"You're leaving now?" Rika asked, leaning against the soup kitchen door as Drew filled up a box with his belongings.

  Drew nodded.

  "I already submitted my letter of resignation to Kevin. They gave me a box and told me to gather my things before leaving."

  Rika began to move from the wall.

  "We're gonna miss you. You better pass the entrance exam!" She smirked, slapping Drew on his back.

  "I can't guarantee that, but I'll do my best."

  Thrusting a thumb into his chest, Rika laughed.

  "That's the spirit! I'll help you pack your things up."

  Drew smiled.

  "Appreciate it."

  Half an hour later, Drew emerged from the soup kitchen with his box. There wasn't much in it except for his uniform, a couple of images of him and the kitchen staff, and some farewell gifts from the staff. Placing the lid on the box, Drew felt a large hand on his shoulder.

  It was Kevin.

  "Can't believe it's already happening," Kevin spoke, a trace of sadness on his face. "This place will be another person quieter now that you are leaving."

  "It's what Uncle Winter wanted..." The Nightengale muttered. "I'm gonna miss this place."

  "Gosh." Kevin chuckled. "Don't be too down. After all, we all have confidence you'll be back soon but on the other side."

  "That's what I'm hoping for."

  "Well, I wish you all the best with your new family. Pray they're good folks."

  The Avain smiled, "Thanks for caring, but I'm sure I'll be okay. Besides, I'll be back soon!"

  Kevin grinned, his sharp canines gleaming in the sunlight.

  "Kid, you better make it into Star! We're all counting on you."

  "Don't worry," Drew reassured, holding a fist, "I will."

  "You better," The chef chuckled, fist-bumping him back, "You represent this soup kitchen!"

  Before he knew it, the Avian was walking. He was walking away from his old family, who cared for him over the past six months. The memories he shared with them, the things he learned from them, the warmth he felt with them, he was leaving it to begin a new chapter in his life. One story ends, and another one begins. He swore to himself that he would make them proud.

  The soup kitchen.

  Uncle Winter.

  His parents.

  He would not let any of them down.

  Their expectations rested on his shoulders.

  >>>

  Drew returned to his room.

  He had finished packing up last night. All that was left was for the movers to take his belongings to Glass Road and to leave his key with the leasing office on the first floor.

  As the movers took each box from the room, Drew slipped the cuff earring from his mother onto his right ear, letting it sit snuggly beneath his hair, and the Compressed Armory in his sling bag. It was finally time for him to leave the place he made his home for the past half year.

  When the last box left the ground, the Avain followed closely behind the movers and shut the door behind them.

  >>>

  The address that Uncle Winter gave him was about a 20-minute air train commute from Star. Glass Road was located on the outskirts of Ozwarth. It was both its own District and street that divided the city from the slums. Ozwarth is known as the city's poorest District, if you don't include the Slums, containing many second-hand shops. Drew expected that Mr. Ryhard would live somewhere closer to the city's heart since he is a military veteran, but he guessed that he wanted to lay low after that whole conflict sixteen years ago.

  The AirTrain was a hover train that served as Ozwarth's primary transportation as it could take a person from one end of the city to another within 40 minutes. Plus, it has stations in every district. Drew rarely uses the AirTrain since he lived only a few blocks away from Star, but now, it seems like he would be using it more frequently. Walking down the flight of stairs, Drew checked the time. Rush hour had just ended. It was also the exact time the AirTrain would arrive at Star Academy Station.

  Standing on the platform, Drew watched as the AirTrain arrived, a long white float vessel with ten cars painted blue stripes. On one of the car windows was an image of a pale-skinned, black-haired guy with purple eyes holding a sword half drawn from its gold-outlined sheath, its silver blade giving off a feeling of slight intimidation. He wore a black, skin-tight suit of armor with a long black tail that outlined his perfect figure yet made him look like an action figure. The swirling effects of Dark Otrio surrounding the guy made the image seem more dynamic. To the image's left were words: 'Star Military Academies Earth Campus Genius Class Student: Nicholas Goujian.'

  >>>

  Everyone in the Orion Alliance knew who Nicholas Goujian was.

