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Novel Description:

Long ago, three extraordinary hats existed, each imbued with unique powers. The most formidable and ominous among them was the red hat, a symbol of unparalleled strength. This hat was entrusted to a global scientific consortium known as the Crown, dedicated to exploring and harnessing its potential. However, during one fateful experiment, a senior scientist succumbed to the corrupting influence of the red hat, unleashing chaos and leading to the Crown's catastrophic downfall.

In the wake of this destruction, two rival organizations emerged from the ashes: The Regal Nexus and The Phoenix Watch. Both factions became obsessed with locating and controlling the lost hats, each striving to gain an upper hand in a hidden war. Over the decades, the red hat transformed into a legend, whispered about only within the inner circles of these secretive groups. The other two hats are still believed to be concealed somewhere in the world, waiting to be found.

Character Background:

Phil grew up in an orphanage. His legal guardian is Ms. Mary Alves, who is suffering from cancer and admitted to a hospital. Phil has a few close friends and harbors affection for a girl named Penny. He is currently a college student and supports himself through part-time work as a delivery boy. Phil wears a pendant that holds sentimental value as it is believed to be a gift from his unknown parents.

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Steelheart: Forged by Fate

Chapter 1

Stench of Shadows

"Coming!" a muffled voice calls from inside. The sound of a deadbolt unlocking follows, and a woman appears at the door, her hair hastily pulled back. "Yes?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Hi, I’ve got a package for Mr. Miller. Is he home?" Phil asks, glancing around the doorway.

"No, he's not. I’m his wife. I can take it," she replies, extending her hand.

"Alright," he says, pulling out a clipboard. "I just need a signature here, ma’am."

She quickly scribbles her name and takes the package. "Thanks," she says, closing the door.

"Thank you. Have a good day," he replies as the door shuts.

He lets out a big sigh, "Okay, just one more. Cail Street... Tone Martin Apartment, 543/C/31.”

He mounts his motorbike and revs the engine, heading towards his last delivery point.

Arriving at the address, he parks and walks up to the door, pressing the doorbell. After a few moments of silence, he knocks, "Delivery for Mr. Johnson."

A couple of minutes later, the door creaks open, revealing a dishevelled man clutching a half-empty bottle of whiskey. "What do you want?" he slurs, his eyes bloodshot.

"Delivery for Mr. Johnson. Are you Mr. Johnson?"

"Yeah. That’s me. Just give it here," the man grumbles.

"Sir, you need to sign here first," Phil says, holding out the clipboard.

"Ah, fuck off! Just give me the package," the man snaps, his grip tightening on the bottle.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't hand it over without a signature."

The man glares at him, raising the bottle threateningly. "I said, give it to me, or I'll smash this on your head."

Phil swallows hard, handing over the package quickly. "Okay, okay, here it is. Have a good day, sir," he says, stepping back.

As Phil turns to leave, the man calls after him, "Wait! How much for the chain?" he demands, pointing around Phil's neck.

"It's not for sale, sir. I really need to go now," Phil replies, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I said wait!" The man lunges, grabbing Phil by the collar. "How much, or you get nothing."

"S-sorry, but I can't give y-you this—"

Without warning, he punches Phil in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Just then, a woman’s screams from inside, "Baby! There’s a spider behind the sofa!"

The man grunts in annoyance, letting go of Phil and heading back inside. Phil scrambles to his feet and bolts to his bike, his heart pounding.

*

Phil walks into the office, weary. He approaches Lane, who’s busy at the computer. "Hey, here’s the list. All deliveries are done, except for Ms. Hemwood. No one answered there."

Lane glances up briefly, taking the list. "Good job. Wait, a signature is missing. What happened this time?"

Phil, frazzled, gestures to his bruised face, "You care to look at me?"

Lane finally takes a proper look at Phil's face. "Oh... rough day, huh?"

Phil sighs deeply. "The guy wouldn’t sign! He threatened to break a bottle over my head. I barely got out in one piece."

Lane shakes his head. "Why do these things keep happening to you?"

Phil gives a faint smile. "Guess I’m just lucky."

Lane counts out some bills and hands them to Phil. "Anyway, here’s your forty-six dollars. Go get yourself some ice."

Phil tucks the money into his wallet and heads towards the door. His phone starts ringing. "Frank, what’s up?" he answers.

"Hey, man, can we meet today?" Frank appeals; his voice is shaky.

"Yeah... but why do you sound so down?"

"I’ll tell you when we meet. Can you come over to my place?"

Phil rolls his eyes. "Let me guess—she broke up with you? Again?"

Frank’s voice cracks. "Bruh, she just expects so much from me! You got to help me one last time."

Phil sighs, "Fine, fine. But I’ve got work to do. Meet me at the hospital cafeteria at 7:30, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. I’m coming."

"See ya."

He walks to his bike and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. Putting on his helmet, he rides towards the hospital.

*

Phil arrives at the hospital and parks his bike in the crowded lot. He walks to the reception, where the air buzzes with the sound of conversations and footsteps. “Hello, I’m here for Ms. Mary Alves in room 622. Is she available for visitors?”

The receptionist quickly types on her keyboard. “State your name, reason for visit, and relation to the patient,” she asks without looking up.

“Phil Pathrose. She’s my legal guardian, and it’s a routine visit.”

She prints a visitor’s card and hands it to Phil. “Take this and—”

“Head to the seventh floor. Mrs. Jones, right? I know the drill.”

The receptionist nods, a bit taken aback. “Okay... here’s your card.”

“Thanks.” Phil pockets the card and heads to the elevator. He waits as a group of people exit, including a girl in a wheelchair, her legs seemingly a distant memory of mobility. Phil steps in with a few others and presses the button for the seventh floor.

