home

search

Arc III.5 - Chapter I - Episode I: "Kukito"

  Lyte of Utopia

  Arc III.5: “Zero”

  Chapter I: “Before the Fall”

  Episode I: “Kukito”

  [Almost Forty Years Ago]

  “We must organize ourselves!” said a man standing on a stage before a large group of Dystopians. “To bring attention to our struggles and ensure that they are addressed, we need to unify ourselves as one. We may be dismissed one by one—but together, our voice becomes a chorus they can’t mute. If we work together, they will be unable to ignore us.”

  He paused, then spoke softly, “A chorus doesn’t need a throne. It needs bodies willing to stand in the same rhythm.”

  The man continued his speech, rallying the Dystopians together. After he was done, he walked off the stage with the sound of applause and cheering in his ears.

  “What a wonderful speech, Kukito,” A woman said—applause still ringing as she emerged from the crowd like she hadn’t been sweating with the rest of them.

  Her clothes were too clean for the district. Not bright—just… untouched. The kind of cleanliness that didn’t come from innocence, but from control.

  She slowly walked up to him.

  “I told you already, Cataline. I will not use my influence to lead a rebellion. Violence will only hurt our movement, not support it.”

  “Ugh, what a bore,” Cataline scoffed. “By the time your peaceful movement makes any progress, we’ll all be hundreds of years old. Oh, that’s right—you’re one of the Sages now,” she said, eyes half-lidded. "Polished armor. Borrowed authority… Still kneeling to Pure-Utopian approval like an obedient little servant, aren’t you? You call it progress—like permission is freedom.”

  “Hmph, this is a pointless argument. We should just agree to disagree.”

  “House Soap doesn’t beg, Kukito. We negotiate. We leverage. We collect.”

  Kukito’s jaw tightened. He hated that she could hear the weak parts of him—hear them and press them like bruises.

  His gaze slid from hers, and he started walking.

  She fell in beside him, each step matching his pace like it was rehearsed.

  They made their way through the Dystopian district—streets patched and repatched, like the city itself had been stitched back together too many times.

  The ambient aether felt thinner here—not absent, just… rationed, like even the air had rules.

  Above, the skyline still caught Utopia’s pink-gold sunset. Down here, it arrived diluted—filtered through grime, glass, and the hum of old barrier panels that never fully stopped rattling.

  “Where are our children?”

  “Don’t fret, darling. They’re at home.”

  A child darted past them, clutching a broken practice-weight like treasure. A few steps later, an old man hummed a hymn under his breath—off-key, but stubborn.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “They’re not as young as you think, Bowl is already seven.”

  “You left them by themselves?”

  She sighed. “No, I asked that boy to watch them. You know, the one you’re so fond of. Kuro,” she said. “Or whatever he’s calling himself.”

  “Kuro? Alright. He’s a good kid, but he lost his parents when he was much younger. Despite that, I have high hopes for him. He shows a lot of potential in martial arts. Perhaps they will let him join the Sages one day.”

  “You know, those Utopic Sages don’t want us infesting their ranks.”

  “Times are changing, Cat. Prejudice against our people is dying down. You may not believe it, but it won’t be long until we can proudly walk aside our Pure-Utopian counterparts.”

  Kukito kept his voice calm, but his eyes kept drifting— counting boarded windows, counting mouths—counting how many people had learned to smile without expecting anything back.

  His fingers brushed the edge of a cracked wall panel as they passed—warm from overuse. Someone had etched a tiny sun into it, then scratched it out.

  A block later, the street changed—subtly. A cleaner stairwell. A working light-strip. A door with a guard who didn’t look like he belonged down here.

  Cataline didn’t glance at it. She didn’t have to. The district made room for House Soap the way water made room for a blade.

  [A few days ago – Kukito and Kuro]

  “What’s even the difference between us? We all look the same to me,” Kuro said.

  “Well… on the surface, we all look the same. And in truth, we are all one people, living on a great planet. But Dystopians technically differ from “Pure Utopians” because of a slight genetic variation. “It’s not our faces—it’s our meridians,” Kukito said. “The way our channels route aether makes our Flow recovery slower… but it also gives us access to Dystopian Forms without relying on a Spirit’s blessing. That scares them. So, they call it ‘demonic’ to make fear sound holy. But it’s still aether,” he told Kuro. “Same world. Same sky. Same rules—just different bodies.”

