Chapter Four: Red Sparks
The walk back down to Lower Arctis felt longer than usual.
The towers of the Upper District shrank behind him until they were just a glow on the horizon, another reminder of what he couldn't reach. His fists clenched, sparks snapping weakly from his fingertips. The receptionist's words replayed in his head: Ten thousand credits. Class-D.
He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. He had finally awakened, finally found power — and the world still shut the door in his face. Not because he was weak. But because he was poor.
By the time he reached the cracked streets of the slums, his rage was boiling. The lights overhead flickered as he passed, neighbors muttering under their breath.
He stopped in front of a rusted street lamp, its glow struggling to stay alive. His reflection stared back: a skinny kid who'd been told his whole life he wasn't enough.
"Not enough…" he whispered, fists trembling. "They'll see."
He punched.
The lamp shrieked as power surged through it — not the calm blue he had seen before, but a violent, searing red. It spread across the wires like fire, snapping overhead before plunging the block into darkness.
Shouts filled the night."What happened to the power?!""Not again—""My system shut off!"
Kirro staggered back, his chest heaving. Red sparks crawled across his arms, wild and angry, before fading into the dark.
His mind raced. He remembered the blue sparks the night before — steady, sharp, alive. They had felt right. But this red… this was different. The more his anger spiked, the hotter and wilder the red grew. When he thought about hope, about freedom, the blue came.
His sparks… followed his emotions.
Kirro looked down at his shaking hand, a smile spreading slowly, but it wasn't the hopeful grin from yesterday. It was sharp. Dangerous.
"So that's it," he whispered. "Blue when I'm strong. Red when I'm angry." His voice hardened. "Red can burn this whole rotten system down."
He looked back at the skyline of the Upper District, glowing untouchable above the darkness of the slums.
"The heroes don't care about us. The Agencies only want the rich. The whole system's rigged." His hand crackled with faint red light. "Fine. If their world is built to keep us out… I'll tear it down."
The night air carried the faint smell of smoke, and for the first time, Kirro didn't care.
On the cracked streets of Lower Arctis, a vow was made.Not to become their kind of hero.
But to rise as the villain who would challenge them all.