Second Reality: Surge of Power

Chapter IX: Where Gods Meet

The next day a message was sent to Whitestone to the Cleaner Headquarters.
"2024 November 28th: Younen outskirts Outpost.
After the wave on the 27th of November, we detected twelve new signals of overhuman origin within the Second Reality. Considering the limited activity within the village will cease, we see no further use for the "quarantine". According to the instructions passed down since the closing of this place: In case of a wave turning 0.5% of the population of Younen into overhumans, the noise gates shall be lifted and overhuman passage should be allowed. Two cleaners will be appointed as lookouts. They'll gather data and intervene if the outsiders were to terrorize the citizens, though this is a last resort. Please send the opening request to the capital city, Demos.
May the tides keep us safe."

This message was passed down to Demos and made official. Within the next twelve hours the noise gates would turn off, the guarding of these gates would stop, and all ovehuman activity would be allowed.
Though the message was sent to Demos only, soon the streets of the towns near Younen were ringing with the news of this historical moment. Some curious of the new place, others itching for a fight.

In a town next to Younen, bearing the name Uradoori, the muffled cheering of ruffians and criminals leaked out of the tattered windows of an old bar. Screaming, shouting, breaking glasses all a toast for a more exiting day tomorrow.

"Keep it down there before I wipe the counter with you! And if you break a glass you pay for it!" The bartender, a tall and hairy man, often mistaken for a bear voiced his anger. Sam was his name, the innkeeper of the Broken Window. A modest bar with flickering lights, creaky old wooden floorboard, and cheap beer. Sam meticulously wiped every glass, keg, and pint until he saw his repulsing reflection in them. Proudly admired the fruit of his labor, then picked up the man who threw one of the glasses and threw him out the window. An apt name for this bar.

"For the window too!" Sam shouted through the whole the thug's body caused.
The other drunks jumped out of their seats and slammed the door open to the dirty streets where their friend landed. One of them taking carefully measured steps towards the man on the ground.

"...fifteen, sixteen, seventeen and a half! Oh come on! One more meter and I would've won!" Said the man measuring the distance.

"It doesn't matter! Pay up!" The one leaning on the doorframe requested the money with his palm open. "You too Bamba!" Said the man to his friend on the ground.

"Huh?" Bamba was a simple man, no words have left his mouth since he left his mother's claws. Yes... his mother had claws. He took out all the change he had in his pocket which he kept together by sticking them in a fist-sized used chewing gum. How clever. He threw the wet sticky money at his friend who in a quite ungrateful manner jumped out of the way.

"Ain't no way I'm touching that! You'll buy the next two rounds of beer!" Said the man, crumbling his winning in his hand. Suddenly the bear-like hands of Sam squeezed his wrist from behind.

"That'll be enough for the broken pint."

"Ay Sam! Cut us some slack, would ya? You know how Bamba is, his father was an alcoholic, his mother was... something!"

"Does his heritage apply to your stupidity as well?" Sam put the money in his back pocket much to the objection of the thugs. While they were arguing a new man walked by them slightly pushing the one pleading for the money.

"Hey Sam..." Said the man in a tired tone as he sat down slouching in a chair in the far corner of the pub.

"Hey watch where you're going kid!" The man left Sam with his money as he felt he could beat the money out of the young man that's just entered.

"Oh, sorry I was in a hurry."

"You think you're some kind of big shot who can just push around anyone?"