NEED, IS A NORHT STAR!"
An unfamiliar voice echoed through all the tight abandoned buildings in the vicinity.
In the next moment, Bando found himself shocked, standing upright again.
My fall was hard enough for the sound to travel at least 100 meters in the vicinity... how can't I sense them?!
He thought to himself
"GOOD question!"
The voice shouted again.
Bando tried to get into fighting position, but it wasn't long when a sharp pain struck his entire body. He grasped his chest, his legs shook in terror and crumbled, as he tried to use his method by infusing a nearby clock with his own aura and reading the time based on the positions of the hands. After countless attempts, he couldn't find any, and his aura instead gushed around the area in a loop with no end.
A few moments passed and he thought about his situation for a second. He'd just tried to kill himself, so there really shouldn't have been a reason for him to defend himself against this unknown person.
As soon as he realised this, he raised both hands in defeat.
"I don't care what happens to me, but you might as well spare the both of us some time and trouble by going for the kill, since none of the people I know are going to be able to afford a ransom," he was weirdly calm for the circumstance he was in.
"I wouldn't dare think of such thing! And even if,"
Silence followed, until...
"...Wouldn't they be able to use all of the money your performance has earned?"
The person spoke into Bando's left ear, but he still couldn't sense him at all.
However, something was off.
It wasn't the weird peculiar person, but Bando himself.
His expression has visibly changed the second the mysterious man talked about their performance. He wasn't glad or anything about how the random was willing to make a case for his own life, even though it was through financial means, but a slight hue of rage manifested through the small twitches his lips were making.
He stood up straight, and pointed his right index and middle finger toward a random nearby pile of trash to his right. He then pointed them toward himself and a metal pipe flung across the air and all the way into his right hand.
"I told you that killing me now would save us some trouble..." he said, as he swung the pipe to his right and a slight gust of wind followed.
"Don't you dare bring my family and their hard earned money into this."
"Oho!"
The man said, as he flashed around the area. He noticed that, even though the boy wasn't aware of it, his head was following his very movements.
He flew through all the abandoned buildings and cut sharp corners. To the average person, only a lightning flash was seen.
Every step along his path was followed by his trail that brought life to the earth. Dead flowers bloomed, corpses and trash vanished and vitality settled.
He then made one last corner and headed straight toward Bando, but he was prepared and ready.
As the two clashed, a massive shockwave covered the area.
The blind boy stood firm, pipe poised against the man's cheek. The stranger knelt on one knee, head bowed, hand pressed to his chest.
Above them, framed perfectly between two broken towers, the moon shone in its full glory.
"Do not be afraid," He said as he raised his head. "I bring glad tidings and good fortune only."
Bando's world had always been painted in greyscale monotony. Kazan often spoke of how evil had consumed this realm entirely, and to Bando, life was only the wait before he too became its victim.
Yet here he stood, surrounded by contradictions. A family not bound by blood, but bound by love. A boy who would die to protect them. A life he claimed was hollow, yet one he couldn't abandon.
Maybe that was why he couldn't let go. Maybe that was why the rope had failed.
Now, facing the stranger, he began to understand.
The man's beauty was inhuman, almost androgynous, every feature crafted with impossible perfection. His skin held no flaw. His hair, golden and wavy, fell with effortless grace.
His clothes were mismatched: a white oversized shirt and black trousers, thrown together as if they were the only garments he could find.
But his eyes—molten gold—were not of this world.
And his smile knew it.
"If this realm is destined to house evil," the stranger said with a smile, "then surely it must also birth its opposite. That's what you're thinking right now, isn't it?"
Bando's mind reeled. From the best day of his life, to a suicide attempt, to meeting an angel — this was the strangest day he had ever lived.
"We don't go by that name, not right now," the man said. He gave a cheeky grin and threw a thumbs-up… directly at someone who wasn't there.....
Wait....me?
"So call me 'Knight'."
"…What do you mean we don't go by that name? And who the hell are you looking at?" Bando demanded.
"Ah, schizophrenia. Comes and goes," the man replied casually, waving it off.
Bando stared.The silence stretched.Five long seconds.
Then the man extended his hand. "Call me Michael."
"…Bando. I guess."
"Bando, huh? Well then—now that we've bonded over your little suicide attempt—"
"What the hell are you—"
"—and since you've made me your guardian—"
"WHAT—"
"I should tell you this: this realm can be saved. And I think you should play a part in its salvation."
Bando's expression shifted, caught between disbelief and a fragile spark of hope.
"You heard the voice, didn't you?" Michael pressed. "That one repeating, over and over—"
"That annoying little wre—"
"God is dead."
The words landed heavy, almost dragging Bando back into despair.
"Yes, that one!" Michael clapped his hands. "It means you have a gift. Something that could aid us Knights in the battle against 'evil'."
Bando's chest tightened. His face lit up with cautious wonder. "What are you trying to say? What could I possibly do?"
Michael shrugged with a grin. "We'll talk later. Gotta run."
And with a burst of golden dust, he vanished.
Bando stood in silence, drained beyond even his strange resilience. His legs gave out, dropping him where he stood.
"…What the hell was that about..." His voice cracked with exhaustion. He didn't even have the energy to be shocked.
From behind, a familiar rasp:"If you're going to kill yourself, at least do it near the Garden. Easier for me to drag your body back."
Bando turned to see Kazan with a wheelchair. For the first time in a long while, he chuckled.