  Born on Earth, the headquarters planet of the Orion Alliance, Nicholas is a one in thousand-year genius with the Abilities [Eternal Night], an SSS-Ranked Ability, [Future Eye], an S-Ranked Ability, and [Critical Hit], another S-Ranked Ability. [Eternal Night] is a Domain Ability, meaning Nicholas could create his own battle zone. Also, [Eternal Night] can sharply increase all allies' attack, defense, and speed. [Future Eye] allows the user to accurately predict the movements of a target within the next three seconds, while [Critical Hit] increases the chances of the user to inflict heavy damage on the target. Besides being born with broken Abilities, he was also blessed with godly Otrio talent in four Otrio Attributes: Dark, Earth, Water, and Wind. At age twelve, he managed to become a Mid-F-Class Genetic Warrior. Now, at seventeen, he is a Low-B Rank Intergalactic Warrior ranked among the top 5 Genetic Warriors in his generation in the Orion Alliance.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  He's not a genius for nothing.

  Furthermore, he had been offered many opportunities to enter top Military Academies, including the best Military Academy in the Orion Alliance, Nexos, but chose to join Star for reasons unknown. Nevertheless, today, he is Star's black diamond and their golden ticket into the Big Ten Military Academies, the top ten military academies in the Orion Alliance.

  >>>

  Embarking on the train, Drew rechecked the address to ensure he was not heading to the wrong place. Looking closely at the map, he found that Uncle Ryhard owns a small second-hand genetic medicine shop at the end of Glass Road. Second-hand medicine shops are the equivalent of medicine garbage disposals. When otrio regiments lose most of their effects, they are sent to these second-hand shops to be sold at a discount. Drew had bought most of his medicines and regiments from these kinds of shops, but even though the prices have been lowered by over eighty percent, they can still cost hundreds of Kalas.

  The train was still packed despite the rush hour being over. No seats were left, so Drew had to stand for the ride. It was relatively quiet, so Drew decided to read some medical news.

  >>>

  Ever since he was young, Drew has been interested in the medical field, specifically pharmaceuticals. In the Intergalactic Era, the pharmaceutical industry was more lucrative than ever because there were few individuals with the talent for creating logic-defying regiments. Machines do not make any regiments or medicines that involve Otrio, but Alchemists, people who can refine the Otrio contained in Cores and ingredients, utilizing everything from science, mathematics, and their own Otrio. Alchemists are highly valued no matter which planet one is on; even a low-ranking Alchemist held quite a bit of authority.

  Drew, like many others, respected such individuals. They were skilled enough to control life and death and were sought out by individuals regardless of status. They were powerhouses not to be messed with.

  >>>

  Time flew, twenty minutes had passed, and Drew had arrived at his stop. Glancing up, he saw almost no one around him since Glass Road was the last stop for the air train as it sat on the city's outskirts. Disembarking off the train, Drew exited the station to be greeted by the sound of the hot summer wind blowing through the streets. There was virtually no paved road nor sidewalk, only one beat-up hovercar and a few old men smoking against the corner of a crumbling building. There were no traffic lights to signal stop or go. Broken alcohol bottles and other pieces of trash scattered the ground while the pungent smell of the nearby dumpsters wafted into his nose. A few blocks over, Drew could see some run-down shacks with metal roofs on the brink of collapse and a couple of kids wearing ragged garments. No doubt those were the Slums.

  They weren't kidding when they said this place looks miserable. It's a ghost town. Drew thought he had passed by each crumbling building on Glass Road.

  As Drew walked, he attracted the gazes of some thugs hiding in the shadows between the buildings. Drew's heart began to beat faster.

  Don't look back. Your destination is just up ahead. Don't look back. You're almost there.

  Taking occasional peeks from the corner of his eye, Drew noticed some of the thugs following him, about three. They were Low F-Class Genetic Warriors. If they attacked Drew, Drew would have no problem dealing with them, but that seemed unnecessary as Drew arrived at his destination. It was a rotten three-story cement building that had vines crawling its walls. The windows were dust-covered, and some mud splatters could be seen. It wrote 'Uncle's Medicine Shop' on a faded plaque covered by vines. Entering the building, Drew saw the thugs turn around and leave, one spitting on the ground in irritation.

  I guess they're afraid of Uncle Ryhard. Drew smiled, feeling a bit safer.

  Closing the door behind him, he was met with an organized store layout and no people. Hazy vials that had lost most of their luster sat in glass-covered steel boxes on wooden tables. Wooden herb drawers lined the shop's walls, giving it a refined atmosphere. A glass display case was placed beside a heavily protected cash register that fell right under the view of a small surveillance camera. Behind the cash register were two doors, one for storage while the other one opened to an ascending wooden staircase. Walking toward the cash register, his footsteps barely audible, Drew spotted a small silver bell behind a card: 'Ring for help.' As instructed, Drew rang the bell. Footsteps. Footsteps from above could be heard. Suddenly, a grumpy yet familiar voice could be heard.

