District 42-Chapter 125: Similars part 1

He remembered his first days at the prison. Halden was once for him just an urban legend made to threaten the criminals who weren’t stopped by the city guards, because those incompetents didn’t do their job in the right manner.

It was so frustrating for him to have all his dreams shattered by slight mistakes... Every day inside that prison was to remember him that he messed up. He failed in the mission that he swore to devote his life, the beautiful pursue of the Frelsis, which they called freedom.

That was a word that for a long time the Council of Jarls and even the General Court were deciding if they should banish or not. They were all cowards in the eyes of that prisoner. People who know that words had a lot of power, but weren’t willing to bear this pressure.

Yes, that was a District of cowards. The Court was filled with wimps who couldn’t live with the sight of an entire folk turning against them, so they handcuffed them, and imposed their sovereignty.

But the folk always would fight back, no matter how many times they needed to do this. It was like this in the First Revolution. After centuries of silence and impotence, simple and ordinary commoners could break the absolute creation of the Forger and gain their liberty to use as a power to impose themselves against the government.

Steffen was once a Frelsi of great power and prestige. He had all sorts of connections, a lot of different succeeded missions on his shoulders, appraise from the Frelsis, even the ones with more status than him.

He was a master in the art of the Revolution. He could pull through any difficulties just to free his folk. His determination burnt inside his heart every time he woke up and thought that he could be the chosen one to change everything.

But destiny had other plans for him. Different from the stories his mother told him, he wasn’t the chosen one. It was not something you wanted and could get, after all. In any story was like this.

He learned something after that failure: in the world, heroes didn’t have the opportunity for a huge defeat, just to raise from the ground again stronger, wiser, powerful... When you suffer such a loss, you can’t be 100% sure that you can raise to the top again.

After losing all he had, after being put in the depths of the earth, in the deepest well, Steffen waited for years, but couldn’t raise anymore. On the contrary, he felt like sinking even more, maybe digging his own grave.

He wanted to be perfect. If he was, he wouldn’t have lost everything.

Steffen remembered really well how that desire made him suffer and agonize even more because he knew that it couldn’t be possible... Or it wasn’t supposed to be, at least.

"Do you want to be perfect? Do you want to have the wisdom of a god?" That’s what they asked him.

"I want." He answered, without bothering in questioning why and how they would do it.

Maybe, Steffen was just too ambitious. An ambition that he had since he was a kid, hearing stories, and wanting to be a free person. This ambition had evolved and turned into determination, and then just madness.

He survived that experiment because of it. That pain, suffering, the excruciating everyday experience, weren’t even slightly close to the pain he felt being a weakling without any possibilities of winning.

"Hey, Steffen, the experiment is a success. You did it. You are a god now. But you probably will not control anything, you will be our spectator. But don’t worry. Do you feel this presence inside you? Yeah, that’s the person who will take care of everything now. It’s an independent conscience that can bear the power that our experiment provided to your brain. We let you name him before, do you remember? Yes, Anton, that’s it."

They thought that Steffen would vanish as time passed. Anton was supposed to dominate everything inside his mind. The experiment was a success, except for this little detail. Anton and Steffen weren’t opposites, one couldn’t vanish the other. Anton grew up inside Steffen’s mind, he inherited his ideals, part of his personality, his plain knowledge about human beliefs and emotions, and overall his humanity.

Those two different forms of consciousness didn’t attack one another, they merged. Both were distinct entities, but with a part of each other that they couldn’t take away any more.

This way, Anton started to have a wider perspective of his surroundings. He looked up every single detail there. He developed empathy with human beings and realized what Steffen had years ago: everyone has the right to be free.

Even those people who killed, who robbed, or corrupted, they had the right, given to them since birth, to at least try to run away from that prison, to walk where they want, to think what they want, and to say what passed in their minds.

Be a bad or good human, it was against the own nature to steal this right, and District 42 was doing it.

However, Steffen had given to them his own being to be able to have the power to raise again, he sacrificed his own body to be a god. Now, together with Anton, he could see, analyze, and know everything. But now he was chained.

Anton couldn’t do everything he wanted. Steffen couldn’t take the control to do so. One was a prisoner because of his own decisions, and the other was a prisoner because of his unwilled creation.

The first lesson that both of them learned together, was the thing that based their entire being until that day: a man with all the wisdom in the world is still worthless when he can’t walk with his own legs.

Steffen and Anton knew what to do, but they couldn’t force themselves to it, not directly at least.

"What will you do now, Anton?" The scientist asked.

Anton thought and, since he gained the wisdom of a god, that was the only time when he needed to reason for so long.

"Protect Halden." The scientist seemed glad by the answer. He probably thought that Anton was referring to the prison, but when saying Halden, the first thing that passed through his mind was the prisoners being tortured inside there.

For many years, Anton passed his days trying to do something, protecting those helpless people, finding a way to change Halden.

He barely slept through those years. His cerebral activity was so high that his body couldn’t bring a way to make him sleep. The only time when he did was when his brain activity was still raising throughout the days, and in his dream, he saw a warrior with white hair carrying a sword, and he parted a huge stone block in half as if it was paper. Although he tried so much to remember the face of that warrior, that was the only memory he couldn’t bring back no matter what.

...

Anton and Alfar approached each other. As always, the middle-aged man wasn’t wielding any weapons. Alfar had his pistol, but he also didn’t like to use too threatening guns. The more something referred to violence, the crazier he went inside his mind. Just the size of the power of a gun could influence this conception.

The first to start attacking was the Dark elf, the difference in his speed and strength was already notable. Even out of his most cruel personality control, he could still use part of the effects of Project Svartalfheim.

With his normal capabilities, Alfar was no match for Anton, he knew that, if victory was what he aimed there, he needed more power. He was concerned about losing control, but if Anton stopped them there, they would ruin all the plan, and the prisoners would get back to that daily routine of torture and misery.

The Dark elf burst into a flurry of blows, aiming at Anton, which leaped to the sides, ducking, defending, parrying. None of the punches had technique behind them but were incredibly destructive. However, the old man was relentless, it was even unfair how someone could read his movements and predict each attack so fast.

Even if Alfar had his own knowledge about Project Mimir, it was hard for anyone to know what passed inside the mind of a god, and how he could see the world around him.

His rush was stopped when suddenly he felt pressure right on his solar plexus, then looked down and saw Anton’s hand sinking in his trunk as if it was about to cross his entire body.

The Dark elf lost his breath, giving several steps behind and nearly losing his balance. His legs had not the strength to keep standing.

"Hey, Alfar. Don’t give up now, buddy." He stood still in the same place. "I still have something to teach to you."