The Broken Star!

The soldier finally stopped in an alleyway several blocks away, his breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. He leaned against a wall, still clutching Ren by the arm. The boy's struggles had subsided, but his body was trembling, and his head hung low, his dark hair covering his face.

"Kid…" the soldier began, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. "I'm sorry. There was nothing we could do."

Ren didn't respond. His shoulders quivered, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. His tail, usually a subtle presence, twitched erratically, betraying his turmoil.

The soldier reached out as if to comfort him, but Ren slapped his hand away, his movements sharp and violent. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, his voice hoarse from screaming.

The soldier flinched, guilt flashing across his face. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, realizing there were no words that could ease the boy's pain.

Ren took a shaky step back, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. Tears still streamed down his cheeks, but his eyes burned with something deeper—something darker. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing the tears and dirt across his skin.

"What's your name?" Ren asked suddenly, his voice low but firm.

The soldier blinked, caught off guard. "It's… Vaughn," he said hesitantly. "Why?"

Ren's gaze locked onto Vaughn, and for a moment, the raw intensity in his eyes made the soldier take a step back. "Vaughn," Ren repeated, his voice steady now, though the anger in it simmered just beneath the surface. "Remember it."

The soldier frowned, confused. "What are you—"

"Because when I become strong enough to destroy every last one of them," Ren interrupted, his voice cold and resolute, "I want you to remember that you ran."

Vaughn's face paled, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to respond. But Ren didn't wait for a reply. He turned on his heel and walked away, his steps heavy but purposeful.

The city around him was in chaos—buildings reduced to rubble, civilians crying out for help, and soldiers scrambling to contain the devastation. But Ren didn't notice any of it. His mind was consumed by a single, unrelenting thought.

"I'll kill them," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. "I'll kill them all."

He clenched his fists tighter, his nails drawing blood from his palms. The pain grounded him, fueling the fire that now burned uncontrollably in his chest. His mother's smile, her final words, the sight of her being torn apart—it all replayed in his mind, over and over, each memory sharpening his resolve.

As he walked through the wreckage, the sounds of the city faded into the background. His vision blurred at the edges, narrowing to a single point of focus: the path ahead.

No one would save him. No one would avenge her. It was up to him now.

The boy who had once dreamed of becoming a hero was gone. In his place stood someone forged by pain and loss, someone who would stop at nothing to ensure that those who had taken everything from him paid the ultimate price.

Ren stumbled through the smoky streets, his vision blurred by tears and the lingering haze of destruction. His body trembled with rage, his mind consumed by the image of his mother's final moments. Each step felt heavier than the last, but the fire burning within him pushed him forward.

Ahead, the faint sound of voices reached his ears. His bloodshot eyes locked onto three figures in the distance. Rebels. They stood amidst the rubble, rifles slung casually over their shoulders as they sifted through the remains of a nearby shop.

The first rebel, a burly man with an unkempt beard and a patchy uniform, barked orders at the others. The second, lean and wiry, had scars crisscrossing his arms and a perpetual sneer plastered across his face. The third, a younger man with a shaved head, shifted nervously, his ill-fitting gear suggesting he was new to the group.

Ren's vision tunneled. He didn't see their faces or hear their words. He saw only his mother's blood, the monster's fangs, and the rider's cold indifference. He gritted his teeth, his fists clenching so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.

"You bastards…" he muttered, his voice low and shaking.

The rebels turned toward the sound, their expressions shifting from surprise to amusement.

"What's this?" the bearded man said with a chuckle, stepping forward. "Looks like a lost little pup."

Ren's tail twitched violently behind him, a sign of the storm brewing within. He didn't wait for them to say more. In an instant, he bolted forward, grabbing a piece of broken steel from the rubble. With a guttural yell, he swung at the nearest rebel.

The scarred man barely had time to react as Ren's makeshift blade tore into his arm, the jagged edge embedding itself into flesh. The man howled in pain, staggering back and clutching his bleeding limb.

"You son of a—" the burly man started, but Ren had already turned his fury toward him. His swings were wild, fueled by rage rather than skill, and it wasn't long before his attacks began to falter.

