《The Reminiscence of a Psychopath》


 Chapter 1: Trapped

    Flashes of glorious light shone through the sparkling pieces of rainbow glass that arched above my head. For a moment in time, the shattering beer bottle was like beautiful jewels glittering like a thousand diamonds.


    However, that thought exploded like a bottle, hitting the vase near my head. I felt blood slide down my face and watched it mingle with the water amongst the shards of porcelain.


    Then, through the ringing in my ears, I heard the angry words hurled at me through slurred lips, "It''s all your fault, rat." My gaze slipped to the man''s angry face. The murky eyes filled with drink glowered down at me, "I am the head of this houseee, youuuu listen to me."


    The man who stood over me, oozing with beer and whatever else he could find, was the person I called my father. I kept silent; these harsh words and clumsy kicks were daily replays of the same track over and over again. Whatever I did, no matter what option I chose, it would only be worse if I decided to speak.


    After seventeen muddy years of existence, it seems like screaming was all that was ever directed at me. No, that''s not exactly right. There was a time, a sweet time, before the beatings, screaming, and turmoil. My father was rough around the edges but kind; he would soothe me when I was sick and play even the silliest games with me. I remember him wrapping the whole family into his arms and telling us how precious we were to him.


    My mother was loving; her smile could melt the grumpiest of shopkeepers and heal even the angriest of tears. She would hold me in her arms and sing lullabies that even the stars would sway to.


    It all changed when I turned eleven. The stone stairs of our house were always there, but one night, they seemed to disappear. As I was coming down for a warm glass of milk, I missed one of the corner steps and hurtled down the stairs. My head was cracked badly, and when I was rushed to the hospital, it was pronounced a fatal traumatic brain injury.


    My parents then used all their savings and even took out loans to pay for the treatment. It was an impressive $115,000 for a decompressive craniotomy and many other added charges. Afterward, our comfortable life became poverty-stricken; the blow to the financial side of things was too much on my parents. They began to argue, more than not, stressed from their long hours away working. In the end, it was all my fault if only I had been more careful. However, I got my due punishment. They turned from each other to me to let out their frustrations, for it was I that had been the start of all the problems.


    Even now, as I am older, the guilt of tearing my family apart weighs heavier than anything I have ever experienced. Maybe this is what it feels to be Atlas holding up the heavens as my retribution. A heavy hand whipped across my face, breaking me out of my thoughts and making glass bits burrow into my


    cheek.


    "This is ridiculous," my father shouted as he turned to a woman eating at a table, "look at this trash. How could you give birth to something like this? It can''t do even the simplest of jobs." The woman, the person I called my mother, glanced up from the table and chewed on a pile of noodles slathered in ketchup.


    "It''s because you''re a fool, Luke; your own child won''t even respect you; what a pathetic waste you are." The man became red in the face, and leaning towards me, he grabbed my greasy hair and spat into my face, "You can''t even hold down a job for a month."


    I spoke and immediately cursed myself for my pitiful stuttering, "Th- the school found out I had a j-job and banned me from working 6-60 hours or more," At least I could control the tears and squeezed my eyes, letting hot tears dribble onto the hand of the man.


    He threw my head aside like he''d been burned and growled, "You shouldn''t have let them find out then. As the man of the house, you obey me and not some half-wits at that crummy school."


    I nodded meekly, wondering how many kicks were left till I could crawl back to my cardboard bed. School was my only escape from these people; their library held portals to different worlds, and each page contained a drop of wonderful wizardry.


    It seemed like a lifetime ago since Monday, but I could vividly remember the musty, home-like atmosphere and feel the deep settling of peace and warmth that the books always exuded. If only I could hold the worn, smooth leather of the newest book I had been reading. It was a special book I had found after being forced to clean the entirety of the library.


    Others were supposed to clean, but they dumped the responsibilities on me and left. I vividly remember the jeering looks on their face as they laughed, "You should do it all yourself; anyways, beggars can''t be choosers!" Being too tired and scared to argue, I meekly followed along and cleaned the whole of the two-story library. Yet, it was better than cleaning with others. There were no mean pranks or harsh remarks, only me, myself and I.


    While cleaning one of the highest bookshelves, I found an extremely dusty leather book. Or what felt to be leather. It was bound like it was from the medieval periods, and when I blew off the dust, the particles hung in the sunlight, dancing with mirth at the thought of being read once more. It was nothing but magical as I lost myself in its pages.


    The world came to life as it never had before in my own, and the characters were real, so real I could almost imagine them standing beside me. The plot was average, but the way the author painted the words made it much more hopeful than the world I was now in.


    At the moment, all I could do now is hold my head as tight as possible and wait. Approximately fifteen kicks and a few punches were all it took before the man became tired. I uncurled from my shrimp-like position on the floor and watched as he walked away, his protruding belly jiggling, satisfied with his show of manhood. I slowly, slowly dragged myself to the basement and onto my kingly cardboard bed.


    Everything hurt: my back, arms, legs, and face; hunger clawed at my insides, threatening to eat itself if it had not already done so. I longed for sleep when nothing hurt, not my mind, my body, or my miserable soul.


    Passing between reality and the dream world, I remembered the magical leather book I would read at school about dragons, magic, princes, and princesses. If only I had superpowers, I could fly up, up, and away. My hectic breathing became rhythmic, and even the dripping of the leak in the corner was drowned out.


    Sitting at a restaurant, I was drinking in a wonderful, warm light. I looked at the menu and, before even ordering, was served a big burger dripping with oil. I gulped down saliva and gazed delightedly at the crunchy lettuce and plump patty. I opened my mouth wide and tried to take the biggest bite I possibly could, but it disappeared like ash as soon as it touched my lips.


    I tried again and again but to no avail. I began to panic and anxiously snatched food from other customers for it to dissolve as well. A voice above the din of laughter and talk pierced into my soul. "Do you want to leave?"


    Puzzled, I answered, "Yes, I want to leave; I only ever wanted a cheeseburger." The voice guffawed and said, "That''s answer enough." The voice faded, and the angry customers started to jab me with sticks and call for me to be banned from the diner. Then my eyes snapped open.


    But the jabbing in my side had yet to fade, "go do your chores," I heard the woman say as she prodded me with the handle of a broom before dropping it on top of me. I scrambled to my feet, body aching, and headed upstairs to wash, sweep, and take out the trash.


    After doing the brunt of the chores, all that was left was the trash; I glanced back at the house as I headed towards the apartment trash disposal. When I confirmed nobody was watching, I started to rummage through the trash.


    Finally, I found my prize, a handful of leftover meat wrapped in a napkin that I had buried at the bottom of the trash. Cramming cold pieces of leftover beef with bits of other garbage in my mouth, I grinned a little. Honor? Pride? Could those things feed, clothe, or give me a roof over my head? It had long since been a struggle to survive rather than for me to worry about such things.


    Hurrying back to the house, I thought today might be good, for I had found dinner! A small step towards living a bit longer! Hobbling back to the apartment door, I cautiously crept through the door.


    I guess it didn''t matter if I stole from the garbage, for she somehow knew, and I was met by a welcoming grab and pull to the hair. I yelped and started to beg right away, and I learned that this technique was the best way to battle this combo. She dragged me over to the living room mirror and, pushing my face into it, yelled, "What mutt was digging in the garbage?"


    "Me¡­" I whispered. She smiled and said, "Even Rony, our dog, is better trained than you. What does this "mutt" think it is?" Staring at my hollow eyes and sunken cheeks in the mirror, I replied, "Nothing, I am nothing." Satisfied, the woman nodded and said repeat what you just said for an hour, and I will deem your actions paid. She swaggered off like a proud mother hen.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    My lips moved, but my thoughts pattered away, fleeing from what my mouth repeated. Maybe tomorrow I can steal from shops on the way to school, but it will have to be on the south side cause the north side shopkeepers are already wary of me. None of my classmates would give me their food; it made sense, I guessed, for with my smelly, hole-filled clothes, no one would get close to me.


    The only thing that was close to me was the rocks that were occasionally thrown with insults like "beggar," "thief," and "trash." However, none of that mattered because in school was a tiny piece of paradise, the library. That small room was my world and many other worlds as well. The delicious silence and serenity that gathered in my library was something I wanted to savor in my heart forever.


    My well-being had long since been a worry of the past to the two people I lived with. Second after second, minute after minute, trickled by. I kept glancing at the clock, which earned me a warning hiss. The light outside had long since faded, and grey clouds edged over the stars, blocking out any semblance of beauty. Finally, after what seemed like decades and more for my poor throat. I was finished with the torment, but a horrid feeling in my stomach had begun.


    I clenched my stomach and dropped to my knees. The woman walked over and, grabbing a fist full of black hair, yanked it down, bringing my eyes up to meet hers. "Feeling bad?" like a body on a noose, my hands hung at my sides. I''ve long learned that fighting back was useless, just like me.


    "Well, you should because that meat you stole spoiled four weeks ago," the woman howled in pride and pleasure. I felt my stomach heave, and the meat reached my mouth to vomit, but the woman clapped a well-manicured hand over my mouth and commanded me to swallow.


    Her mouth moved, but I couldn''t comprehend what was sliding from it. My heart was pumping way too loud. I tried to wrench her hands but realized that if I succeeded, there would be worse punishments.


    My useless nose tried to drag in the air, but only when her clammy hands left my face could I truly breathe, stomach heaving, body shaking. My mouth filled with the taste of bile and rotten food. The muscles in my throat seized up, but I forced it to go down; my face contorted with revulsion, and my chest shook with the effort of trying to throw up and swallow simultaneously.


    Survive, I told myself. Tomorrow, both the man and woman will be gone; then, I can escape.


    I had been pulling this sentence out of my magic hat whenever things got almost too much for me. But then a voice, not my own or the woman''s, spoke. "You are nothing, useless; no one would care for you; it is true that they are doing you a kindness, for nobody would care so much for a worthless fool like you."


    No, no, I thought, that isn''t true, there must be hope. I would have long since welcomed dying if that was truly the case. But that trickle of doubt and my own incompetence had kept my foot from ever leaving the doorstep.


    Suddenly, the woman pulled me into her embrace. "You know I don''t want to do this. However, you brought this on yourself. I treat you well. It''s such a shame that you won''t listen."


    Patting my cheek, the woman got up and grabbed a bottle of Aspirin and, after swallowing five pills, left to down and, after fifteen minutes, ticked by, lost herself in a maze of fantasies. I hurriedly scurried to a corner and cowardly sat with my head between my knees.


    I had learned to read these two people''s twitch and every cough so I could be ready with the proper response when they got angry. The woman sat for a full twenty minutes, mulling over something in her head. Long, well-groomed fingers tapping on the side of her plump cheek.


    Abruptly, she sat up, her mouth forming a bright smile. She sauntered to the bathroom, and I could hear the soft sounds of scratching. Another cruel idea must have popped into her head like one of her many pimples; I thought, ears following the sounds I could not see.


    The woman appeared from the bathroom, swished her oily hair, and yelled into the bedroom, "Husbaaanddd, the thing keeps stealing from you." My eyes dimmed; each time I heard that address, it felt like more and more of my humanity was snatched away. It seemed that my name was long lost in time, and all that was left was a fragment of an object worthy of only disdain and disgust. I was no longer a daughter but a thing.


    After several minutes, heavy footsteps slowly stomped nearer and nearer; my heartbeat seemed to slow with each coming step. "What has she done now, the man mumbled drowsily." He became more awake with each passing moment and began to get angry. "Why did you wake me up, Samantha?"


    "Don''t raise your voice to me," the woman said in a shrill voice. "Your daughter is the one who stole food." The man wearily looked at the woman, "So? It doesn''t matter if you just fed her; she wouldn''t steal." Anger flashed in the woman''s eyes, causing her bushy eyebrows to sharpen and disgust to shine through.


    "Why must you always argue about that mutt? It''s the one getting between us all the time! Fine, it not only stole food but your precious revolver and was playing with it." The man''s eyes narrowed, turning to me. He grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me hard. "Is this true?!"


    "Why would I lie to you, honey," the woman drawled, pouting her too-red lips that looked like she''d eaten a bloody liver. The man nodded. His brain thought for half a second, overloaded, then gave up and was convinced with that sentence. I felt my body fly, landing dramatically in a sprawl across the other side of the room.


    My head was ringing; my mouth still had the lingering taste of rot. I shut my eyes tight; maybe if I willed hard enough, I could turn back time, and these people would be human again! Time did not turn for me, and my mother ran to the bathroom to fetch the object in question.


    "Here''s the gun. Look at what she did to it!" The woman exclaimed.


    I stared dumbfoundedly; my eyes grew cold, and no longer was there hope for better days. My mind numbed, and my rage burned cold and hot. I had to do somet- my thoughts were torn from me for when the man turned to her, the woman, in a hurry to hand over the gun, dropped it and, hitting the floor, it went off.


    I felt like someone had sucker-punched me in the stomach, I sucked in a breath, and fire seemed to erupt through my entire body.


    "Look what you''ve done, woman!" The man yelled, pointing at me.


    I glanced down. Blood poured from my stomach; I couldn''t tell where my stomach began, and the blood ended. My vision started to taint black, and everything around me began to blur. "I- It''s not my fault!" the woman cried." The two began to bicker as blood started to seep into my white shirt, coloring it a deep crimson.


    Ah, I thought, how pitiful. All I ever wished for was an escape from this hell, but freedom through a hole in my stomach? I never could have thought of it.


    "Can''t they stop arguing for one second? Their only child is on the verge of crossing over!" I seethed through my teeth, my body racked with a grating pain as I curled inward. I would have cursed myself if I knew what would happen just a few minutes later and encouraged them to keep fighting.


    My mother, who gave up all logic to fear and emotions, let her drunken mind completely consume her, and she started to mumble nonsense. She told the man to run to the police station instead of using the phone on the wall. But I then remembered that it had long since been left unpaid. It hung uselessly on the wall, for no one ever called. After watching him shimmy out of the house, she ran over to me and tore at my shirt.


    "If I can get the bullet out, it will stop her from dying and not make things worse!" She said in heaving sobs.


    Now, you choose to treat me as a person?


    How wonderful.


    I thought that nothing could bring my consciousness back from the dark spots that had begun to overcome me, but I was dead wrong.


    Claw-like nails began to scratch at the bullet hole, digging and searching for the tiny metal bit. My consciousness snapped back, and my eyes flew open. Pain tore at me. My lungs screamed for breath, failing to give me what I so desired.


    The world spun; I shrieked desperately, tearing and grabbing, trying to stop the frantic scratching on my stomach. My hands, slick with blood, made it harder to do anything.


    The man had left the door wide open, and I felt with every passing second parts of me leaving. I guess it was a good thing that the door was thrown open, for it made a perfect goal to get away from the pitiful scratching and whimpering of the woman clawing at me. The neighbors could call the ambulance! I thought, latching onto this hope with all of my waning strength.


    Blood was everywhere, mixing with pain and staining my mind, creating a red halo around everything. Darkness closed in. I dragged my bloody, battered body inch by inch towards freedom, towards escape. I hooked my hand over the metal doorstep and realized that I had no strength to call for help.


    My voice came out in a croaking whisper filled with tendrils of blood flowing down my chin. "It was tomorrow," I sobbed to myself; tomorrow was supposed to be my escape; freedom was to be mine. Yet, in the back of my head, I knew I was lying, for I would not have fled, for who in all the world would accept my sad excuse of a being? In a way, these two people and I suit each other...


    Still, I cried, choking on thick blood. "Why can''t I ever just be left alone?" I lifted my head for the last time to the heavens, and through my blurry vision and the cloud-swathed sky, I saw the moon. Shining, beautiful, and untouchable. I tried to drag myself into its exquisite beams to bask in its glory.


    However, my heart cried out that there was no more strength to give, and my bloodstained fingers could only twitch forward towards the beams. If only I could escape anywhere, to the shining moon, the brilliant sun, another world... I would do anything. My consciousness was in pieces, and my mind had already started to go insane; rescue was far from my reality.


    ¡­Maybe death wasn''t so bad after all.


    A rush of blood surged against my teeth that had transformed themselves into a smile. I laughed, well more like an attempt to laugh, blood gurgling from my lips and dripping from my chin and pooling on the cement. Smiling through blood and tears blurring my vision, I realized that escape came from death itself, burning, all-consuming, yet¡­ peaceful.


    Then my head lolled to the side, gaze wide, eyes empty.

 Chapter 2: New Beginnings

    My eyes clicked open, meeting with a few seconds of terrible darkness. Then, through a big, sturdy window, I saw beautiful stars dancing in the night. I took a breath; it was glorious, and the air that rushed into my perfectly healthy lungs was sweet.


    No pain, no warm taste of blood, no aching from hunger, no heart beating out of my bony chest. Best of all, peace settled around me; silence drenched my soul, seeping into the cracks of my numbed brain.


    "Am I on the moon?" I wondered aloud. To my surprise, my voice did not stutter but remained steady and strong. I could never talk like this in reality; it was only in my head that my words came out unjumbled and precise. For quite a while, I lay in the soft, silky sheets and just breathed from a body that did not ache with every breath.


    Then, sitting up, I rolled my shoulders, swung around my arms, and looked at my stomach. There really was no pain, only a small scar with scratch marks that marred my pale skin.


    Languidly, I slid down from the bed and captured the twinkling stars in my palms. "Wow, so this is what paradise is like," I said, eyes sparkling. In my prereferral vision, the corners of my eyes caught a reflection in the giant window panes of my new abode.


    "Hmmm, I murmured satisfactorily; I even look like the moon now." My stringy raven locks were replaced with waist-length, long, gleaming white hair. It shined in the moonlight, illuminating jeweled red eyes. They were big but fit my face, with no sharp angles or bones that stuck out harshly, making the round head on my shoulders look healthy and whole.


    Aren''t I just lovely when I don''t look like me, I thought, twirling in the mirror and making my white night shift spin softly.


    Then, a door opened, and a woman wearing a black dress and apron ascended into my domain. "It looks like you are awake, my lady." She said, locking eyes with me. She glanced in disdain at my face, "I will call the doctor," she whispered before rushing out of the room and into the dark corridor. I guess there are doctors on the moon; will there be mothers and fathers, too?


    As I pondered these questions, a man in his mid-forties entered the room in a white coat and worried eyes. He checked my tongue, wrist, and heartbeat but announced no irregularities. "Where am I?" The doctor and maid exchanged a glance and said, "My lady, you need more rest; I am sure you will remember everything with time." Why do they automatically think I am wonky in the head?? I demanded answers until the woman, exasperated, told me to follow her.


    She opened the big wooden door, struggling a bit with the loose handle, and beckoned me into the darkness. I followed her into the corridor a bit apprehensively. The walls were high and colored a deep navy blue, and gold pictures were hung on each side of the corridor. Victorian-style furniture was carved quite exquisitely. The more we walked and the higher we went, the less grand things began to become.


    Finally, at the end of a purple hallway, the lady in front of me knocked twice and, without waiting for a reply, swung open the door on rusty hinges. There stood a four-poster large mahogany bed. The smell of illness lay pungent in the stale air. This was a wonder, for I thought that sickness didn''t exist in heaven.


