Parallel (A Virtual Gamer's Story) [Vol.1 - Vol.4 Complete]

Chapter 122: To Remember

Undisclosed Location,

A land forgotten by time—a people forever lost to history's pages in a city invisible to the eyes of the world. In this war-torn land ravaged by the flames of oppression and despotism, a young child solemnly trudged, bare feet crushing stones underneath.

The child, long since numb to pain, made no move to dodge these sharp rocks, nor did he issue a yelp or a squint, he like everyone else in this land, long resigned to their inevitable fate.

As the child walked, brief flashes escaped his hair from where the last remnants of silver chocked for sunlight as they drowned in a mass of brown mud and dirt.

Maybe it was the silver hair or perhaps the murder in those rage-filled yellow eyes. No, it was most definitely the dark, metallic silver glint of the pistol lazily strapped to his side by his belt. In a typical city, the sight of this child with that pistol that looked too large for his tiny hands would have drawn a comical chuckle. But not in this town.

Here, every soul without a death wish moved out of the child's path, not daring to meet his eyes for fear of irritated retaliation. In this town, everyone knew this soulless child: the silver tiger of Hua Xu or as he was more commonly known: the Silver Grim Reaper. People claimed that he was born with a gun in his hand, his silver hair a result of the restless souls tormenting him every day, and the last thing his victims saw.

The child, seemingly oblivious to the fright his presence wrought on the people around him, trudged through the streets, gaze downcast, staring at the yellow earth. He, who had all the roads and paths memorized, did not need to look up to orient himself as he knew no one would dare block his path. In fact, should he choose to walk on the main road, even those donkey cart salesmen and women would rush out of the way.

The boy's steady steps stopped in front of one of the very few walled compounds in the town. The guards, two men whose faces were covered with turbans, grinned at the little executioner as they pushed open the gate. No sooner had the child passed the gate did the guards' expressions turn ruthless, the AK-47s in their hands a strong deterrent to any rebel wannabe in the town.

After the gate, the path continued for another mile, littered with outposts and men and women on armored vehicles, their eyes forever on the gate for any possible trouble. The youth passed the checkpoints, briskly nodding in reply to the cheers from the men and coos from women.

Though considered deadly to the rest of the town, the Silver Grim Reaper was regarded as a cute, sarcastic mascot to the older veterans of Hua Xu.

The child's steps slightly quickened as a massive mansion came into view. However, his feet faltered when he saw a black limousine and van parked in front of the compound. His eyes narrowed at the Japanese men in suits who stood guard by the vehicle, each holding very advanced assault rifles that made the rebels' AK-47s look like toys.

Although the child was confused, as both the vehicle and the people were so rare, they could be considered omens in the town, he shrugged it off as the boss' business and made his way to the back of the compound.

The child's permanently tensed muscles relaxed when his home came into his sights: an old raggedy shack by a small stream. It was not much, barely three square meters, but it had a mat he could sleep on, a wool blanket to warm him on cold nights, and a roof to shield him from the rain. This was far more than 70% of the children in this town had except they too joined a gang.

The child picked up a bucket by the shack and walked over to the stream, where he drew some water. He stared at the reflection in the bucket. A sunken face caked with so many layers of mud and dust greeted him.