Dust swirled around the feet of a young boy as he walked through the ruined lab.
The building had been empty for seven years, and it showed – windows were broken, metal was rusted, and green moss covered the old equipment like a thick blanket. The afternoon sun peeked through the holes in the walls, creating patches of light in the darkness.
The boy ran his small hand along the crumbling wall as he walked, leaving finger trails in the dust. His brown eyes were red from crying as he looked in every corner and shadow, like he was searching for something important.
Old papers crunched under his shoes, their words too faded to read anymore. Above him, plants had grown through cracks in the ceiling, hanging down like green curtains.
He kicked at a piece of broken glass, sending it skittering across the floor. The sound echoed through the empty hallways, making the place feel even lonelier.
"This place is depressing!" a voice suddenly spoke in his mind, full of wild energy. "Come on, let's do something fun instead! I know exactly how to get back at those jerks from recess—"
The boy stopped walking and pressed his hands against his ears, squeezing his eyes shut like he was trying to block out the voice. Fresh tears started rolling down his cheeks, leaving clean streaks in the dust on his face.
"Don't listen to him," another voice chimed in, trying to sound grown-up but still clearly a kid's voice. "The other kids are only mean because you keep doing what he says. Just ignore them and—"
"Don't be a chicken!" the first voice shot back. "They pushed us down and laughed! We can't just let them get away with it!"
As the voices argued in his head, he stumbled to the nearest wall and leaned his forehead against it. The wall felt cool and damp against his skin as his shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
Behind him, a door creaked open.
"There you are, Angelo," a gentle voice called out, making the arguing voices go quiet. "I had a feeling I'd find you here."
Angelo quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve and turned around. Sleeser was standing in the doorway, his spiky hair glowing orange in the sunset light.
"Come on," he said, his voice kind but firm. "You've got more Auron training to do. Can't get stronger hiding in old ruins, now can you?"
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Angelo couldn't sit still any longer. After twenty minutes of trying to meditate in the grass behind the old lab, his patience snapped like a dry twig. His eyes flew open, and he scratched his head frantically while his legs bounced against the ground.
"I can't take this anymore!" He wiggled in place like a kid desperate for a bathroom. "Even the pushups are better than this!"
Sleeser watched from his spot against a nearby tree, a smile playing on his lips. "The mental training matters just as much as the physical, you know."
"This is the worst!" Angelo jumped to his feet and kicked a rock, sending it skipping across the clearing. His face twisted like he'd bitten into a lemon.
Inside his head, two voices battled for attention—one urging him to kick more rocks, the other trying to make him calm down.
Sleeser didn't budge from his tree. He just watched Angelo's tantrum with the patience of someone who'd seen it all before. "Thought you wanted to be an Auron like me?"
"I doooooo," Angelo whined, his whole body slumping forward dramatically. "But it's so boring! Why do I even have to do this?"
Sleeser pushed off from the tree, his expression turning serious. "Do you know what actually makes someone an Auron?"
Angelo stopped mid-stomp, suddenly interested. He shook his head.
Sleeser crouched beside him. "All around us, there are invisible rivers of energy that most people can't see or feel."
He held out his hand, and soft orange light flickered around it like a gentle flame. "We call these 'energy connections.' Aurons can sense these rivers and draw power from them."
"Whoa, really?" Angelo's eyes grew huge. Even the arguing voices in his head fell silent, listening.
Sleeser grabbed a stick and drew lines in the dirt. "It's not easy, though. Your body needs to be strong to handle the energy, and your mind needs to be quiet enough to find and control it."
Angelo nodded, following along.
"That's why we meditate—to quiet your mind so you can feel these energy rivers. Only then can you connect to them and use their power."
Angelo kicked at the dirt drawings, frowning. "But I've seen you fight, Sleeser. The energy doesn't seem infinite to me."
"Good point." Sleeser smiled and sat down properly. "Have you ever seen the ocean?"
Angelo shook his head as he plopped down in the grass.
"Imagine the biggest pool of water you can think of—so big it never ends. That's like the universe's energy." Sleeser drew a big circle in the dirt.
"Now imagine you have a small swimming pool, and you want to fill it with ocean water through a pipe."
"Okay..." Angelo nodded, drawing his own tiny pool.
"The ocean never runs out of water, right? But your pool can only hold so much. And the pipe can only move water so fast." He connected the circles with a line.