    A woman appearing to be in her thirties sat in bed staring with unseeing eyes out the light-filled window. Where I was similar to the moon, she seemed like the very embodiment of its graceful glow. Her hair, trailing down her back, looks like glistening tendrils of silver.


    But what caught my attention was her eyes; it looked like both kindness and sorrow were swirling in the light pools of her irises. She looked as pale as the moon herself, with frail white hands that contrasted with the green-blue of her veins sat folded in her lap.


    Startling me out of my gawking was the voice of the lady herself, gentle but a bit strained. "Darling, how was your sleep?" "It was wonderful, Ms. But may I ask where I am?" I answered in awe that this ethereal angel draped in moonbeams was not a statue but a living being. She frowned slightly, bringing her pale lips to a quiver. "You don''t remember anything?" The doctor who had followed us broke in. "She will in due time, mistress. She is just in need of rest." The moon lady tilted her head and beckoned the doctor closer.


    After a flurry of hushed words that darted like sparrows through the solitude, they finally addressed me. Do you remember anything about the names May? Sylvester? Or Edward? Slowly shaking my head, everyone in the room seemed to brighten, although it might have been my imagination. To put things simply, dear, err-- I am your mother, and you are my family.


    Eh? This wasn''t heaven?? Confusion must have splashed onto my face because she started to bumble on about how the magic in my body was not stable. I had too much power, and my young organs couldn''t contain it, so I needed to release pressure by extracting blood. That''s why I had forgotten everything because of the complexity that swirled inside me. Dizzy with all the new information and trying to wrap my head around the weird phrases, I stood for a few minutes before gathering a reply that consisted mostly of all sorts of questions.


    "How much blood do I need to release to take off the pressure on my brain? Will I die? My questions were answered one by one: "No, you just need to release blood for around three years until you become healthy enough for your magic to circulate! You will not die, but you need to drain your blood every day so you won''t explode." All this was said with a small smile with a hint of sympathy or. . . guilt?


    What kind of odd disease was this? Were these people in their right minds? What magic? What pressure on the brain?


    I flinched as the woman behind me, who I discovered to be a maid, snapped, "Are you quite done with your questions? We need to take your blood now." Mrs. Moon glanced at the maid sternly and told me to come to her if I had any questions or concerns, but for now, I needed rest.


    I was brought back to the room I first woke up in. Then, I had an epiphany. May, Sylvester, and Edward, these names had been rolling around in my head like a bowling ball. But then I hit a strike, and I realized I was in the novel that I had read in my library.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The book had no title, but the characters stood out life-like in my mind''s eye. It was about a heroine who, as the princess of a kingdom, wanted the crown. But the king, deeming women of a lesser nature, forbid it. In her search for anything that would help her, the princess uncovered the evil nature of her father. She then worked to overthrow the king with the neighboring nation''s charming crown prince. I remember how enamored I was with the strength and self-possession that the heroine held. She was so unlike me in every way, in other words. I was a huge fan.


    Now that I think back, the maid and the doctor were whispering about a marquis and the young master. I was not sure that I was in a novel until I had pressed my ears to my door and heard passing voices gossiping about the academy the princess had gone to, the same one I knew from my book. The servants whispered about how, when the oldest young master was well enough, he would attend and become the head of the family. Lately, his face was much healthier, and the color of his cheeks a crimson hue.


    My head was floundering like a fish on land with this weird idea or weird reality that I had just tumbled upon. But one thought struck out among the throng.


    I never, ever, had to go back to THOSE PEOPLE; I must have died or something like that. I had escaped, and unless something magical happened again, I wouldn''t have to go back! Should I feel happiness? What am I feeling? Yet, what did it matter? I won''t dwell on feelings; I am free!


    Now, I need to figure out which character in the book I was.


    For the next couple of days, I became even healthier than I ever was in my seventeen years of living. It was hard for me to start sleeping on a bed. I would always find myself on the floor in a corner, draped in curtains and bedsheets. My dreams of food turned into that bloody scene I endured just before I was rescued.


    Those two people would always be hovering over me, rusty metal gun in hand, creepy mocking smiles in the other. I would wake in a sweat and fear ingrained in my bones. However, my time locked in a room was actually not terrible; I no longer lived in fear and trembled whenever I heard an irritated word.


    To add to this wonderful place, the food was amazing! The greens were fresh and crunchy, and the fish was not slathered in red ketchuppy sauce. I ate the fish bones the first time I was given a meal, and I had a feeling the doctor was quite disgusted. When I was deemed healthy enough, a doctor came in and jammed a needle in my arm, sucking away my blood and filling two bags. During the few days that passed, I began to work out what this place was. Mrs. May must be rich and powerful, and she is probably the duchess in my book. I had yet to meet the marquis and confirm my suspicions about who I was and where I was.


    I relished the times I was alone, with no beating, no scavenging for food, no endless chores, or mind games. The day after my blood was taken, I was escorted to the room of Mrs. May. She sat where she always did, looking out the window. Turning her head towards me, she said in an apologetic tone, "My husband and son wish to see you."


    I answered with a demure nod. She beckoned me closer and gently placed her frail hands on my shoulders, "They are a little intimidating and not at all like me, but you mustn''t be scared but do as they say."


    I could not obey what Mrs. May said, for a while later when I was ushered into a grand room filled with tapestries and cold-looking expensive stones, I saw her husband standing tall and dark with a glinting sly smile on his face; it was impossible for my knees not to knock in fear. He had yellow eyes like a cat''s, but they were filled with malice; I could tell that emotion quite well after living with it for so long.


    He stood taller than my father and was much bigger width-wise and height-wise. Black hair and a strong jaw made him look authoritative, and the big arms that pressed against his side looked very muscular. He could probably throw me farther than the man at home ever could, I thought, looking up at his face. It had been two days since I talked to Mrs. May, and I stood alone face to face with her husband, with a smaller copy of him tugging at his shirt.


    "Why is she not kneeling?" A nasally voice loudly cut through the stifling air. I looked at the carbon copy of Mrs. May''s husband, and although he was a cute little boy, his actions were not at all in tune with his looks. My heart beat with a steady rhythm as I looked at the stern face of the father and the leering face of the son. I realized that people with those eyes and that expression wanted fear; they demanded it.


    Quickly, I threw myself down on my hands and knees. "I am so sorry; please forgive me," I cried, giving my voice a slight quiver. I felt a shoe nudge me, and a deep, rumbling voice said, "Child, there is no need to shiver; your body must be healthy and clean, so get up off the dirty ground."


    I sprang up and kept my head low this time; gawking at them would only make them angrier. The son stared at me like a newly slaughtered pig with interest and disdain. "Alright, now, Edward," said the father, you have a class to attend. If you fraternize with her too much, you might lose the manners your teacher helped you to attain.


    "Get the girl out" were the last words the husband said to me. It seemed he wanted to see his.. daughter..? I am not sure what I was to him, but with the way he acted, it seemed I was just a cow to be used and slaughtered after its usefulness dissipated. After staring into my soul for a few more moments, he turned sharply and dragged his son along with him.


    I was rushed back to my room; at least this house didn''t seem to be one of physical abuse; maybe this world has nobles who find it beneath them to even touch someone of a lower status! That thought brightened my mind, and there wouldn''t be any violence or fear in my next waking hour.


    I cursed myself for all the shivering and shaking that would come over me when someone raised their hand or voice. It still confuses me how I was on the brink of death and was suddenly whisked away to this magical land. I figured from the strange interaction I had with the marquis and his son that I was a person in the novel who never even had a name.


    In the novel, the Marquis is the left-hand man of the evil king. He and his wife had two sickly sons, and shortly before the duchess died, she wanted to do many good deeds, hoping to make the world welcome her kindly. Was I an actual member of the family? What was I?


    However, all I had was questions. The answers were blowing in the wind.

 Chapter 3: Adventure

    Questions hurried to and fro in my mind, but no answers met them. I decided that the only thing I could do was to sneak around and gather information. After a couple of hours, I succeeded in finding out some info; however, I was even more confused because a funeral was being prepared. A very hushed-up one at that. What in the world was going on? Well, I didn''t care that much as long as I was left alone; however, curiosity got the better.


    I was not allowed to leave the room I was bound to, but with the scurry of busy servants, it seemed I was invisible. So, when I was finished admiring my new self in the mirror, I sauntered out of my room and hid in a shadowy corridor filled with cobwebs and a perfect hiding place. "He---died¡ªsuddenly¡ªsad---expected though." I snatched words from the air and tried to fit them into the puzzle I was forming in my brain. Someone died, hmmmm. Hushed voices bounced into my corridor, "Poor young master, only 16, everyone is so broken-hearted."


    What, so it was the youngest son who died, the one I had not seen. Yet, the book said nothing about the youngest son dying from an illness. He was praised as patriotic because he overcame his sickness and volunteered to go into battle, where he tragically died.


    This intelligence gathering is kinda fun, I thought, as things become a game to me. Slither around in the shadows, find out info, and piece things together. Everything took a turn when I found a secret passageway behind a random portrait of a frog with a lute.


    This was the most excitement I had in ages! My face almost stretched into a grin. I stepped into the small space''s dark reaches and ventured inside. It was a tunnel that led to other tunnels that led to even more tunnels! This is the perfect place to begin my life as a professional spy, what fun.


    Trekking in the dark was interesting until I got tired; there was no sound and no light, and I was getting bored. But then I came to a patch of light and recognized an expensive-looking tapestry that I had seen in the grand room where I had met the marquis. Looking closely at the tapestry, there were rubies in the eyes of a lion playing the piano.


    What was with these animals playing random instruments? The taste of nobles is really something else. Then, startled out of the imagination of frogs and lions in an orchestra, voices reached me through the thick cloth of the lion and his piano.


    "My condolences for your loss, your grace." A small squeaky voice harped. Then another voice that I remembered to be the marquis shot out, "It is nothing; I will make more if needed. However, I had plans for Aster before he died. It is a pity."


    It seems that this family is weirder than a lion with a piano.


    The cricket-like voice shot in again, "If I may say something, your grace, I was thinking. We could use that charity case your wife took in, but only after we take the blood needed, of course!" I strained my ear to the cloth as the voices became lower and was stunned to hear the next few sentences.


    "Her blood contains so much magic, and it will only take a year for Edward to get better. After a year, we can send her in place of Aster to bring fame to the house of Vale."


    The Marquis replied, "Why, Henry, that is your best idea since birth! Make sure that no one squeaks a word of Aster''s death. This could be an excellent plan."


    There was a short silence, and the voices continued, "Now that I ponder the idea, I believe that as long as she''s put on the front line, there is no probability of her living past a few months. Any loose ends will cut themselves off!"


    "Oh my," I said under my breath as I heard wine glasses clink with a rich, triumphant ring. A rat squeaked at my feet. I decided I shouldn''t linger any longer and get caught for a bit of poisoned cheese. Slinking through the shadows, I turned over the conversation I had just heard, dunking it in and out of ideas, trying to find the most plausible tasting one.


    The twists and turns of the little rat halls were confusing at first, but I could remember the way quite clearly. When I finally found the frog tapestry, it felt like hours since I had first entered. I was both surprised and not surprised that no one had noticed my absence.


    It was good that I never kicked up a fuss at being left to my own devices. I sunk onto my bed, lost in thought. It made the most sense that I was not a daughter of this house, as Mrs. May said, but a charity case.


    Maybe the magic that brought me to this world made my blood gold. It seems like they thought it would take three years to heal their son, but when they tested my blood, they found it so good it would only take one year.


    I am quite a useful blood bag, I hummed, but am I truly the charity case? I never confirmed if it was truly me they were talking about. But then again, who else would they be talking about? The maid''s disdain, pity, and disrespect all melded together coherently. If I really were a daughter of the Marquis, I wouldn''t be treated this way¡­ would I? Yet, the most enormous flag is that they do indeed take my blood.


    I wanted to be entirely sure that I was the subject in which the Marquis and his cricket were yammering about. At first, I was quite stumped on figuring things out, but it was much easier than I thought. I snapped out of my thoughts and heard voices arguing outside the door.


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    "Why do I have to feed her? What if I get commoner filth on me?" Another voice I recognized to be my usual maid shot back, "I always have to feed the charity case; now it''s your turn!" I chuckled to myself, finding out that information was surprisingly easy. Or I was just surprisingly lucky. I hurried back to the bed as the wooden door swept dutifully open. A tall, mousy woman stood towering over me; she looked rough and bulky, maybe from hard house or farm work. In the dark eyes that glowered down on me, a cruel glint sparked from them.


    She threw my food on the ground, and most of the bowl''s contents spilled onto the floor, "lick it up, Mrs. "Noble," she said, pausing to laugh at the joke only she knew. From the look of her sun-hardened face, she must hate nobles; now that she had a chance to treat one however she liked, things were fun. Even if I was only a noble in name, I am sure it didn''t matter to her.


    I refused to look at her and huddled in a corner. She stomped over, irritated about being ignored, and, grabbing my hair, yanked me over to the slop and proceeded to force my head to the dirty floor.


    I tried to wriggle out of her hand, but each time I moved, my scalp was threatened to leave my skull, so I wrapped my hands around hers and dug my nails into her meaty wrists. I was so weak, so pitifully, disgustingly, wretchedly weak.


    At that moment, I hated my thin form more than the maid who practically ground my face into the floor. Second after grueling second ticked by, and finally, it was over. Her stress and anger satiated, she kicked the bowl for good measure and walked calmly out the door.


    Number 1. I am in a fantasy world, 2. I am relativly safe 3. I have talent in magic, 4. I am being used as a blood bag, 5. The food is yummy, 6. I am a charity case, not a daughter 7. I will be sent to war in a year, 8. The only nice person is Mrs. May. 9. I am terribly weak.


    Well, if I ignore the negatives, I see this as a win! It''s like I have a superpower to know the future! So, all I need to do is get strong enough to survive the war; I think that''s the best thing always. If I somehow fake my death, no one will be the wiser, and I''ll be free from any chains till I get strong enough to break them off myself.


    I had already tried to use this world''s magic as soon as I heard about it, but nothing seemed to work, no matter what spells or incantations I tried. I''ll probably need a teacher, I sighed to myself. But who would teach the charity case that will die in a year? Strength: I''ve always wanted to be strong, to stand on top of the world and be like Superman.


    What is strength? I guess it would start with the basics: pushups, pullups, sit-ups, and running, right? I hope I can do that easily enough, but I would like to try boxing. That would be so fun! It seemed the man at home always got a kick out of punching me. I wonder how it would feel to be in his shoes¡­


    However, if this is a fantasy world, then wouldn''t swords be better? Ehhhhh, but I feel like hand-to-hand is cooler. Well, I''ll just start with ten sets of everything then. Is there any fast way to get strong, though? I tried to get any extra gear in my brain pumping and thought hard about the contents of the novel. Was there anything in the book that talked about superpowers?


    The book was mainly about the country''s politics and romance. The heroine falls in love with the crown prince, and it''s nice and fluffy. I do remember that she had several other love interests; however, the fantasy setting and her getting saved by cool powers were the most exciting parts of the book. Ah! I remember one of the love interests became powerful by finding an ancient artifact at the end of something called a dungeon. He fell into a pond near the great Marquis'' estate! I just need to find that pond.


    I did not ask for permission to leave the castle; I seemed to be invisible as I quietly kept my head low. I felt like they saw me but ignored me because it was too much of a hassle to bother me. These servants don''t understand how precious my blood is, as they let me go so easily. The Marquis locked me up for a reason! Not that the Marquis would let all the servants know that the heir to the Marquis'' land was on the brink of internal combustion.


    Or how much this charity case was needed. Now! I plan to jump into all the big bodies of water I see until I find this dungeon. I know what a dungeon is; it has monsters and other stuff; however, in the book, the Marquis''s son had such a pure heart of wanting to protect his love that the dungeon let him have the treasure, no questions or monsters needed. I want to protect myself; shouldn''t that be enough? Well, maybe not, so just in case, I grabbed a kitchen cleaver and armed myself with as many pointy rocks as I could.


    It''s not like I could master the sword or get super buff in the span of a year with no teacher, so this seemed to be the most likely path towards life. In my eavesdropping through the walls of the castle for at least two weeks now, I had gathered together a tiny bundle of information.


    The estate had around five different bodies of water, but the pond that the book talked about was in a dark forest. Most of the servants said it was haunted cause someone got lost and died there a hundred years ago.


    There were three lakes in the forest estate: the mystical, mythic, and legendary lake. They were pretty trashy names, though, for what sounded like beautiful lakes. So, my adventure began; I started out towards the forest, ready to jump into the first lake I saw. It was visually stunning for a haunted forest, the green grass encompassing all that the eye could see, and the towering pine trees pointed heaven with graceful branches.


    I trekked for about five minutes till I came to the first lake. With rocks and a cleaver, jumping into the deep end of a lake was not logical, so I leaped into the shallow end. I waited for at least twenty seconds until I came up for air. Nothing magical happened, so I guess this isn''t it, I thought disappointedly. Dripping wet, I slopped and slopped, maybe ten minutes, until I found the next lake, Lake Mythic; it was shimmering a brilliant blue and quite gorgeous if not for all the frogs that croaked around it.


    I edged over the muddy bank and slipped twice before I could throw myself in and be fully submerged. Again, I waited twenty seconds, and again, nothing magical happened. There is no way my luck was this terrible that three lakes would procure nothing. I really hope this last lake works. Fifteen minutes dripped by as I dragged myself to the next lake. "This has got to be it," I said, awestruck; the water shimmered golden, and the soft ripples on the lake sparkled like jewels.


    "Now, this is legendary," I exclaimed simultaneously, cringing at the over-the-top name. This time, I slowly submerged myself in the water, and just as golden waters closed over the top of my silvery hair, I felt something happen. It was a tremor in the water like an earthquake, and then I felt myself spin slowly, then faster and faster until a whirlpool had swept me up, and everything went white.

 Chapter 4: First Kill

    I shot up, coughing, inhaling, and flailing any working part of my body. I rubbed my eyes and looked around, and I was in a dungeon. Well, it did look like one. It was a cave with torches burning every hundred feet or so, leading into creepy darkness. "This is nothing like the book," I gasped. A fairy or something met the marquis''s son, and it granted him strength so he could protect a girl who wasn''t even his girlfriend yet.


    This here was something a lot more sinister. I looked down and noticed that my clothes were dry, but my pointy rocks and cleaver were still there. Grabbing the cleaver hidden in my skirt pocket, I gave it a few good practiced swings. I had stuck to my plan of ten sets of ten of everything, and my body somehow adapted very nicely.


    Maybe it was all this magic that was running through my veins. Brushing off any lingering thoughts, I advanced cautiously forward and grabbed a torch off the wall with my left hand. Thrusting my hand forward as I walked, the walls echoed my arrival, and each step reverberated throughout the cave. Then I heard it, or should I say them. It sounded like hundreds of squeaking rats thundering toward me. I dashed over to another torch and threw the torch in my left hand at the oncoming mass.


    The light flickered and caught the eyes of just five rats that squalled like a hundred. Their bodies were big as cats, and as they walked, they left trails of slime and filth. Boils intertwined with mats of tangled hair, and the stench they emitted was sudden and overpowering. The torch I had thrown into their midst had bonked a rat on the head and made him catch fire. I guessed that the slimy substance on the rats was flammable, for its shrieking and the burnt smell that wafted through the air confirmed it. Snapping my gaze from the shriveling rat in the back, I realized I''d gawked too long, and the other rats were upon me.


