Black curly hair, dark skin, and blood-red eyes, Omari was not your average fifteen-year-old boy. It didn't help that he was thin as a twig, so his school uniform hung off him like a hanger. He was playing with his butterfly knife on his way to school while thinking when he felt chills go down his spine.
Waking up to the world around him, he looked around to see there were no people in the once bustling town. The sky was cloudy, and the town was silent. There weren't even cars on the road. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't immediately scared, but his sudden understanding of the situation only intensified his fear. It was a monster attack.
A boom came from above. He looked up to see huge chunks of debris falling from stories high. He ran and dived before they came crashing into the ground. Looking at where the debris came from, he saw a monster.
It had the head of a tiger, the torso of an ape, the legs of an eagle, and arms of razored tentacles. The only thing giving Omari hope of surviving it was a tall, blond, bearded man, dressed in black plated tactical armour wielding a grey, cross shaped sword and drawing electricity from the town to himself. The man was a slayer.
The monster whipped its tentacles at the slayer, but with lightning speed, he deflected the blow, sending the tentacles slashing through buildings. Omari ran for his life but could not outrun the fight. The slayer released a discharge of electricity from himself, stunning the monster for a bit. Raising his sword, he dropped it on the monster's head, but the fur on its head had turned into black, skeletal armour blocking the sword.
Once unfrozen, its leg became that of a mantis and kicked the slayer, sending him flying into the ground beside Omari. The road exploded with electricity where the slayer landed to soften the landing. He looked up to see Omari.
"What are you doing here?" Omari turned around and tried running that way, but instantly, the monster had grown giant bat wings and, with its talons, reached for Omari's head. He could see it coming but was too slow to do anything.
***
A few moments ago, Omari sat upside down on the living room couch, playing with his butterfly knife. He especially liked sitting in the living room whenever his dad was cooking in the kitchen near the living room. Even if he did not like eating, he liked the smell of food, and at that moment, his dad was in the kitchen.
Another reason he sat in the living room while his dad cooked was to use his control to help out in the kitchen from the living room. See, Omari had the power to control slashes. From the living room, Omari could swing about his butterfly knife and cut up the vegetables in the kitchen.
It took him a while to learn to do it since he could not see what was happening in the kitchen, but with some effort and good coordination, it became easy. "Onion rings," his dad said, laying down an onion in the centre of a cutting board.
Omari spun the knife between his fingers, sending off slashes that found their way to the kitchen and split the onion into perfect rings. His dad couldn't help but grin after seeing it happen. No matter how many times he saw it, it was always impressive.
Omari was his mother's son. "He even had his mother's eyes."
"I wish I had her everything else, too. Then my face wouldn't have a horse face."
His dad was first shocked by this statement but soon chuckled. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"
Cuts appeared on the cutting board, saying yes.
"Mari, what did I say about using cuts to communicate?" His dad tried to say sternly, but that sternness quickly broke into more laughter as more cuts appeared, saying sorry. Once the laughter died, his dad seemingly randomly asked, "Mari, do you have any dreams?"
"Mhmm," Omari thought, "I've recently been having these weird dreams where I got straight, white hair."
"Not those types of dreams," his dad snickered. "I swear I have a clown for a son. But I'll take your answer as a no." His dad continued, "You know, that might be a good thing."
"Being a clown?"
"Not having dreams. Some dreams are worth it, but a lot of them will make you trade away the best parts of life—good food, good people, peace of mind—just to reach them. They lose themselves to their dreams and when they lose their dreams they have nothing left, they are left empty."
"That's an odd thing to say. I'm sure if Samson became a slayer, he wouldn't lose himself."
"You might be right there, but not for the reasons you think. One day whether he succeeds or fails in achieving his dream, he won't regret how he lived—fighting for others. It's not about the dream itself. It's about staying true to what matters along the way and being content with whatever happens. Knowing that when all is done, win or lose, you'll have no regrets."
He clanged utensils together to tell Omari he was done cooking. Omari got off the chair and made his way to the dining room. He found his dad already seated, having dished a bistro steak with buttermilk onion rings.
"So," his dad asked with a smile, "When you finally have something you can dream of doing, don't give up your morals, don't put aside your feelings, don't forget to find joy in the small things, and don't fail to cherish every small success even in the face of failure."
***
Then, with all his lightning, the slayer then shot back the monster. "Stand behind me." He told Omari. Once back to back with Omari, the slayer rose his sword and closed his eyes.
The monster flying back turned all its limbs into snakes that stretched and bit into buildings to slow it down. When it came to a halt, its main body balled up before its stretched limbs sent it sonic booming back to the slayer, faster than the eye could see.
He sighed and called, "Thunderclap," before lightning from the clouds above struck his sword and sent it swinging down. The thunder from the slash split the ground and the sky.
As for the monster, perfectly divided by the slash, its halves sped past the slayer and exploded with enough force to level the city that lay in front of Omari. "God." Omari said before turning around to see the slayer on one knee. "Are you ok?" Omari tried to get him up on his feet.
"Don't worry about me," He stood up. Drop of blood fell from his ear. "Can you still hear me?" Omari nodded, and the slayer chuckled. "First, you aren't summoned away like everyone else during a monster fight, and then your ears survive the sound of a thunderclap. Are you sure you're a human?"
Omari was about to answer that, but the slayer continued, "My son is just like you. Your whole generation is full of special people, more special than I could ever be."
"How could you say that when you just killed the thing that did that," Omari pointed to the flattened city just to see it being reconstructed, no, rewinded to its previous state.
"It's one type of power to kill a monster, but it takes a new world of power to make it as if they never existed to begin with. And that's just the power of one special guy with time control. I wonder what you guys will do with your controls."
Cooking was the most Omari had done with his control, but a question entered his mind. "Do you think -" The clouds drizzled for less than a moment, and the slayer disappeared.
In his place, all the cars and people that had once been in the town reappeared as if nothing had happened. Omari looked to the sky and saw the clouds had formed a σ shape. Then a car started hooting at him, so he got off the road.