"Empowered by the divine hundreds of years ago. A mixture of mortal and immortal combined to create a set of humans with extraordinary capabilities. Through this unison, they, the Descendants, inherit capabilities that defy the norms of existence.
The very essence coursing through their veins grants them a formidable power, endowing each member of the family with a unique ability…or in some, very rare cases, unique abilities.
Through each possessing a distinct power held by the Greater God of this realm, each child is able to use and develop their abilities, maximising their strengths, overcoming their limits, and fulfilling their innate potential.
The entire realm quivers in acknowledgement of their might, for they alone wield powers capable of conquering all that lies in their path…
…Or so they thought."
*****
The sun shone glaringly down on the town of Shihaz, its glimmer, though penetrating the skin and eyes of its inhabitants, failing to brighten up its gloomy environment. Shihaz was nothing like the Inner Capital. It was small. It was muddy. And it was exposed to the outside world, unprotected by walls and vulnerable to anything or anyone who wishes to enter.
But that didn't seem to bother the people that lived there. In fact, the unsettling smell and the high possibility of losing your shoe amongst the squelching mud was one of the last things people in this town chose to worry about.
Food was scarce, but so too was money.
Much like every other day, people had begun racing towards food stalls, not even caring which stall sold what. They only cared about one thing — putting food on the table for their family. Of course, some believed they could ration the food, but others knew that wasn't an option, for greedy people prospered across the town.
Yet amidst the mayhem of the morning rush, one figure stood out. His clothes were not dirty. Nor were they torn. In fact, no part of his skin was showing despite the heat that must have been unbearable. Even his face could not be seen, as a mask covered his face, and his hood concealed the rest of his head and neck.
As he perused the area, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, the paper crinkled and torn. He took one look at it, raised it to eye level and oscillated between observing the paper and the town that lay in front of him. Seemingly satisfied, he squashed the paper with his hands, tossing it into the distance and continued forward, ambling into Shihaz's chaotic grounds.
"Oi, all of you! Stop pushing each other and form an orderly line! I promise I have enough for all of you," a man bellowed as several people grabbed, pulled, pushed and bit one another right in front of his stall.
The Masked Man took no notice of this, however. He had a duty to fulfil and wasn't going to let meaningless squabbling between strangers distract him from his objective. He followed the path down what seemed to be a marketplace, but, in reality, it was currently just the most walkable area in the town – soon to not be after today, of course.
As he progressed through the town, his head constantly twitched, at times even looking behind. And he kept his head low, his hood overwhelmingly covering his head and eyes.
"Hey! Look where you're going." An old man, his hair grey and scruffy and his face wrinkling as the seconds passed, collided with the Masked Man, bouncing off the Masked Man's forearm, who took no notice of him.
"Hey! I'm talking to you, boy! I said look where you're going! Can't you see—"
The Masked Man stopped, rapidly turning to face the old man and lifting him up by the neck. The old man's face faltered horribly, his cries distressful, and his attempts to dig his nails into the Masked Man's hands futile. He tried to cry louder, but the Masked Man tightened his grip, choking him more violently.
With what breath the man had left, he tried to speak. "P–P–"
Nothing else came out. His eyes shot blood red and his vision began to blur, until the Masked Man finally spoke.
"I–I'm sorry." The apology sounded genuine, aided by the fact that the old man quickly realised his feet were now back on the floor and his neck left unbothered. The Masked Man bowed his head as the old man clutched his throat, the pain leaving him in terrible discomfort.
"Please, will you still answer my question despite my actions? I shouldn't let my anger overcome me." His voice was muffled by the mask, yet still clear enough to be understood.
Though the ambience had certainly changed, the old man remained scared and so didn't hesitate to make a strange sound with his mouth to signal his compliance.
"I have been told there is a man who lives here. A special man, in fact. A Hakimi descendant, to be more specific. Is that true?"
The Masked Man raised his head slowly, hoping it would settle the old man's tensions. This didn't work, of course, but the old man nevertheless complied again.
"Yes–yes. Look, I don't have anything for you. Please just leave me alone." He stumbled backwards onto all fours, closed his eyes and looked away from the Masked Man.
"I'm not going to hurt you. Please, if what I said was true, where can I find this man? I cannot tell you how urgent this matter is."
The old man sat silently on the floor, his body beginning to shake. The Masked Man knelt down, speaking even softer this time.
"Please, I must see him. I have something very special I must show him. I promise it's something that will make our lives better in the future. In fact, think about how you'd be one of the reasons for everyone becoming so happy. Isn't that something you'd want?"
"F–F–Fine. Go that way," he pointed straight down the path the Masked Man was already walking. "Walk down there, turn left and walk some more. Then you'll see a house, larger than all of the ones around here. I–It has a banner of our nation's flag on its wall. There. That's where he lives. Now please…just leave me alone. I have kids, grandchildren."
Sighing rather loudly, the Masked Man stood back up and thanked the man. Without pondering any more, he went on his way, following the instructions the old man had detailed. Not before, however, he tipped the man for his troubles.
"Here, take this," the Masked Man reached into his other pocket and fished out a gold coin. Because of this, the old man appeared to not only forget what had happened in the last minute or so, but his body forgot that it was on its last legs. He jumped into the air, prancing around and singing like a young boy who had just caught his first fish.
"Thank you, mister! Thank you, mister!" he said. "There better be more of that where it came from once all of our lives become better because of me," he hesitatingly chuckled, hoping that the Masked Man could hear him.
But by then, he had already left, more determined than ever to reach his destination.