    I grabbed another torch off the wall, but before I could throw it, they were on me, four sets of teeth digging into my legs and arms.


    Pain rocketed through my body, and I let out a yelp. I clenched my teeth and brought the flames of the torch into the eyes of the biggest rat, who clung to my right arm. Its flesh sizzled and popped, and its long rat paws stopped digging at my arm. He let go and ran into the darkness as I hacked away at the second rat on my other arm, the sharp blade of cleaver slicing its head in two blood, and goo splurted from its remains. The rats were quite foolish, and once they bit, they didn''t let go, so a few hacks to their name, and they lay motionless in a puddle of blood.


    My hands trembled. Scratch that; my whole body was in a quivering state, and my breath came in heaves. I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins and blood oozing down my arms and legs.


    Belated pain rippled through my body, and I sunk to the floor. It would be dangerous to let these wounds simmer, so I ripped off the bottom lining of my skirt and wrapped the bloody bites that glared red in the flickering light. Breathing in and out, in and out, I re-focused my mind on the rat carcass and towards the endless darkness of the cave that could go on forever. Where in the world was that fairy that''s supposed to give out free artifacts? And was it always this easy to kill? The sound of the shrieking rats was soundless with a blow. No way it was always this simple¡­


    After a few minutes, I slowly dragged myself to my knees and then to my feet, wincing as the makeshift bandages dug into my open wounds. I grabbed another torch off the wall, and at a cautious pace, I walked forward into the black.


    What seemed like hours later, I heard more squeaking, but this time I was ready. From the dark, I could see the glimmering eyes of two large rats; they stood as tall as my waist and as big as pit bulls. They did not attack first, though, which I took advantage of and sent two flaming torches their way. Since they were crouching just a few feet away, both torches hit their mark, and fire flared from their oily heads. They screamed in pain and confusion before locking eyes with me, but I gave them no time to think, for I ran at them and, bending low, scooped up a fist full of dirt and hurled it into their beady eyes. After they were momentarily blinded, I swung at one rat and felt a satisfying crack in its skull. Then twisted left and did the same to the other. I looked around me, peering into the dark, trying to see if there were more shining eyes staring from the void. Luckily, this was not a group of rats and just a duo, so I plunked my aching body down and rested my bones. Who knows what else there was ahead? It''s good if I conserve my energy.


    I found myself humming a tune from school. Was it the national anthem? I was so caught up in trying to remember the name that I forgot where I was, and the sound traveled like a trumpet in the gloomy cave.


    Then BANG, like a gunshot, a creepy-looking flying bug appeared. I flinched at the light and the sound, then scratched my head, trying to figure out what the thing that boomed into existence was. It had wings like a dragonfly but the body of a human, although slightly golden. Then the flying bug spoke! To my great surprise and amusement.


    "Why are you so happy? I put you in this creepy cave to see you cower in fear!" It stomped a little leg in its anger.


    "Am I happy?" I said, looking over at the flying creature. It was a wonder that I felt so at home I started to whistle. "Well, I am happier than you are, Mr. Flying Bug Thing." This was true because he seemed pretty irritated and not in the least happy.


    "I am NO BUG!" it screamed. "I am the fairy of the legendary lake, and I only give my treasure to those I deem pure of heart."


    "Pure of heart? What kind of standard could a bug have? And plus, when did I ask about a treasure? I am just a poor girl who fell into a weird lake."


    Ignoring my words, the fairy buzzed around me and eyed me suspiciously. "Your heart is too dark for me to give you anything outright. However, I see you''ve been through a lot, so I shall give you the final test instead of leaving you to wander forever in my wonderous cavern."


    "You are truly magnanimous!" I tried to hail loudly, but all that came out was a dry, monotone voice. There really was no reason to get on the bug fairy''s nerves when he quite literally held my life in his small, grubby hands.


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    The fairy looked a little pleased and said, "If you survive, then I''ll let you live. Maybe I''ll even throw in a special prize. If you entertain me well."


    I felt like I was falling, and in half a second, I was in a spacious clearing, the cave roof higher than ten of me stacked on top of each other. It was a massive coliseum. I was standing on a stage in the center with thousands of stone chairs carved from the grand, gradually going up and up, almost reaching the high ceiling. Everything was interstitially carved with beautiful spiral leaf designs. A huge stage curtain swung down from thin air and covered the stage, trapping me behind its velvety purple cloth.


    Then, a loud voice split the silence and reverberated into every crevice of the coliseum. "Ladies and Gents, I have a show that might be good entertainment here! I want you all to give applause at the end to evaluate the actor''s performance."


    Grabbing the purple curtain, I peeped my head through it, but I did not see the hide or tail of any living thing. However, I thought too soon, for there appeared thousands of floating hands, and each seat in the coliseum was full. The thunderous applause of the floating hands shook the walls and made sand perfume from the ceiling, which floated gently down.


    The large curtain wavered and swung wide open as the applause continued; it was then that I noticed a spotlight on the other side of the stage. A drunken man was zapped into existence he stood teetering and stumbling, blinking up at the huge spotlight around him.


    "The first act starts now; two actors, but only one can remain; who will shine the brightest?"


    Confusedly, I looked at the drunk, wondering what I was supposed to do. But then it clicked. He said only one can remain. Does that mean I need to take him off the stage? Since there was nothing else to do, I sprinted over to the drunken man and, grabbing his filthy hand, swung him towards the edge of the stage and pushed him with all my might.


    He landed with no sound. A flash of light sparked from the other end again, and the drunk man stood dumbfounded, alive and well. I stood surprised; my guess was not one of the actors leaving.


    The man on the other end glared at me and roared, running towards me, angry at me and throwing him off the edge. His fat arm swung up, and the bottle he still held in his sweaty palms was ready to smash a hole in my head. I ducked and felt the wind rush over my hair, I twisted up and brought my fist into his pliable stomach.


    It felt like his flesh swallowed my fist it got so lost in his belly. He stood momentarily stunned and, landing on his knees, gasped like a fish out of water. I looked around; no ending to the scene, no hint on what to do. Only one will remain; my brain took hold of these words and grew them into an action. I got a tight hold on my cleaver handle and, with both hands, brought it down as hard as I could on his bald head. My strength rendered his skull in two, and blood shot up around the blade like a fountain. His blurred eyes stared at me from either side of my weapon, and no sound was emitted from him except the burbling rush of blood.


    I sat back on my heels and fell onto my bottom, "Haha, it was this easy the whole time? Why didn''t I do this sooner?" Glancing down at myself, I found that I was drenched in red, my face sticky with it, and my teeth stained. My lips curved into a smile as blood slowly trickled off the stage and began drip, dripping, to the nonexistent feet of the audience.


    Then, a bright spotlight stammered on and glared at me, showering me in its harsh light. "What do you think, good folks? Was this a worthy performance?" The voice over the megaphone shouted. There was whispering in the crowd, "beginning¡ªregular, ---ending was¡­ quite extraordinary." A single clap answered the megaphoned voice, then two, then three, then a hearty round of applause filled the coliseum. In the end, there was even a standing ovation. "It seems the verdict is out; it seems this young actor will reach greater heights."


    For some reason, I felt proud; my heart was light and relieved, but at the same time, it was heavy for some odd reason. I had just killed a man, yet why was I so¡­ intoxicated by the deed? The floor was wiped clean, and dust was replaced by polished marble. In the middle of the stage was a treasure chest on a golden pedestal. The voice said, "You have successfully entertained me. So, I will give you the promised reward."


    I walked briskly to the shining treasure chest. Opening the heavy lid, I was a little sad and excited to see a cupcake sitting in the middle of the velvet blanket, twinkling its rainbow sprinkles at me. I''d tried it only once before at school when it was the principal''s son''s birthday, but this one looked a lot more delicious. "Disappointed, aren''t you?" The bug fairy had appeared at my side again, smirking at me. "Well, no one is forcing you to take it; this is how the dungeon system goes; it rewards you for either your heart or how well you performed!"


    I glared at the bug thing, "who says I don''t want it!" I grabbed the cupcake and, carefully peeling off the plastic wrap around it, crammed the whole thing into my mouth. It was chocolate! Creamy sweet, and a hint of blood spread in my mouth, making my taste buds wake up and start singing. I mean, I wouldn''t say this is worth all the trouble I''ve been through in this dungeon, but I''d say it''s close¡­


    "Bing bong," A start-up mechanical voice thrummed in my head. "Welcome, new soldier. Let us conquer the world together!" It then displayed a hologram of numbers and words before me.


    [Host: Human]


    [Status: Level 1]


    [Quests: 3]


    [No skills unlocked]


    "Eh, what''s this??" I stumbled back a few steps, disgruntled by the randomness of it all.


    "It''s just a simple system given to you by the dungeon. Better than any complex one that shows health and stat points! You should grovel at the feet of the all-powerful dungeon system," the fairy bug harrumphed.


    It sounds like the more complex system might be better, I thought, but I did not want to be put on another stage. So I stilled my curiosity.


    Instead, I said, "I thought you controlled the dungeon. Mr. Fairy?"


    The fairy''s face turned a shade of purple, and waved away my question. ". . . cough, cough, anyways, out you go," it said, and in a flash, I was sitting on the soft banks of the legendary lake.

 Chapter 5: Quest

    My clothes were as they were before I had jumped in, dry and dirty. Looking at the sun, it looked like no time had passed since I first entered the dungeon. I decided it was best to go back before I raised any alarm. I had been out for a while and hoped no one would be disgruntled by it.


    As I walked back, I wondered how to access the cupcake system. It seems my thoughts triggered it, for the same holographic panel popped up displaying the exact words it had back in the dungeon. Status: Level 1, quests open 3.


    This was actually really cool; it was like the video games I always watched my classmates play, leveling up systems to get strong. I tapped the quest options, and it displayed three quests:


    [Awaken magic +1 level. Kill something +3 level. Kill a monster +2 level]


    [Completed the first dungeon raid +1 level +1 Magic manual, confirm?]


    I hit confirm with my eyes, and I automatically felt twice as strong as I had been. My muscles stopped screaming, and I could breathe easier. I felt like I could run for miles and not grow weary. Then, a book materialized from the air and dropped into my hands. I smiled; my love for books was unending. The smell and feel of the little leather spiral-bound book were comforting.


    I hid the book in my skirt and ran back to the castle. I arrived in about 30 minutes when it had initially taken me an hour. I thought this level-up system was quite handy. To my great relief, I slipped into the castle, where it seemed I had not been missed at all. I hurried back to my room and closed the door; I could not lock it, for it had no lock, so I pushed a drawer in front.


    I then settled on the floor with my back to the bed but faced towards the door and, taking the book out, began to devour the contents. When I opened the first chapter, all it said was: "To activate magic, you must understand the element you are working with. Then, a table of contents for all magic types.


    This magic manual is for body hardening." I flipped to the rest of the pages, and they were all blank. "This is way too confusing. Isn''t there supposed to be more magic explained?" I murmured to myself.


    [Learn new magic hardening: Yes/No]


    Surprised, I hit yes. It couldn''t possibly be this easy. Magic didn''t sound simple at all, but then I felt a moment of eureka, and I suddenly understood how to use the magic hardening. I put my newfound knowledge into practice by forming a fist and letting the warm tendrils of magic flow into it.


    As I softly hit my hand on the ground, I felt nothing. To put the sensation in words, my whole hand was numb as if a piece of steel had replaced it. There was no feeling in the muscles of my hand. Turning to my wooden bedpost, I swung my new magic fist at it, and it cracked the whole top piece off, splintering the decorative wood into unsolvable jigsaw puzzles. Now, this was something I could work with.


    The sun slowly reached its full cycle, and night dawned on the world as I finally exhausted my magic supply. Flopping on the stone floor, I heaved a sigh of relief and accomplishment. I could feel my whole body radiating from working out almost every part of my body with the new stuff. I got up only to push the drawer away from the door, then lay back down for just a moment. I said to myself, but when I opened my eyes, it was morning.


    [Bing Bong awaken magic quest complete +1]


    The mechanical voice of the system rang like a gunshot in my ears. I shot awake, blood pounding in my ears. Coming to my senses, I looked around and, seeing the pieces of splintered wood remembered the events of yesterday. I immediately got down and started doing pushups.


    I could rack out twenty pushups with no problem, whereas yesterday, I could barely do ten till I failed. Then I noticed something strange and warm in my heart, and I looked at the system status. The quest I had completed was magic activation. I could feel a power radiating off me, and I felt stronger than I had ever been before. Opening my status, I looked at the numbers and was now level 2. Flexing my fist, I wondered if levels did all that much in terms of strength.


    Slipping out my door, I was scared the servants would have something to say. However, my presence was like a bug on the sole of their shoes. They saw, looked disgusted, and scrapped me off their minds without a word. "Being a filthy commoner has its perks," I muttered walking swiftly past them and into the forest.


    "Bam" I punched the first tree I saw, tested my punch first without the magic armor, and it hurt so bad I sucked in a sharp breath. "Again," I muttered and tensed my fist, wrapping the warmth around my knuckles and going for another punch. The same numb feeling was there, and I felt no amount of pain no matter how hard I hit, and it even left a tiny indent in the tree. However, when I deactivated the magic, my hand began throbbing with a fierce intensity. I grimaced, looking at my hands, and decided I needed to get used to pain; I am pretty fragile.


    But one thought was on the surface of my brain, swimming around with vigor:


    "Punching is really fun."


    After the eventful time in the dungeon, my life became smooth and structured, and I would wake up before the sun rose and start my daily exercises. I pretend to be sleeping when the maid brings her usual food. Yet, when the maids switched, and it came to the mousy maid''s turn to feed me, she would use me as her personal stress reliever. Dragging me from my bed, she would force me to eat the terrible cooking she created. One day, it was a mix of worms with my high-quality fish, and another day, maggots.


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    What could I do? I had no power, no authority, no one to lend a listening ear. I would eat it, work out, and pretend to be a good rat in my room if anyone calls me. I was especially demure when the doctor came to take my blood, and I would ask how my "family" was.


    They would always tell me the same thing: I was sick, and it was contagious; my magic could overflow and kill everybody, so for their sake and mine, I should just stay in my room and let them take my blood. It seemed my diagnosis was different with each question I would ask.


    I was too puny and feeble to do anything now, but with the hope of strengthening myself with my newfound magic, I would be ready for war and anything else that threatened my existence.


    I had written everything I remembered from the novel onto my magic manual, and from what I knew, the Duke of the North sided with the neighboring country''s general to keep the monsters away. Although the general was the most dangerous villain in the whole novel, it was fine. I needed to be on the Duke''s side, not the generals.


    I heard the Duke was a good leader and did not discriminate between nobles and commoners. They were his people, and he protected them. He only cared about their capability. If I could successfully fake my death, then I could cut all ties with this Marquis of the South and join the knights in the North. But right now, my goal was to get as strong as I possibly could before being sent off.


    My eyes went to the small window near the bed, and the sky, beyond the dirty sill, was so big, and I so small. But that is what I found to be so beautiful.


    All this planning and calculating made me happy. I had never had control of my life before, and all this was fun. "Freedom is a heavenly thing, isn''t it?" I breathed. I had freedom in my waking hours, but at night, I would continuously have nightmares. I would wake myself up by screaming, and the servants in my corner of the castle would always yell through my door to quiet me. To put my mind off odd feelings and scary dreams, I threw myself into becoming stronger and thoroughly enjoyed the process.


    Every day, I could feel a little growth. It was at least six months since I had arrived at the Marquis Vale''s estate when my fist could make a fist shape in the tree I had been beating up since I first awakened my magic. Leveling up really brought my physique to higher states at each level. However, I only. I was on level three since getting stronger without leveling up took ages. I decided it was time for me to fight and kill something¡­


    I am unsure what changed, but the servant''s gaze turned from disdain to disgust. When I went to train in the woods daily, they would whisper none too quietly that I had gone crazy from the loneliness and guessed that I went to the forest to talk to ghosts and throw pebbles into the haunted lakes.


    Some servants even jumped out of the way when I passed. Hmmm, being crazy might be a good idea! I thought I''d been going to the woods only an hour a day not to raise suspicion. But going to that creepy forest was probably already suspicious in itself. I had something in mind to kill.


    Slipping through the dark corridors behind the tapestries had become second nature for me, and I found that the name of the mousy maid was Bertha. She was a farm hand but came to the city and the Marquis'' mansion to work as an errand maid or cook help. Every day at the break of dawn, she would water the vegetable and herb garden to bring in fresh produce for the Marquis and his family.


    The communal water well was used in the opposite direction from the garden and used more directly by the stable hands. So, more often than not, she would go into the forest and take water from the lakes even though the servants were banned from using them. Coming from the farmlands, she did not believe in the rumors of curses or superstitions of the city folk.


    This was the perfect time to execute my plans. I had followed her for the past two days to make sure of her trek to the lakes and the people who would first notice her disappearance.


    On the third day, I waited for her to lug her bucket to the lake''s edge while I watched her from a tree branch directly above her. I brought a hefty rock with me, and I felt my heart pumping excitedly. I waited until she dragged her very heavy bucket filled with water onto shore.


    Taking one small step, I let myself fall through the branches and brought down my rock on her head with my full body weight and strength. Immediately, she fell, her heavy body slamming into the muck. My brows creased. I had gotten a lot stronger, but this way is too easy¡­


    I took her bucket of water and hoisted it over my head, emptied the whole thing onto her head, and gave her a few slaps on the face. She sputtered awake, clutching her head in pain. Her blinking, confused eyes landed on me, and looking as if she''d seen a ghost scrambled backward. It was then that I saw myself in her eyes, I was smiling, grinning from ear to ear, with a bloodied rock drip, dripping onto the fresh green grass.


    "Why are you doing this? "Bertha wailed, "I''ll give you money, treat you well. What do you want, child?!?!"


    I winced at how loud she was but felt that the fear-stricken face of my maid was much better than the one that shoved my head into bowls of worms with glee." This is what I want," I said, holding out my rock. I said it so quietly she had to lean her dented head in to hear, then finally registering my words, she looked at me in confusion.


    Yet, all the while, I could see her fingers digging around, trying to find something to hit me with. Before she could do anything, I brought my arm back and, with as much momentum as I could gather, punched her square in the nose. But once wasn''t enough, it could never be enough. Again and again, I let my hand fly until all that was left of her once smug face was a pool of brain matter, blood, and dented flesh.


    [Ding dong, +3 levels]


    The fatigue that had built up during my workout session had been eliminated, and I felt refreshed and renewed. I dragged her body into the depths of the monster territory I had found in my adventures and left it for nature to do its job. Hurriedly, I returned to the spot where the deed was done and, taking a carving of an animal''s foot, stamped it everywhere in the mud while erasing my footprints.


    Satisfied with the job, I knew that the servants wouldn''t overthink because they were all foolishly deep into the rumors that surrounded the cursed forest that one missing servant would only spread them more.

 Chapter 6: Blood and Fear

    The first mission to kill something was completed, and I felt like I had drunk salt water, for I was thirsty for more. All I did was an easy task, and I grew so much by leaps and bounds. Bertha, an annoying fly, had disappeared, and the knights had found the tracks of the "monster" and seen all the blood; they had just concluded the investigation there and said it was the monsters of the forest.


