It was a cold, stormy night. Suspended on multiple buildings, giant LED screens produced neon lights which radiated their myriad of colors and hues into a bustling metropolis. Rain fell down on the city as thunder emanated its sound distantly. Crowds of people waddled throughout vast intersections, their umbrellas shielding them from the droplets of water coming down from above.
Among the crowd, a tall, slender man could be seen walking with no rain jacket and only a black fedora to cover him from the rain. His eyes were drawn to a bright cafe giving off the inviting aromas of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee beans. Entering the shop, the cozy and inviting atmosphere clearly did not draw only his attention.
After ordering a medium sized cup of black coffee and a slice of tiramisu, the man strutted towards the front of the cafe. He had picked a seat in the far left corner of the shop, far away from any other customers.
Moments later, a lively and happy family walked into the cafe, their daughter beaming from excitement after she managed to convince her parents to stop by at this shop on their way home. As she took a look around, her eyes darted from a vacant table, to the display of decorated cakes, and then to the loaves of bread piled high on the counter. Shifting her gaze towards the right, the girl found herself looking at the man who still had his fedora on.
He was dressed in a sleek black suit, with a white undershirt that was slightly translucent as a result of the storm outside, which had now picked up in strength.
"Daddy, who is that weird looking man with the funny looking hat?" The daughter asked, her face showing an expression of curiosity, but not fear or panic.
"Honey, how many times have I told you not to look at strangers like that?" The mother answered, gently nudging the child towards an unoccupied table. The father took a quick glance at the man, who did not show any physical response to what he had just overheard, before joining his family.
The man had gotten his cup of coffee and dessert a few minutes ago, but had not touched either item. He sat in his chair, appearing lost in thought as his fork laid motionless on the table.
'What am I doing with my life?' He thought to himself, now rhythmically tapping his index finger on the mahogany table.
Despite being dressed so differently, and quite frankly suspiciously, no one seemed to notice the man. After all, what kind of person wears a soaking wet hat inside?
Eventually, the man picks up his fork in one hand and his coffee in the other. He takes a small sip of the bitter drink before beginning to the divide his square-shaped dessert into smaller cubes. Despite playing and prodding with his food, the man did not take a single bite of the tiramisu.
As more people entered the small cafe, it appeared the man was soon to make his exit. Finally sinking the prongs of his fork into a cube of tiramisu he created, the man took a single bite before taking a final sip of coffee. He then exited the shop, walking back into the rainy and cold storm. A flash of lightning caused some to jolt in surprise, but the man continued walking, unfazed and with a look no one could quite describe plastered on his face.
To the general population, this man was unknown. Maybe his fashion sense was a bit strange, but he looked like your average office worker.
However in professional killing, the name Johan Vos was admired, respected, and most of all, feared. You could not be in the world of hitman without knowing who Johan Vos was.
In sports, there are players who are so influential and dominant that they are referred to as the greatest of all time. Johan Vos was undoubtedly the greatest hitman to ever exist. However, with fame, admiration, and talent comes jealously, envy, and again, fear. As much as people respected and looked up to Johan, there were just as many that wanted him dead.
What scared many hitmen, especially those of higher ranking, was that Johan only killed those he deemed "worthy". A plethora of politicians, CEOs, and drug lords have met their fate at the hands of the man. The man did not seem to kill for monetary gain, which meant that the more you had to lose, the more notorious or influential you were, the higher the probability Johan would make you his next victim.
Acting on your own accord was a cardinal sin for a professional hitman, as it had been long established that one could not kill unless he was given an order or assignment to do so.
But no one tells Johan Vos what he can and cannot do.
From birth, Johan himself knew he was different. He did not cry like other children, he did not laugh like other children, he did experience emotions like other children. Throughout his time in school, Johan barely talked or interacted with others. His parents were absent from his life, with his father busy running his Fortune 500 company while picking which mistress he was going to spend time with that week. His mother was no better, often coming home drunk and with her body clinging onto a different man she had met from her night out.
Johan was bored of life. He had no goals, no dreams, no aspirations and spent most of his time aimlessly walking around his father's empty, hollow mansion.