The lean rebel ducked under one of Ren's strikes and drove a knee into his stomach. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

The young rebel sneered, kicking Ren in the ribs. "Stupid kid," he spat. "You've got a death wish?"

Ren's body ached, but his anger refused to wane. He pushed himself up on trembling arms, glaring at the rebels through the blood dripping from his forehead. "I'll kill you… all of you," he growled, his voice hoarse.

The rebels exchanged amused glances, their laughter ringing hollow against the backdrop of devastation. The burly man raised his weapon, aiming it squarely at Ren. "Not today, kid," he said coldly, pulling the hammer back.

Before the shot could fire, a sharp whistle sliced through the air. The rebels turned just in time to see Vaughn, the soldier from earlier, charging at them from behind. His sword glinted in the faint light as he brought it down, cutting into the shoulder of the lean rebel. The man cried out, dropping his weapon and stumbling back.

Vaughn didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, he kicked the burly rebel in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the ground. The younger rebel froze, his weapon shaking in his hands. Vaughn's sword flashed again, disarming him before he could fire.

The soldier turned to Ren, who was still on the ground, glaring up at him. "You again," Ren spat, his voice dripping with venom.

Vaughn didn't reply. Instead, he grabbed Ren by the collar, lifting him off the ground. "This kid sure is a pain in the ass," he muttered, shaking his head.

Ren thrashed weakly in his grip, his strength drained from the fight. "Let me go, you coward!" he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration.

Vaughn ignored him. With a swift motion, he struck the back of Ren's head with the hilt of his sword. The boy went limp, his anger silenced by unconsciousness. Vaughn sighed, slinging Ren over his shoulder.

As he carried the boy through the ruined streets, Vaughn arrived at a makeshift military stronghold, a cluster of reinforced vehicles and hastily erected barriers. Soldiers milled about, their expressions grim as they assessed the ongoing battle.

One of them, a younger man with a dirt-streaked face, approached Vaughn. "Who's the kid?" he asked, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Ren's bloodied figure.

"Found him in the middle of a fight," Vaughn replied, setting Ren down gently against a crate. "He's lost his family. Couldn't escape in time."

The soldier frowned. "And all that blood?"

Vaughn rubbed the back of his neck. "He somehow managed to take down a rebel. Don't ask me how."

A deep, gravelly voice interrupted the conversation. "He did what?"

The men turned to see an officer approaching. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark beard meticulously groomed. His black uniform bore numerous medals, and his sharp eyes scanned Ren with a mix of curiosity and intrigue.

The officer stroked his beard thoughtfully. "This boy… he looks no older than sixteen or seventeen. And he took down a rebel?"

Vaughn nodded. "Yes, sir. The rebels were weak, but still… it's impressive."

The officer knelt beside Ren, studying him closely. "Hmm. Interesting. Put him on the shuttle to the capital. We'll see what to make of him."

"Yes, sir," Vaughn replied with a salute. He hoisted Ren's limp form back onto his shoulder and carried him toward a waiting shuttle.

As Vaughn secured Ren inside, he noticed the faint glow emanating from the red stone in the boy's necklace. It pulsed once, twice, before disappearing entirely. Vaughn frowned, but Ren remained unconscious, unaware of the strange occurrence.

The soldier stepped back, watching as the shuttle's doors closed. "Kid," he muttered under his breath, "you've got a hell of a storm coming your way."

***

The shuttle hummed softly as it soared through the night sky, the distant lights of Baldur City shrinking into pinpricks below. Ren stirred, his head pounding as consciousness slowly returned. The faint vibrations of the shuttle jolted him fully awake, and he blinked against the dim interior light.

His body ached, the remnants of the earlier fight weighing on him like lead. He shifted slightly, feeling the coarse fabric of the seat beneath him. The faint scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood still smeared on his armor.

"What the…" Ren muttered, his voice hoarse. He looked around, his dark blue eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

Vaughn sat across from him, arms crossed, his gaze fixed out the window. His expression was unreadable, the faint glow of passing lights casting shadows across his scarred face. Noticing Ren's movement, Vaughn turned to him, his sharp eyes meeting Ren's.

"You're awake," Vaughn said, his tone neutral. "Took you long enough."