    The death of one errand maid wasn''t something that required a lot of energy. She was a commoner, and the droves beyond the mansion walls could find those. Plus, she had gone into the monster-infested forest by herself to get water from a lake that servants were banned from using. It was really all plain and simple to the uncaring onlookers.


    So, today, I decided to go find a monster to kill. I brought my trusty cleaver, which I endearingly called Rusty, along with plenty of pointy rocks. The trails leading to the lakes never had any monsters and were a safe haven for reasons unknown. Knowing this, I decided to take a different path according to the sign that read: "DANGER MONSTER TERRITORY."


    I am unsure why monsters were on the Marquis'' land, but I don''t have anyone to ask. Furthermore, none of the gossip or information I gleaned from the servants ever had anything to do with monsters that dwelt in its trees. I skipped along the dirt path and looked up at the smiling sun that shone down on the mossy forest and listened to the wind whisper to the pine trees, making them sway with laughter.


    "It''s quite a beautiful day." It became even more excellent when I found the tracks of a monster leading off the path and into a clearing. I did not really have a plan on how to kill a monster, but bashing it over the head with a cleaver or my metal-like magic armor ought to do the job.


    As quietly as possible, I stalked through the tall grass that grew sporadically near the clearing. Parting the pale green, itchy blades, I peeked through, and digging in the mud was a boar-looking creature.


    It was bigger than a boar on earth, and its whole body seemed to have been dipped in tar; its pelt was as black as coal. Dripping from large horizontal cuts that were slashed over its back were maggots as big as a thumb, wriggling, squirming, and plopping onto the earthen floor. A hunting dagger was stuck in its right eye, but its tusk held the trophy of a torn-off limb. I squinted, and the sun moved over to reveal that the bloody stump was the leftover hand of its opponent.


    Then, I surprised myself and thought for a moment. Raising my right arm, I threw a rock in front of me; the boar raised its head cautiously and started to make its way closer, sniffing the air.


    Just as it got an arms-width away, it figured something was wrong. Before it could act on this, I threw another rock behind it, making it jolt its head to the side. I took this opportunity to leap out and, with all my weight, strike my cleaver into its remaining eye.


    It let out a familiar squeal of pain; I felt a little nostalgic; it sounded similar to the ones I made back at the house. Hmmmm, maybe I deserved the beatings if I sounded as annoying as that.


    Jumping back, cleaver in hand, the boar stampeded towards the sound of my feet. Since it was blind, it was easy to slide to the side and hack at its neck as it stampeded past. Blankly, I stared at my kitchen blade. It stunk of rotting flesh, and a maggot''s head oogled up at me.


    The boar''s tenacity was to be praised cause, after all that, it still charged ahead, trusting its instincts to find where I was. It became a game of charge, dodge, attack. One headbutt from its thick, pointy tusks and my head would be the next trophy thing it wore.


    Ah! Why didn''t I think of it? It had pointy tusks! Looking around, I ran to a good-sized tree and started climbing, making a lot of noise as I did. The boar, undaunted by the whoppings I had given it, charged towards the noise as his eyesight had become very blurry, his whole weight behind the charge met with hardwood. He tried to pull out of the bark, but his mighty tusks held strong. Taking this chance, I leaped from the tree, holding Rusty in both hands.


    The wind whistled with me for a few seconds, and I brought the blade down on its neck with a squelch. I guess the little whittling I did really wore down its thick neck, for its body pitched to the side, gushing blood while the head stayed stuck in the wood. The only thing keeping it together was the stringy skin and muscle that were dyed red with blood.


    [Bling Blong, iffy monster, but killing is killing. +1 level]


    I swung my arm around and felt energized and stronger; how much, I wasn''t sure, but this fight was quite an accomplishment. It was a bit hard to use body hardening on a monster with such tough skin.


    Maybe I needed a sword. But hey. Now that I think about it, who''s arm is that? I wondered. Are there poachers in the marquis'' forest? That''s odd. I thought everyone thought this place was haunted. The sound of buzzing flies broke my contemplation, and I realized I should skedaddle before the boar''s carcass alerted a bigger monster. But, looking at it now, the boar seemed just like a bigger version of a boar that someone dyed black. He doesn''t seem like a monster, but who knows?


    Mission accomplished. I started to head back to the castle, but then I looked down at my filthy, maggot-smelling clothes and decided to go to the nearest lake to wash up. On my way, the system popped up with a new notification.


    [New quest: kill five REAL monsters +1 level]


    Huh? I scratched my head. That boar wasn''t a "real" monster? What is then? I guess I''ll have to scout around more in the monster part of the woods.


    As I neared the clear waters of the mystical lake, I heard a sound. Immediately, I was on high alert and jumped into the first bush I saw. Maybe I wasn''t the master of stealth cause the sound got louder; I peered around me, trying to track the location of the sound.


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    Maybe this could be the REAL monster the system is telling me about¡­ But, so near the lakes? However, after listening a little longer, I was both disappointed and relieved when I realized what the sound was. It was the sound of a human cry.


    Slowly, I crept out of the scratchy bush, and a few hundred feet away on the other side of the lake was a child. Well, it looked to be around my age. Scrunched in a ball, shaking and sniffing out snot. Looking at him, he had light blonde hair and red eyes that looked even redder after all his sobbing. Additionally, he had a high-quality leather garment splattered with blood.


    Ah, well, that''s sad. I guess I''d better light it out before he sees me.


    "I-I can see you." The sad, high-strung voice of the boy was sprinkled with sporadic hiccups from his multitude of tears.


    I froze in place and turned to look at him.


    "Finally, I person! I demand you take me out of this place. My friends tricked me into going to this haunted place. My guard is dead, and I need another one. You will do, hurry and assist me. I am royalty, and as your next king-to-be, order you!"


    The kid must be crazy, I thought; I shook my head at him and, seeing as he posed no threat, started to wash the blood out of my clothes. I needed to get back to the castle before sundown. I didn''t want any trouble. The kid kept whining and pouting until my ears perked up when he said, "I knew coming through that hole in the wall was no use; I should have just demanded it. I am the king-to-be yada yada-."


    Now, that was interesting. A doggy hole? Thinking was never my strong suit, so I am not sure that it was a smart choice, but I said, "I''ll help you escape but not to the castle; show me the way you entered." It had been so long since I last spoke to another living person that my words came out halting and unfamiliar.


    "Finally!" The kid said, almost wailing. As I followed him deeper into the woods he glanced at my friend rusty. "Will that pitiful kitchen tool do anything if we meet actual monsters?" He nagged. I ignored his comment and kept marching forward. Then, under his breath, he said, "Well, it doesn''t matter; this grubby servant will do good as a meat shield if nothing else."


    I am not sure were he went the first time around, but since the direction he took now was near the lakes, we didn''t encounter any monsters.


    After a good thirty minutes of wandering and stumbling, we reached a hole camouflaged in the foliage. It was kind of impressive how he remembered where it was. This was a good bit of information.


    The kid eyed me suspiciously, like I would stab him in the back, not remembering I could have done it this whole time, and started wriggling through the crumbling hole of stone.


    "Where does that lead," I said.


    "The town square, peasant," came a muffled, strained reply as he harrumfed and wriggled his way out. Then he disappeared to the other side.


    This kid really needs to exercise more, I thought.


    On my way back, I sprinted; the sun had almost set, and long shadows settled on the grassy floor, growing longer and longer. When I got to the castle, the servants were in a frenzy, trying to find someone. I tried my best not to be seen, but to no avail.


    I was caught by the big hands of the head butler and practically dragged to the big room where I had first met the marquis. This must have been very serious if the head of the servants had been searching for me.


    What met my poor eyes were dozens of bodies strewn across the floor like ketchup squeezed too hard and popped everywhere.


    The smell of metallic blood was in every corner of the room. Large slashes across the corpses I identified to be those of servants poured fountains of blood. Their eyes had lost their shine and were wide with terror that stuck to them even after their deaths. In the middle of it all was the marquis, who was squeezing the neck of a sobbing servant; seeing me enter, he thrust the servant like a rag doll on the floor and stomped towards me.


    "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN," he roared, glancing around the room. Everyone in it was dead or dying, so he sent me flying to the luxurious carpet with a loud smack. Even after all the training I had been doing, the strength behind those meaty fingers was enough to send me with almost no effort into a crumpled ball.


    Grabbing my hair with his bloody fist and staining the silver strands crimson, he pulled me close, only inches from his face, "You''re supposed to stay put and do what you''re told; as someone in this house, that is all that''s demanded of you, and yet you can''t even do that."


    I remembered that today was the day my blood was supposed to be taken for his child, and I realized that''s why he had gone crazy. Trying to find his blood bag and finding that it was gone must have made him quite mad. But he still can''t do much to me; he still needs me, so he just took out his anger on some other things.


    He looked to be in a better mood after the smack and ordered the servants to lock me up in my room, and I was under house arrest for six months because of my bad attitude. I am sure the servants couldn''t fathom why the marquis was so angry about a charity case leaving the house for a while, but it didn''t matter because I had been the cause of their fellow servants'' demise.


    They dragged me out of the room, and I could feel their rage radiating off them like a hot summer day. On the way, we passed the white wisp of Mrs. May, who seemed more healthy and on the way to her husband. She hesitated when she saw me, looking mildly alarmed at my bruised face. But a glance was all she gave me; I knew that face. It was the face people made when they knew what happened at the house but acted like nothing was wrong.


    I was seen, but not at the same time. The only ones who really looked at me were the servants. Their disgust had been painted over by a deep hatred, which was not at all hidden in their eyes.


    They practically dragged me along behind them, threw me into my room, and slammed the door behind me. I heard a padlock click together, and I was alone.

 Chapter 7: New Friend

    I looked into the mirror next to my bed, and a large blotchy blue mess of skin greeted me. The right side of my face had swollen twice its size, and there was a clear indent of finger marks across my pale blue-tinged skin.


    Everything, everything, was too much: the blood, the smell, the blow. My breath started to hitch. I felt like I couldn''t breathe.


    No matter how much I gasped for breath, it seemed none came. I thought I was free from that life. Would they start this beating and killing on a regular basis? Would they torture me? Skin me alive? My thoughts became irrational, and my whole body shook uncontrollably.


    "Breathe, slowly, in and out." A small voice cawed in my ear, and I felt a small wing on my back. Wait wing? But I did as I was told, and when I had gotten myself under control, I slowly turned around to see a fat black bird with shimmering golden eyes. It was a mixture of a raven and a magpie. Its plump self was silky and soft, its head round and too adorable for words. "What are you?" I said slowly, almost choking on the words.


    The fat bird looked surprised when I addressed it and said, "I live around here, and you are making so much noise I was a little concerned; usually, you''re as quiet as a millipede."


    Then It squeaked a little to itself, "She can see me." Then, flitting around my head, slid from side to side, looking at me through shining, curious eyes.


    Since I said nothing and stared, the bird said, "I have been watching you; you''re the only fun thing in this dreary castle. Watching you jump into random pools was really funny!"


    Unhindered by my silence, it chattered on and on like she hadn''t talked to anyone in ages. "yada yada- do you want to learn wind magic?"


    My ears perked up when she said that, and I finally said, "Yes, that would be nice."


    "Wow, you finally said something! It would be fun to fly with another being. Plus, it''s not that hard. You feel the wind and go swoosh."


    I blinked my eyes; "I needed more direction than that."


    [Learn wind magic yes/no]


    I flinched at the sudden voice in my head and quickly hit yes. Immediately, I felt as if I could hear every move of breath, every twist of air that I inhaled and exhaled. Winding the strands of magic around my pale fingers. With a sudden burst of inspiration, I swung my fist through the air and used the strands to boost its power.


    The speed and added momentum of the wind made my clumsy swing almost take my shoulder out of its socket. Now, that was cool. There was no way this was how the system worked. It was way too overpowered.


    The birb''s beak hung open, seemingly ready to eat a large worm. It twirling around and around, the bird finally said, "That was incredible; how did you even learn it that fast? I know! Why don''t you make a contract with me? Then we both could escape from this place!"


    I was still swinging my new wind arms, jabbing at the long arms of shadows under my window sill. "You''re trapped in this place?" I said, "How come?"


    Flying over to my bed and nestling into the middle of my pillow, it said, "I was taken from my home because the marquis wanted to harness the power of the great and almighty power of the magical ones! But I wouldn''t make a contract with him ''cause he''s stinky."


    Dramatically, it threw up its glossy wings, making large shadows behind it. Then, with a sneeze of its little beak, it made a face, "Since I wouldn''t make a contract with him, he chained me to this mansion with a restriction artifact until I decided I would make a contract.


    It makes sure I can''t leave, and no one can see me too, either." She looked downcast as she recounted her tale to me, then lifting a delicate clawed claw showed me almost translucent links of magical chain that connected it to something that snaked out the door and into darkness. "But! For some reason, you can see me, so if I make a contract with you, maybe I can leave!"


    There wasn''t really any reason for me not to; additionally, having someone talk to me without disdain, disgust, or anger was surprisingly nice. I nodded my head in agreement with the plan, and it began to get excited and whirred around the room like a small leaf storm.


    "All you need to do is think that you want to make a contract with me, and presto, it should be done!"


    Skeptically, I stared at its beaming gold eyes, "That easy?"


    "It''s not like you''re summoning a demon; it''s just a friendly agreement; both parties get something, so there''s no need for blood binding!"


    Makes sense, I thought, so I nodded again and closed my eyes, thinking over and over, "A contract with fat bird."


    After a few seconds, I felt nothing change and opened my eyes.


    "You''re not supposed to feel a big difference," the bird said as if reading my mind. "But look, the chains are still here," it cawed dejectedly.


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    Looking at the small chain, I grabbed it and used my body-hardening magic on my knee. I took the chain in both hands and slammed it hard against my knee.


    I felt it tremble a little, but nothing happened. "What are you doing??" Screamed the bird beating its wings against my arm, "It''s magic! Physical force won''t work. You''ll only hurt yourself!!!


    Ignoring its cries, I kept at it, and after the fifth try, the chain crumbled in my fingers, and the bird who had stood with criticizing eyes opened its beak in astounded surprise, gaping at its fetterless foot. She shook her ankle carefully, then started to dance around, laughing and singing, then flew over and gave me a feathery hug. Although it couldn''t really reach its tiny wings around my neck, it tried its best.


    It was the first time someone had hugged me in years, and it warmed my heart.


    "I''ll show you how to use wind magic if it''s the last thing I do!" It screamed in glee. "You are my savior. Let''s get along from now on."


    During the next six months of my house arrest, I learned the basics of wind magic. Fat bird''s magic helped to strengthen my heart and lungs, supporting them to go beyond their capability and making my stamina reach leaps and bounds past anything I could do before. My plan of getting stronger was steadily growing. I would be ready to at least survive past my first week on the front lines. I had thought about running away since the first day I arrived at the manor.


    However, from what the book said, the Marquis had lots of magical tools and money that he could use.


    I bet that tracking down one child with no money and knowledge of where anything was would be simple. The blackbird, who told me its name was Jam, was with me almost every second of the day and would tell me stories of its hometown and the world outside. With Jam''s company, six months flew past, and the day came when the marquis summoned me to him. I could guess what was coming, but instead of feeling dread, I found myself to be excited to leave and begin a new adventure.


    Walking through the corridors of the castle manor, my steps echoed, and my heart pumped steadily.


    I was pushed into a study that was rich with warm wood and beautiful stained-glass windows. But the eyes that I met were the opposite of the study and glared coldly and calculatingly at me. The voice of the marquis spoke and broke the strained silence, "You must be grateful for everything the family has given you." It was not a question but was an irrefutable fact because he had said it.


    I nodded my head, keeping my eyes on the ground, daring only to glance up a couple of times, making myself give out a feeble and scared appearance.


    "So, you would do anything to help the family?"


    Again, a fact, not a question; I knew I was to only nod and go along with what he said. I nodded again, meek and obedient.


    "I need help¡­ You must go to war, as you know your older brother is sickly and cannot go. It will only be for a couple of months, and then we will come to take you back."


    Wow, the lies he told were so¡­ seamless. I would never have lived a few weeks, much less a month, on the frontline if I had been just a regular weak child.


    Plus, I doubt even if I did, he would come to rescue me. Not that I cared, though. The child in this plotline must have been really nuts, who would go to war just because your family said so?


    "Just remember your name for now is Raidriar, you are the second son of the house, Vale. It would be good not to disgrace the family name after all!"


    Huh? I thought he wanted me to go so my older brother didn''t have to. But wasn''t the eldest son''s name Edward? ¡­. How foolish did this man think I was?


    He dismissed me with a wave of my hand, and I bowed, bringing my body to a degree and backing slowly out, left eyes still on the ground.


    It all happened so fast; my things were packed up, well, not my things, but boys'' clothes and armor. A sword was given to me, even though I had never used one.


    I was told nothing, no information, just the servants packing me up and tossing me out of the manor like garbage long since it was overdue. I was wondering how they would pass me off as his son when a magic artifact was pressed into my fingers.


    The head butler told me to put it on and never take it off in any circumstance. Sliding on the cool metal ring, I almost screamed but bit my lips till they bled to stop them from leaving my throat. My face started to melt and mix, pulling my bones and stretching my skin into a face that was not my own. The pain of the transformation left me on my knees, panting.


    Jam fluttered around me, worriedly nested in my hair, trying to relieve the pain with some sort of massage.


    The butler looked at me with a little pity and gave me a mirror. My long silver locks that once fell glittering down to my waist had transformed into midnight black, cutting off into a common boy haircut at the ears.


    My face shape had changed from a delicate oval face into a strong, sharp jawline that looked like a noble son. My crimson eyes were now dark green and arrogant, staring back at me with shock. I gingerly felt my new face with shaking fingers.


    "No more dawdling; the carriage is waiting outside," the butler said and threw me some boys'' clothes before escorting himself out. I struggled into the garments too rich and bright from what I usually wore.


    Feeling better when I finally put on protective armor and tightened the leather over my chest. I was led to a waiting carriage, and just like that, I was sent off.


    I glanced behind and not one person stood at the gate to see me off.

 Chapter 8: Ambush

    The carriage bumped along the rocky path. I looked out the misted windows; the trees staggered along beside me; it was the first time I had seen the surroundings of the marquis'' estate. The vibrant emerald leaves rustled in time with the wind that sang through the open sapphire sky.


    The world had never felt so full and boundless. I was off on an adventure I''ve only ever read about! I wonder if I am strong enough to be on par with the soldiers on the frontline. I couldn''t help but be worried, thinking along that line¡­ It was time for my next set; I had upped my pushups, sit-ups, and everything else to twenty sets of fifty daily.


    It had been two weeks since leaving the estate, and exercising helped eliminate the ache of constant bumping. At least I would feel the delicious ache of knowing I was getting stronger over the rattling of my bones the carriage encouraged. We barely ever stopped, only to rest the horses or switch them out for a new pair. If we had used magic, it would have been four times as fast, but that was a luxury the current me would not have been given.


