"What would you do, to live the life you knew you were always meant to?"
**
Rain fell from the skies, its touch soothing the cuts and bruises all over Feo's face.
He lay in the junkyard; it was already hours past curfew, dark as evil night. In Enquath, the pollution from all the blimps blocked out the moon's light, all he had to guide his eyes was the dwindling flame of his candle spell —one of the only cantrips his shattered manacore could handle.
Each breath he drew forced tears out off his eyes. But it was not the pain that sorrowed his heart... today he had failed the entrance exam. Today his dreams of being a somebody... an anybody, had shattered.
And now he lay, broken and bruised, where he belonged—thrown away with all the other broken, unwanted things in this city.
"One more chance, you bastards," he sobbed, bloodied saliva hanging from his busted lip. "I can do it...I just need—"
"One more chance?"
Feo cocked his head in the direction of the strange voice. He couldn't move his neck all too well, so his eyes darted through the darkness.
"Who's there!" he shouted, trying to sound strong. But no such strength lay in this broken thing.
A figure appeared from the shadows, its face barely lit by Feo's flame. It was a boy; white hair, blue eyes, dressed in the black high collared noble suits you'd see in cathedral paintings.
He stared at it in disbelief, unable to process what was going on. "H-How—"
"How do I have your face?" The figure asked, smiling.
Feo tried to stand up, but his arms and legs had been broken. All he had left to him was his magic, his useless, powerless magic.
"You don't need to stand. This'll be quick Feo," the figure continued.
"H-How do you know my name?"
The figure approached, studying Feo for a moment before lying down beside him in the muddied dirt.
"Its my job to know everything about you," it said. Even as raindrops splashed into its eyes, it stared up at the starless sky unblinking.
"I know that you failed the entrance exams... I know the church stripped you of your magelite title, and that a group of nobles beat you half to death and tossed you here."
Feo's eye twitched at that. Remembering how helpless he had been as he was dragged out of the academy made his tears feel hot.
"I also know that you were once a prodigy, the Second Coming of the Divine Magus," the figure said, giggling innocently towards the end.
"Who are you?" Feo whispered.
"I'm not done yet," the figure snapped. "Your parents. I know the church ordered their execution," the figure continued, turning to look Feo in the eye. In a musical tone, it added; "I know what they did to your manacore."
Feo's eyes widened. How could anyone know about that day? The day he lost everything. The day he flew too close to the sun.
His breath caught in his lungs, his heart a drum that threatened to tear out at any moment. The fire, his mother's screams... the rancid stench of his father's flesh burning, it all flooded back to him.
"You were a very bad boy, Feo. Telling the head priest you'd replace him one day," the figure said.
Feo's eyes were lost in the memory—the tragedy that was his life. And he began laughing.
"I'm dying. That's what this is, isn't it? A hallucination right before death."
The figure caressed his cheek, "You poor broken thing," the figure whispered. "Look how they've destroyed you."
Feo's laughter, a sad.. mad sort of thing, echoed throughout the scrapyard.
"You asked who I was."
"I'm you."
Feo froze.
"The you, you should've been."
The figure took a deep breath, and a tendril of blue flame flowed out of its mouth with the exhale.
Feo stared in awe. This was second-tier magic; no incantations, power used as naturally as breathing. A gift he once owned.
The flames rose into the air, and began to morph into letters; [What would you do, to live the life you were always meant to?]
"I can give you back everything they stole from you, Feo... everything they stole from us."
Feo stared at the flames in awe. Magic had been his first love, and he had never gotten over her. Every night as he practiced, his manacore burned with the memories of what it once was.
Without it, he felt... meaningless. Like he had no purpose in life.
What was he willing to do to have that back?
Anything— everything.
"What... what do I need to do?"
The figure began laughing excitedly, clapping its hands.
"I knew you'd agree, Feo. That's what makes you so special, the will to do anything it takes."
The figure stood up. Stretched out a hand. "Take my hand, and be baptized once again. Give up faith in your current god, and serve anew. That is all it costs."
Feo thought about it for a moment.
Give up faith in god? That was more than just about being religious. Without the faith, he would lose access to magic... lose access to what he loved most.
"No, I ca—"
"Feo," the figure interrupted. "It's okay. You've tried the best you can, and you failed. If you continue down this path... you'll die."
"You'll die without knowing the heights you would've reached."
Feo hesitated.
He attempted to reach out towards the hand, but his broken arms would not let him.
"Ah, I almost forgot." The figure snapped its fingers, and a green light surrounded Feo. Slowly... painfully snapping his bones back into place, pulling his wounds closed.
He screamed, yet his eyes stared at the process in disbelief.
Healing magic was a myth, yet here it was, being used by a strange boy who looked exactly like him.
What other wonders would he see if he followed him? What miracles would he be able to perform if he took this offer?
By the time he had completely healed, he had made up his mind.
"I will give up my faith, my magic. I will... join you," he said, taking the figure's hand.
The figure smiled, pointing towards a shadow in the darkness of the scrapyard. A door materialised, glittering behind shadowy tendrils. It's hum shook the scrapyard gently.
"Come. Let me show you the other path."
As Feo walked through the door, a voice whispered to him.
『You have been chosen as a candidate agent for the Messiah System.』
『Processing...』