I was lost in deep thought while looking outside my office window. The sun is brightly shining early in the morning, burning through me, wanting to ravage my soul. Unexpected events had just occurred last night. My memories enveloped my mind as my past started to linger in my present and unraveled who I really was.
“Another close call last night, I see?” Someone said to me with a very thick accent.
I turn around and see the arrogant Ming Yuen sporting his buzz-cut hair, golden uniform, and his usual proud smirk. The man's pride is bigger than Fraction Seven itself as even the tiniest of accomplishments strokes his ego to the brim.
“Yes, another close call. The blinding light that emanated last night was truly unexpected for a creature of the night such as the Demon,” I calmly replied as I turn back to face the window.
“Well, why not let us AOA's in on the fun next time, considering the lack of manpower coming from your division,” he arrogantly replied.
“With all due respect to the commander of the Armed Officials of Aurum of Orient City, the planned operation was to detain the “Cerebrum” of the Freedom Forgers. And we did so with due diligence and swift action. The Demon was an unexpected factor to the whole operation,” I justly replied.
“Come on now, Atalia. No need to be formal with me, you know that. But in any case, bagging the Demon along with the Cerebrum would have made you a hero once again,” he provokingly replied with a shrug.
I heard footsteps nearing me. I turn around and see he’s standing behind me closely, looking at me with piercing eyes. He leans towards me as he slams his right hand on the window. The window shakes from the sills seemingly holding itself together from breaking. I raise my chin and my left eyebrow and simply look on with utter disgust.
“I fear no man nor woman, Ming. This type of harassment and provocation does not faze me,” I strongly replied.
“Oh no, my dear Atalia, you got me all wrong. I am merely stating the facts of the matter at hand. And you know I would never want to irritate you.” He replies with a grand smirk.
He reaches for my left cheek and gently caresses it with the outside of his fingers. His white leather gloves feel cold like his soul. I didn't flinch for a bit, my eyebrows pulled down together and I glared at him. I reach deep within myself and refrain from having to toss him outside the window, I can only imagine him plummeting to the street below. His arrogance infuriates me. He has a higher social status because his father is a part of the Imperial Cabinet of Advisors in Extol, the Gilded Region, Motherland of the Iron Colony.
“Atalia, my offer from a year ago still stands. You would not have to risk your life anymore for simple matters such as the Demon, no more tattered clothes and bruises on your most beautiful skin,” he softly said with malice.
“Thank you for your kind offer but my answer still stands as well. I mean this with no disrespect to you, Commander,” I calmly replied, refraining from totally mocking his given rank.
He lifts his hand off my cheek and nonchalantly directs himself towards the door as he uttered a small huff and said,
“You make this game too hard sometimes, your playing hard to get only strokes my fire even further. I shall get to you someday and when that time comes, you'll be begging for my hand in marriage,” he proudly said as he leaves the room.
I close my office door and with a deep breath, suppressing myself from lashing out in anger towards his putrid personality. I know myself better than anyone else in this world as I have lived a life on the streets begging for alms unlike him whose rank as commander was only given to him because of his father’s position in the High Council. I have survived by myself and pushed my mind and body to its peak just to survive this forsaken life. Having a deep desire to prove to this world that I am not as worthless as what they want me to be.
The feeling of loneliness and despair in not having to know my parents, living as an orphan in a temple up in the Moro Mountains and escaping the monks by the age of nine to search for my parents has forged me stronger than ever. What I am today, what I have become, I forged with the burning fire of hate and fear. The hate towards my life, a life I lived out in the scrapyards, building myself a makeshift home out of wood and some rusted up metal roofing segments. Squatting out in the most rural of plains and having to steal from the local wet markets in each town or city I jump to. Having to fear of death from starvation or making enemies with the wrong people was a mantra to hold on to. Always being alert of who I talk to and how to approach each individual out on the street.
I learned about life through various means. I needed no friends as they are extra lives to have in my hand. I stole many jewels, wallets, and other valuable items from unsuspecting individuals. Sold them to other people for twice the price in places kids should have never been in. I carried a pocketknife in my sleep and hid away under a pile of trash to hide myself from people I had debts to. Since then, I have never gone back and never had the thought of looking back. Be it good or evil, the only option is survival.
I was a nobody until I joined Service Corps. There, I lived and trained for five years, being berated and made fun of because of my grey eyes and blonde hair. I was treated as an inferior being unlike the Ironclad, the pure-blooded Rinnamads from the motherland. They strut their golden armbands and their shiny boots every day. Some even prance around with delicious food while walking past us starving Ore Recruits and throws some of their leftovers treating us like animals.
While they were living a better life inside the Service Corps Academy, I and the rest of my division were given worn-out boots and shriveled, mud-stained uniforms that were passed on for ages by other Ore Recruits from the past. We were given soup or porridge and one tiny rounded bread for breakfast and dinner. They cut my long golden hair bald, the only thing that made me who I was, and stripped us to check for impurities in our bodies each month as if to shame us further, trying to take our whole being from us. This did not discourage me even a little as it only added to the fire that was my hate.
I trained, got beaten up, trained some more and fought for my right to stand on the same ground as the Ironclad. We ran through mud on rainy days, we duked it out in hand to hand combat under the smoldering heat of summer; my favorite time of the year, the only time I get to beat the living hell out of those Ironclad bastards. We trained our stamina as we made our lungs stronger by swimming in a lake each winter.
The taste of blood and mud was infused to my soul. The sensations of healing wounds and bruises have numbed my senses through and through. In winter days, when the snow was rampant and we can’t train nor go outside, we were locked inside our cell chambers. This has hardened my skin while I slept on the cold concrete floor with only a pillow on my head to warm me through the days and nights.
When the day of Ascension came, we were to test all that we have learned the past five years in training. Having the highest averages in both physical and written exams, I excelled to the very top of the 124th Service Recruits. I proved that I have the right to live, that I have survived and pushed anything and everything that tried to kill me aside and proven my worth to this worthless life of mine.
On the day of Recreation, I was given three different service factions to choose from; the civil security force of the Armed Officials of Aurum that reports to the Supreme Commander of the Regal Guard and operates around all the cities under the Iron Colony, the Han Smiths that reports under the President of Fraction 7 as his personal guard, or the Ward Smiths that only operate on the seven main Iron cities and report under the Magistrate.
I could have had everything I wanted and lived off an easier life being a law officer under the AOA's, having to catch petty thieves and eat deliciously catered food every day, feeding off the budget directly coming from the Regal Guard. I could have been a Han Smith, living off my days protecting the president in his tower, being a bodyguard and drinking away my boring life out of the people's taxes. But why did I choose to be a Ward Smith? Was it pride or because everything else was boring? Through endless hours of work and sacrifice I might have forgotten my reason, the very reason the Onyx Blade of Justice was born into this world.
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