    Finally, after weeks of the terror that carriages brought, I was on solid land; the firm, cool soil of the north greeted my wobbling legs. "We have five more miles to go, young lord''" the coachman said with a sneer; throughout the journey, those sent to escort me did not forget the slaughter the marquis had administered on their fellow servants and took out their frustration on me. Autumn had been stamping her foot, all the while fuming with anger at their sarcastic remarks and belittling attitudes. Yet, it was a relief. That''s all they could do.


    I take that back.


    A shovel hurtled towards me, but I was able to dodge it because of the scream of my fairy friend. "don''t be such a wuss. This is payback for what you did to my brother," a voice filled with anger spit.


    I jumped back and, reaching for my sword, realized that it was still in the back of the carriage. I grimaced at my stupidity and eyed my opponents. There were three in total: two soldiers and one coachman; my father had organized just a few lousy personnel to escort me.


    But I guess that works in my favor; I''ve never fought real humans before! The two knights came towards me with large clubs and the coachman with his shovel. "We were told to deliver you in one piece, and as long as you''re in one piece, that''s good enough for the marquis," said one of the knights, brandishing his weapon with a wicked gleam in his eye.


    Talking was useless. They had already made up their minds; I could see in their anger-filled eyes that they pinned the blame on me and would release their frustration on me, the weak one. I moved first, fleeing into the forest behind me. I could hear them cursing and then begin their chase. The shovel boy led their pursuit as I swung up into a nearby tree.


    The biggest one went last, stumbling around the heavily rooted trees with his bulky armor, clearly not suited for forest fights. When he got far enough behind the other two, I jumped from my tree and sailed through the sky, drop-kicking him right in the face and feeling a satisfying crunch. He lay groaning on the ground, holding his bloody nose; I wasted no time and, pouring magic into my heel, stomped down with all my strength.


    If he got up and stabbed me in the back, there would be a problem. I had gotten a lot stronger since fighting the boar, for the soldier had stopped wriggling and lay still with that one stomp. His teeth were broken in, and his head held an indent of my heel. Noises came from behind. The other two had heard our scuffle and hurried back.


    Quickly, I took a pointy stone from my pocket and let it fly at the oncoming soldier. It hit him square in the nose, and he dropped his bat to clutch at it, squealing in pain. In three big leaps, I was upon him and twisting my lower body into a spring shot up into an uppercut, which snapped back the soldier''s head.


    He keeled over, dead or unconscious; I had no idea. The last one, the shovel boy, saw the scene, dropped the shovel, and took off screaming. I sprinted after him and only after a few seconds snagged his collar. "Please, please don''t kill me," he whimpered, snot covering his hands. "It wasn''t my idea¡­"


    Not bothering with words, I dragged him back towards the carriage past the unmoving bodies of the soldiers. When we finally arrived at the carriage, he bent over and vomited on the roadside, stomach heaving.


    "Let''s go," I said and climbed into the carriage.


    Hurridly, shovel boy practically flew to grab the horse reigns, and we continued our journey without further interruption.


    "Do you think there will be more bad people like those guys?" Jam said the bird had been hiding from afar as soon as we first encountered the Shovel Boy. She had fluttered around me, checking for any signs of injury.


    Through my months of living with her, I found that her wind magic was only for strengthening her speed so she could hunt more efficiently. I could see why people wanted to force her into servitude; her spy capabilities were amazing.


    "Most likely, that''s why I must get stronger," I said, peering down on my blood-spattered shoe. I had a decent amount of strength, but I didn''t know how to use it properly. I hoped that the frontlines gave good training.


    Jam and I talked for the next hour or so until we neared the towering base of the North.


    The small, now deeply respectful voice of Shovel Boy called back from the front of the carriage, "We have arrived, young lord; I wish you success and fortune."


    I turned my gaze outside. A large looming base stood powerful and tall amongst the trees; soldiers stood positioned at the entryway, clad in full metal armor, standing straight and big just like their base.


    The shovel boy was waiting to help me down, and I smirked at his change in behavior.


    As soon as my luggage was placed beside me, the carriage was off horses clattering like made through the narrow road that led to the base. Picking up my bags, I walked myself to the gates and, after a few sidelong glances, was let through with my identification papers.


    The marquis had sent me to the very place I wanted to go. He thought that the Duke''s land would be the harshest for me because he was at odds with the Duke. However, the Duke based his ranks not on nobles or commoners but on who was the strongest. If I can prove my worth, it won''t matter that I am an "illegitimate son."


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Inside the base, there was a buzz of activity, with men training, eating, and talking. I felt my eyes burning into the back of my head. It made sense. I was dressed like a fragile nobleman who had never worked a day in his life. I had to ask for directions and was directed to a wooden building that looked like it was meant for the commander.


    As I walked in, all eyes shifted towards me, and then an older man looking to be in his mid-thirties got up and walked towards me. He looked strong and bright; his hair was spun gold and tied up in a knot. His figure was heavy set, filled to the brim with muscles. "It''s been a while since we have been sent nobility. I hope you know that there will be no special treatment. The north is not equipped to handle babies."


    Although his words were rough, his voice was light, and there was no menace in his piercing grey eyes. He must be the Duke I''ve heard so much about, straight to the point and blunt.


    "I will fight with my all, sir," I replied.


    There were some sniggers around the room, but I didn''t have time to register much because I was excused and was being led to the sleeping quarters. The boy who escorted me looked young and bright, maybe early twenties.


    He showed me around the base first, showing me the canteen, training grounds, strategizing rooms, and more. It also seemed like the base was not the only thing he was showing off. As soon as I entered each place, I could feel eyes on me. Everyone would now know me as the noble, probably dishonored or unruly, so I was sent to the front lines.


    I didn''t say much as I was finally led to the sleeping quarters to unpack. The young man, who introduced himself as Arnold, was friendly enough and told me I could always come to him if I had any questions. He also told me that I needed to be down at 5 am tomorrow and be ready for morning training.


    As the "son" of a noble, the high-ranking marquis, I got my own room. It was probably also due to the Marquis pulling some strings. This was a great luxury but also a good way to hide that I was a girl. I whispered for Jam, and she flashed to my side. It was best that she hid from prying eyes and only showed herself when we were alone.


    "Do you think you can gather information about the monsters?" I asked. It would be helpful to get my hands on anything to see how I should move forward.


    "Right away," Jam saluted and disappeared.


    I let out a sigh and collapsed on the firm wooden bed, made of better quality than the one at the marquis''s estate. I quickly fell into a deep sleep.


    Jolting awake and shaking off the nightmare that plagued me, I heard voices outside. It must be time for training; I shrugged on a simple black uniform that each soldier was given and opened the door to my new world.


    It was early in the morning, but the whole base was bustling with noise and nervousness. I headed towards the training area and was surprised that there were around fifty new recruits like me, men in training. Was the rest of them on the frontlines fighting already? They were all older than me, ages ranging from twenty to forties. I slipped into the back as the commander who trained the new recruits barked orders.


    "Today, you all will start with a warm-up of three miles and continue on to a hundred pushups and sit-ups. Remember, you all volunteered for this, so I expect no complaining."


    A ripple of groans came from the recruits, but there was no time to complain as we had already started.


    Because of the wind magic support, my organs had a nice upgrade, and a few miles did nothing to dent my stamina. Maybe now I am at the toes of the track runners in my old school; they would run mile upon mile and curse themselves for not running a five-minute mile each time.


    I found myself in a small group that ran ahead of everyone, those behind eyed us with a mixture of jealousy, curiosity, and exhaustion. To my right was an older man in his mid-twenties to thirties; his back was broad, his muscles bulged from the thin shirt, and a long beard wrapped around his chin gave him a Viking feel. He was, in all probability, a farmer who could run very well. It was surprising how fast and far such a bulky man could go.


    To my left was a young man in his twenties; his breathing was controlled but filled with fatigue. He was clean-shaven with hair as bright and gold as fresh wheat. They sweated profusely, straining their calf muscles to the extreme. I felt kind of bad for how easy it all was to me, so I also began to pant and look tired.


    Finally, after the fifth hill, the group was allowed to rest. While the recruits chugged down water, they got to know each other. I glanced around, and it seemed that factions were forming already; the recruits split into two sides, the noble and the commoner groups. I stood in the back, not participating. Hopefully, I wouldn''t have to choose sides so early in the beginning of training.


    I thought too soon. A voice behind me jerked me to my feet. "What''s Mr. Noble doing sitting here all by himself? Is baby homesick for mommy?" A young man out of breath but trying to conceal it spoke with a condescending tone.


    He had a shock of bright orange hair, and freckles were scattered across his face like seeds. He was more than likely a farmhand eager for the thrill of the hunt and to make himself look tough in front of the other trainees.


    I ignored his presence, which made the boy angry, and he kicked me hard in the ribs. "Can''t say or do anything, what a waste of space." He started to get more and more irritated when I didn''t react and stared up into the blue sky. All eyes were on us, and the staring of so many people made me want to tear their eyeballs from their sockets.


    Puffed up with the attention, the boy was about to send another kick my way when the commander shouted the break was over.


    After the "warm up" we were taken back to the barracks to start with weapon training. I found it all to be quite exciting my heart beating with anticipation.


    The instructor, a heavy-set man who looked battle-hardened, stood with a peg leg and scars stretched across his bearded face. He looked over the recruits he stood tiredly at attention and gestured to a rack filled with wooden weapons. "Take what you think you can handle and start hitting the straw men over in the corner."


    The rack had four options: spear, sword, bow, and war hammer. I was in a dilemma and didn''t know which to choose. I really wanted to try all of them and see which I felt most comfortable with. I rushed to the rack with the others and barely grabbed a sword before taking every practice weapon.


    The training here was quite lovely; they even let you choose a weapon. It might be because so many people who were inept with an unfit weapon kept dying to monsters. The Duke must have scheduled the training to focus on the individual qualities of each soldier, leading to a lower mortality rate during battle.


    [Ding Dong, new quest: find the right weapon for you +1 levels.]


    I was amazed at the system; it really was tailor-made to fit me.


    This was the most romanticized weapon in all the books I had read; knights of chivalry and value rescued maidens and fought the most-vilest of creatures with its double-edged blade.


    I took the unbalanced wooden hilt in my hands and struck the scarecrow with all my might and the scarecrow made of strong stuff just took it all, and my whole body vibrated with the force. I felt like I was hitting concrete.


    he instructor stared at the disgusting form of the new recruits, who were hacking with vigor at their wooden enemies and hitting his thigh with a loud lap and started laughing. Everyone except those who knew how to swing their weapon felt embarrassed and stopped their terrible swinging. The instructor wiped tears from his eyes and began to show us the proper way to use each weapon. Showing just a few basic moves so as to not let bad habits build up.


    Trying to copy his movements from the podium he stood on, my wild hacking became more refined and wasted less effort. This practice went on into the afternoon and stopped only when the sun started to set. Everyone, being too tired to talk, ate as fast as they could and hurried off to bed.


    The first day was closing, and I felt my muscles scream with fatigue; my mind was filled with the angles of the vertical and horizontal slashes. They formed a simple pattern of eight different directions to swing.


    Breathing and stance were also an important part of the basics. I went to the well and brought two buckets of water to my room to take a bath and rid myself of the sweat I had worked up.


    Before that, I practiced proper stance, feeling the logical way of standing with feet paced apart and the left foot higher while the right supported weight from the back, and I felt that I was much more difficult to knock down than if I was standing with feet side by side knees slightly bent.

 Chapter 9: New Style

    Throughout the next week of training, things went very similarly to the first day, including basic strength and stamina training and weapon practices.


    Each person switched around with each weapon to see which fit him the most. I found that the spear was quite fun, but it was so awkward and long that I found it quite cumbersome.


    The bow was simple enough, but understanding and doing were different. There was also the con that I could not have infinite arrows, what was I to do when I had no more arrows? Plus, it took far too long for me to aim and shoot properly to even hit anything within thirty seconds.


    The sword I first used was a delight to hold and slash away at the scarecrow. Yet, none of these I felt to be what I truly loved. Everything changed the day we practiced hand-to-hand combat.


    It was perfect, beautiful, and the most incredible thing I have ever done. I felt the strength of my own limbs as they could cut through the air swiftly but with no excess strength lost.


    Each punch made me feel powerful and unbeatable. I had punched before, but they were sloppy, clumsy attempts at the correct form. Learning how to properly throw a punch made a lot more of a difference than I thought.


    I transformed from an unstable and wobbling form to a solid and practiced one. My heart pumped with the thrill of it all. I wondered if this was the man''s exhilaration when he beat me. I felt myself grow stronger and checked the system interface.


    [New weapon found +1 level]


    [Host: Human]


    [Level: 8]


    [Skills: Basic body hardening magic, Basic wind magic]


    My new level was eight, and I felt the growth exponentially. A few days after I found the long-lost piece of myself, I was walking back to my room with the jealous eyes of other soldiers piercing my back.


    But I was in a hurry to get back to my room with all the new training, I had scarcely enough time to spend time with Jam. I thought she would be angry and had brought a bit of biscuit for her from my rations.


    Then I sensed something amiss. Well, more like a scent of something in the air that was misplaced. I narrowed my eyes and noticed that the door to my room was slightly ajar.


    Something was up. But I did not know what to do in this situation. I was at a loss, so I just banged open the door and readied my fist to hit anything in sight.


    However, what met my eyes was not a person but a ransack of a room. My clothes were strewn everywhere, the bedding in my straw mattress was ripped apart, the cabinet was knocked over, and a putrid scent hung in the air. Someone had come in, tore up my place, and urinated on anything in sight.


    "How unfortunate," I sighed and started to pick my things up. Distracted by the mess I had failed to make sure every inch of the room was clear.


    My ears picked up the creak of a board as a black figure masked in shadows lunged from under the wrecked bed, wooden practice sword in hand. I barely turned my head an inch when the wooden blade met my skull and, with a terrible crack, sent my consciousness into oblivion.


    [New quest: Escape +1 level]


    Sounds filtered into my foggy brain, light, and shadow, and smells of sweat, dirt, and blood hit my senses, making me feel nauseous. I cracked open my eyes to see the annoying boy who had kicked me on the first day standing over me.


    Two bulky-looking guys held my arms, and at least five others surrounded me. I really need to think more, I groaned to myself.


    How could I get myself into this situation? I had a lot of training to do."Hey! Look at me." The grating voice of the boy yelled, he had two big men standing behind him. "Nobles think they''re so much better than everyone else, look at the special treatment they get! Even a half-breed like you gets a luxurious room all to himself."


    The others present nodded, the atmosphere thickening with malcontent and hatred. I tried to pull my arms from their grips, but the vice-like hold they had on me was too much. Then a fist hit my stomach, knocking all the wind from my lungs.


    Another punch to my face, and I felt blood spilling down my nose. Pain twisted in my body, and hatred filled my head. I struggled with all my might, but the rain of blows fell unbroken. Voices mingled in and out of my consciousness.


    Then I heard, "Now bring that." I forced my line of sight up, and to my horror, the boy appeared with a board stuck full of nails.


    Gasping for breath and struggling against the blackness that would consume me, I felt a sense of hopelessness settle across my shoulders. Was I just born for situations like these?


    A ferocious "CAW!" sounded out from the black night sky. A black blur of feathers and noise hurtled into one of the guys holding me.


    He screamed and fell down with a heavy thud. Gripping his head tightly in both hands. The group, disgruntled by the scene, screamed "MONSTER" and started to hit everything they could in the dark. In the chaos, I yanked my left arm free and, bending low, grabbed a rock.


    I was no seven-man party, so I tried to slip away. Before I could flee into the forest, a skinny hand grabbed me. It was the annoying boy, he shouted to the others.


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    "He''s getting away! Catch him!" but the rest were so scared of the "monster" that they dismissed my presence. Not waiting around to be captured again, I turned and smashed the rock into his face.


    He fell back on his bottom and held his now broken nose. Tears filled his pathetic eyes, and I ran into the warm darkness of the woods. Faster and faster, farther and farther, I ran the roots and loose rocks, tripping me and dragging me down.


    Leaves scratched at my face, and every noise made me wary. Finally, I ran until I heard no more screaming and the sound of human voices. I swung up into an oak tree and climbed until I reached the highest of branches that could bear my weight.


    "You should thank me," a beak covered in blood spoke from the tree branch to my left. Jam was there, a hero in the flesh, proudly displaying her trophy, the eyeball of the man she attacked. After being satisfied with the attention, she tilted her head back and swallowed the torn bits in one go.


    "Thank you," I whispered. My heart filled with love for this tiny creature. This was the first time, the only time, that someone had intentionally tried to save me. I reached out my hand and patted her soft, blood-stained feathers. "I don''t know what I would have done without you."


    "Die," Jam cackled.


    "However, you won''t because my greatness will not allow it!" My eyes softened, and the light of a smile flashed through them. "I''ll get stronger so I can protect your greatness."


    [Quest complete: +1 level]


    I found a nice place where a couple of big branches interlocked, and I lay in the most comfortable spot I could find and with Jam on night watch, fell into a deep sleep.


    The next morning, sunlight crept through the drowsy sky and woke me with its gentle beams. I jumped from my perch and ran through the forest all the way back to the barracks.


    The smell of fresh morning air filled my nostrils, and the cool breeze wafted sweetly through the trees. The morning training was commencing as I ran into formation with the rest of the trainees. The state of my room was something to worry about that night.


    Today, we were to be put into squads. If I had my face had been bashed in yesterday, there was no way I would have been able to be placed with a proper squad. Glad to be free from the turmoil of last night with only black and blue bruises twisting like vines all across my body, I thanked Jam again in my head.


    My unit consisted of four people: me, the Viking man Jack, and the sandy boy Peter, who I run with every morning. The last person was the annoying boy, Nathan. I felt my body go rigid when I met his eyes. Anger coursed through my veins, wanting me to bash his face in until even his mother couldn''t recognize him.


    He, in turn, glanced at his feet; having no one to back him up, I could see how helpless he was alone. That day, we learned how to work together. It seems we were all put together for a reason: Jack was a tank, Peter the long-ranged archer, me the damage dealer, and Nathan. The healer, scout, or bait¡­ Working together did wonders for human bonding.


    After practicing together, I felt a sense of comradery with the other two, not Nathan. I still needed to beat him up later. When training was finished, I found myself conversing with the instructor.


    It was a surprise because I was generally left alone; I had heard the nobles whispering about my status as an illegitimate child, and the common people were probably avoiding me because of my noble status. I would eat alone, train alone, and never talk to anyone.


    The instructor, whose name was Vlad, seemed a tad uncomfortable and said in a gruff voice, "Stay tomorrow after training." With wide eyes, I nodded and stared at his figure, walking quickly away, a bit lopsided because of the peg leg.


    After the basic training, I waited in a corner, wondering what I would be training in next. A cough sounded behind me, and I swiveled my neck around.


    A punch landed in my stomach. It was spot on the bruise that had been left to me by last night, and I almost collapsed. Vlad surprised at my weakness, commanded me to rise and continue. "You won''t last a second in battle if that strike winds you.


    Then he swung his left hand at me, from which I leaped back. I tried to come back with a punch of my own, but I was not used to calculating the distance, and my arm was too short to even reach his chest. It swung wildly, hitting the air and throwing me off balance.


    "You need to think strategically, not just try to hit so crazy, and keep your guard up," The instructor said as he sent a lot more punches my way. Go for the vital parts; anywhere on the skull is good: the stomach, knee, throat, and groin. This training is for the strike to end all strikes."


