The Shadow Man

Nine

I awaken with a cold sweat.
The screams of my father, screaming in my failure to become the warrior he wanted.
I refused the barbaric ways of before.
The ways of my forefathers.
He rebuked and disowned me for that.
The staff is split into two, one half is strapped to each of my forearms.
I am one of the few Nolites who have the ability to split their Staff.
I stand up and move towards the door.
The small apartment I've managed to take barely keeps out the cold.
I shiver a little through the long sleeve shirt.
I've gathered whatever information I can from the internet, plugging my staff into the ports and entering my mind into the machine.
It's a long process, with a lot of information being shot through my head, but in the end it's worth it.
It's gotten me a bit of currency, as well as catching up on the time I live in.
I've done what Nolite Warriors of my rank were designed to do: Adapt.
Though this is by far the largest adaptation I've overcome in my life.
I stare out into the night sky, watching the stars pass over me.
I feel a calling.
My staff glows in response to the beckoning voice.
The calls tell me of an uprising of my people. But this world already has become, settled.
Humans dominate it now.
They have made somewhat of a civilization.
It's not my home, but it's what they have built. They only thrive because of the absence of the war that troubled my people.
And my own people call to me.
I was trained to uphold honor, truth, and justice above all else.
Taking this world from them would be injustice.
Still, I feel compelled to assist my own.
Compelled isn't the right word.
Perhaps, Willed.
But amongst the willing Nolites that support the idea, I feel a disturbance.
One that does not agree with the rest.
One that feels the same as I.
This One, is the one who destroyed the King Of Asylum.
The Dark One.
This one is strong, a force to be reckoned with.
I believe he is the one spoken of in the times of old.
The One I heard the
Nomad to come, spoke of by the elders.
The One I would follow.
In his footsteps I would walk.
I need to find him.
He is the one who will set things right.
I only hope it isn't too late.
I can feel him.
He is in pain, he is struggling to stay alive. They are torturing him.
They, are my people.
They are monsters.
But I don't know if I have the strength to abandon my people in favor of a species that is not my own.
Like the teachings of the Nomad, I do not belong here.
This is not where I am supposed to be.
This is not my end.