Kill the Sun Chapter 1 - 1 – Nick
"Ending your own life is the only way out."
Deep within a grimy alley choked with grease-slicked pipes, tangled wiring, and crumbling brickwork, a young man sat slumped against a wall.
With his chin tucked against his chest, he stared hollowly at the patch of ground between his feet.
The sun hung at its zenith, positioned directly over the narrow passage. Its vertical rays flooded the alleyway with an unforgiving brightness.
"I realize this is difficult to hear, but logically speaking, suicide is truly your most viable option given the circumstances."
Despite the chilling suggestion, the boy didn't even flinch or raise his gaze.
Nearby, a filthy, matted rat perched atop a small, corroded metal crate. The rodent casually groomed its snout, its wide eyes fixed on the boy as if trying to force him to look back.
"Listen to me," the rat continued, scurrying down from its perch and trotting toward him. "We both know the score. I’m not suggesting this without reason, you understand?"
As the creature drew near, a sudden spark of life returned to the boy's eyes. He snapped his head up, fixing the rat with an intense, piercing glare.
Startled, the rat’s eyes bulged. It reared up on its back legs and took several frantic steps backward. "Easy there, Nick! I’m not your enemy," it chirped with a shaky, placating grin. "Just look at me. I'm a mere rat. What could I possibly do to someone who successfully navigated the Zephyx Extractor Exam?"
The boy, Nick, let his gaze drop back to the dirt.
When he sat there in that state of listless despair, Nick appeared as nothing more than a fragile vagrant. However, the momentary sharpness he had shown the rat revealed a completely different nature.
In truth, Nick’s physique was far from weak. Though he lacked massive bulk, his frame was corded with lean, hard-earned muscle—the result of four grueling years of training fueled by the desperate hope of escaping the Dregs.
"Hey, Nick," the rat whispered, keeping a safe distance. "I know you’re still clinging to a shred of hope, but let's be honest: believing in such a frail light is nothing short of a delusion."
The rodent began to circle him, careful to maintain a respectful gap. "For four long years, you pushed yourself harder than anyone. You practiced daily and even committed atrocities just to stay ahead of the Blood Tax."
"Those weren't things you wanted to do, but you did them anyway. Why? Because you envisioned a path out of this hellhole."
"And you actually pulled it off! You secured a testing slot at Ghosty’s Lab for the Zephyx Extractor Exam and passed with flying colors!" the rat exclaimed with mock fervor.
Then, the creature let out a heavy sigh. "But your Zephyx Synchronizer was already bonded to a Specter. You passed the test, but Ghosty’s Lab has no use for a Zephyx Extractor whose Synchronizer is already occupied."
"And you know they aren't the only ones," the rat added, coming to a halt on Nick's right. "No Zephyx Manufacturer will touch you now. You're aware that every corporation uses specific Specters for their staff. Without the designated abilities provided by those Specters, you’re either a liability that will die instantly or a financial drain on the company."
"So, what's left?" the rat questioned, its face twisting into a mask of pity. "What is the grand plan now?"
"You lack an education."
"You have zero connections."
"You’re homeless."
"You can't even recall a single memory from before the age of ten."
"Joining a gang is out of the question since you stubbornly refused to pay their protection fees."
"There is no exit."
"Can you really endure living like this?" the rat asked, its voice dripping with staged sorrow.
"It breaks my heart to see you suffering day after day."
"Just let it end."
With measured, cautious movements, the rat began to creep closer to Nick.
As it approached, several more glinting eyes peered out from the shadows of the nearby sewer grates.
A hidden audience watched the scene with hungry anticipation.
Nick remained motionless, staring at the ground.
"Don't you crave rest?" the rat whispered, inching forward. "Every night you sleep with one eye open, terrified of the next predator."
"You are utterly alone—no friends, no family."
"Why keep struggling?"
"What is the point of this existence?"
"Now, even your final dream has turned to ash."
The rat looked at Nick with a gaze that feigned deep empathy.
"Trust me. I've spoken to countless souls, and I recognize a dead end when I see one."
"I can make the end swift and painless. If you wish, I can even take care of those who wronged you."
"At the very least, you can die on your own terms rather than wasting away from hunger."
"In this way, your death would actually serve a purpose."
The rat had managed to get so close that it was nearly touching Nick's leg.
Behind the iron grates, the other rats began to emerge slowly, though they remained far back.
They knew the importance of not triggering a fight-or-flight response. Adrenaline had a way of reigniting the spark in even the most broken person.
This process required patience, method, and absolute care.