    I tried to register this new information between parries and punches. I learned the names of each of the six main moves. The jab, straight, left hook, right hook, left uppercut, and right uppercut.


    "Train in these six basic movement patterns for a month, and maybe you''ll be able to master them." However, I got a notification after training only for a few hours on the basic punches.


    [Learn basic boxing yes/no]


    I really liked this system. Pressing yes, I threw a left hook and felt the precision, speed, and angle were like a professional''s. My eyes gleamed excitedly, and I couldn''t wait for tomorrow''s training. And just like that, after training, I had more training sparring with the instructor every night until my lungs burned and threatened to stop cooperating, and my legs couldn''t hold my weight anymore.


    I learned all sorts of punches, the Superman, the overhand, and some kicks as well. A few days after my new training began, I was again approached by a living person while eating in the canteen. I was tired from last night''s sparring and could barely lift my spoon to my lips.


    Then, all of a sudden, "BANG!" a bread bowl thudded onto the place in front of me. All of a sudden, I was transported back to the house with that man and woman.


    My arms swung up to cover my face, and with a sudden force, my three-legged stool toppled backward, and I landed hard on my back. I scrambled to get my mind in order, my head filled with images of the past.


    A voice filled with guilt and apologies crossed into my ears, "I am sorry, lad, I didn''t mean to startle you. I only wanted to wake you up a bit." I looked up to see the big Jack, the Viking-like man who was now part of my team, holding out a calloused hand to me and helping me to my chair.


    Then I noticed the eyes that were on me. The whole canteen had stopped to watch the scene and were whispering with a look in their eyes I couldn''t place. "Sorry again," Jack said and offered me his bread.


    "It''s just that I had been wanting to get to know you cause you to remind me of my son at home." I nodded and said, "It''s okay." Most new recruits were farmers made to fight the monsters for the pitiful sum they gave. Any younger recruits were either dead or about to be dead. They needed experience to survive, and most died before getting any.


    The North was not a place that anyone wanted to be if they wished to fight in wars with humans instead of monsters. It was granted that fighting monsters with their claws and speed was much harder than that of a normal fighting man.


    For the rest of breakfast, I was talking with someone¡ªwell, more like listening. But it was a start because I had never really had a friend. He started asking about my hometown and what my parents were like.


    I just shook my head at these questions, and he looked at me with the same emotion as the whole canteen. I was confused and couldn''t understand what he and everyone else were thinking.

 Chapter 10: Relationships

    It was funny she said this, because the man at home had always said the two were alike. Anyhow, Jam started to yammer about the comings and goings of soldiers, the increase in monsters this year, and other information that she told me every night. She would even show me new punches she had seen when looking for information on other military bases.


    Tonight, she was filled with gossip. "You know the new kitchen hand burnt a whole batch of stew, and he got fired for it! Ack, I forgot to tell you, the Duke is moving up the day you guys go to battle." I snapped my head up; we had only been training for at least three weeks, fighting?


    I am not sure if the trainees were ready for that. However, I was so ready to try out the new fighting style I was learning. For I feared I was still too weak. Training did not make me level up, as did situations that held danger.


    "The monsters are getting more rampant in mountain regions; I heard they attacked and massacred a whole village. The rate soldiers are dying is way faster than those living," Jam squeaked. She must have listened in to the conversations of the Duke, himself.


    My magic hardening was going exceedingly well; I could almost break through a whole tree with my first. Equipped with this new piece of news, my heart hammered in my chest, and I snuck out to training grounds to get some more practice in.


    While I was slinking through the shadows, I could hear the night watch talking. "¡ªso pitiful¡ªyoung---why sent here?----sent to die. ---reminds me of children¡ªhome---sad."


    They were on top of the wall facing out towards the east, I snuck closer and hid in the shadows beneath them. "Did you see what happened this morning? Poor things probably hit at home. I think the instructor even beats him too¡­ I saw him after training¡­"


    The two guards went silent, pondering each other''s words. I stood quietly and left; it was sad that a fellow soldier had to go through that, but it was none of my business! ¡­I felt like I was missing something but dismissed the itch in my brain to go practice the new moves Jam had told me about.


    The next morning was a little strange. I am not sure what happened, but a lot of the men at the canteen would pass by and stick an extra piece of bread onto my plate. Soldiers were very nice, weren''t they? I pondered.


    After we broke our fast there was a loud announcement by the commander. "The mountains have been overrun by monsters; power is needed to fight them back. The Duke has commanded every man with an able body to fight. Pack your things, we leave in thirty minutes."


    I rushed to my room, as did everyone else. I only had a few changes of clothing, the book that held my notes, hard army tack, and comfortable scraps of cloth for Jam to sit on.


    Stuffing them all into a leather satchel, I tugged on my gambeson it was a padded defensive jacket that went on either as armor or under plate armor. Glancing back at the empty room that still held the lingering scent of. . . I walked out on my way to battle.


    The trek was long; it was a couple of days'' march to the Maudit Mountains; now that I think about it, wasn''t the word Maudit French for accursed? I was not really into languages during my time in school; however, when I took it, that''s what my classmates would call me.


    At least they were creative. I found myself walking with my squad; they were quiet, probably wrapped up in the sudden departure.


    "Hey, what will you all do when you leave the army?" Jack''s rumbling voice scattered the dreary silence. Peter awoke from his stupor and laughed out with twinkling eyes, "I''ll marry three pretty gals and settle down." There was a little chuckling all around, and the atmosphere lightened considerably.


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    All eyes turned to Nathan, who said, "I won''t leave the army but will go up in ranks and become a renowned knight!" Now, that made people laugh. Making Nathan furrow his brows and look down. I guessed it was my turn, and I just said, "I don''t know yet."


    "Com''on, a handsome lad like you doesn''t have a pretty little thing at home waiting?" Peter said and clapped me on the back. I shook my head. "There weren''t many my age around me."


    He tilted his head quizzically, "How old are you anyway."


    I didn''t even know myself; the body I had found myself in overnight looked to be around fifteen. So, I answered, "Sixteen." Silence again spread through the men and those eyes that I had seen them make at me during breakfast prodded the back of my head. I shifted uncomfortably and looked down at my feet.


    Then Jack, noticing my discomfort, said, "For me, I want to return to my beautiful wife and our son. You know she is the kindest, most caring, and most loving woman in the whole of the northern plains!"


    His eyes were misty, and it seemed like he was not marching to certain death but back to his little house on 34th Street. He began to bubble over with excitement as he talked about the love of his life, I was in awe at how other families lived so differently from my own.


    Though the days were long, the hours went quickly as the squad talked of home, family, and a warmth I found sad to be left out of. But I didn''t have stories like theirs, nothing even comparable to them. On the third day, I could see the mountain; it climbed high into the sky, black as obsidian.


    Finally, on the fifth day, the group of fresh trainees numbering around five hundred arrived at the base of the cursed mountain. The first thing I heard or didn''t hear was the eerie quiet that blanketed the forest.


    No birds, no crickets, no rustle of the leaves. It was as if the mountain had held its breath and was waiting, waiting, for something sinister to pass by.


    Our platoon met with the Duke, and our orders were to rest for today and be ready to fight at first light.


    I no longer had my own room, so I snuck out farther away from the camp to talk to Jam. She had been surveying the mountain for the days I was marching to it. Just as the Duke said, it was swarming with monsters.


    Jam went on, "They are all levels 8-10 Starvire''s; they are pretty low-level. But because there are so many, they come down from the mountain and have been eating the villagers near the base of it. Most villagers are only around level 5, and their occupation is not intended for combat."


    "Do they have any weakness?"


    "Of course!" squawked Jam, "Since it''s a humanoid-type monster, it''s around the same as a normal human. If you penetrate its eyes, it will die, or if you rip off its head, it will die!"


    I sighed, that wasn''t very helpful. I felt that when you rip anything to head off, it will die¡­ Jam didn''t understand battle tactics very well, so I couldn''t just rely on her for a way to deal with them effectively.


    I fed her some of the tidbits I got from my own measly rations, and she happily gobbled them up. I gently stroked her soft feathers and then stood to test something out.


    I walked over to the nearest oak tree and wrapped it in a hug; I found that I could almost touch my fingertips around its trunk. After my measuring, I stepped back, and with a thwack! Punched the tree hard.


    My strength had increased by bounds, and my knuckles went halfway through the tree. Then, adding both hardening and wind magic, I punched again, and this time, my fist broke clean through it, and my momentum made me stuck shoulder-deep into the hardwood. Tugging my arm out of my self-made trap, I nodded, satisfied.


    I returned to the camp and sat next to the fire, staring into the dancing, mirth-filled light. I wonder what tomorrow has in store.


    Before heading out to the battle, we were told to keep our formation and what we had been taught. Go for the head or take down the arms and legs that were our best bet for survival; the Duke''s platoon members looked at us with sadness and that annoying emotion I couldn''t quite place.


    It was then that Nathan spits, "They are pitying us! I''ll show them; I ain''t afraid of no stringy animal in no forest."


    Ah, I finally put a name to that look, pity.


    All the soldiers armored up and took their weapons. I took a sword because going bare-handed might not be a good idea. With the comfortable clanking at my waist, I felt prepared for almost anything.


    The sun was bright overhead when we stepped into the emerald green lush of the deep forest and began walking farther in.

 Chapter 11: Dukes Quest

    As we did not have any horses, bringing back the wounded was an arduous task. But no horse could walk properly in the tangle of roots, rocks, and trees that barred any Calvery from entering the cursed forest.


    It took the rest of the day to de-tangle usable weapons and armor from the corpses of fellow soldiers, and it would take even more manpower to bring them back again.


    Looking at my system again I was now on level 12. But I felt I was much stronger than the braindead Starvire because I knew how to fight, and they clumsily swung around, fear being its worst weapon.


    From our platoon of five hundred, four hundred remained. The paralysis of fear was no joke in situations where one couldn''t laugh.


    Remembering the notification, I found a small bone dagger strapped to my waist. I unsheathed it and tested the blade. I had barely touched it with my finger when a small cut appeared, and a drop of blood leaked out.


    It was razor-sharp, well, considering it was made from the teeth of a Starvire, its sharpness was no surprise. This was a nice present, maybe the first present I had received in a long time.


    I spun around as footsteps neared me. "Mr. Raidriar, the Duke has called for your presence," a pale boy chirped. Nodding, I followed him toward the biggest tent in the campsite. It had the sign of the House of Irithyll etched in black and white over the front flaps.


    The crest was a knight''s sword with a dragon wrapping around it, resting on the hilt. I ducked beneath the cream-colored canvas and entered into the cool quarters of the Duke.


    "Ah, there you are, welcome, welcome," the kind, husky voice of the Duke boomed in my ears.


    I didn''t know what to do, so I did a ninety-degree bow and said, "Your Grace."


    He laughed and said, "A simple salute will do; I called you here because of your performance during the last battle." I saluted and stood still, listening with both my eyes and ears.


    "I have to admit that your skills go beyond a regular foot soldier; I want to send you and your squad on a mission with a few other squads to go deeper into the forest. What say you?"


    [Quest: Complete Duke''s Mission +1 levels]


    My voice rang out clear and sharp. "I accept."


    The Duke looked as if he wanted to crack a joke but decided not to, "It is a confidential mission, so I hope you will not speak of this to anyone."


    I nodded, and after waiting for a few heartbeats, the Duke dismissed me and, saluting again, backed out.


    Maybe I had done too much, for as soon as I exited the tent, I heard laughter from inside, but it wasn''t a mean laugh, so I felt that I had raised no red flags.


    Heading back to the tent I shared with my comrades, I felt that I would have much more legroom now that one of the squad had departed. Both Jack and Peter were a little teary-eyed at the empty space that now permeated the small tent.


    I blinked at them and walked out; I didn''t go too far from the tent this time because of my impatience to try out the new strength I had gained from the two level-ups.


    Smashing my fist into a tree, my hand went straight through, even without using wind or hardening magic.


    I felt eyes burrow into the back of my head and, pretending to be tired, sat down under the tree. To my relief, it was only my two squad mates who were even more teary-eyed than before and looked at me with sadness.


    I slightly felt that I had been misunderstood.


    I was right, for out of earshot to me. Jack was saying, "I thought Nathan''s death didn''t affect Raidriar at all; I even thought him a bit cruel¡­


    But look how soft the poor boy is.


    He is so angry he punched straight through a tree and is now crying sadly¡­" Peter answered with a sob, "We should give him some time, let''s go eat."


    Back to my mulling over how to get stronger, Jam materialized from the tree branch overhead and sat comfortably in my hair. I looked up into her pretty purple eyes and said, "Do you know how I can learn how to kick properly?"


    She waggled her butt and said, "That''s easy, I learned how to kick in my hometown! Here, I''ll show you one of the kicks we are notorious for."


    Hopping down from my head, she landed on my knee and kicked a chicken leg out with some force.


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    I blinked; it was a comical sight because she had no knees, and her legs waggled around like it was broken.


    ". . . that''s wonderful, but I don''t think that will help me much¡­"


    She cocked her head at me and shook it at me in disbelief, "after I did such a beautiful demonstration too! You really are untalented."


    I didn''t know whether to laugh or cry; what a proud bird.


    "Ca! I know. Learn through this," Jam hopped onto a nearby rock and, using her wind magic, started spinning dirt into a human''s shape.


    I was quite impressed by the precision and detail with which she could make the shape move. The figure leaned back and kicked.


    "This is the push kick. This one is the side-kick, and this is the roundhouse kick; she explained the different methods and how each was accomplished.


    All I needed to do was imitate the tiny whirlwind of dirt, and she would correct my form as she had seen others do. After a couple of hours, the system rang.


    [Ding! Learn basic kicking forms yes/no]


    Happily, I accepted and felt my understanding of the ins and outs of kicking click in my brain. I had to use my hips to swing, not just my leg. The amount of power difference the right stance made was enormous.


    First, bringing my knee up and then snapping it into a kick was a lot better than trying to do the kick in one motion.


    Breaking it up into two actions made perfecting each kick better because I would always be holding myself in the proper stance.


    Jam then started to drop acorns and other rocks she found on the ground from up high, and I would practice kicking them.


    At first, my timing was a bit faulty, and I missed a lot, but after a couple of hours, I sweat-drenched my shirt, making it stick to my skin; the breezeless did not help in the matter as all was still.


    I thought for a moment, and focusing on my wind magic, I created a soft pillar of air that tried my sweat and blew my clothes dry. It seems that I can upgrade my magic, so using it a lot would be helpful to use it a lot.


    However, I could only use both of my magic skills for around an hour before I would black out.


    I needed to use it sparingly.


    The next morning, just as the light was coming over the tops of the billowing trees, my team and I were taken up with four other teams and headed into the forest.


    On the way, we were told that this was a special test to prove our squads worthy of a promotion.


    Our squad was the only one out of the new recruits.


    All the rest were from more experienced and battle-hardened teams. The glares of the other teams made my team wary. It seemed like this was a rivalry and a show of skill more than anything.


    I wondered why the Duke specifically took my team. Was my performance really as good as that of experienced veterans?


    On the way to our destination, we were told that this was an expedition to find a leaf called Elysium. It was a herb that could grant longevity and had healing properties as well. It was a vibrant green plant adorned with small, delicate white flowers.


    The pure qualities of the herb were contrasted by the place it grew. These plants were only found in monster territories'' darkest and vilest places.


    Maudit Mountain was a place where it was known to grow, and with the recent outbreak of monsters, it was almost a hundred percent certain that it could be found on its dark cliffs.


    Deeper and deeper, we traversed through the silent trees; no bush stirred or bird sang. Suddenly, from a cluster of oaks, Starvire''s attacked, with outstretched angry claws, they attempted to nab the closest man. Before they even got to our team, the monsters were quickly dealt with.


    The power of skillful soldiers was a sight to behold. Again, I questioned the Duke''s decision for us to go.


    Hours passed as our party trekked through the forest, dealing with an abundance of creatures along the way.


    Finally, I saw our goal. Atop a sheer black cliff stood a cluster of Elysiums.


    They were not difficult to spot because of their white light against the darkness around them. It was a high cliff; even if I stacked myself eight times, I still wouldn''t reach the top.


    Wondering what would happen now, I noticed that all eyes had turned to our squad. The leader of the party called out, saying, "We did all the work so far; now it''s your turn."


    They were throwing the most arduous job on us.


    I knew for one that Jack would have a great amount of trouble scaling a cliff of that height and sheerness.


    So, I nodded to both of my teammates and started to climb alone. It wasn''t all that difficult; my strength from leveling up made my body control pretty good.


    My feet found even the smallest of crevices and dug into the rock as I pulled myself higher and higher.


    After what felt like forever, I grasped the crust of the cliff and did a muscle up to safety. Breathing a sigh of relief, I swiped off the perspiration that had started to drip off my face.


    What I had not noticed before was thousands of mushrooms surrounding the shining flowers. They started to tremble and shake.


    Before I could grab hold of the flowers, large mushrooms shot up around them and blocked my hands. I watched, shocked, as the mushrooms began to tangle together and grow bigger and bigger at an alarming speed.


    A few seconds after I reached the top, a giant mushroom with large wood-like arms and legs stood before me. There was no place to fit for the tiny ledge that the flowers grew on, which was only a few feet wide.


    It had a stable footing as its roots were grounded on the side of the cliff, and we stood staring at each other. I blinked and edged my hand closer again, reaching for the flowers.


    Only then did it give a loud shriek and reached out a hand to stop me, but I drew back, and it stopped in mid-air and went back to guarding the flower.


    I felt like I was seeing a mother hen protecting her young, only when harm came to her nest did she attack.


    At that moment, I heard a whistling sound behind my head and ducked.


    A flaming arrow swiveled past me and landed in the soft meat of the mushroom, causing a terrible sound to fly from the giant mushroom.


    Fire-red and hot, it began eating at the very flammable fibers of the mushroom.


    It swayed as the mushrooms around me began to spasm and grow bigger and smaller.


    Then the fire reached the roots, and the mushroom, unable to help itself, hurtled down to the earth. As it fell, as if in slow motion, my eyes connected with its own beady ones, and it seemed to hold a great amount of sadness.


    For something so big, it sure went down easy.


    Or so I thought.

 Chapter 12: Mushrooms

    Looking down at my hands, I saw colorful mushrooms begin growing from my arms, any place that had come into contact with them, and it started to grow from there. Hanging from the cliff, I tried to tear them off, but my skin came with them.


    More and more mushrooms started to sprout, making their way to my shoulders.


    I tried slicing them off with my dagger but to no avail. I felt panic consuming my mind as they crawled closer to my brain. Maybe magic?


    I used hardening magic on every part of my body. My body became numb and hard like steel; the mushrooms stopped their rapid growth, and I felt their path blocked off, their roots no longer digging deep into my flesh. I¡¯m not sure what happened, but it worked.


    Through the cage of mushrooms, I saw the glint of the flowers, and with a quick snatch, I pulled the Elysiums from the ground and, tucking them in my shirt, started my descent. Smashing my fingers into the rock with both hardening and wind magic, I created my own handholds and, within a minute, made it to the bottom. As soon as my feet hit the hard earth floor, I saw dozens of mushrooms rooted to the ground.


