Waking up to a screeching sound wasn’t pleasant, it was therefore not unexpected that Kerek fell into the habit of turning his alarm off with a violent smash.


    He hated the high-pitched waking tone, but nothing else could get him out of the dreamland so early in the morning.


    Full of tiredness he lazily opened his left eye to peer out of the window through a hole in the blinds. After a while of lying he managed to open his other eye too, the morning sky was beautiful enough to warrant it.


    The homogenous gray stretched as wide as the eye could see, its uniformity called to him, the perfect weather for staying inside.


    The fact that the gray sky was all they got around here was beside the point.


    Just imagining nursing a cup of coffee drank in bed against the advisement of common sense filled Kerek with longing. He however was no leisure amateur to be contend with so little.


    He’d leave the blinds rolled down on all his windows, pretend not to be home to ward off any visitors, not that he got many and as soon as that’d be finished he’d open his latest reading.


    A romance novel so sweet that even his barbaric cup of coffee consisting of an unholy amount of milk and sugar couldn’t contend. Then he’d lay there reading, slowly sipping his sweet nectar until hunger forced his body into action.


    If only that was possible.


    He never needed much to be happy, or that’s what he thought. The older he got the harder it became to find enough free time to enjoy himself to the fullest.


    He understood now that being greedy didn’t need to mean lusting after riches or prestige, for a working-class man like him it could be embodied by a simple craving for more free time.


    Most of the working adults would most likely agree that free time was a luxury many couldn’t afford.


    Kerek lightly slapped his cheeks to stop any further daydreaming, instead opting to be slightly more productive, and slowly crawled from under his blankets.


    Those warm fluffy blankets. NO! He had to stay strong.


    He stood up, yawned, and started circulating his mana. It wouldn''t make much difference in the short term, but every additional minute would pay dividends in the years to come.


    Feeling more energised he went to open the blinds. They were useless, as again they didn’t get any sunlight around here, but since they were already firmly incorporated into both his night and morning routine there wasn’t much he could do about it. Except maybe changing his routine.


    Yeah, not happening.


    With the view secured, he moved on to making his bed, he was very careful to fold the blanket nicely. When he already put in the effort he wanted it to show. Done with the housework for now, he started working on himself.


    He went to the bathroom where he started applying his favorite moisturizing cream to combat the effects of the dry desert wind, while dreading the need to make breakfast.


    After much ruminating he settled on making syrniki, a dish similar to pancakes, the main difference being that it contained cottage cheese instead of milk which made it more protein heavy.


    When he finished applying his skin products he headed straight to the pantry to acquire the necessary ingredients, a few minutes later he was already mixing the batter.


    It was without a doubt one of his favorite meals, as Kerek simply needed to throw multiple ingredients together and then fry the finished mixture.


    Not too unhealthy, while surprisingly easy to make. If only he could figure out why his batter always turned out so sticky.


    According to his friend shaping the mixture should be unproblematic, but that wasn''t the case for Kerek''s substance. His batter turned out shocking similar to glue which while inconvenient, supplied him an ample excuse to eat it.


    At moments like these, he missed living with his family. The blessed days when food simply spawned into the household were long gone.


    Then his selective memory turned slightly less selective and he thought of his 18th birthday when unbeknownst to him he almost turned into a demon sacrifice.


    He felt confused when a team of soldiers broke down their front door as he was about to blow down his candles. They rushed inside his house in full tactical gear, looking like angels of vengeance. The glimpses of their faces he caught through the visors of their helmets were the only hint of their mortality.


    There could''ve been a dozen gunmen and then a handful more melee fighters, those were positively glowing from how fast their mana was circulating.


    His hands shot automatically up when their rifle barrels pointed at him and his family. His shock soon morphed into fear when he saw their fingers hovering over the triggers of their weaponry.


    They stood there keeping them all at gunpoint a second passed in this unnatural stillness. Then without a single word being exchanged something changed, he could feel it in how the fighters got ready to draw, in how the soldiers took careful aim.


    His eyes widened in panic. “You can’t just …” He shouted, but the content of his scream would never be heard as the barking of rifles thundered through the room drowning out all other sounds.


    The world slowed down to a crawl as the bodies of his parents fell to the ground like sacks of potatoes. Kerek stood there visibly shaken, his face losing all color.


    He didn''t spare a single thought for the guns and ran up to his mother taking her bleeding body in his arms, the soldiers were shouting something in the background, but he paid them no mind.


