Chapter 3 - Recovery

Raiden's heart sank, "N-No, you're lying". He tried to distract himself from the grim reality.

"You have to be lying!" Raiden shouted at her, anger welling up within him. "I'm sorry, Marcus was a good man and a powerful matter-wielder," Sarah said, Raiden ignoring her words, doubts filling his head as he sank into despair. "I'm certain he died proud of the man he knew you'd become." She continued.

What's happening? Is dad really gone? What about us? Who killed him? What am I gonna tell Ash? Who killed my father!? How can we keep living here? Where are they?! Where can I find more money? Who killed him!!

*Cough*

Officer Sarah got Raiden's attention. Forcing him to realize the gravity of what's happening. His responsibility for his sister, and the acceptance of his father's passing.

"I'm sorry to bring you such terrible news, know that while I can't bring him back, Frontline can provide housing for your sister should she need it." She said, forcing a smile. Raiden, still looking at her, seemed completely lost. "My sister, you said frontline could take care of her?" He asked, desperately. "And what about me, what am I gonna do now?" He finished, raising his voice, hopelessness filling the air around them.

"I don't know what to tell you, boy, we only house children until they're old enough to move out, and your documents say you're freshly sixteen." She said, empathy in her tone.

Raiden looked away, trying to take in all the information. Think about the next plan of action. Just as his father taught him to.

If I joined Frontline, I could make at least enough to provide for Ash... He thought, weighing his options, or lack thereof. Sarah waited patiently for him.

"If I were to join Frontline, would they provide living quarters while I learn?" Raiden asked, going out on a limb.

"Of course, you should know how well Frontline takes care of their members, your father was a Pathfinder after all." She said, surprised at his inquiry to join Frontline. "But being in Frontline's a dangerous job, you're still young, you could look for a normal job and live peacefully." She responded kindly, a motherly sensation filled her words, Raiden not knowing the sentiment.

"What choice do I have, I'll have to provide for Ashlee in just a few years!" He said, knowing what had to be done. "Do you know anywhere aside from frontline that will provide shelter and enough money for two people to a sixteen-year-old?" He said, the trauma from the news Sarah brought him just minutes ago still raw. Only dissuaded by Raiden's courage and intent to keep his sister safe.

"I see you've already made your decision." She said, pity in her eyes. "I'll write you a letter of recommendation, it should assure you a position when schooling opens up for summer." She looked at him with a heavy sigh.

"Know that taking this path will force you to leave high school, and ruin your chances at anything other than a dangerous or minimum wage job for years to come." Sarah looked again, despite being a frontline member herself, it was obvious she didn't want him to take the same path as his father. An early grave. He quickly disregarded her final plea to reconsider, perhaps blinded by the rage of his fathers’ death.

"I’m sure you know that Frontline classes aren't free, you'll still have to work part-time to afford them," she said, Raiden's determination not swaying. "Alright then, call this number in a little over a week" she continued, "June 21st is the first day of class, so we'll get you settled and into a dorm by the 18th," she said before turning around.

Raiden could have sworn he heard her whisper something under her breath but he hadn't quite heard what. She opened the door and immediately launched off towards the north with a focused and controlled burst of wind. 'A wind matter controller' he thought to himself.

"I can't believe it, D-Dad's really..." He bit his tongue to regain focus and walked towards the bathroom, finding Ash still laying in the bathtub where they left her.

He took a breath and lifted her, carrying Ashlee into her room and onto the bed. "I'm sorry," he muttered, sitting beside Ashlee on the side of her bed. A soft pink blanket reminding him of comforts only found outside the bathroom. I don't know what to tell her when she wakes up... he thought, sitting up and walking out of her room.

He walked over to the front door and grabbed a broom before beginning to sweep the shattered glass on the floor.

He sighed when he finished, his eyes tired and weary. Dried blood still showed on his right side, staining his perfectly white hair, the result of poliosis. It was a birth defect causing a lack of pigmentation, Raiden's father described it to be a hereditary gene from far down his family line, but he was proud of it either way. It was part of his identity.

Dumping the shattered glass into the bin, he continued contemplating his recent decisions. Joining Frontline, putting his sister into Frontline's care as well as the work he needed to do to afford classes.

Raiden would learn to control and wield the dark matter around him to in turn wield lightning. All this and he couldn't bring himself to feel anything, wondering only about his father's death. Who had killed him, why they had killed him. Bastards. Raiden's motivations for asking to join Frontline weren't as noble as he'd made them sound. While he did need to provide for his sister, and slaying beasts was an efficient way to do so. He also wanted revenge, to murder the man who had slain his father, likely not even blinking at his death. And to do that, he knew he had to be strong, he had to become a Pathfinder.

Three days had passed, five more before Raiden would move into the housing provided by Frontline. His sister had already left, defeated by the news of her father's passing, she wouldn't even get out of bed. When Officer Sarah Yellowblade and two guards returned to move her, she didn't say a word, nor motioned to grab her things. Raiden ended up giving the things he knew his sister thought valuable to the Officer, knowing they would appear in whatever housing she arrived in. He knew that he would be informed where and be able to visit freely, the only worry he had was whether or not he'd have any time to visit while working and going to Matter Classes on the weekdays. That worry was soon alleviated.