    Four out of five teams had mushrooms growing from their eye sockets, mouths, and ears. Their skin is a canvas for the different colored mushrooms.


    Blood trickled slowly from their budding heads, silent as the forest. My eyes then quickly searched for my teammates, and I saw their familiar silhouettes under a tapestry of mushrooms lying flat and still. I whispered, ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Hand over the Elysiums,¡± a rough voice shattered the growing silence. I looked up to see the only squad left standing over me. ¡°Corpses don¡¯t need no healing flowers,¡± the four soldiers laughed to themselves. I tilted my head, what was happening?


    [New Quest: Kill the traitors +4 levels]


    A younger soldier stepped out, grabbed me by the collar, and said, ¡°Baby boy doesn¡¯t understand; it means you were just our bait this whole time.¡± Another soldier said nervously, ¡°We should stop talking, and just go.¡±


    ¡°HEY, I am in charge here; don¡¯t talk back,¡± the first soldier growled, then he glanced down at the mushrooms that grew from my arms. Probably confirming my imminent death, he started looking through my pockets for the flowers.


    My mind was all confuddled; mushrooms, blood, and my teammates all floated around in my head. But then rage brought back my clarity and took the head of the soldier rummaging through my clothes and smashed it with all my strength on my knee. The magic hardening was still active, and I felt the crunch of his skull as he fell limp at my feet.


    Before the other three could react, I was upon them. I threw a quick and powerful straight right hand into one¡¯s face; he fell backward, his face likened to a curved bowl. A roar of anger ripped through the other two, and they charged at me, swords brandished.


    Both of them swung in a horizontal strike to my head; I crouched low and shot forward, catching both of them where the sun didn¡¯t shine. Spinning around, I threw a roundhouse kick into the head of the bent-over man on my right, took the last soldier by the collar, and asked him, ¡°Why.¡±


    He sputtered, fear in his eyes, ¡°I-I was just following orders; it was all Killian¡¯s idea; he knew about the guardian of the Elysium and wanted to obtain both the flower and kill any opposing rivals so the Duke would favor only him. I o-only followed ¡®cause he was stronger than me.¡±


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    ¡°Where is he now? Why are you not affected by the mushrooms?¡± I asked. The soldier pointed shakily to the soldier who had first dug through my pockets. He was lying face down in the soil, blood pooled around his head. ¡°Oh,¡± I said, well then, that was taken care of.


    ¡°He had a special potion made that wards off this certain type of mushroom monster,¡± replied the soldier, then, with a pitiful voice, said, ¡°Could you please let me go?¡±


    My eye returned to his and pushed him to the ground. Scrambling back, he started to thank me but then froze. For I had picked up his sword and, with a horizontal swing lopped his head clean off.


    [Ding dong Quest complete +4 levels]


    I leaped back from the fountain of blood that sprayed from his neck, then finding a nice clean place, I started to dig. I dug two shallow graves, and lying the bodies of my two companions, I pulled out the mushrooms on their faces and closed what little eyelids they had left.


    My memories replayed in my head, the passion for life they once had, the people they had left¡­ They had become almost close to me.


    I felt something tug at my heart, but I willed it away. Pushing loose dirt over them, though I wasn¡¯t the religious type, I had once been to a funeral, so I said a short prayer for their souls. Hoping wherever they went, they would be shown mercy.


    Then, turning my gaze to the other soldiers, I started to rummage through their clothes, I found a good amount of gold and silver pieces, a few bottles of some purple liquid, and some food. I opened my status


    [Host: Human]


    [Level: 16]


    [Skills: amateur body hardening magic, amateur wind magic, amateur kickboxing]


    My skills had upgraded to amateur kickboxing, and my level had increased significantly. Turning to a tree, I used 50% of my power and broke it in half. Now the dilemma, what was I to do?


    My ears pricked up, and the sound of wings blew into my head. Jam landed on my head, and she cooed satisfactorily. ¡°Just say they were all ambushed by the guardian of the flowers; since you¡¯re a young human, they won¡¯t suspect much.¡± She tilted her small head to the side and said, ¡°Do you have the shining plant?¡±


    I nodded and pulled the flowers from my inner pocket.


    ¡°Those are really valuable. You should save them for when you are seriously injured. But you should present at least one stalk to the Duke so he won¡¯t be suspicious.¡±


    I patted the bird¡¯s smooth black feathers, what a smart little thing. Then, I began the journey back to camp. In the beginning, I dreaded the multitudes of Starvire¡¯s, but the first one I met was just too easy to pop like a balloon.


    I would sprint at it and either do a flying kick or a flying punch. POP, I found that using just 60% of my full power could kill the monster easily. I didn¡¯t know it at the time, but as I raced through the forest, hands bloody from the heads of incoming monsters, a huge smile was slathered across my face.


    It was at that time that I noticed I could gain levels by just killing, I didn¡¯t need to wait for a quest window. If I killed ten Starvire¡¯s, I would gain one level, by the time I finally got to the bottom of the mountain, I had successfully beaten 20 of them and leveled up twice.


    But I could feel that the pace was slowing down I would need higher-level creatures soon. The camp was in view, but before I stepped foot inside, Jam, with a passion for drama, told me of a plan that would cast away any suspicion on me.


    The Duke¡¯s eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at the map stretched out before him. An enemy country wanted to take the neutral land that had long been peaceful and a trade hotspot, but his kingdom was not strong enough to wage war alone; he might need to call on the aid of the neighboring kingdom¡­


    His thoughts turned to different matters, and he ran a hand through his hair. He wondered if sending the newbie squad on a dangerous mission was all that smart.


    They had done very well in their first battle, and he wanted to test their mettle a bit more. This wasn¡¯t a tough mission; most of the danger would be just on the way to the flower, and there were other veteran teams as well.


    Moreover, Killian had given his word to take care of the green soldiers, so he thought that things wouldn¡¯t go too badly. Although Killian wasn¡¯t a fairly strong man, he had a keen mind, and his battle tactics were good. After all, how difficult would gathering a flower be?


    Loud voices outside his tent caught the Duke¡¯s attention, and, with long strides, he stepped into the night air. Raidriar, the young boy sent on the mission, was limping towards him with blood, soaking his beige uniform, out of breath, and shaking terribly.


    His emerald green eyes were unfocused, and he uttered the words, ¡°All dead---too strong¡­¡±


    Before collapsing at the Duke¡¯s feet, holding a single white flower that glowed softly in the dim light of the torches.

 Chapter 13: Earth

    Somewhere on earth¡­


    ¡°Just brake before you get to the cliff, and you¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    The engine thrummed under me, and I could feel the excitement mount in my stomach, rushing into my ears and drowning out any sound.


    My Harley Davidson V-rod glistened in the hot July sun, and not a drop of sweat marred my perfect skin.


    ¡°Three, two, one, action!¡± the director shouted through a bright yellow megaphone. I pulled back on the throttle, and the twin engines pumped 50¡ª80¡ª100¡ª130 mph.


    Cameras from every possible angle aimed at me as I descended the hill. The air flew past me, and I flew past the blurring brown soil. I could see the cliff now 100 ft¡ª90¡ª80.


    I slammed on the brakes at 70 ft, a huge grin staining my face. I was prepared for the hard stop and the feel of momentum trying to throw me forward as I slid to a stop.


    But nothing; the only thing that slid to a stop was my smile as my fingers pressed on the brakes, yet I only felt a limp and free hand brake; nothing stopped me.


    I jammed my foot on the brake pedal, but the same disastrous feeling left my mind in terror. The wind whistled in my ears, and within seconds, my beautiful motorcycle carried me off the thousand-foot drop of the craggy cliff face.


    For one long moment in time, I was flying, free as a bird. Then I plummeted to the earth, gravity pulling me down with frantic fingers. I heard screams as I fell into the treetops below, and everything went white.


    Gasping, I sat straight up. Hands clutching at the silken sheets by my bed. Wiping a hand across my face, I threw off the accumulated sweat.


    ¡°Whew, what a bad dream! I¡¯ll make sure today¡¯s shoot doesn¡¯t go like that nightmare I just had. Then I noticed something, ¡°I never sweat!¡± Staring at my hand, I saw remnants of perspiration on my palm.


    Then, glancing around the room, I saw a giant head of a bear staring at me through empty eyes from the other side of the room. Hold on now, this isn¡¯t my room¡­ Scrambling off the bed, I rushed to the mirror near the nightstand.


    As soon as I saw the face in the mirror, I stood stalk still, gaping. Cold golden eyes stared back at me.


    They were sharp and resembled that of a phoenix, my jawline sharp, with a high and elegant nose fitting a most handsome picture.


    The shiny hair on my head was a deep crimson mess from last night¡¯s sleep and hung long down my back. Touching the mirror, I gasped, my beauty is truly unmatched.


    No matter how much I saw myself, it would never be enough, but the odd thing was that I thought my facial features did not change; my hair and eyes were bizarre colors.


    I, Ludex Lenoir, was the most successful actor in the 21st century. Was I lucid dreaming about one of the characters I had played?


    Then it hit me: I was that well-to-do aristocrat type with an uncommon color palette. It was a medieval TV show I had played in a while back.


    I was the general of the Crown Prince¡¯s army; it was a fantasy world-type movie and had garnered much attention from the media.


    I swiftly turned around and, narrowing my eyes into slits, lifted my chin and glowered at the person dressed as a medieval butler that had invaded my personal space. He trembled and bowed low an elegant 90 degrees.


    ¡°I apologize for waking you, general; however, an emergency council is being held, and the enemy has invaded further into neutral territory.¡±


    With a wave of my hand, I dismissed the concern and said, ¡°Wait outside.¡± I was lucid dreaming; it makes sense, though; this was my favorite character out of every role I¡¯ve played.


    Pulling on my high-quality suit, I felt like my limbs were made of wood, and every muscle was sore. Pushing the heavily decorated door open, I stepped into the hallway, and a beautiful plush red carpet stretched down the long corridor.


    The servant stepped to the side and bowed again, leading me through the twisting hallways. I crossed my arms in a stretch my body felt so real that I accidentally said out loud, ¡°I am so sore.¡±


    The man whipped his head around and bowed again, ¡°I apologize, My Lord. next time, I will ensure the soldiers work harder.¡± I arched a brow; man, this dream has good acting.


    As expected from a dream created by me. I¡¯ll try to be the best evil general that my character demands. Finally, I was shown to a room filled with people I recognized.


    First off, the Crown Prince, with hair that looked like it was made from lemons, and eyes blue, likened to a puddle.


    Much inferior to my immaculate features, I laughed to myself.


    In actuality, the Crown prince was praised as the sun and the most handsome man in the kingdom, but Ludex¡¯s narcissism was on par with the Greek demigod Narcissus.


    The Prince sat at the head of the table, arms folded.


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    I strode to the table and sat in the only empty chair. The conversation began immediately. ¡°The enemies have waged war on the neutral land of Vin. How should we send our troops?¡±


    The Crown Prince answered, ¡°Taking the Southern Valley would be the quickest way to get to the Vinland.¡±


    This was not a scene I had acted out before, but as the evil general, I should make things interesting. I spoke, my words cold and sudden, making a baron flinch.


    ¡°Your majesty, I believe that would be a fatal course of action. In all probability, this could be a trap. The troops should take the mountain pass.


    It may take longer, but it will be a safer option.¡± The other¡¯s mouths dropped; who would dare to go directly against the word of the Prince?


    I knew this part of the story because the troops had gone through that southern valley, and it had been a trap. They were ambushed, and from their high vantage point, the enemies had killed almost three-quarters of the backup sent to Vin.


    I cringed; at this time, the Crown Prince was na?ve and would not take to any criticism of his words. As I thought, the Prince¡¯s face turned scarlet, and he started to complain that no one respected him.


    Knowing the character of the Prince, I knew the council was going to get this temper tantrum for a good thirty minutes.


    I didn¡¯t want to waste this dream on yapping, so maybe apologizing would be the best way to continue to the next scene.


    Abruptly, I scooted my chair back, making a loud grating sound against the wooden floor. All eyes turned to me; steadily, I approached the Crown Prince; he stared at my advancing figure with a hint of fear in his eyes.


    From the corner of my eye, I saw movement but focused on the prince; just as suddenly as I stood up, I swiftly kneeled on one knee, ready to start a long apology.


    Then, out of nowhere, the movement I saw came towards my back and tripped over my sudden kneeling form.


    I felt something brush over my head mere inches from where my heart had once been. It spun, and the shadowy figure fell forward, trying to catch himself on the floor and, in a panic, skewered himself with his own blade.


    Standing up, I looked at the sudden situation; this was a terrible act; what was my dream thinking? Viewers would never be immersed in such a pathetic scene.


    Forgetting about my apology to the prince, I kicked the body and spit out, ¡°Do better next time.¡± Then, stalking to my chair, I sunk into it with agitation.


    From the bystander, this was a totally different display. Suddenly, during discussions, the general had shot from his chair and, with ease, dealt with an assassin hiding from the shadows.


    He even looked at the highly trained assassin who had somehow snuck into the room unnoticed like a fly so easily squashed that it took just a flick of the wrist.


    After the show of power, he was now sitting brooding with his hands folded, a cruel gleam in his golden eyes. They shuddered at this young general¡¯s power, infinitely glad that he was on their side.


    On the other hand, Ludex was having an epiphany. His toe was hurting a lot. A lot. That was not supposed to happen; this was a dream.


    Thinking through folded hands, his mind went back to his sore muscles that weren¡¯t supposed to exist in the dream world¡­ maybe¡­ he wasn¡¯t dreaming.


    The throbbing in his toe spread to his chest and mind; his whole body began quivering; what was happening?! Where was he? Did he actually die that day on his motorcycle?!


    The door burst open, and from behind, guards rushed in, swords drawn. Ludex¡¯s head twisted around at lightning speed; I was in trouble.


    They were here for me, I should have thought before insulting the Crown prince, my hands began visibly shaking as I stared at the guards.


    Entering the room, the guards came eye to eye with the evil general. Why had an assassin come on their watch? They were so dead. Looking at the burning eyes of the general and his hands shaking in hot rage they knew they were done for.


    The only way to make things better, they thought, was to¡­ they rushed to the assassin and, grabbing the corpse, quickly dragged it from the room and out of his fiery gaze.


    Phewww, Ludex collapsed into a relaxed position on the back of his chair so the guards weren¡¯t there to arrest him. He had somehow been transported into his movie transcript and was the actual evil general from the movie.


    But it looks like he could live to see another day. Now he had to gather details, what part of the movie he had been transmigrated to. Looking up from his position, he glanced around the table. It had all descended into silence.


    The group gave a collective sigh of relief. The general didn¡¯t look so angered anymore. He had been shaking with wrath at the incompetence of the guards for letting an assassin almost kill their Crown Prince.


    But the discussion resumed when he had leaned back like a relaxed tiger, eyeing everyone, ready to pounce on any show of weakness.


    Sputtering into conversations, they all decided simultaneously to go through the mountain pass.


    Alone in his room Ludex stared mournfully out the window at the moon. From the height of fame as an actor to a famous general of war. How was he supposed to live?


    He had left so much behind¡­ I was starting up a business that sold portraits of myself¡­ my dream had not yet been accomplished¡­ to have my face on every billboard and street corner.


    A gift to the world, a light for the people in their darkest and deepest struggles. Even now, as he closed his eyes, his heart ached for home.


    Right above his bed, a present from his most precious person (himself), a 20x20 painting of a close-up of Ludex Lenoir, the most handsome man in the world.


    Anyhow, what was the script about? The Crown Prince of a country goes from a na?ve and ignorant ruler to a strong and wise King.


    On the way, he would find love with the neighboring princess, and they would uncover the horrible deeds of her father. The evil general was evil because he wanted war with the neighboring kingdom, not peace.


    He was power-hungry, and nothing could stop his thirst for power. In the end, the Crown Prince hung him from the castle walls for days, birds would pick out his eyes, and finally, finding the brain would end the general¡¯s life.


    Looking down at my hands, they were calloused and hard. The current me had no memories of war and the tactics of it, but I did know how I acted; since I was now in the script, I could just follow what I wanted and win every battle. . .


    AHAHA, not only am I devilishly handsome, but I am insanely intelligent as well.


    Thinking back to the character I remembered that the evil general was a genius swordsman and won almost every battle he fought in. I was disappointed because the evil general had no magic, it would make life a lot easier.


    Magic was scarce in the world, only those of royal blood could call upon its strength. But just in case, I put out my hands and, in dragon ball style, tried to summon anything: blood magic, dark magic, fireball?


    Nothing happened, the silence of the room mocking me.


    I sighed, maybe my body remembers how to use the sword? I had done a few sword fights during the movie, but fake fights and real war were totally different things. Grabbing the sword that stood next to my bed, I unsheathed it.


    The blade was smooth and glistened in the moonlight. In a few swift movements, I slashed around. The muscle memory in my body was strong, and it felt like an extension of my soul.


    However, I felt that knowing how to swing a sword and use it in battle with precision and timing would be difficult for my amateur brain.


    Yet, this was not a big problem, for my greatness had little trouble in learning new tricks.

 Chapter 14: Growth

    The Duke was greatly perplexed by the sight of the young boy crumbling in a heap at his feet. He felt a pang of guilt for the lad and, stooping over, picked him up amidst the protest of his knights.


    He walked several tents over to the tent of the healer. There was one in each powerful family, and he was one of the strongest.


    Walking in, he gently placed the boy on a makeshift bed and ordered the healer to work his magic. Then, tucking the single white flower into his coat, he walked swiftly out.


    After hours dragged by, the healer, exhausted, sank to the floor, and the boy''s eyes fluttered open.


    My eyes opened, and I focused on the white cloth of the tent above me. Had it worked? No, not yet. The wounds I had inflicted on myself were healed, just as Jam had thought. The only witness to dozens of deaths would be revived at all costs.


    As I was thinking, a knight walked in, armor clinking like bells. "Tell me what happened," the rough voice of the man shot out.


    Taking a deep breath, I started my performance. In a quivering voice, I told him about the long and arduous trek through the forest, how Killian had been nice, and given me a potion that wards away monsters.


    But when we came to the flowers, I had only gotten one when a huge monster covered in scales had come from no-where and killed everyone.


    Just before dying, Killian had braved the monster''s anger and shouted for me to run back to camp with the flower. That was all I knew, with the ferocity of the creature, I doubted anyone had survived. Glancing up at the knight, I burst into tears, sobbing at the deaths of my long-time comrades.


    He looked a little disgruntled and, after my story was told, quickly walked out.


    [Duke''s Quest complete +1 Level]


    My face morphed from a sobbing mess to a blank, emotionless one after the tent flap closed. Working up emotions was a taxing play.


    Looking around, there was no one in the tent, so swinging my legs to the side, I walked from the healer''s tent to my own. The air was different; everything was off, and no laughter from my squad made the silence break.


    I thought I had lost all feelings a long time ago¡­ It really was true that you only missed something the moment it was gone forever.


    I spotted Jam roosting on my clothes. Walking closer, I dropped to the floor and curled up in a ball next to her; listening to the slow breathing of the bird made the pressure on my heart lessen.


    After the wave of emotion passed, I felt a burning in my chest. The thoughts wrapped and writhed in my mind. Why, Why, Why, WHY did they die? Just so that Killian guy could look better? Was human life that invaluable?