One day, on his way home from school, Johan had managed to slip away from his body guards. He simply did not feel like going home at the moment, and walked around before being confronted by an elderly man. The man took one glance at the young Johan, and said, "Come with me child, I know exactly what you need in life,"
Johan did not know it at the time, but he had just met the man who controlled the association which ran the underground business of professional killing.
Years later, despite being promised fulfillment, thrill, and a purpose in life, Johan felt just as hollow and empty inside as he did during his childhood.
Standing in the middle of the intersection he had crossed earlier, Johan came to a halt. He was once again consumed by his own thoughts. People stared at him, but the man did not notice nor care that he looked out of place. As he saw that the traffic lights were about to turn red, Johan knew he would have to continue his contemplation elsewhere.
Before he got the chance to move, he heard a loud pop before falling right into the ground. He could feel a pool of warm liquid begin to envelop the left side of his head as his consciousness began to fade.
Ah... looks like they finally got me.
Johan somehow opened his eyes just a few short moments later. However, instead of waking up surrounded by stopped cars and horrified civilians, he was met with the sight of an overweight boy inside clumsily pacing back and forth in a bedroom. Johan had trouble comprehending why someone who looked no older than the age of ten had a king size bed all to himself and a room that was bigger than the apartment building he had been living in.
Johan tried to speak, but no sound came out. Johan tried to move, but he had no limbs. In fact, Johan didn't have a body at all. He had no ears, but he could hear every sound around him. He man had no eyes, but could see. He had no nose, but possessed a sense of smell. He had no brain, yet he was sentient and could form thoughts.
What the fuck is going on?
One second he was shot in the head by a sniper rifle and the next he wakes up in some fantasy themed bedroom of a fat kid who seemed more skilled at eating than walking.
For a moment, Johan sympathized with the young child, thinking maybe his body came to be as a result of parental neglect. However, his pity soon shifted towards interest as the boy sat down and began studying a book with at minimum a thousand pages.
What kind of kid reads a book that big? Can he even understand what half those words mean?!
Although the pages contained letters foreign to him, Johan somehow was able to comprehend what they meant.
Seemingly confined to this room, Johan continued to observe the child. With magenta colored eyes and medium length purple colored hair, Johan thought the boy looked more like an anime character than an actual human.
Johan had grasped the current predicament he was. He was in a completely different world, just like how the main character of the shows he used to watch would be transported to a world full of adventure, mystery, and magic. However, unlike these protagonists, Johan did not get his own body to interact with the new environment around him.
There was still so much he did not understand, but Johan's main objective was seeing how he could get out of the state he was currently in. He could not close his eyes to concentrate because again, he has no eyes, but also the sensation of not being able to blink strangely irritated him. Johan instead decided to focus his field of vision into a precise spot, one right above the book the boy was reading.
To his surprise, Johan teleported right to the spot he had focused his vision on. He now had a clear view of the massive window in the bedroom. It revealed a large balcony decorated with evergreen plants and a couple of chairs. Johan deduced that the climate in this area leaned towards the cooler side using the flora and terrain visible through the window.
Shifting his focus back towards the boy, Johan began to read the contents of the book, still intrigued that he was literate in a language he had never seen before. He could also hear the child reciting what he was reading quietly. Despite also never hearing this vernacular in his life, Johan understood every word the boy was saying.
Just exactly what happened after I was shot... I wonder if I could somehow communicate to the kid here.
Johan begins to fixate his gaze on the boy.
What if I try to teleport where he's sitting?
The man concentrates his vision again towards where the child was studying, and it appeared that nothing happened.
'Of course that didn't work,'
"Who said that?" The boy shrieked, falling off the chair.
'He kinda looks like a blob of pudding when he falls' Johan observed, continuing to make note of every action the boy made.
'So, can you hear me?'
"Y-yes...?" The boy responded aloud, still startled and confused by the random voice that had suddenly popped into his head. It seemed that when Johan focused on the boy, he was able to transmit his thoughts to him. Furthermore, he was speaking, or rather thinking in his native language, yet the child did not seem to have trouble understanding him.
'Well, I am just as confused as you are, but I assure you I am more than just a hallucination. I do exist. I think," Johan stated, trying to ease the boy's mind. 'What is your name?'
