Rain trickled down the rusted metal of the old door as Zion raised a tired hand and knocked.
A few seconds passed before the door creaked open. A broad-shouldered boy with crumbs on his lips and a half-eaten piece of bread in his hand leaned against the frame. His muscles, bulky and overworked, flexed lazily as he chewed.
"Took ya long enough," the boy grunted. "Let me guess… His Royal Baldness made you polish his shoes with your face again? Am I wrong?"
Zion gave him a deadpan look. "You're absolutely right."
He stepped inside back into the same rundown house where he had woken up that morning. The walls groaned with every gust of wind, and the air still carried the scent of damp wood and old memories.
"Muscle," Zion said, glancing over, "come with me."
Muscle raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
Zion dropped into a worn-out chair and wiped the rain off his face. "Anywhere. I can't take this life anymore. The only way to be free... is to escape this kingdom."
Muscle blinked, the bread forgotten in his hand. "Bloody hell, are you serious? You do realize the borders are crawling with guards, right? Not to mention there's no sea route out unless you wanna swim to death."
"I'm serious." Zion's voice cracked. "You think I should just sit here? Live like this? Serving some bastard my own age, getting beaten for breathing wrong?"
Muscle hesitated. "Crossing the border… That's not a game, Zion. It's life-threatening."
Zion stood up, grabbed a piece of bread from the table, and bit into it with quiet fury.
"These damn Creeds… They're invisible chains." He stared at his fist. "Today, I tried to punch him. I couldn't. My body just froze. It's like my bones remember something my heart refuses to accept."
Muscle was silent for a moment, then chuckled weakly. "It's hard for me too, y'know. I got the Creed of a Warrior. It forces me to train all the time, work out like a maniac." He flexed with a theatrical grunt.
Zion stared at him flatly. "You're dumb as hell, Muscle."
They both laughed.
Later that night, the two of them stepped out of the rusty house into the cold darkness. Rain had softened to a drizzle. The streets of Savio were quiet, and the sky was blanketed in thick gray clouds.
As they walked, Muscle hummed a tune from their childhood a melody Zion hadn't heard in years. He looked up at the sky, lost in thought.
Then they heard it.
"Kneel!"
A man's voice sliced through the silence.
"Kneel!"
Zion and Muscle stopped. A boy no older than ten was being forced to the ground by a burly man in a red cloak. The child crumbled, his legs shaking, tears pouring down his cheeks as he sobbed. His voice echoed in the empty streets.
Muscle froze, watching the scene unfold. For the first time, he saw it the raw humiliation, the cruelty. This was the life of a Slave Creed holder.
Zion clenched his fists. His jaw trembled. His eyes burned with something deeper than rage.
He looked up at the stars beyond the clouds, then whispered.
"I'm going to break it all."
Muscle blinked. "What?"
"All of it," Zion said, louder this time. "The Creeds. The Laws. Everything."
A grin spread across Muscle's face. "Then let's do this."
They stood in the rain together, two boys beneath a broken sky ready to change a broken world.