    My hands shook, and rage began to build, gnashing into my bones, screaming for me to do something, anything. Streaking like a blur from my tent, I slunk quietly into the forest, out of sight of guards on watch.


    As soon as I stepped foot on the mountain, a blaze of noise accosted my ears; crackles, movement, and steps were everywhere. Heart pounding, I ran deeper into the forest where the whispers of the nightlife were at its peak.


    In the middle of a clearing was a group of seven Starvire''s their teeth drenched with blood as they feasted on the flesh of soldiers. Bloody meat still hung from their jaws as their bony necks twisted towards me.


    "Perfect," I murmured. Before they could react, I was on them, ripping and tearing the same way they did to the corpses lying in scraps across the blood-soaked earth. All my pent-up anger and frustration flowed through my hands, easing the pain in my heart.


    The rush of rage had gathered me up in its embrace, so much so that I had failed to notice a shadow following me, crouching from trees, eyes wide and horrified.


    The hooded figure stared, the scene before him was nothing like he had ever seen before. A slender young boy who seemed the epitome of innocence and weakness was moving so fluidly that it seemed he was dancing.


    The moonlight shone through the dark trees, illuminating the dancer. On his lips was a smile that did not fit the face; it was wide and beautiful. Eyes glittered with passion as the delicate white hands peeled a Starvire in half so easily as if it were an orange.


    Black blood flew like fireflies around him, and the shrieking of the creatures gave a harmony that perfected the grotesque scene. Shuddering, the figure in black melted back into the shadows.


    After there were no more monsters to release my wrath upon, I calmed down somewhat and headed deeper into the woods, my knuckles dripping with black blood.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    By the time morning had broken the night, I was level 20. I had killed so many Starvires that I could barely drag myself to my tent after rinsing all the black blood from my shredded clothes.


    Suddenly, I awoke to the sound of the loud dinner bell; it had been so long since my last meal.


    Although my level 20 body could now withstand going without food for days, my mind would very much like to feel the tear of bread in my teeth or the warm feeling of soup settling in my stomach.


    Walking resolutely with images of food swarming my brain, I made it to the makeshift canteen near the eastern corner of the camp. It seems there was a little celebratory feast for the killing of the monsters swarming in the mountain.


    Each soldier was allowed double rations. It may also be because the food of the soldiers who died was given to those still living. Looking up from my empty wooden bowl, the faces of those around me were haggard and sad; the battle had taken a lot out of new and old soldiers alike.


    Then, the Duke''s platoon commander shouted that we would rest for one more night and leave in the morning. Swiping some more bread on the way out, I hurried back to my tent. I had left Jam all night, and she would be more than a little mad at me¡­


    Readying the stolen bread in my hands, I was about to shove it into her little face, but my tent was empty. My eyes wavered frantically, looking back and forth, but the small black bird was nowhere in sight. She never. Ever. Left during dinner time.


    Worry filled my thoughts, so much so that I failed to notice a hand come down on my shoulder. Spinning around, I saw a fellow soldier. We were not close, but our squads knew each other from our basic training together. But I had no time to talk or even to think, for I felt a strange tug in my heart. It was like an emergency signal in my head that pointed towards the forest. I sprinted toward the woods; I had never felt this level of panic before.


    The faster and farther I went, the harder it was to see through the tangle of bush and tree. Finally, I saw the black feathers of my bird she was desperately fighting against a net with a group of raggedy-looking men.


    It was close to the base of Maudit Mountain, so maybe poachers? But not just any, they must have a strong net because Jam was not an ordinary bird.


    They must have thought she was a weak monster and could sell her at a high price to nobles who liked the oddity of monsters. There were five of them, all shouting and pointing, trying to whop my bird on the head.


    Running onto the scene, I picked up a few rocks from the ground and, getting into a pitcher stance, threw the rock like a baseball.


    It flew straight and true, thunking into the head of the thief who held the net. His body jolted as the rock hit him and passed right through his putty-like skull. Stunned, the rest of the men turned to me and, seeing only one person, brought out their swords and charged.


    It was like they approached in slow motion, their movements so uncoordinated and clumsy. Getting a running start, I sent a flying kick into the chest of the first man to reach me, then used him as a boosting pad and did a flip into a spinning axe kick, sharply bringing my heel into the side of another man''s neck.


    I could hear bones crunching along with the agonized screaming of the filthy pig. Landing daintily on the wretch, I gently pushed aside the rusty blade that fell from the fourth man in a vertical strike.


    The sword buried itself in the ground, and quick as lightning, I grabbed his throat and pulled out a meaty chunk.


    Crimson blood spewed from the jagged hole, and the man''s eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth a pool of red. His body swayed and fell heavily to the dirt floor. The final man started running into the woods, fear making his legs wobbly.


    Before I could react, a blur of black sped through the wind and, with Jam''s signature eyeball attack, gouged out the fleeing man''s eyes.


    He fell to the ground, fumbling and screaming. Blood seeped onto the brown earth, staining it a course darker brown. Sprinting towards the disoriented Jam, I caught her as she fell from her triumphant pose and into my arms.


    A crudely made arrow was lodged in her body, the adrenaline gone, and her breathing became shallower and shallower. I carefully eased the arrow out and, tearing my sleeve off, wrapped her body in it; crimson blossomed on the beige fabric.


    Hot tears began to fall from my eyes, tears of pure sadness, ones I thought had long since shriveled up.


    If only I had the power to heal¡­ Oh! Ever since I found that glowy herb, I have always put it in a pocket in case I am fatally wounded. Grabbing the plant, I didn''t know what to do, so I crushed it as best I could, gently pried open Jam''s beak, and sprinkled the powder in. It seemed like years before the little bird''s breath began to get stronger, and my body, which I didn''t know was so taught, relaxed in relief.


    "What happened here?!" The voice of the soldier who had clapped a hand on my shoulder shouted over the tangle of trees.


    I had placed Jam in the safety of the trees when treating her wounds, away from the blood and stench of death.


    So, walking back into the clearing away from my injured friend, I turned to the voice; I was unsure what to say or do. Kill him? Run? Act like nothing happened¡­?


    The decision was made for me.


    "Whoa! That''s so awesome, man. You got all those slave catchers!"


    So¡­ I was fine.


    He coughed and scratched his untidy beard, his face a perfect calm, like the corpses on the ground. He patted me on the back and said, "If you take in their heads, the Duke will give you the price they are wanted for; I saw back in town that they have been wrecking towns just like the monsters. But like in different ways. If ya know what I mean¡­"


    He seemed a little too unfazed by the bloody scene, but then again, it was a dog-eat-dog world here, not an organized society. The color returned to his face as he began talking again, "Why don''t I cut off the heads, do the dirty work, and you just say I helped you a little¡­ Then we can split the rewards."


    I didn''t care all that much, so I nodded and followed up with, "Get it done fast and head back first."


    It was like the man had worked all his life for this moment.


    He took out his sword and lopped off the heads cleanly. With a few knots, he tied all of them together in a matter of minutes and was on his merry way back to camp. I even heard him whistling a tune as he walked, swinging his head like it was a basket of flowers for his wife.


    As I watched the last bit of the man leave, I hurried over to Jam. To my horror, she was shaking and spasming in the patch of leaves I had placed her in.


    I dropped to my knees and cradled her in my hands.


    Then I noticed something strange.

 Chapter 15: Time

    Was Jam usually this big? She used to be the size of a normal-sized raven, but right now, she was as big as a cat. Her feathers brushed my arms, and then I had to put her on the ground because she got bigger than a golden retriever. She only stopped growing when she was as large as a horse; her soft feathers shimmered in the sun, and the shaking of her body ceased. She was so incredibly¡­ Cuddly¡­ The perfect size for a feather-down bed.


    Almost immediately, her beady little eyes snapped open, sparkling with triumph. She sprung up and hopped about, admiring herself. ¡°I did it! I got stronger!¡±


    Confusedly, I stared at her, the creatures in this world were truly magical.


    She looked at my expression and, as if reading my mind, said, ¡°In my clan, we get bigger with each life-or-death experience we go through.¡±


    ¡­That is so random.


    ¡°That¡¯s why no one came to rescue you when you got kidnap-bird napped by the marquis?¡±


    Jam nodded vehemently, ¡°Bingo! But I can also switch between sizes so I can do sneaky stuff better.¡±


    I didn¡¯t remember ever reading about that kind of magical creature in the novel. It was too much thinking for one day. Jam returned to her normal size, and we talked all the way back to the camp.


    As soon as I arrived back, I was met with stares, but not the ones I usually accustomed to; it was not pity, revulsion, or hatred, but admiration. An errand boy awaited me and brought me directly to the platoon commander. He was tall and had coarse brown hair; his chin had a field of unshaven stubble; he seemed tired and in need of a hot bath.


    He looked up from his desk as I walked into his tent; I could feel his eyes on me, sizing me up. I saluted, and then, without a word, he placed a heavy bag of clinking coins onto the table and pushed them towards me. I held my breath as I walked out.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    It was that easy. I could murder as long as people wanted them dead. Wait, I could just kill as long as I wanted them dead. My train of thought took a hard right as I walked.


    On my way back to my tent, so many people talked to me; jokes flew about me paying for everyone¡¯s beer and the like.


    I hid the money on my person; it was 15 silver coins. Enough for a family to live on for a few weeks. Because we would be leaving tomorrow morning, I took all my dirty clothes to the river, far away from where the others usually washed theirs.


    I decided to take a bath while doing my laundry. However, as I bent over the cool flowing river, the reflection that looked back at me made me mad. In my haste to get strong and survive daily, I had pushed back my anger for the Marquis.


    Staring at the curly black head of hair and the piercing green eyes reminded me that as long as that noble lived, I would be his little chained-up dog, with one order made to live or to die. But now¡­ Now, I was much stronger than a stray mutt.


    A smile curved across the unfamiliar face that stared at me through the rippling water. Plans changed.


    I would just kill the Marquis instead of faking my death. I splashed away my reflection with my first load of laundry.


    I mapped out my course of action for the night. It would be a long one. I had done some flying tests with Jam, and she was wonderful at transportation. She could easily fly thirty miles in a matter of minutes with a grown adult on her back as well. It was a plus that she was also a lot more comfortable than a carriage, and her feathers were smooth and soft. If we flew for about three hours straight, I would have been able to arrive at the Marquis¡¯ estate.


    It was perfect because no one would have an inkling that it was me. Strapping the necessities of the journey to my body, my knife, some healing supplies, and treats for Jam. In the din of soldiers packing up for the next morning''s leave, no one would be the wiser at my absence. I blended with the shadows around the camp and snuck into the forest''s darkness.


    After checking if I had everything, I climbed atop Jam, and we were off. In all of my plans, I did not account for how much I would enjoy flying. It was like all attachments to reality disappeared, and it was just Jam and me; there was no need to think or even breathe. Then, my mind began the run-through of defeating the Marquis. In all my eavesdropping in the inner corridors of his estate, I had learned that he himself was not a great swordsman, but he had a lot of magical artifacts. Coupled with his ever-present bodyguards, it was quite difficult to even be in his presence with a weapon.

 Chapter 16: Reality

    Okay, maybe fighting was a lot different than what I thought. Before traversing through the mountain pass, there was a small territorial dispute that went from a rude remark to full-blown announcements of war against one another. These nobles really had nothing to do, did they? Well, it¡¯s not like I cared; I could warm up my evil general character and get used to battle plans.


    However, the battle was nothing I ever imagined. Blood splashed against metal armor, and the cries of horses and men nearly burst my tender ears.  The shrieks of the dead and the dying mingled with the war cries of those charging to meet their maker.


    It was mayhem; the only organized and foreseeable thing was death. It was just lines of men marching at each other, it was senseless.


    Why did these young men die for the petty squabbles of those born a little higher in rank than them? I felt vomit threaten to spew out everywhere, but I clamped a hand over my mouth and hung back from the front lines. My hands shook, and adrenaline pumped through me; my heart beat faster than I ever thought it could.


    A spear was thrust in my direction; I tilted my head to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly skewer, and with a hurl of my own, threw my own spear back into the face of the armor-clad soldier. Time slowed; I could feel every breath of wind and the stomp of the horse hooves beneath me.


    My spear flew with power straight into the head of the enemy soldier. All my images of glorious war and honor shattered. I had taken a life.


    Blood spewed from the man¡¯s broken face as he fell from his horse. The sickening thud of his body made me flinch. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, so, so, sorry,¡± I whisper these words like a broken record. My vision swam, but I bit my tongue to regain my clarity with a snap. It was a one-sided slaughter, a Viscount who was known for his military prowess and an Earl known for its merchants.


    I had volunteered to try and help solve the bad blood between the two estates but, in the end, could only watch helplessly as those in power used the deaths of hundreds as pawns to satiate their hatred for the other.


    Hours later, I sat by the fire, but still, the battle raged in my head. Even though it had been long since the fight had ended, in my mind''s eye, I could still see the carnage and hear the shrieks of those long-dead.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    I stared into my hands. I had scrubbed them almost raw to try to ¡°clean¡± them. But the blood of the man I had killed seemed to darken my hands every time I tried to rip it off.


    An old man came and sat down next to me. He had a scruffy white beard, and his clothes were in tatters. One of his legs was gone, and he plunked a heavy, awkward-looking lump of crutches beside him. Most likely, a veteran soldier unfit for war but still useful for small tasks.


    ¡°What did you think of the battle son?¡± The old mans voice was cracking and gritty like sandpaper.


    ¡°It¡¯s terrible. I murdered a man.¡± The only words that I could muster were these.  These thoughts had been replaying and spinning around in my head, and finally found freedom in the soft breath of the night air.


    My eyes then snapped up, no one should know I was not the general. But then my eyes found his and they were a blur of white, empty and unseeing. I felt relief wash over me.


    ¡°Do you know what murder is?¡± The old man said quietly.


    ¡°When you end a person¡¯s life.¡± I reply.


    ¡°No, murder is when you take an innocent life. But that is not what a soldier does. He kills.¡±


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the difference?¡± I ask.


    The old man turned to me and his unfocused look felt like he was piercing through my soul,


    ¡°Killing is what a soldier must do. Killing is called for to defend a country, defend a family, and a home. Murder is when you kill for no reason. Maybe there will come an age when death will not be the cost of peace, but it is not this age. War is what it is, and if you can prevent senseless death then you have learned from the many graves of those who fought before you.¡±


    After the old man¡¯s words, we sat together in the silence of the night, with only the sounds of the fire crackling. I was in a position of power where I could stop senseless killing. But anyway why was this old man yammering at me? I didn¡¯t ask for no lecture! I sighed to myself. This world, is not my world, but it doesn''t mean that these people are any less of a human than I am.


    Before this fight I felt like all this was a game, this evil general a character to play. But I was brought low before the face of the mangled corpses that littered the field. They died so easily, so simply, and for what? A feudal war? A battle that they themselves had nothing to do with. A childish quarrel between nobles led to the death of thousands of men. Now I can understand why the common people hate nobles so much.


    ¡­


    Later that night I was at my desk looking through the battle plans for the upcoming war in Vin. Taking the mountain pass would indefinitely be longer. However, the troops would first meet up with a different group, the troops led by the Duke of the North. His men would know how to traverse through the mountain.

 Chapter 17: Plan in Action

    I mapped out my course of action for the night. It would be a long one. I had done some flying tests with Jam; she was wonderful at transportation. She could easily fly thirty miles in a matter of minutes with a grown adult on her back.


    It was a plus that she was much more comfortable than a carriage, and her feathers were smooth and soft. If we had flown for about three hours straight, I would have been able to arrive at the Marquis'' estate. It was perfect because no one would have an inkling that it was me.


    Strapping the necessities of the journey to my body, my knife, some healing supplies, and treats for Jam. In the din of soldiers packing up for the next morning''s leave, no one would be the wiser at my absence.


    One thing that was in my favor was how predictable the Marquis was. The night I had leveled up to 20, my awareness had grown in leaps and bounds. Through the scratchy tree branches, I had felt eyes staring. I had been so mad I did not care at that point and had just run wild.


    However, I would use this little snitch to my advantage. Usually, I felt the eyes watching me during my free time when I would be "up to something." What that something was, I had no idea.


    I don''t know what the Marquis expected me to do other than die. It was perfect because it was nearing the sleeping hour right now, and as soon as I stepped out of my tent, I could feel that prickling down my spine.


    It was so uncomfortable being watched. I slid quietly into the forest, taking all the gear I needed for the night. I traversed deep into the foliage when I was sure I was being followed. Breaking through the brush, I found myself in the perfect clearing.


    The grass gently swayed in the cool night air, and the moon had just peaked over the dark trees, casting pale light over the opening. The snitch was at level 15 at least, but because of my heightened stealth abilities, my hearing had gotten a lot better. He was like a blundering bear in the quiet of the forest; I deftly swung into a tree near where he would arrive.


    I held my breath for 30 seconds, then 60. This guy was so slow... Finally, I saw shadows moving, and a cloaked figure jumped right onto the branch below me. His head swiveled around, searching in the darkness for any trace of me.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Well, he would find me alright. I silently grabbed the branch I was standing on and swung down, my feet meeting with the back of the figure, sending him flying into the spotlight the moon had created. Quickly, I pounced on him before he was able to stand and placed my dagger to his throat. I hissed out, "Answer yes or no to my questions. Understand?"


    The man squeaked, "Yes."


    "Did the Marquis send you?"


    Silence ensued.


    I grabbed a fist full of the man''s scruffy hair and pulled his throat back almost to a breaking point. He started coughing and screaming as the pain ripped through his neck.


    "Yes, cough* yes! he sen-cough* me."


    Annoyed at his pleading tone, I shoved his head into the ground, letting him know how it felt to swing both ways. Perfect, I took a small round rock off the floor behind me and shoved it into his mouth.


    "Swallow this, please." I held a hand over his scraggly beard until he swallowed with a whimper. "Now, this is an exploding pill I got from the Duke for a secret mission. If you do anything I don''t like, I''ll blow up that pill and make you burst like a firework!"


    I am unsure if the man knew what a firework was, but I think he got the picture.


    Shakily, the man got up and, with fear in his eyes, stood before me, obedient as a puppy. Nice! I wouldn''t have to beat the daylight out of him for my plan to go forward. I called out to Jam, who was hiding nearby, and she swooped down, landing with a soft thud on the ground next to us.


    It would take a few hours to get to our destination, so I explained my excellent plan to my new colleague on the way. My idea was to have him walk me past all the Marquis'' bodyguards on the pretense of catching me trying to desert the army.


    Thus, I would get a free audience with the Marquis without busting down the front door and alerting everyone to an intruder. I hoped the Marquis would be arrogant and underestimate me, which would be plausible because I had been very weak. My thoughts flew with the wind as it used strands of my hair to whip me across the face.


    In all my eavesdropping in the inner corridors of his estate, I had learned that he himself was not a great swordsman, but he had a lot of magical artifacts. Coupled with his ever-present bodyguards, it was quite difficult to even be in his presence with a weapon.


    The landscape passed quickly, but the beautiful village lights we occasionally crossed brought a small smile to my face. Seeing life flash by this way wasn''t so bad. Jam was fast, and under cover of darkness, our traveling went completely unnoticed by the eyes of the peasants.