  Kukito stepped back, raising his arms to his sides as he released his aura. “Utopic Boost!”

  He let Utopic aether circulate—clean and bright—until his frame hardened and his Yield rose.

  The aura wasn’t rage. It was discipline—Flow pressed into muscle like armor.

  “Whoa…” Kuro said. “Can I do that?”

  “Ha-ha,” Kukito powered down, “Yes, as long as you keep up with your training, one day you’ll be able to do that as well.

  [Present]

  Kukito looked up at the pink sky as the sun was setting.

  “At the end of the day,” he whispered, “We all look at the same sunset… it doesn’t care which district you were born in.”

  The light painted both districts the same color for a moment—like the planet was pretending it hadn’t chosen sides.

  [The Next Morning]

  Kukito woke up early and got ready to go to work.

  As a new member of the Utopic Sages, he was determined to make a good impression.

  He quietly got ready and then left his home while his family was still asleep.

  Once he walked outside of his apartment, a young man was waiting to greet him.

  “Yo,” he put his hand up in greeting. “You’re the new guy, right? Mr. Kukito?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Nice to meet you. Name’s Raida.”

  They shook hands.

  “Even though today’s your first day, we’ve been assigned to patrol. “We’ll patrol the upper atmosphere,” Raida said. “Trade lanes, airspace edges—any ship bold enough to test Utopia’s borders.”

  “Alright. Lead the way, Mr. Raida.”

  “Oh, no need to be formal, heh-heh. If anything, I should be the one showing respect since you’re a bit older than me.”

  [A Few Hours Later]

  Raida and Kukito were making their rounds around a sector of the planet’s atmosphere—flying in one of the Sage’s ships.

  Below them, Utopia curved in pink and gold—too beautiful to belong to only one class.

  They made check-ins with different Space Stations to see if any suspicious ships were coming to or leaving the planet.

  “We’re being very thorough. The Utopic Sages are diligent,” Kukito noted.

  “Yeah. We have to do all we can to protect Utopia. There are hundreds of other Sages patrolling around the planet every day. There are local patrols, mid-distance patrols like us, and even some long-distance patrols that fly around our Solar System.”

  “Is all this really necessary?”

  “For sure. Utopia’s a rich planet after all. There are lots of other worlds that envy our wealth and resources, not to mention the bandits.”

  Wealth, huh. It's almost as if we’re from two different worlds…

  Raida looked at Kukito’s face and noticed something was bothering him. As he continued steering the ship, he nudged him.

  “Mr. Kukito, you’re a Dystopian, right?”

  His head tilted down slightly, his throat tightening. “Yes…”

  “Ha-ha, don’t worry. No one in the Sages will treat you any differently. If anything, the Sages are probably one of your best allies. We believe that change is well overdue. Call them Pure, call them Dystopian—either way, they bleed the same when the sky breaks. And they should be treated as such. That’s the world that we’re fighting for. The world my brother is fighting for.”

  “You’re brother?”

  “Yeah. His name’s Ryoda. He’s young, but he’s going to be the next God of Utopia.”

  For a second, Kukito heard it like a title that didn’t belong to people, only stories. “G-God of Utopia?!”

  “Yeah. You know, the previous God of Utopia actually died in the last Cosmic War. It took some time, but a new God has been born. And that’s my little brother!” Raida said with a proud smile.

  “I thought the God of Utopia was just a myth…” Kukito muttered. Imagine if it were me. The thought came like a spark—and Kukito crushed it before it could catch.

  He looked towards Raida. If a good man like Raida can take such pride in his brother, then Ryoda must be a good man as well. Instead of wishing I had that power, I can simply be an ally to them and work with them to support the Dystopians.

  As the two of them stood in silence, they drifted into the next sector they were scheduled for.

  [Next Time on Lyte of Utopia]: “Kaelithian Invasion!”

  [Yield Levels]:

  Kukito: 15,000

  


      
  • Utopic Boost (Level 1): 75,000


  •   


  Cataline: 16,500

  Kuro: 5,000

  Raida: 20,000

Recommended Popular Novels