Chapter 2: Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Shattered Illusions
But the battle is not over yet. I see the soldiers pursue the illusionist. What a pity that I can only stand frozen in the middle of the chaos. My eyes widened with disbelief and horror as I saw the once-familiar streets of District 3 were now a battleground, torn apart by the clash between the malevolent illusionist and the relentless Anti-Illusionist (AI) organization. In the wake of their epic confrontation, the district lay in ruins, a testament to the destructive power of their opposing forces.
As the dust settled and an eerie silence descended, my heart raced and my mind struggled to comprehend the devastation before me. How could this have happened? The illusionist's cunning trickery had masked the true nature of the conflict, leaving the unsuspecting residents caught in the crossfire. Amidst the debris and debris, my parents had shielded me, sacrificing their own lives to protect their beloved child.
My imagination of safety from the illusionist was shattered. 'If only we have the power to protect ourselves from them' that's what I thought. Tears welled in my eyes as I knelt beside my fallen parents, their lifeless bodies bearing witness to the price paid for their love. A mix of grief, anger, and confusion consumed me, as the reality of the situation shattered my innocent illusions. The world that I thought I knew was nothing but a fragile facade, a mere illusion hiding the dark underbelly of power and betrayal.
Suddenly, a hand grabs my shoulder. I turned around and a lone AI organization soldier comes into my vision, his determined eyes meeting mine. Sympathy and resolve emanated from the soldier's gaze, their expression mirroring the pain etched on my face. He kneeled beside me and spoke in a voice filled with compassion and steely determination.
"I'm sorry for your loss kid." the soldier said, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Your parents fought bravely to protect you. You should be proud of their sacrifices," he added.
The soldier's words resonated within me, mingling with the pain and anger swirling in my heart. I looked at him, determination shining through my tear-filled eyes.
"I want to make them pay," I whispered, my voice filled with a steely resolve. "I want to see their eyes when I took something precious from them."
The soldier nodded, understanding the fire that burned within me. "You're not alone, kid. We've been tracking the illusionist for a long time, and we won't rest until justice is served. But to do that, you need to be prepared."
He extended a hand, offering me an opportunity for redemption and a chance to channel my rage into something productive. "There will be a training camp for the young blood to fight against the illusionist. Do you want this chance?" he asked. Without hesitation, I grasped his hand, accepting his offer of guidance and training within the ranks of the Anti-Illusionist organization.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as I lived in the orphanage near the training camp that will be held. There was still a week before the camp officially opened for registration.
The orphanage, although modest, provided a haven amidst the chaos that had befallen District 3. Sister Margaret, an elderly nun with a gentle demeanor, was the caretaker of this place, offering solace and guidance to those in need.
Under Sister Margaret's watchful eye, I found temporary respite from the turmoil that plagued my mind. She had a comforting presence, always ready to lend a listening ear or offer words of wisdom. Despite the weight of her past and the burden of caring for numerous orphaned children, Sister Margaret remained steadfast in her faith and commitment to nurturing young souls.
In the evenings, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the orphanage, Sister Margaret would gather us around a worn wooden table. As we eat our dinner, we would share stories of our pasts, our dreams for the future, and the challenges we faced in the wake of the illusionist's rampage. In those moments, a sense of camaraderie and unity began to form among the children.
"Ethan!"
The sensation of warm that I can only feel when my parents are around dwelled within me.
"Ethan!"
I wish my parents were here, they would be happy that I found new friends. I want to keep this feeling forever within my heart.
"Ethan!" The voice jolted me out of my reverie, bringing me back to the present. I turned to see Emma, a girl around my age, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She was one of the other orphans living in the same room as me. Her presence always managed to bring a spark of energy to the otherwise somber atmosphere.
With a smile, I replied, "Hey, Emma. What's up?"
She plopped down beside me, her excitement palpable. "Have you heard? that the food outside this orphanage is so delicious!" she said excitedly.
With a hint of curiosity, I leaned in closer to Emma, intrigued by her statement. The thought of delicious food was a welcome distraction from the constant weight of our circumstances.
"Really?" I asked, my interest piqued. "Where did you hear that from?"
Emma grinned mischievously. "I overheard some of the older kids talking about it. They said there's a food fair happening in the neighboring town this weekend. It's supposed to be amazing, with all sorts of mouthwatering treats and delicacies."
My stomach rumbled at the mere mention of food, reminding me of the meager meals we usually had at the orphanage. The idea of indulging in a feast, even if just for a day, was tempting. I never ate something outside of District 3 before. Surely this food fair is tempting me to try it out.
A sense of adventure stirred within me. "Do you think we could go? Sister Margaret might allow us if we ask nicely and promise to be on our best behavior."
Emma's eyes sparkled with excitement. "It's worth a shot! Let's gather the others and present our case to Sister Margaret. Maybe she'll give us permission to experience something outside these walls, even if just for a little while."
Eager to seize this opportunity, we rallied the other children in the orphanage, sharing the news of the food fair and our plan to ask Sister Margaret for permission. Together, we approached her, our hearts filled with hope and anticipation.
Sister Margaret listened attentively as we explained our desire to attend the food fair. Her eyes, filled with warmth and understanding, surveyed the group of eager faces before her.
"I understand your longing for something different, for a taste of joy amidst the hardships you've endured," she said gently. "But we must consider your safety and the responsibilities I have in caring for you."
There was a collective sigh of disappointment, but Sister Margaret continued, her tone softening. "However, I believe that experiences like these are important for you, to remind you that there is still joy and wonder in the world. If you promise to stay together, follow the rules, and return before nightfall, I will grant you permission to attend the food fair."
Excitement filled the air as we erupted into cheers and grateful hugs. Sister Margaret's understanding and willingness to grant us this small freedom only deepened our respect and admiration for her.
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- Nomage
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