Paradise Tower

A soft pitter-patter filled the forest air as droplets of water began to fall from the heavens. Pools of water formed quickly as the sprinkle turned into a shower; water gathered on leaves, which soon gave out under the weight.

He quickly tried to wipe the water from his eyes, never stopping his full out run, his sandal-clad feet struggled to keep balance on the now wet rocks and roots, which carpeted the forest floor. He could not stop running, he could not fall now, and he knew it was close behind him. The fear kept his senses heightened his physical abilities at their peak.

A roar sounded behind him and the boy looked over his shoulder, a move that would soon prove to be the wrong one. His right foot caught underneath a root and the boy felt his leg stop while the rest of his body continued its direction and the thump of his body hitting the ground could not be heard over the loud torrential downpour. The redhead scraped and scratched at the ground, trying to get a grip in the mud to pull himself up, but as he rolled himself over there was a flash of lightning and in the light he saw his predator.

The four-legged beast snarled down at its prey. The mouse had been caught; it was now time for the fun. The feline bared its long sharp fangs and its emotionless eyes scanned his body with great hunger. The tiger could easily see the human despite the dark, for his almond pupils easily adjusted to the lack of light.

A cry went out of the redhead’s mouth as he felt the weight of the hunter’s paws crushing his chest. The tigers were known to tear apart their food before eating it; most thought they just liked the screams of agony. Red raindrops formed on his chest as the beast tore through his tattered shirt; the boy winced as he waited for the claw to dig into his chest.

Instead, though, he felt a sudden heavy weight hit his body. He was no longer pinned by his own fear, but by the body of the beast itself. Acting quickly the wounded child quickly did all he could to push the heavy weight off of himself. At first the body did not budge, but he kept on pushing untill finally, out of nowhere, the body is moved off of him.

“You okay boy?” came a deep voice, as commanding as the very thunder that sounded in the storm. The boy looked up to see the shadow of a man standing over him, he had not pushed the Tiger off himself but this man had lifted it up.

The man towered over the boy; he was well over six feet in height. Even in dark the boy could make out his large muscular frame, he also noticed the long scabbard on the man’s back that was almost as big as the boy was in both length and width.

The limp beast now lay on the ground next to him and he watched in awe as the man pulled out a shiny sliver from its throat. He then knelt next to it and held his wrist to the forehead of the creature. The man stood there for a minute, his wrist in the same place, as he seemed to wait patiently for something. Then he stood up once more, glancing at his wrist one more time before turning his attention back to the boy.

“I said are you okay boy?” The man repeated himself, a task he did not seem to like to do, as his voice seemed annoyed that it had to repeat itself.

“Y-y-yes s-s-sir” The boy managed the sputter out, still in shock and awe of the situation which had unfolded itself in the past 20 minutes.

“Well then get up, we have got to get moving before another Tiger shows up or, worse, a pack of hyenas show up.” The man’s tone was more annoyed than urgent at this point. He seemed to put an emphasis on his disgust for the hyenas, though no one in all of Remoria were particularly fond of them.

“Y-y-yes sir” The red-haired boy replied with a little less of a stutter. He always stuttered when he was nervous. He wasn’t too sure what made him more nervous, the thought of more beasts or this man who seemed unaffected by them.

The boy stood up but when he put weight on the food that had been caught under the root he quickly cried out in pain.

“You must have twisted your ankle. I guess I will carry you back home with me for tonight.” The man groaned. His dinner hunt had now turned into a babysitting job, but he was not the kind of man to leave a defenseless child alone. The man first tied up the two hind legs of the beast to a long rope and then lifted the boy onto his shoulder. With a child on his shoulder and a beast dragged behind him like a child’s sled, the mysterious man made his way into the night.

“So, kid, do you have a name?” The man asked as he set down a bowl of steaming tiger stew in front of him. The man had brought the child back to his small shack of a home just on the outskirts of the woods. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for just the man. It had a cot, a fireplace, and a table with two chairs.

As if it were a trade the boy offered up with his left hand a pair of dog tags to the man as he placed down the stew in front of him. The man gently took the metal tags with his large, rough hand and sat down across from the boy as he lifted up the bowl to his mouth and began to hastily devour the stew.

The tags only listed his first name: Zane; his date of birth with put him to be about twelve years old, and then at the bottom of the tag was ex162. The large man ran his right hand through his messy brown locks before letting out a sigh of both confusion and frustration. His mud-brown eyes turned to from the tags to the boy who was just finishing up the stew. He was a strange one indeed, but he had the counter on his left wrist, which meant he was, in fact, a Remorian.

“Where did you get these, Zane?” the man asked once the boy had wiped his lips of the remnants of the stew. He slid the tags back to the boy, as they were his possession and there was nothing more to learn from them.

“I found them on me when I woke up a week ago.” The boy replied, his voice hesitant as though he was admitting to something wrong. This man was the first human he had met, at least that he could remember.

“Where did you wake up?” The man asked a bit hastily; he was very curious about the story the boy had to tell. What had started as a random act of pity for a helpless boy had now turned into a mystery, just waiting to be unraveled.