"Just lie back, okay?" the rat crooned softly. "I'm going to touch your leg now. Stay calm. I won't hurt you."
The rodent slowly reached out a sharp claw toward Nick’s skin.
BANG!
A devastating punch slammed into the rat, instantly reducing it to a crimson smear.
In a heartbeat, the other rats vanished, scurrying back into the safety of the sewers.
Total silence returned to the alley.
Nick's fist opened, grabbing the remains of the crushed rodent.
He pulled out a grimy, ancient brown sack and tossed the carcass inside.
A moment later, Nick sat up straight and drew a long, ragged breath.
"This is a nightmare," he muttered, his voice carrying a deep, resonant tone.
However, a faint smirk touched his lips as he shook the dirty sack.
"But at least I won't go hungry tonight."
Suddenly, Nick’s eyes sharpened, and he vaulted to his feet.
He stared intensely toward one of the alley's exits.
A tall, well-built man clad in a black overcoat and a matching hat had materialized there.
Nick watched as a subtle, amused smile played across the stranger's face.
"What's your business here?" Nick demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Having survived the Dregs, Nick knew that anyone lurking like that was usually trouble.
"I'm not interested in narcotics, fake cures, Specters, Zephyx, or whatever trash you're peddling," Nick barked.
Then, his eyes widened slightly as he pulled the brown sack behind his back. "And you’re not getting the rat, either!"
The stranger looked surprised for a moment before bursting into a soft chuckle.
"Your rat? You honestly believe I'm here for your dinner?" he asked with a grin.
Nick kept his guard up, eyes narrowed. "I'm not buying anything. Besides, it’s bad manners to barge into someone’s home."
"Home?" the man echoed, sounding confused as he surveyed the squalid surroundings.
His eyes eventually landed on a makeshift lean-to constructed from rusted scraps of salvaged metal.
The man sighed deeply, and as his black hat flickered out of existence, a handsome face was revealed.
Nick noted the fine lines of age on the man's brow and the stray silver hairs mixed into his dark mane.
The man chuckled again. "You asked what I wanted," he noted.
"I suppose you could describe me as a scholar," the man said, smiling at Nick. "I study Specters. Specifically, the various gifts they grant to humanity."
"I already told you, I’m not buying!" Nick yelled.
The man let out another weary sigh.
"I act as a consultant for several Zephyx Manufacturers, including Ghosty’s Lab," the man explained, slowly raising his right hand.
Suddenly, a collection of blood-stained metal tools materialized, spinning in a rapid orbit above his index finger.
Seeing this, Nick’s jaw dropped in sheer disbelief, his eyes widening with awe.
"You... you're a Zephyx Extractor?!" he stammered.
The man gave a small laugh. "I was once," he replied as the tools vanished. "These days, I prefer the life of a researcher."
Nick continued to stare, completely starstruck.
An actual Zephyx Extractor!
Nick swallowed hard.
"Fine," he said slowly. "So, what are you trying to sell me?"
The man snorted. "I have nothing to sell."
"I’m here because a contact at Ghosty’s Lab reached out. They were baffled by the nature of the power you’ve manifested and couldn't identify the Specter responsible. My friend knows I have a penchant for such mysteries, which is why he pointed me toward you."
Hearing this, Nick’s nerves began to fray.
It sounded like the prelude to some horrific laboratory experiment.
Detecting Nick’s growing fear, the man looked like he was about to groan in frustration.
"I'm not here to harm you!" the man shouted with a hint of irritation. "I simply wish to observe your abilities. If your power has utility, I'll even provide recommendations to the Zephyx Manufacturers!"
"This is an opportunity of a lifetime!"
Nick was stunned, but his face soon hardened with doubt.
Help?
An opportunity?
Here in the Dregs?
Even a naive child wouldn't fall for that.
"And what’s the catch? What do you want in return?" Nick asked.
"In return?" the man repeated. "Do you honestly think you possess anything that would be of value to me?"
Nick searched his mind for an answer but found nothing.
"Nothing in this world comes without a price," Nick said, his voice thick with suspicion. "Anything labeled 'free' usually ends up being the most expensive thing you'll ever pay for."
The man’s expression went flat. "For the love of... are you kidding me?" he muttered in total exasperation.
In a blur of motion, the man appeared directly in front of Nick.
BANG!
A sharp strike to the head sent Nick spiraling into unconsciousness.
"Is it really that difficult to believe someone just wants to give you a hand?!"
Silence fell over the alley once more.
The man took another calming breath and sighed.
SHING!
The blood-coated tools from before reappeared, hovering in the air.
"Now, let's discover the true nature of your power."