Ren's glare was immediate, his tail twitching behind him. "You…" He leaned forward, his voice low and angry. "Where are we? What the hell did you do?"

Vaughn raised an eyebrow, unfazed by Ren's hostility. "I saved your sorry hide, that's what I did. You were about to get yourself killed back there."

"I didn't ask for your help," Ren snapped, his fists clenching. "You had no right to—"

"Enough," Vaughn interrupted, his voice firm. "Do you think your mother would've wanted you to throw your life away like that?"

Ren froze, his breath hitching. The mention of his mother hit like a dagger to the chest, and for a moment, the fire in his eyes dimmed.

"Thought so," Vaughn said, leaning back in his seat. "You're alive because of me, kid. You don't have to like it, but you damn well better appreciate it."

Ren gritted his teeth, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He turned his gaze to the window, the faint lights of the capital city beginning to come into view. Towering spires reached toward the heavens, their sleek designs a testament to advanced technology and engineering. The skyline was a mix of old and new, with ancient stone structures standing alongside gleaming metallic skyscrapers.

"What is this place?" Ren asked, his voice quieter now.

"The capital," Vaughn replied. "You're being sent to headquarters. The higher-ups want to take a look at you."

"Why?" Ren's eyes narrowed. "I'm just a kid who got in the way."

Vaughn smirked faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe they see potential in you. You did take down a rebel, after all."

Ren's fists tightened. "That wasn't enough. It'll never be enough."

Vaughn's smirk faded, replaced by a serious expression. "If you keep thinking like that, you'll burn out before you even get started. You've got a long road ahead of you, kid. Learn to pick your battles."

Ren didn't respond, his mind too tangled in grief and frustration to argue. His fingers absentmindedly reached for the necklace around his neck, only to find it missing. He froze, his heart sinking.

"My necklace…" he muttered, panic creeping into his voice. "Where is it?"

Vaughn glanced at him, confused. "What necklace?"

"The red stone," Ren said, his voice rising. "I was wearing it. It—it's gone."

Vaughn's brow furrowed. "I didn't see any necklace on you."

Ren's breathing quickened as he searched his pockets, his movements frantic. "No… it can't just disappear…"

The soldier's eyes softened slightly, but he didn't say anything. Ren slumped back in his seat, his hand clenching the fabric of his pants. The necklace had been his last connection to his family, a reminder of everything he'd lost. And now, even that was gone.

The shuttle began its descent, the hum of the engines growing louder. The capital loomed closer, its lights casting a harsh glow over the shuttle's interior. Ren stared out the window, his jaw tight as the weight of the day pressed down on him.

The shuttle touched down on a large platform, the landing smooth but final. Vaughn stood, gesturing for Ren to follow. "Let's go. They're waiting for us."

Ren hesitated, his body reluctant to move, but he forced himself to his feet. As the shuttle doors slid open, the cool night air rushed in, carrying with it the faint hum of machinery and distant voices. The platform was bustling with activity, soldiers and officers moving with purpose.

A tall man with neatly combed dark hair and a sharp uniform approached. His piercing gray eyes swept over Ren, assessing him with a cold, calculating gaze. The officer's presence was commanding, his every movement precise.

"This is the boy?" the officer asked, his voice clipped.

"Yes, sir," Vaughn replied, standing at attention.

The officer's gaze lingered on Ren, his expression unreadable. "He looks ordinary."

Vaughn smirked faintly. "Looks can be deceiving, sir. The kid's got spirit, if nothing else."

Ren glared at the two men, his tail twitching behind him. "I'm right here, you know," he muttered.

The officer ignored his comment, turning to Vaughn. "Get him cleaned up and prepared. He'll report to me in the morning."

"Yes, sir," Vaughn said with a salute.

As the officer walked away, Vaughn placed a hand on Ren's shoulder. "Welcome to the capital, kid. Try not to get yourself killed."

Ren shrugged off his hand, his dark blue eyes narrowing. "I don't need your help."

Vaughn chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

Ren stared after the officer, his jaw tightening as a storm brewed within him. He didn't know what lay ahead, but one thing was certain—he wouldn't let anyone dictate his path.