"That's exactly how it works for us. The energy out there is unlimited, but we can only control as much as our 'pool' can hold, and only draw it as fast as our 'pipe' allows."
Sleeser created a ball of orange energy between his hands, about the size of a basketball.
"This tiny amount is all I can safely control right now. We train to make our 'pool' bigger and our 'pipe' wider." He closed his hands and the light disappeared.
Angelo's face lit up with understanding. The voices in his head went completely quiet. Then excitement bubbled up like a shaken soda.
"When I get my aura, I hope it's silver!" He bounced in place, flattening the grass beneath him. "That would look so cool! Like a real superhero!"
"Anything but orange," one voice groaned in his head. "Sleeser is so boring with all his rules. If we get orange, we might end up just like him!"
"I don't think it works that way," the other voice countered. "Though silver would be nice..."
Sleeser laughed and ruffled Angelo's hair. "You don't get to pick the color. It's just part of who you are."
"Aww," Angelo's shoulders slumped for a second before he perked right back up. "Well, whatever color I get, it'll be awesome! Way cooler than orange!"
"Hey!" Sleeser raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern even as his mouth twitched with amusement. "What's wrong with orange?"
"Nothing!" Angelo said quickly, then whispered, "But silver would still be cooler."
"Alright, alright," Sleeser chuckled, standing up and brushing grass from his pants. "Less daydreaming about colors, more meditation. You won't unlock any aura at all if you don't focus."
This time when Angelo closed his eyes, he couldn't help grinning as he imagined silver light sparkling all around him.
The sun dipped low, stretching tree shadows across their clearing. Teacher and student sat quietly together, while behind them, the old lab stood like a silent guardian.
Four years of training would follow—hundreds of afternoons just like this one, filled with practice and growth. But no amount of preparation could have readied them for what was coming...
- Four Years Later -
The setting sun painted the sky a violent crimson, its light catching on plumes of smoke that rose from burning homes.
Bodies lay scattered across blood-stained streets, some still, others twitching. Aurons wreathed in ghostly auras clashed above the devastation, their powers turning the air itself into a battlefield.
Each impact sent shockwaves through the town, shattering windows and crumbling walls. Sleeser's fist connected with his opponent's jaw in a savage dance of orange light and bruised flesh.
The enemy Auron stumbled back, spitting blood. Without hesitation, Sleeser gathered his power, condensing it into a tight beam of pure energy that struck his opponent square in the chest.
The force launched the man through the wall of a burning house, adding fresh screams of splintering wood to the symphony of destruction.
"Sleeser!" The desperate cry cut through the chaos. He spun to find Thomas, one of the town's elders, his face streaked with ash and terror. "Angelo – he's escaped the shelter! The boy thinks he can help!"
The words hit Sleeser like physical blows. His mind filled with images of his young student, barely twelve, trying to face these killers.
"WHERE?" The question erupted from him with such force that his aura flared violently.
Thomas' trembling hand pointed toward the forest edge. "The outskirts – he ran that way!"
Sleeser bolted without another word, his feet barely touching the ground as his aura propelled him forward.
The sounds of battle grew distant, replaced by something that made his blood run colder – a woman's terrified scream, piercing and desperate. Then came a child's voice, high and frightened, followed by the guttural roar of a man in pain.
He pushed himself faster, cold sweat running against his skin. The trees loomed ahead, their shadows stretching like sharp fingers across blood-stained grass.
Three figures came into view – one lying motionless on the ground.
The scene that greeted him carved itself into his memory with brutal clarity. Angelo knelt in the dirt, his small frame trembling like a leaf in a storm.
At his feet lay a man, face-down and motionless, an axe buried deep between his shoulder blades. The wooden handle jutted from his back like a grim marker, blood pooling dark and thick around the wound.
Sleeser stumbled forward, bile rising in his throat as the details sharpened – Angelo's hands and face were painted crimson, fresh blood stark against his pale skin.
The boy's head snapped up at Sleeser's approach, and the look in those eyes stopped him cold.
Gone was the quiet, determined child who'd trained with him all these years. In his place knelt something else – something broken and raw, forged in the crucible of necessity and violence.
"I had to," Angelo whispered, his voice cracking. "He was going to..." He swallowed hard, "One of the voices told me..."