    A look of surprise was frozen on her face while blood poured out from dozens of holes covering her whole form, but the volley mostly focused on her head and midsection.


    This couldn’t be happening. Tears streamed down his face dropping on what was left of her body. He held her remains tightly, but a soldier rushed to him and grabbed him by the back of his neck carrying him backwards like a disobedient kitten.


    It was so unexpected that he even forgot to fight back.


    Before he could protest his mother’s face regenerated at an unbelievable pace and her eyes rolled back showing whites. She got up, nonchalantly stretching like she woke up from a long nap while the rest of her flesh knit itself together.


    Nothing was making sense anymore. The breach of their house, his mother''s death, and now her apparent resurrection. Then it all clicked in place, this wasn''t real, merely a hallucination of a teenage brain.


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    He chuckled to himself while the soldier threw him over his shoulder and ran to the back of the formation, paying him no mind.


    His father flew up behind his wife, armor materializing around his form.


    It was a blend of white and gold covering every inch of his body except for the majestic wings that sprung out of his back. “The marked one is ours meddlers, be gone and we might yet spare you.” They said melodiously in perfect sync.


    The gunmen opened fire again while the rest drew their weapons and positioned themselves protectively in front of them.


    His mother was no longer standing in the middle of the room instead she appeared in front of the soldiers grabbing an axe wielder by his head.


    It was a testimony to his fast instincts that he was mid-swing when she tore his head off.


    A fountain of crimson was born where the fighter''s head was, painting the room red and shocking some of the greener soldiers still. His mother took a step back, a sword strike passing a leaf''s distance from her slender neck.


    She gave the swordswomen a predatory grin while two more men joined the fight.


    The gunmen did their best to take cover from the bombardment of feathers his flying father attacked them with. To which he reacted with a sad smile "Scurry little rats, scurry all you want. In the end, you will all be forgiven and reborn anew."


    His brain could barely process what was happening while his kidnapper went for the door.


    The last thing he saw before being carried outside was his mother tearing a screaming spearman limb by limb while his dad ordered around the victims of his strikes like they were his personal servants.


    Some had a single feather piercing their armor, some were covered in them from head to toe, but all of them heeded his commands.


    As the door opened Kerek was greeted by the sight of a deserted street. The piercing sound of a siren accompanied by a repeating message beckoning everyone to seek shelter.


    He wasn''t sure what to believe, but now that he had a minute to think it dawned on him that this might be not a nightmare.


    The movement made Kerek''s body jump up and down enough that his birthday hat finally fell on the ground, only to be trampled under the boots of the running soldier.


    No longer could he hear any fighting, the only sounds that accompanied the sprint were the emergency announcement and the rhythmic pounding of boots on stone.


    His carrier stopped abruptly and threw him on the ground, the unexpected meeting with the floor drove the wind out of his lungs. Doing his best to not panic he tried breathing, but no air came to his lungs.


    His heart was hammering in his chest and his vision was growing dark until the sweet oxygen finally graced him with its presence.


    Shaken to his core, he got into a sitting position by leaning on one of the houses.


    From there he could see the unnamed soldier emptying his rifle on his mother. She closed the distance swiftly deflecting the bullets with her bare arms and Kerek averted his eyes to spare himself the gore that was soon to follow.


    When he looked back the battle carried on and he didn''t understand how that was possible.


    His mother fought barehanded and without style or reason, a flurry of chaotic strikes. Or at least that''s how it looked to him.


    On the other hand, the soldier, now wielding a military knife, defended with precision.


    Nevertheless, his movements, even though methodical, were so much slower than hers that the fight should''ve ended a long time ago. He ducked and weaved with machine precision and whenever a deadly strike was about to connect anyway his feet slid on the ground like skates.


    The soldier couldn''t land a single hit, but neither could she.


    Growing more and more frustrated her eyes roamed the battlefield until they met his, then her face bloomed into a brilliant smile. One that used to be reserved for only the happiest of family occasions.


    She ignored the soldier and instead rushed for Kerek, she got multiple gashes on her hand for it, but she paid them no mind.


    Kerek''s body got up in the air while most of his eyesight was covered by pillar-looking structures. Oh, belatedly he understood that it was the second time today that someone was carrying him by a part of his head.


    He could only be thankful that cultivation made his body sturdy enough to handle it.


    The demon turned him around showing her hostage to the soldier, who stopped a few meters away.


    "Meddler, surrender yourself and I''ll grant you a painless death. Your charge is captured and I feel how low your mana reserves have grown," she half-sang smugly.