"My mother told me from since I was toddler that I should never talk to strangers, but what can I do in this situation?" The boy had calmed down quickly and was already beginning to regather himself.
Johan noted how despite his sloppy appearance, the boy was intelligent and educated for his age. Scanning his room for any indication of a person, the boy then reveals his identity.
"My name Aster. Aster Vanguarde."
'If you don't mind me asking Aster, are you able to explain to me what you have been studying?'
Aster pulls his body up from the ground and sits back on his wooden chair, one that seemed far too basic and simple for the room he had. "This book is a guide that explains all you need to know about essence,"
Johan shifts his gaze towards the manual begins to decipher it.
Similar to atoms, essence surrounds everything. It is a strange phenomenon, as its properties allow humans to create fire out of thin air, or imbue the wind with kinetic energy to then cut trees with.
Humans are able to manipulate essence to create spells out of one of five basic elements, fire, lightning, terra, water, and wind. Whichever element a human can use is referred to as their affinity.
Unfortunately, not all humans are equal, and this applies to affinities. Some people simply do not have an affinity, and therefore are unable to utilize the essence around them to its fullest potential and power.However, absorbing essence allows for increased recovery which can prove beneficial in training.
'So, what is your affinity then?'
Aster's face tenses up at the question.
"I... don't have one."
'Is there something wrong with not having an affinity?' Johan questions, seeing the look on the boys face.
"Not necessarily, for the lower ranking population at least," Aster responds.
"Unfortunately for me, in the social hierarchy, my family ranks pretty high as my parents are the directors of the most prestigious essence academy in the world."
'I'm assuming that you are looked down on by your peers and others because you lack something they all have,'
"Yes, virtually every high ranking person in this country possesses an affinity, as it is heavily influenced by genetics. Simply being the child of someone who has an affinity practically guarantees that you should have one," Aster explains, clenching his fist tightly.
'Quite the misfortune for you,' Johan was unsure of how to comfort the child.
So, to sum everything up, this "essence" is similar to what I know as magic in fantasy novels. Having an affinity allows for a person to weaponize the energy from essence. There are five types of elements a person can have an affinity for, and depending on their affinity, this is the element they are able to manipulate essence to create and use.
Having an affinity also serves as a gauge for societal standing. It appears that the higher you rank in society, the more likely it is you possess an affinity for an element.
It also seems that essence isn't useless to people without an affinity, as people can learn to heal their bodies using it. Considering what I have just heard from the boy, it does make no sense why he possesses no affin-
"Aster, it is time for dinner," A young man no older than sixteen with crimson red hair and purple pupils shouts. I presume this is his brother.
"I'll come down shortly Makai," He answers while closing his book.
'I presume your brother has an affinity'
"Yea, his affinity is fire, just like my father."
'Do you have any other siblings? What are their affinities?' Johan asks. This may be the most questions the now former hitman has ever asked in his life, and the most interested he has been in something for a long time.
"I have a younger sister, named Elise, who possesses an affinity for water. My mother has an affinity for lightning, which of course just leaves me to be the only one in the family without an affinity,"
'No use in sulking what you cannot change, Aster. I suppose you are trying to make up for your lack of an affinity by become knowledgeable," Johan deduces.
"I mean, what else can I do? It's not like I want to be a disappointment," Aster lets out a faint smile before starting to walk towards the door. "Are you able to come with me? Or are you confined to my room?" Aster opens the door and gestures with his hand as if Johan was a visible person in the room.
Johan follows Aster, his movement still erratic. It is here that he sees just how large this building is. The floor is made of polished marble
walls supported by large white pillars decorated with gold. The rows of giant doors seem endless until they finally reach a staircase that made the one in Johan's childhood house look cheap. A balcony ran across the perimeter of the entrance hall.
Aster struggled his way down the stairs as Johan watched in slight amusement.
He's waddling like a penguin.
Heading towards the dining room, Aster greets maids and butlers on his way there. On their walk to the dining room, Johan once again finds himself lost in thought.
I wonder why I have been brought into this world, and in a form that blurs the line between existing and not. I guess reincarnation comes in all sorts of forms.
While Johan held the power to kill anyone he wanted to in his previous life, he was now reduced to being a mere spectator of others actions.
Must be Gods way of punishing me.