Astra Fracta

It had been two hundred years since the world changed forever. The event was known as the Crimson Laboratory—an illegal facility shrouded in mystery and fear. Its creation led to a surge in kidnappings and disappearances, leaving society in chaos. The city streets whispered stories of the vanished, and people moved cautiously, as if every shadow could conceal a secret. In 1825, the laboratory was established with a horrifying goal: to transform humans into living weapons. The scientists claimed they were reshaping humanity, but their methods were monstrous, experimenting without conscience, breaking lives as if they were mere test subjects. Only a year later, a massive chemical explosion tore through the lab. Ninety-five percent of humans were affected. Their genes were altered, granting them special abilities. The transformations were uneven. The monsters—creatures born from the lab—lost nearly all traces of humanity. Ninety-nine percent of their bodies mutated into horrifying forms: elongated limbs, twisted spines, teeth sharp as blades. Humans, however, were affected differently. Changes were subtle: a shift in eye color, a slight alteration in hair, faint marks on the face. Enough to distinguish us from ordinary humans, yet not enough to erase our identity. And that is where my story begins. My name is Matsoya Shinahara. I am barely twenty years old. I was born in an Asian country and raised by my mother, who was a homemaker. My father… that is a story for later. My parents divorced when I was very young, leaving a quiet emptiness in our home. All I knew was that we had once been a wealthy family. After the separation, I lived with my mother until her untimely death during my childhood. The memory of her gentle voice and the scent of her cooking still lingered in my mind, bittersweet and fading. Then my grandmother became my guardian. She took care of me, raised me, and watched over me with quiet insistence, guiding me through rules I sometimes resisted but silently understood. I possess a unique ability, called Dragon Blood. I can release molten or frozen blood through my veins, controlled with my hands. It is powerful. Dangerous. Overusing it drains my life force, increases my body temperature, and disrupts my heartbeat. The cost is high, but the ability… is intoxicating. Each time I unleash it, I feel a surge of life and power I cannot ignore. That morning, my grandmother reminded me, her voice calm but firm: “How long are you going to stay here? Haven’t you gone to work yet?” “I know, Grandma… I’ll go,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “But you’re late. Your manager will deduct your pay,” she said, watching me over her glasses. “I know. Should I go or not?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Of course you must. Do you think I’ll support you until you grow old?” “I’ll go,” I said, nodding. After preparing myself, I ran into my neighbor, Maria Aisou. “Shinahara, hey,” she greeted, smiling. “Hello, Aisou,” I replied, trying to return the smile. “Off to work?” she asked. “Yes… I didn’t want to, but Grandma forced me,” I admitted. “You should go. Your grandmother is strict. Except my sister… she only cares about appearances. Always trying to look perfect in front of her husband,” she said. “Honestly, she’s obsessed with perfection.” “True,” I said, allowing a small smile. Aisou’s ability is Mass Healing. She can heal anyone instantly with just a touch. It is extraordinary, though her name sounds strange. Her older sister left her behind. She never seemed to enjoy living with family, but it was her choice. “I hope I didn’t delay you,” she said, stepping aside. “No, it’s fine. Goodbye,” I replied, hurrying away. Work was hell. Every day felt like stepping into a furnace. My manager’s eyes narrowed as I arrived. “Shinahara! You’re late!” she barked. “Sorry. It won’t happen again,” I said. “Do you think I’ll just let it slide?” I bowed slightly. “Apologies for being late.” She studied me for a moment, then asked, “Now… tell me. What do you desire? Money or courage?” “…Courage,” I answered instinctively. “Exactly. Everyone wants what they lack,” she said. The day dragged slowly. Every task felt heavier than the last. My mind wandered to Dragon Blood, to the power I kept locked inside. Could I truly control it if tested? I shivered as I imagined the consequences of losing control. Less than five hours later, night had fallen. With no car, I walked home. The streets were empty. The wind carried the faint smell of damp concrete. Shadows stretched across walls like dark fingers. Then I heard it: a desperate scream from a nearby alley. My instincts screamed at me to turn away. But something inside me forced me forward. The alley was dark. Shadows stretched along the walls like fingers. On the ground lay a man and a woman, both injured. The woman held a gun. Her hair was long, white, cascading down to her feet. Part of it covered her right eye. She wore black clothing. Her high-neck shirt left her arms exposed. Her eyes were black. Cold. Devoid of any emotion. “Please… don’t kill me. Have mercy!” the man begged. “And why didn’t you think of mercy when you angered me? Why cross my path?” she asked, voice icy. “I didn’t do anything!” he stammered. “Really?” she said, pointing the gun. “Then why did you have those papers against us? A spy, perhaps? Death is the punishment.” “I… it wasn’t me! I was tricked by the police!” “Police… no. Death is not only punishment, but mercy,” she said. “I will give you a single, small shot. Death solves the burdens of life.” “No… please!” he cried. “The law is strict,” she said, raising the gun. “Anyone who spies or betrays will face execution. And you, stranger… any last wish?” I could not stand by. My voice rang out in the alley: “Stop! What you’re doing—stop it right now!” She turned toward me, her gaze icy. “Who are you to interfere, intruder?” My heart raced. I stared back. The alley was silent except for the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I had stepped into a moment no one would envy. A moment where life and death hung by a thread. End of chapter one.