Legend of Kataria | Outcasts Book #1 (NEW VERSION)

Chapter 1

Catrial was a sweltering trap of death.

Fifty thousand people had congested onto one massive strip of grass and road for the annual appearance of the planet's beloved king. Celebrations had begun several days prior to the main event and most of the partygoers were either drunk by this point or very nearly so. They did not care about anything happening beyond their own intoxicated haze and so no one gave a second thought to the lean black-haired teen shouldering his way through the crowds in the wrong direction down a one-way sidewalk.

In their defense, it was an easy oversight. At first glance (if one could even bear a moment for a first glance), he was quite easy to miss with his poorly trimmed bangs and unruly dark hair brushing untidily against his shoulders. His attire was nothing outside of the ordinary; a dark cerulean t-shirt, obsidian jeans with rips near the knees and gray mud-caked Converse. Indeed, to most observers, there seemed nothing extraordinary about this male at all.

And he relished this disguise, for there was no risk of discovery this way.

Unobserved, he wove his way through the bustling crowd, feeling the pressure of bodies collapsing in from every direction. The sun bore down relentlessly against his shoulders and he pulled a pale baseball cap further over his eyes, keeping his gaze locked on the solid brick pavement, watching shoes and skateboards go whizzing past his peripheral. He felt the sweat inching down his neck and he wished, for not the first time, that he'd thought to bring a handkerchief, but at that moment he had more pressing matters to attend to--such as not being recognized.

Even one notice from any of the hundreds of onlookers would jeopardize the entire mission and put his life in danger. This was not the day for him to be taking risks, despite the extremely low odds of someone actually sighting him.

For a moment, he glanced up from his shoes to take in his surroundings. His eyes scanned the crowded streets, dozens of vendors, and the large platformed stage; perfectly positioned with a clear view of the sparkling Triceon River. He spotted no immediate threats, but he knew how quickly that could change. He also knew how much of a gamble he was taking, appearing like this in broad daylight, so close after his last...adventure. The king was a powerful man and very dangerous. If word got out that the teen had been spotted, the entirety of the city's police force would be locking down on the square and barricading all escape routes in an instant. Such was the authority of the most powerful man on Griffion to deal with thorns in the government's side.

And Russian Blue was such a thorn.

Of course, that was not his real name. However, as the identity of a criminal mastermind, it was appropriate for him. For those who knew him, perhaps in more ways than one. His true identity was a closely guarded secret. Not because he feared for his family's sake—his mother had left shortly after his first birthday and his father had died years ago)—but because it would be a terrible inconvenience if everyone were to know that the fearless rebel had once been like them; ordinary and unknown and unseen.

Tires squealed in a nearby alley and he instantly locked his gaze back onto the sidewalk, continuing to shoulder his way through the mob. Pedestrians screaming into their phones shoved past him without so much as a second glance. Once, he would have found this extremely irritating and rude on their part. Now, he relied on that type of distraction to pull off his mission.

Doors slammed shut and he shot a glance across the street where a family was piling out of a large minivan. A brief ghost of a smile crossed his lips but vanished just as rapidly as his eyes fell on a man standing on the adjacent sidewalk. Their eyes met and Blue stood still, attentively assessing the situation. The man smiled wickedly and then started toward him, a hand reaching into his pocket, perhaps to draw a weapon.