Raiden went to bed every night chilled by the wind coming through broken windows. He had been asking his manager for work on the weekends, having no time to spare. This was before he learned that his father had money left behind for them for their education. It was all the capital his father had remaining from during his time as a Pathfinder. That was to say, a lot of money.

Enough money to not only pay for his courses with Frontline but breakfasts, lunches, and dinners as well. He did the math, and even after all those expenses, if Raiden earned enough in his first two years working for Frontline, he could send his sister to any post-secondary education program she wanted. This of course was under the terms of living with frontline for the next three years, but never the less. It alleviated part of the downtrodden mood Raiden was in since he learned of his father's death.

In preparation for his matter classes, Raiden began doing his research on the versatility of lightning matter on the internet, learning how it's popularly used as well as its strengths and weaknesses. What Raiden already knew, of course, was that the lightning element was strong to water and weak to wind. This system was similar for all the matter elements. Where Wind was beaten by Terra, Wind also beat Lightning, and where Lightning beat Water, Water beat Fire, and while Fire matter was weak to Water, Fire also beat Terra. The two Superior elements, Dark and Light, wielded only by those born lucky enough to wield them, were strong against all five primary elements, and yet powerless against each other. This was a well-known fact ever since Raiden was born, kids throughout elementary and middle school always having mock matter-wielding bouts.

Teachers would usually stop the children, however, there were times where someone got hurt. The rules on mock battles got stricter and stricter as children got older, more powerful. A slap on the wrist in elementary led to a suspension in middle school, and finally expulsion and a permanent mark on your record in high school. This of course did not limit the usage of matter wielding, the government had no way of stopping people, after all, therefore many instead learned to utilize matter in a non-dangerous, utilitarian way.

Raiden drifted off to sleep thinking of the face his father wore when he died. I’ll kill him, I promise dad, I’ll avenge you!

Raiden awoke, groggy, and in a bad mood, the same as every day for the last week. It was finally the day he was meant to contact Sarah, the officer who had informed him of his father’s death.

He sighed and sat up before getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and deeming himself sufficiently woken up, he made himself some cereal and sat at the worn wooden table that found itself in the center of the single shared room of their apartment. The living and kitchen areas were connected, a counter adding a sort of divider. It was the last time Raiden would spend in this apartment, lacking any connections to ground him here. He needed to move on, for himself, and his sister Ashlee. He took out his phone and dialed the number the Frontline officer left him.

*ringgg* *ringgg* *ringgg* *click*

“Hello, Officer Sarah Yellowblade,” she answered.

“Hey, this is, uh, Raiden Sullivan.” He began, “You told me to call on the eighteenth, to get me set up?” he finished, pulling his face away from the phone when she responded.

“Oh!” Loud. He thought, “Yes that’s right, I’ll be there soon, get your things ready!”

“Uh alright, that’s pretty quic-” he was cut off when she hung up.

Raiden spent the next eight minutes packing his toothbrush, a blanket, what money he had left, and some memoirs from his father. Pictures and accessories, a watch as well as a ring. The watch was of a good make, expensive and old, likely from when his dad was a Pathfinder.

“A Pathfinder,” he repeated, they were the units who left the safety of the walls and the guards that protected them. While beasts could rarely appear within the walls, they were normally swiftly dealt with by the guard, the oppressive force that slew beasts that showed themselves within or approaching the walls. While important, they didn’t compare to Pathfinders. Pathfinders, who hunted the extremely dangerous unknown that was found outside, explored ruined cities and killed colossal beasts.

Since the Pathfinders left the walls and frequently killed strong opponents, they also absorbed a large amount of dark matter, making them even more powerful. It was truly a revered existence, but also a dangerous one. The fatality rates of Pathfinders were multiples higher than any other profession, leading to its low popularity. Because of this, they were paid well and also well respected, becoming a Pathfinder was Raiden’s current objective. He knew it would take time, but with enough effort and resolve, he was capable.

Thinking back on the present, he looked carefully at the ring. Compared to the watch, it was something else entirely. It was stunning, with titanium bands lining the outer edges of the ring, and the inner band looking almost extraterrestrial. It was a deep black, reminiscent of a void, nearly absorbing the light around it. Despite its blackhole-like depth, the ring still had shining bits of crystal, lined throughout it. Slipping it on, he continued to admire its discreet and stealthy charm, “Wow…” he muttered before hearing three knocks resound on his front door. Seeing familiar yellow eyes peering through the broken window beside it, he walked over and opened the door.

“Hello again!” She said, now without the pitiable look she had when she’d told him his father was dead. “You look a little better, how are you doing?” she asked, expressionless.

“I’m,” Raiden paused. “Recovering,” he said, not exactly frowning.

“Good,” she replied. “Now let’s get going”