  "Dammit," The voice grumbled as the sound of footsteps grew louder, "I told you punk to stop treating this place as your hang-out spot-"

  "Uncle Ryhard," Drew interrupted as the figure appeared wearing a greasy brown shop apron, "It's me, Drew."

  A face of joy instantly emerged onto the Uncle's face.

  "Oh!" He roared with happiness, "What brings you here, lad?"

  Drew opened his pouch and revealed the compressed armory to Uncle Ryhard. Right away, his expression changed. He was serious.

  "How much do you know?" Drew asked in a firm tone.

  "Everything except for when you would arrive." He answered.

  "Should I wait here?" Drew asked, pointing at the ground.

  Uncle Ryhard shook his head and gestured to the staircase. "No, no. Come on in. You're 'family' after all."

  He nodded. "Thank you for the hospitality."

  Drew went up the staircase, the wooden boards creaking under his feet.

  "Forgive me about the staircase," Uncle Ryhard chuckled, "the building is old."

  "I can tell." Drew laughed, facing Uncle Ryhard.

  "We're almost there," Uncle Ryhard said, pointing up, " I'll show you around."

  Moments later, Drew and Uncle Ryhard were on the second floor. It was a rather ample space that was furnished nicely. To the right of Drew, there was a living room with a three-person sofa and two one-person sofas encircling a holographic television and a glass coffee table. In front of Drew was a full-sized kitchen with a four-burner induction stove, a skinny refrigerator with a freezer, a marble countertop, and a complete set of kitchen knives. In front of the kitchen was the dining space with a long rectangular table that could seat eight with S-shaped plastic chairs on top of a fluffy white rug. Drew was impressed that the interior was relatively modern despite the building's shabby appearance.

  "Everyone has that same look." Uncle Ryhard grinned, then gestured, "Come on, I'll show you where your room is."

  Drew followed Uncle Ryhard up another flight of creaky stairs to a hallway. This was the third floor. Walking through the hallway, Drew noticed that all the doors were shut, and one had a sticker that said 'Do Not Disturb".

  Noticing his curiosity, Uncle Ryhard spoke, "That's my son's room. He's the same age as you. Unfortunately, he hardly comes out of his room except for meals and the bathroom."

  Not digging into the matter further, Drew continued to walk behind Uncle Ryhard until they reached the end of the hallway, where Drew was face-to-face with a door.

  "This," Uncle Ryhard knocked on the white door, "is your room. It's mostly furnished, but you may add what you wish. The bathroom is to your left, and dinner will be served at six."

  "Okay, is there anything else you want to tell me, or can I do to help around?" Drew asked, taking off his hat.

  "You can settle down and take it easy for the next few days. After all that's happened, you deserve it. I've got to go now. I need to make a delivery to some other stores. I'll be back in a few hours."

  "Alright. See you." Drew waved as he watched Uncle Ryhard disappear down the stairs, then hollering again. "By the way, the movers are here!"

  With that, Drew entered his new bedroom. It was a small rectangular room painted white with a bed around 210cm long, a small wooden desk with no lamp, and a sliding door closet. In front of the desk was a rectangular window with a view of the city center in the distance. It was simple.

  Drew went back down to fetch his belongings from the movers. As he did, he mapped out the room in his mind and figured he could fit the small coffee table from his previous residence in the center, which he carried up first. Placing it on the ground, Drew found enough space to easily maneuver around to his closet and bed. Next, he took out his desk lamp, the supercomputer, an alarm clock, and materials he got from Mr. Krishman from another box and placed them on his desk. Finally, he removed some old bedsheets and put them on his bed. After arranging these around his room for a bit, he felt satisfied and began to list the things he needed to complete his room.

  "I'll need a small waste bin, a closet organizer, some hangers, a laundry bin, some stationaries. I think I can get most of these from Uncle Ryhard. I'll ask him later. But for some of these, like the hangers or stationery, maybe a mini shelf for my books, I'd have to order them or go to the shop. I think I'll do that tomorrow."

  He checked his clock and saw that only a couple of hours had passed.

  "I think I'll greet Uncle Ryhard's son now."

  Leaving his room, Drew wandered over to his neighbor's door but was faced with hostility. A hostile shout came from the other side.

  "What on Kraus do you want from me? I'm busy!"