In The End

The Colour of Red

The long lasting war had ended, leaving the remaining human race to suffer for what they have done. The war took everything they had, their food, drink, resources, family, friends, and home. The earth turned from a beautiful land into a dry battlefield coloured with red and decorated with pale corpses. Seems that God has punished human for what they did, lying and killing each other so easily. Human had sinned. So much, until God decided to look the other way and leave human behind to suffer. And yet, human still tried to kill each other to fill their own need, to survive the broken, changing world. Water became rare, animals died too often, plants simply couldn't grow on the barren dry soil. It was the payment of what human had done in the past, all the terrible things they had done just to fulfill their own greed and envy.

The new world had various modern technologies, but it couldn't save them from running out of water. Most of the time, light yellow, toxic rain fell down the earth and killed any plant that was trying to live. The new world may have the technology to solve it, but not every region has it.

The new world was divided into few regions based on its surroundings and situations. A land with simple, run down but live able houses, people that had it hard, people that steal to survive, people that were thrown away, that is one of the land that is called Drian. Drian is not the place people would choose to live in, but ever since the war, the land became populated with people who have given up.

A man walked down the dirty street, run down light brown painted houses stood by its side along the street, people with tattered clothes and empty eyes sat, leaning on the wall and yet his eyes didn't glance to his surrounding even a bit. He has a silver hair, not white, not gray, but silver. His black coat contrasted with his silver hair, and yet it didn't caught much of the others attention. Maybe those people were too tired to even realize when a fire started a few blocks away from where they are. The man looked over to the dancing red as it eats everything on its way, leaving black and gray ashes behind. The people around him didn't bother to scream or ask for help, they just sighed and stood up, taking their belongings with them and walked away. There's nothing they can do to stop the fire but wait until it finally dies off.

"These people..." said the man as he looked over to the growing fire, getting bigger as it eats more and more. He sighed and opened the brown bag that is slightly covered with dirt here and there, taking out a modern looking gun, it's still a bit shiny despite the current situation where the dry dusty wind blows ever so slightly and making the fire spread just a little bit. Before he could even pull the trigger, a 15 year old boy with a dark brown hair and a slightly tattered light brown coat appeared in front of him. The boy waved his hand and moves it around, the fire danced as he moved his hand. He lowered his hand down and curled up his first, the fire grew smaller and smaller, disappearing in the end.

"Trying to pick a fight with a fire is dangerous sir." The boy said as he turned around and looked at the man with a slight smile on his dirty face. The man putted away his gun back into his bag and closes it.

"The one who was playing around with fire was you, boy." Replied the man as he patted his black hat, cleaning whatever was there.

"Oh, I maybe play with it, but whenever there's one who flee, I will catch them as soon as I can." the boy chuckled and pulled the collar of his coat. "Well, good day sir, Drian may not be the place for you, you will get robbed for sure if you keep your guard low like that." Said the boy as he looked at the man in the eyes, his red eyes meeting the light blue, silvery eyes of the man.

"What's your name kid?" asked the man as he observed the boy in front of him. "Seems that you are born with... a talent." The boy only chuckled and put both of his hand to his neck.

"Fion, just Fion, that's my name, how about you sir?"

"My name does not matter. Now, Fion, do you always have that talent of yours?" asked the man as he took out a little notebook and a pen. Fion shrugged as he saw the notebook.