The sun burnt hot above the coastal city of Ancio in the late summer. It was the day for a young sixteen-year-old boy, named Mathiaz Rider. He woke up this Sunday morning, knowing he would forever abandon the city he was raised in. Despite the heat, Mathiaz donned a leather jacket, a sports shirt, and beige jogger pants. He then climbed the roof of his orphanage with his favorite but unkempt sneakers. That was where he found himself now, enacting on his revenge and facing the unfair cruelty bestowed upon him.

A grin spread across Mathiaz’s linear cheeks—the smell of spray paint fumes outweighed the fresh salty air—the hissing of his spray can thrust him into a storm of emotions. Adrenaline, one would call it, but not this boy; he perhaps couldn’t even define said word. Mathiaz stood atop the overhang of his orphanage, spray-painting the beaten walls, undiscovered for the time being.

“Fire! There’s fire! Someone get the extinguisher!” a lady screamed inside the century-old orphanage, seizing the rascal’s attention. The hysterical outcry entertained Mathiaz and helped none at impeding the creation of his masterpiece; the roof tiles creaked beneath his feet as he shook the can and sprayed the stone wall. The classical architectural design of the nine-hundredths meant little to him, and thus, the vibrant oranges and spiral details of the windows fell victim to Mathiaz’s spray can—his tool of justice.

More hysteria arose from inside. Mathiaz began questioning the caretakers’ unnecessary overreaction. Before he commenced his revenge plot, he chose a specific ugly-ass painting on the living space’s stone wall to burn, precisely not to cause too much damage. He fled the scene before anyone could point an accusatory finger at him. On the roof, he commenced part two of his plan. That insignificant interior spark only served as a distraction.

“Was it Mathiaz who did this?” one caretaker shouted with a high-pitched voice.

Mathiaz stifled his laughter. It finally dawned on those slow-minded old hags. The caretakers’ advancement meant he had less space to finish though. With a forged grin, he stepped up his pace, adding details to the letter ‘Z’. It was only a matter of time before the livid caretakers caught wind of his plot, and found his guilty ass.

“It had to be! No-one else keeps playing with fire in this house!” Mathiaz recognized the old witch’s voice.

“He’s not in his room!” a younger one responded. This one Mathiaz did not recognize.

Mathiaz sighed, finishing up his ‘goodbye gift’ for the orphanage. Today, he would enroll at the Spirit Academy—the only school in the history of education he was excited to attend. A place for the supernatural humans who awakened spirit. Originally, he meant to depart the orphanage, his ‘home’, with a love-filled farewell, but after some complications, he devised Plan B, titled chaos.

His shoulders sunk—he refused the painful memory from torturing him further. Mathiaz scratched his neck, leaving red marks on his white skin. But despite his best effort, the hurtful words echoed inside his conscience.

“I’m so glad he’s... It was so annoying acting like I-”

The sound of rubber scraping concrete dulled those memories. Mathiaz turned around, only to see a red pickup truck parking by the orphanage. He gaped as he recognized his new classmate’s round dark face below the windshield. It was Steve Abram, a new attendee at the New Baymort Spirit Academy, just like Mathiaz. Steve promised to pick him up on his way to Holy Bay, saving Mathiaz the trouble of traveling alone.

Mathiaz’s grey eyes widened, a smile graced his face. Steve’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect—this lucky scenario boosted Mathiaz’s confidence, so he announced his presence loud and clear, “I’m up here, suckers!” He howled in laughter as five caretakers bolted out of the building. They scoured the front yard, like a troop of clueless NPCs. Mathiaz enjoyed watching them until one spotted him on the rooftop.

“The rascal is over there!” The pretty but crude caretaker roared at him.

Another outraged woman, her best friend, cried and pointed behind Mathiaz, “He vandalized our orphanage!”

Mathiaz glanced at his masterpiece. A gigantic Badazz Rider Waz Here graffiti adorned the highest wall of the Ancio Children’s Home. That stain would be a pain for them to scrub off—a perfect representation and reminder of Mathiaz’s existence.

If they’re going to hate me this much, I’ll make sure they never forget about me.

He tossed the can in a random direction and grabbed his packed bag, prepared for escape. Whilst he enjoyed causing trouble, he didn’t want to sully his image at the Spirit Academy so soon. Therefore, running late on his first day sounded like a bad idea even to the young troublemaker. Attending the academy was a massive step forward towards Mathiaz fulfilling his lifelong dream, and he refused to fuck it up.

So, it was just about time for Mathiaz to say goodbye. This time for good.

He hopped off the rickety rooftop and landed on the rough pavement below. Experienced in slipping out in the dead of night, it barely hurt his feet. Mathiaz ran past the caretakers like the wind, shoving the old witch with full force—she landed on her butt with a heavy oof. He sent a sarcastic wink at the pretty one and ignored the dozens of hands reaching to capture him. He passed the opened front gate, recalling a moment when he had to rescue one of his little brothers getting stuck on the spikes.

His wide grin remained as he reached for the handle of Steve’s truck.