“In front of some big white tower.” The redhead replied. He quickly took the dog tags back and put them on. These dog tags were the only thing he had to identify himself. He had no memories, or people who knew him, just these two plates of metal. Once he replaced the chain on his neck he began scanning the bowl in front of him for any bits he might have missed.

‘Paradise tower!?’ The man thought to himself in surprise, this just was fuel for his curiosity. The child obviously had no idea of the importance of this tower; he didn’t even know its name. The tower was at the very heart of the land, and was the very core of everyone’s dreams. Still though, it was a strange event for someone to come out of the tower.

“Do you remember anything before the tower?” he questioned, this time his voice was more commanding than curious.

“Vaguely, I remember washes of whites and blues and blurry faces, lots of blurry faces.” Zane replied in a thoughtful tone. His green eyes looked up at the wooden ceiling as he tried to recall anymore memories. With a sigh and shrug he looked back at his host and shrugged his shoulders to say that was all.

“I see, well from here on out tell everyone you grew up here with me and do not mention the tower.” The man instructed very sternly.

“Why is that sir?” Zane questioned innocently. The boy began to wonder if he had done something wrong by not remembering more.

“The last thing you want is for a Collectors or a Paradise Zealot to hear about it and take interest in you. You are safer off just pretending to have grown up on your own with me.” The tall man said as he stood up to go fetch something from the bookshelf by his bed on the east side of the house.

“Collectors? Paradise Zealots?” Zane asked with curiosity. These terms were all new to him.

“Collectors are mysterious men who like to collect strange things. It is an obsession for them. Some go so far as to collect humans with abnormalities. So if they heard there was a boy from the tower they would want you quite badly. Paradise Zealots are religious nuts who praise the tower and believe it to be an elevator to heaven, which is where the tower got its name.” The man explained as he returned with a large, old book.

“Do you know how to read?” The man asked as he placed the book on the table in front of the boy.

“I think so.” Zane replied as he hesitantly opened the book. At first the markings were mere gibberish to him, but slowly they began to form words in his mind and he began to understand. On the page he was on it showed a picture of a long rectangular device. It was jet black with a wrist attachment on the bottom. Zane looked down at his left arm and compared the object on his wrist to the book, they matched. The book told how they were called “counters” and that they counted the amount of points the wearer had. Points were the currency of Remoria and were used to buy food, water, homes, and weapons. Also people could enter Paradise Tower for a high price of 10,000 points. Points were obtained by three ways, either by selling wares to other humans, by killing beasts each with a set number of points for its species, and for killing other humans where you would obtain all of their points.

“People kill each other for points?” Zane questioned. He did not seem to like this idea, why would one want to kill another human? It didn’t make sense to him at all.

“That is the way of Remoria, it’s kill or be killed” The man said bluntly as he sat back down across from Zane. The child really was as innocent and naïve as he thought.

“Well do you kills others sir?” The boy asked, fearing his answer. Zane was not sure how many points he had but he now began to wonder if this man had saved him to kill him himself.

“First off please don’t call me sir anymore, my name is Isaac. To answer your question I only kill when necessary, as in only to protect myself or to protect others. I have many point hunters come to try and kill me and the only way to keep my peace is to kill them or they will keep coming back.” Isaac responded in a cold, harsh tone.

Zane’s green eyes wandered to the large sword which was sheathed and leaning up against the wall by the door to his left. He began to wonder how many humans that blade had sliced through, what a sad blade it must be and what a sad man its wielder must be as well.

“Do you live here alone Mr. Isaac?” Zane’s questions did not seem to stop. This was his first human interaction; at least it was the first that he could remember.

“Yes.” The man replied simply and seeming emotionlessly. He was not one to talk about his personal life and he was not about to start divulging it all to this little boy.

“Well then why don’t I live here with you? I can keep you company.” Zane suggested. His reply was not an expected one, the man began to laugh. At first it was just a chuckle but soon Isaac was in a full hardy laugh. The redhead had no idea what he had said was so funny but he decided to laugh as well.

“Look kid I saved you because I do not like seeing helpless people get killed. You obviously don’t fit well in this world and you won’t fit well here with me. You can stay here tonight, but I am bringing you to the Skies in the morning to see if they will take you in.” Isaac told the child once his laughter had subsided.

“But I like it here and I know you, I don’t know these Skies. Besides I can help I need to at least repay you for saving me” Zane protested. There was something about Isaac that Zane really liked, but then again he had never really met anyone else.

“You help? What can a weak kid like you with no memories possibly help me?” Isaac replied, trying to hold back anymore fits of laughter. He could see the eagerness in the boy’s eyes so he decided to let the kid respond instead of ending the conversation.

“Well I can clean around the house and do chores for you and if you train me I can become stronger and help you hunt for food.” Zane offered up. What his host said was true, he was pretty useless right now but if someone as strong as Isaac trained him he knew he could get stronger.

“Ha seems like that would be more work for me instead of making things easier.” Isaac replied as he stood up and walked away. He came back with a bear hide and a pillow which he tossed on the floor by the fireplace.

“Enough of this conversation, you go to sleep now and I’ll make my final decision in the morning.” Isaac instructed sternly. Quietly the boy nodded and complied, he limped on his wounded ankle and curled up in a ball on the bear fur. Isaac place a wool blanket on him and then returned to his own cot where he rolled over and passed out.