(I have a Patreon if you want to read the next 10 chapters of this fanfiction then go to patreon.com/7_Night )
Two days later.
Today was Dante's 18th birthday.
There was no party. No celebration. No big family gathering. Just a quiet day in a quiet house. His mom and dad had made a cake for him—nothing fancy, just something homemade, with uneven frosting and slightly tilted lettering. It was more out of tradition than excitement.
There was no one else coming.
After all, who would?
Dante only had one friend—his childhood friend, Owen Maddox.
And unlike him, Owen was everything people in this town admired. Super popular at school. Handsome in a way that turned heads in the hallway. The star of the soccer team. The kind of guy everyone talked about, not because he was loud, but because he had that effortless confidence people naturally followed.
Meanwhile, Dante… wasn't unsociable. Not at all. He was easy to talk to, good at reading people, even fun to be around when he let his guard down. He could make friends easily—he had before. But that was in places where people actually wanted to get to know someone different.
That all changed when his parents moved.
The town they relocated to wasn't just small. It was small-minded. A place full of people who all thought the same way, acted the same way, and raised their kids to believe the same things. The moment Dante opened his mouth and shared a single opinion that didn't match the script, he was shut out.
Naturally, he couldn't get along with any of the kids here.
Except for Owen.
Owen was the only one in the entire neighborhood who saw things the way he did. The only one who didn't just parrot what their parents said or stare in silent judgment. Over time, their bond became the only real connection Dante had in this place. But he couldn't attend because of the big game that is happening in another town far away
"Dante, you're eighteen now," his mother said softly. She was sitting next to him at the kitchen table, trying to sound cheerful. "That means you'll be going to college soon."
"Yeah," he muttered, not looking at her. "And then I can finally leave this fucking town."
There was a pause.
He expected her to scold him for the language, but she didn't say anything at all. No gasp. No sharp words. Just silence.
His mother had always been different from the others in the family. She was afraid of mutants, yes—but not hateful. Not like his dad. Not like his brother and sister, who'd long since absorbed every opinion their father barked across the dinner table.
Most of Dante's arguments over the years weren't with her. They were with them—his father especially, and the siblings who followed his lead without question.
"I know you've always felt suffocated in here," his mom said after a moment, her voice quieter. She didn't sound offended. She sounded… sad. Tired, maybe. Like she knew he wasn't wrong.
"I hope that's true," she added after a pause. "At least… promise you'll visit us when you go to college?"
Dante didn't reply right away. He just looked down at the table and nodded once.
"Yeah. Maybe."
His mom gave him a soft smile and stood up, walking toward the kitchen. She disappeared through the doorway, the sound of her footsteps fading behind her.
Dante leaned back in his chair and sighed, staring at the empty space she left behind. The conversation made him think about college again, and that only made his chest tighten.
He had no idea what he was going to do with his future.
Sure, he wanted his life to be something more—something exciting. He wanted to chase the kind of things that stirred his imagination, that made him feel alive. But most of the things he was interested in weren't exactly practical.
Some, like creating video games or programming, were things he just wasn't that good at, no matter how hard he tried.
Others… well, others were things that no ordinary person could do.
Like fighting supervillains.
He almost laughed at himself. It was stupid. Ridiculous. But it didn't stop the thought from sticking.
Still, none of that mattered now.
Before he could spiral any further, his parents and siblings returned from the kitchen, carrying the cake. It wasn't extravagant, but it was warm and freshly made. The words "Happy Birthday" were scrawled in bright blue icing across the top.
They placed it carefully on the table in front of him.
Dante stared at it, silent.
He knew birthday wishes weren't real.
He wasn't a kid anymore. He didn't believe in magic candles or wishful thinking. But still… as he leaned forward and blew them out, a single thought passed through his mind—quiet, desperate, and buried under years of frustration.
I wish my life would become exciting.
The candles flickered out, little trails of smoke curling upward in the dim light.
