THE LEGACY ERA – YEARS AGO.
It was a different time. An era when heroes weren't yet marketing products. No rankings. No billboards. No exclusivity contracts.
Being a hero was a conviction. A vocation. A daily struggle.
For five years – five years that would later be called the Golden Age of Heroism – crime was non-existent. Demons retreated. People lived freely, without fear.
And all of this, thanks to five individuals.
The Old Gen.
No rankings. No numbers. Just names. Legends.
1. Captain Man – The Symbol. The one who never falls.
2. Mecha Sullivan – The Veteran. The first generation.
3. Myestro – The Artist. His fights were symphonies.
4. GAP – The Wall. Immobile. Unshakeable.
5. Magic Man – The Illusionist. No one ever saw his true face.
Five heroes. A world at peace.
And it was precisely during this time that Midas was born.
---
CITY V – SUBURBAN DISTRICT – GOLDEN YEARS
City V wasn't rich. Not poor either. Just an average city, with its gray buildings, its green parks, its noisy markets.
Midas was 7 years old.
His father, once heir to a bourgeois family, had left everything to live simply. To escape the glamour, the appearances, the social dinners. He had married a simple woman of modest origins, and they had settled there, away from prying eyes.
Midas had inherited his father's curiosity. From his mother, gentleness.
But that day, a summer day, he only had one desire: to go play in the park.
He put on his finest outfit – beige shorts, a striped shirt – and his hat. A straw hat, adorned with a frog design. His mother had given it to him for his birthday.
"Where are you going, sweetheart?"
"To the park, Mom!"
"Don't talk to strangers."
"Okay."
He ran out.
---
THE PARK – THE PLAYGROUND
The park was crowded. Children ran everywhere, laughing, shouting, chasing each other. Swings squeaked. An ice cream vendor rang his bell.
Midas took out his butterfly net. He had seen one, blue, magnificent, land on a bush.
He was creeping up when he heard voices.
Insults.
"Go back home, demon!"
"You don't belong here!"
"Get lost, you're an anomaly!"
"You should never have been born, you filthy monster!"
Midas stopped.
A group of children – five or six, older than him – surrounded a boy. Smaller. Thinner. Dirty clothes. Messy hair.
The boy said nothing. He trembled.
But his eyes…
His eyes were tinged with a ruby red glow.
ROOOAR.
The boy charged at the children. He bit. His teeth were sharp. He struck. His fists were devastating.
One child fell. Then another. Then another.
But they were too many.
The boy retreated, cornered, his lips bloodied.
Midas didn't hesitate.
He stepped in.
"How dare you pick on someone weaker than you?"
The children looked at him, surprised.
"What do you want? Move!"
"No."
Midas spread his arms.
"If you want to hit him, you'll have to go through me first."
The children exchanged glances. Then, one by one, they stepped back.
"This isn't fun," one of them grumbled.
They left.
Midas turned around.
The boy was on the ground, out of breath, his face marked. He looked at Midas with bright eyes.
"You… are you a hero?"
Midas smiled.
"No. My name is Midas."
The boy stood up.
"I'm Sharky."
He wiped the blood from his lip.
"Let me tell you something."
He approached.
"Never get too close to a monster."
BAM.
He hit Midas on the head.
Not hard. Just enough to unbalance him.
Then he ran off.
Midas sat there on the ground, confused.
"Why…?"
Sharky didn't turn around.
I can't afford to put him in danger. If he protects me, the other kids won't want to play with him anymore.
Tears streamed down his cheeks.
He disappeared around the corner.
---
A FEW MONTHS LATER – FIELD TRIP
Midas's class went on a trip. Destination: an ancient temple, perched on a hill.
Midas was excited. He loved stories. Legends. Mysteries.
The guide, an old man with a white beard, took them into a dark room. Frescoes covered the walls. Gold leaf. Strange symbols.
"Here, my children, rests a legend."
The students approached, fascinated.
"That of a Western man. A king. He was cursed."
The guide lowered his voice.
"Everything he touched turned to gold."
Midas held his breath.
Everything he touched… turned to gold.
"What was his name?" asked a girl.
The guide smiled.
"Midas. Like you, young man."
The students turned to Midas. They burst out laughing.
"King Midas!"
"Are you going to turn us into gold?"
"King Midas!"
Midas blushed. He didn't know where to look.
The guide raised his hand.
"Now, my children, form a circle. We will recite the incantation."
The students held hands. Midas too. He held his best friend's hand on the left, and a girl he liked on the right.
Together, they shouted in unison.
"THE GOLDEN TOUCH!"
WOOOOOOSH.
Light enveloped them. Blinding. Burning.
When it dissipated…
Midas opened his eyes.
His friends were frozen.
Their bodies had turned to gold. Pure. Brilliant.
They were beautiful. Terrible.
Midas looked at his hands. His hands were normal.
But around him… everyone was gold.
The guide. The students. The teachers.
He was alone.
He collapsed.
His knees hit the ground. His hands touched the ground. The ground didn't transform.
He looked at his friends. Their faces frozen in a smile. A last expression of joy, before death took them.
Midas didn't cry.
He stayed there, on his knees, unable to move, unable to speak.
It's me.
I did this.
---
TO BE CONTINUED…