Arthur now found himself walking on the street the next day. The sun was out and it was a nice day, but Arthur did not feel any of its warmth. The golden rays that brought comfort to so many others seemed to pass through him, as if he were already a ghost in this world that had taken everything from him.
He walked past people who separated like he was a stone in a river when he got close, afraid they might catch something from the filthy street boy. Their faces twisted with disgust, mothers pulling their children closer, businessmen stepping widely around him while clutching their expensive briefcases. Arthur had grown used to this treatment in recent weeks, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
Above him on all the different high-rises, giant screens portrayed the "saviors" of humanity. The Chosen—perfect, powerful, pristine in their uniforms—smiled down at the city they protected. Their faces were everywhere, impossible to escape, a constant reminder of their failure to save his family. These displays usually made Arthur angry enough to spit, but today was different. Today Arthur was too tired, too hungry to even bother being angry. His emotions had become a luxury he could no longer afford.
He walked past a burger place and spent some time looking through the pane of glass, watching people eat with drool falling down his mouth. The sight of families sharing meals, laughing together, enjoying food he couldn't remember the taste of, was torturous. Eventually, the workers noticed him lingering and shooed him away like a stray animal. One of them made exaggerated gestures through the glass, his face scrunched with revulsion.
'I can't even manage to get myself something to eat,' Arthur thought, his shoulders slumping even further. 'I'm so pathetic... so weak. I hate it. I wish I was strong and brave like The Chosen, then my parents would still be alive.'
These thoughts ravaged his weakened mind as he walked with no destination down the maze of city streets. His feet dragged against the concrete, each step requiring more effort than the last. The city buzzed around him, people rushing to jobs and appointments, living their lives as if the world hadn't ended for some.
Until...
He felt it coming on quick and grabbed his chest in preparation. 'No, not here, please,' his mind begged as the familiar pressure built beneath his sternum. His pleads fell on deaf ears as the pain grew and grew and grew. Soon Arthur was on the floor, flailing around, screaming in agony and ripping at his chest. The agony was beyond anything he'd felt before, as if something inside him was trying to tear its way out through his ribcage.
His vision blurred and people started to surround him, yelling and talking, but he could not hear what they were saying through the roaring in his ears. Some pointed, others took out their phones—probably recording rather than helping.
'No, I don't want to die, please, I'm not ready. I can't die yet'. The thought pulsed through his mind with each agonizing heartbeat. For all his misery, the survival instinct within him burned fierce and desperate.
Soon darkness crowded his vision and his yelling ceased as he passed out. The world disappeared into blessed nothingness.
Then, what felt to him only a moment later, his senses started to float back to him and his eyes opened. Everything was blurry as he looked around, confused by the soft beeping sounds and antiseptic smell that had replaced the city's noise and stench. He saw a white room filled with many things—machines with blinking lights, an IV stand beside him, the faint outline of a window.
Soon he remembered what happened, and suddenly his vision cleared. He launched upwards, gasping for air and gripping at his chest. The pain was gone, replaced by a peculiar emptiness, as if something inside him had shifted.
He looked around frantically, finally able to clearly make out his surroundings. 'I'm in a hospital? What the hell is happening?' He had avoided hospitals since his parents' death—he had no money, no insurance, nothing to offer in exchange for care.
He looked around more before he heard footsteps and turned to his left to see a lady with a dark complexion and curly long brown hair hurrying to his side. Her white coat and clipboard marked her as medical staff, but her warm smile seemed genuine, unlike the clinical detachment he expected.
"Goodness, you're awake! That's wonderful!" Arthur stared at her, confused, as she walked to his side with a clipboard in hand, moving a stool next to his bed so she could sit down.
"What the hell is going on? What happened?" His voice was hoarse, his throat raw from screaming.
She looked at him for a moment before offering a warm smile. "Well, you had a sort of medical emergency and passed out on the sidewalk. Then someone called for help, and here you are!"
She crossed her legs on the seat, looking at Arthur patiently, waiting for him to speak. But after a while of silence and Arthur looking at her awkwardly, not knowing what to say, she spoke again.
"Before we do anything else, could I get some information from you? My name is Alicia. What's yours?"
Arthur waited a moment before letting his voice ring out quietly. "A-Arthur."
She continued to stare quietly before lifting up her clipboard and writing something down. "How old are you, Arthur?"
He again looked at her confused and spoke. "Um, 15."
She looked up from her clipboard, shocked, and her smile broke somberly for the first time. "Oh my, so young," she said with a slightly grim tone before writing it down. "Now, you have been experiencing terrible chest pain and sporadic dreams as of recent, correct?"
Arthur coiled back unexpectedly. "H-how did you know that?"
She looked at him, her smile already back on her face. "I'll answer all your questions momentarily, but first, please answer all of mine."
Arthur let himself relax slightly and said uncertainty, "O-okay."
She nodded. "Perfect. Now, how long ago did the pain and dreams start?"
Arthur hesitated for a moment, thinking about the death of his parents, the darkness that had filled their apartment that terrible night. The memories were still raw, bleeding edges in his mind. "About three and a half weeks ago."
She continued to write and nodded at his words. "Okay, great. Any family we should know about, Arthur?"
Arthur flinched at her words and looked down darkly, waiting a moment before responding. "N-no," he said before slowly looking back up to see Alicia reaching out to grab his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Arthur. It must have been hard for you." Her eyes held genuine compassion, something Arthur hadn't seen directed at him since before his parents died.
He had a hard time meeting her gaze, so looked down and to the side. "Yeah..."
She withdrew her hand and put the clipboard down. "Alright... Arthur, after numerous tests we ran while you were asleep, and after the questions I just asked you, it's safe to say that you are developing a Realm Core."
Arthur's eyes shot to her face, and his jaw hung low. 'What the hell did she just say?'