For a second, nothing happened.
Dante leaned back in his seat, barely processing the silence before he heard something that jolted him upright.
A scream.
Two of them—his sister and his mom.
He turned sharply, confused, until he saw what they were pointing at.
His left arm.
It was on fire.
Not red flames. Not smoke or heat. Blue fire. Bright and intense, wrapped around his arm like a living aura. It shimmered unnaturally, and before he could move or react, it spread.
The fire surged across his body—up his shoulder, over his chest, down his legs. It didn't burn. It didn't hurt. It felt… alive, like something was waking up inside him.
And then, just as fast as it appeared—it vanished.
The flames disappeared, leaving only stunned silence in their place.
Dante blinked and looked around the room, disoriented. Everything looked… smaller. The furniture. The walls. Even his family. They all seemed slightly shorter, like the world had shifted without warning.
He didn't dwell on it.
His eyes went to his left arm again.
It had changed.
From the shoulder down to the elbow, it was no longer human. The skin had become a dark, almost obsidian-like material, laced with glowing blue markings that pulsed faintly like veins of living light. The blue flame still glowed inside them, trapped but moving, like energy flowing through a circuit.
The elbow was jagged, shaped almost like a spike, sharp and brutal. His palm glowed faintly—soft and eerie—yet controlled. The entire arm looked like it had been forged rather than grown, something inhuman and powerful… and terrifying.
"Y-You're a mutant!" his father shouted, backing away like he'd just seen a bomb go off. "Call the authorities! Now!"
His sister panicked, grabbing her phone and furiously typing. "I'm reporting it—right now! They'll come take him!"
"Wait—what? What are you talking about?!" Dante said, voice rising in confusion. His heart was racing, his breath shallow. He hadn't even processed what was happening, and now everyone was yelling like he'd committed a crime.
"I didn't do anything—I just—!"
He didn't get to finish.
His brother came from behind, trying to tackle him, maybe restrain him—maybe worse. But Dante's instincts fired before he even thought. He twisted, shoved him off—
Hard.
His brother flew back, slamming into the living room wall with a heavy thud before collapsing to the floor. He wasn't unconscious, but the pain in his back was clear from the way he gasped and winced, holding it in agony.
Dante stood frozen in horror.
He hadn't meant to throw him like that. He hadn't meant to hurt him. He only tried to push him away.
But it was effortless.
"You're a freak! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" his father roared.
Dante didn't respond. He didn't argue.
He didn't even look back.
He ran.
Out the door. Off the porch. Into the street. No one followed him. No one tried.
Even if they had… they wouldn't have caught him.
His legs moved faster than he thought possible—so fast it felt like the world blurred around him. He tore through the neighborhood, through the outskirts of town, into the tree-lined roads and beyond, running faster than a speeding motorcycle, powered by instinct, adrenaline, and something else—something new.
He didn't stop.
Not for miles.
Not until the town was far behind him and the trees grew taller, denser—until he finally collapsed into a clearing near a quiet river just outside of Aurora.
There, he dropped to his knees.
Breathing hard.
Alone.
Shaking.
He looked at his left arm again. The mutated one. The arm that wasn't his anymore.
But then… something else caught his eye.
His right arm—still human.
But… not quite.
His skin was paler than before. The light tan he always had—his natural tone—had faded. It wasn't unhealthy, but it was different. Pale, clean… almost refined. The kind of skin tone girls at school had always tried to imitate with makeup.
And not just his skin.
His muscles.
They were more defined. He could see the shape of his biceps, shoulders, and chest through his shirt. The clothes no longer fit the way they used to—his sleeves were tighter, his shirt hung differently. His entire body had changed, subtly but completely.
He walked slowly to the edge of the river, the water still and glass-like in the fading daylight.
And when he looked down into the reflection… he froze.
The face staring back at him wasn't his.
(like I said, I will update my fanfiction every day now I hope you enjoy)