The thunderstorms never ceased.  It’s like the world is crying, calling out for help.  Everywhere you look there is persecution; where there is persecution, there is strife and there is poverty; and where there is this, there is death.  In any place where money bestows power, and power creates authority, caste is inevitable – and thus, oppression is a given.  This is no different than the world outside.  When will it stop?

Just then, amid the deafening thunder and the vision-blurring shower, I can make out a silhouette of what seems to me a display of misplaced power.  Three on one sounds like a uneven match, especially if the one is ill-equipped and down on the ground.  Every kick to his side is a blow to my ego, and every strike at his back is a waking call.  My blood just boil at the sight of such injustice.  How can the world be so unfair?

I emerged out of the darkness and into the sight of the oppressors.  I pulled out and brandished the one thing that can right this wrong, my Dagon.  They paused the beating and looked at me intently.

“Who are you, girl?  What do you want?” muttered one.

“I’m surprised that you don’t know me.” I answered back.

“Psst!  Hey!  That’s a dragon-class blade she’s holding.  She must be a 40 at least.” whispered another to the first.

“Wrong.  I’m a 50.  And I’m about to show you what its like to be one.”  Just then Dagon began to emit a reddish glow.  It seems to reflect the owner’s feelings, yet it also seem to channel its own to the owner.  I can feel its power surge over me.  It feels weird and great at the same time.

All of a sudden, as if the blade was controlling me, I swung it fiercely towards my back and by that, parried an incoming blow.  It was from the third mugger who sneaked up from behind me.  His blade was right at my face, but mine managed to stop it.  I was in awe when I realized that Dagon, which was violently bursting with some sort of energy, started to melt his weapon.  And before he knew it, his cheap blade was gone.

Then I felt it again, like I had no control over it.  I swung it back once more but this time aiming at the other two’s direction, who I didn’t know was charging at me.  It fired an energy bolt that knocked both of my assailants down and threw them at a distance.  Upon seeing this, the third ran away.

I ran as quickly as I could to the person down on the ground, beaten.  He is barely alive but he looked at me.

“Who are you?” weakly, he said.

“My name is Aegis.  What’s your name?”

“NP.  I owe you my life.”  It was the last thing he said before he passed out.

I didn’t know how I did it, but it feels good having saved someone.  Even though it’s not for real, it still feels so true and so liberating.  I didn’t know that I had such power to create change, even though it’s only here that I can use it.  Acts of kindness are still good no matter how small they are.  And that’s exactly what I’m going to do, start small.

I know there’s a reason for everything: why am I here, why I grew this strong, why I was given this blade.  Yet only time can tell.  But, all I know is that from now on, Dagon will be used to protect the oppressed, and Aegis will be known to stand for the weak.  So watch out.

Aegis
12th day of the 6th moon, First Generation (G.T.)
Outskirts of Lithos Megas