    No reply came and no one could be sure what the soldier was thinking behind his helmet. Kerek could barely see with the fingers covering most of his vision, not to mention that the T-shaped visor hid his protector''s face well.


    Then it all happened at once. He slid from the demon''s grasp and a hooded individual stepped out of his shadow to catch his falling body. As he was again being carried away he saw a single woman approaching the demon.


    Her skin was light pink and two cute horns grew out of her forehead. That was all he managed to see before he was carried to safety.


    Later he found out that the demon outbreaks happened all over the city stretching personnel thin, the ones that descended on his parents were a particularly strong pair, which sentenced the first response squad to a hopeless battle without backup.


    Many died. From his birthday visitors, only the ones mind-controlled by his father survived, the nameless soldier not being one of them.


    To contend with his mother for even a short while he burned his body as a mana source, only a pile of ashes was left inside his armor.


    His mastery of friction might''ve been high for a gunman, but not enough to contend with such a beast without the extra oomph.


    Of the people who had the luck to be born in Korgadar, most didn''t spend their free time being thankful for the free education and advanced healthcare the city provided them.


    Kerek did, half a dozen people fell so he could live and that was a debt he could never pay back.


    The smell of burnt food brought him back to reality, he grimaced throwing the first round of syrniks into the trash. His pyjama was soaked with sweat and he did his best to take deep breaths. In and out, in and out.


    For the first time in his life, his horrible habit of frying in pajamas didn''t result in oil stains, but instead saved him from having to change his outfit.


    He turned off the stove, stripped naked, and took a long warm shower. When he felt calm enough he continued frying nude, not wanting to risk dirtying his outfit for Ekklesia.


    At last, he was finished with frying, and with the help of a generous portion of homemade jam, the two of the most misshapen syrniks were sentenced to a series of hungry chomps, the rest he put away for dinner or tomorrow''s lunch.


    It depended on how much he''d eat at the traditional feast.


    Finished with eating he put on his freshest guard uniform, it wouldn’t do to arrive looking like a vagabond.


    Dressed up, his skin smooth and unblemished, Kerek was almost ready to leave. He snuck a glance at his floor mirror and couldn’t help but feel mighty pleased with himself.


    With his clothes on it was time to move onto jewelry.


    Kerek picked up his favorite pair of earrings, as always he first admired their sublime craftmanship before putting them on. Sadly their tear shape has lately been matching his mood more often then he would’ve liked.


    To think that the date of his next free day was more uncertain than ever filled him with sadness. Neither were the occasional panic attacks helping his mood.


    He missed the times when his days were full of either binge reading or sleeping.


    His free time decreased steeply since he joined the guards two years ago and while he couldn’t be happier with his job, the lack of reading time was ungodly. The recent increased monster activity served to only deepen the issue.


    Overtime for everyone, yay.


    The Tree of Harmony was doing everything it could to help to bolster their defenses, It wasn’t always enough.


    During the latest set of attacks everyone stationed at the wall had to come to terms with the fact that their guardian was monstrously powerful, not omnipotent.


    Their central figure, the bond that held their city state united in purpose. The main reason why their community thrived in the desolate monster-infested land, were the few of the myriad things that came to his mind when he thought about the Tree.


    Not to forget that the sharing of thoughts and ideas it facilitated was a blessing no one else could replicate, without it, they could never govern the city the way they did.


    It was thanks to this mind connection that they could exchange opinions, air their worries, and debate issues fast enough that governing the city through gatherings featuring tens of thousands of people stayed feasible.


    To show their respect to their ancestors, they named the gatherings after the great thinker Ekklesia, who was one of the biggest advocates of the concept.


    Yet, they couldn’t stay forever dependent on their guardian.


    He, the same as every other citizen, was glad for the unending support it offered them.


    However, deep down he felt that their selfishness was too much. The strain on the Tree couldn’t be small, it was their strongest defender, and most competent teacher, not to mention that the Ekklesias wouldn’t even function without it.


    Now angry at how for granted they took the Tree he hastily put his earrings on. Artfully combining his crimson skin tone with the shades of gray of his accessories and clothing was something that he was well known for, or so he hoped.


    Instead of wasting any more time he put on his sturdy combat shoes and picked up his pistol. Ready and armed, he left his house.


    It took a few years for people to get used to the concept of Ekklesia, at least that’s what his teacher told him. For Kerek and other members of his generation, it was a natural fact of life.


    There they could cultivate in a mana high environment, find out about the newest technologies and influence the city’s future. What was there to not like.