Upon reaching the seventh floor, he searches for Mrs. Jones. “Hi, I’m here to see Ms. Mary. Here’s my visitor’s card,” Phil says, handing it to her.

“Oh, Phil. Make it quick; she needs her rest,” Mrs. Jones replies, signing the card.

“Thanks. How is she doing?”

“She’s stable. The medications are keeping her cancer under control for now, but Dr. Brown says she’s not out of the woods yet. We’ve got her under intensive monitoring, so try not to worry too much.”

Phil nods. “I just hope she gets better soon,” he speaks softly.

“We all do. Now go on, cheer her up.”

Phil steps into a room filled with the sharp odour of antiseptics and medicines, the faint glow of sunset filtering through the curtains. Ms. Mary lies on the bed, her eyes sunken and her hands snaked with tubes. A bouquet of flowers sits on the bedside table, which is cluttered with various pill bottles. Monitors beep steadily, recording her every heartbeat. She calls Phil with a feeble gesture.

“Hey, Sister. How are you feeling?” Phil asks, trying to muster a cheerful smile.

“Hi, dear. Can you take my mask off?” she asks, her voice muffled.

“No, no, no. The nurse will be really upset with me. You need to rest,” he says gently, settling himself on a couch.

“I’m fine, son. This mask just feels heavy,” she says, pausing for a bit. “Tell me, how was your day?”

“It was good. Had a lot of fun at college today. Life’s going great.”

“What happened to your face? I see it's blackened...”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a soccer ball hit me yesterday. Anyway, you tell me about your day?”

“Ah... I’m in my fifties. What interesting things do you expect?” she says with a weak chuckle.

Phil smiles warmly. “There are still plenty of things you can do, Sister.”

“Can you bring me some snacks? It’s been weeks since I’ve had anything tasty,” she pleads.

“Sister... you know I can’t. Just a few more days, and the doctor will discharge you. Then you can eat anything you want.”

Mary sighs, her eyes reflecting her longing.

The nurse enters the room, giving Phil a nod. “Phil, it’s time for her sleep. You should head out.”

“Alright. Get some rest now, and tell the nurses if you need anything,” Phil says, standing up.

“Sweetheart, you need to eat well. You’re getting thin and pale.”

“I will, Sister. Bye now; I’ll visit you again soon. Good night,” Phil says as he leaves the room.

Okay, now I need to finish that mechanics project. Oh no... Frank’s going to show up soon.

Phil makes his way to the hospital cafeteria, observing the world around him. He passes a young girl on a stretcher, being rushed to the emergency room, her small frame covered in blood. A young man bids farewell to his family. An elderly blind man navigates the hallways alone, while a couple cradles their newborn baby, their faces radiating pure joy and excitement.

*

The hospital cafeteria is a bustling hub of activity, with people coming and going all day long. The air is filled with a variety of smells, from the savoury aroma of freshly cooked food to the antiseptic scent of disinfectant.

Phil peeks around unknown figures to search for his friend. Unable to find him, he pulls out his phone and dials.

“Bro, where are you? It’s 7:45,” Phil says, checking the time on his watch.

“There’s too much traffic. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Frank responds, blaring horns audible in his background

“Ugh... why did I tell you to come here...” Phil mutters under his breath. “Fine, just drive safe.”

In need of some fresh air, Phil steps out of the cafeteria and finds a spot on the stairs, gazing up at the night sky. The stars twinkle softly, and he pulls out a girl’s photo from his wallet, lost in thought. “I love you, Penny,” he whispers to the picture. “Just give me a little more time to build a future for us.”

A metallic clatter from the quieter side of the road grabs his attention. Initially, he dismisses it, but he soon hears a man’s frantic screams emanating from the same direction.

Does someone need help out there? He wonders, cautiously making his way towards the sound. The noises grow more distinct with each step. He arrives at a dimly lit alley, filled with dumpsters.

He pinches his nose in disgust at the putrid stench. “Ugh... why would anyone come here?” he mutters. Despite the foul odour, he continues further into the alley.

His heart skips a beat as he witnesses two shadowy figures engaged in deadly combat. The distant sounds of their muted grunts send a shiver down Phil’s spine. He quickly seeks cover behind a nearby dumpster.

His fingers tremble against the cool metal. He steals cautious glances, his instincts urge him to remain hidden. His gaze darts across the ground—a black briefcase and two pistols lay scattered.

As the fight continues, one of them—a slim, athletic guy—launches a swift punch on the other—a muscular man. He skilfully evades the punch and twists his hand with a sickening crack. Undeterred, the muscular man retaliates with a series of blows to his midsection. With a final vicious kick to the face, the agile sparrow crumples to the ground, groaning.

Shit man! That’s quite lethal. What should I do?

Seizing the advantage, the hulking brute looms over his fallen adversary. His fingers curled into a deadly grip around his throat. He convulses in a desperate attempt to free himself.

Phil’s heart hammers against his ribs, he freezes. Despite the lean fighter’s valiant efforts, the brute keeps his hold, and slowly the guttural noises come to a stop.

Phil’s phone suddenly rings, giving away his position. He answers the call in fright, his hands running cold.

“Yo, I’m here already. I can’t find you,” Frank’s voice cackles on the call. “Hello...? Phil...?”

The beast immediately scans his surroundings. Peering with suspicion, he spots Phil by the dumpster. He breaks away from the fallen figure and strides towards Phil.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Phil mumbles.

Before Phil could even comprehend his next move, the man is upon him. He grabs Phil by the throat and lifts him off the ground. Phil flails and struggles with his distorted attempts to speak. His phone falls to the ground in a clatter. But, in that instant, a muffled gunshot cracks. It pierces the behemoth’s ear, jolting both of them.