《King》


 King

    He,Jor Jormungand, was born to a wonderful mother, and a hardworking father. In apoverty-stricken town, where the taxes are high, and the local lord repugnant, the family of three suffered. Under the weight ofwarsandfamine, the localyounger generationgathered what little they had, and left for a better life.


    Jor''s father was a castle guard, thus afforded himsome protection, andput food on the table. Hismotherwashedandcleaned laundry for thelord''s family.


    It hadn''t been long beforeJorwatched his mother come home with bruisesaround her wrist andneck. She hid it best she could from her husband, afraid ofwhatwould occur should he find out. And yet, far too late. In vengeance, in fury and hurt, Jor''s father died by the hands of his guards, as he tried to assassinatelord Kattinton in open daylight.


    Jor was ten when the castle guards came for them, with swords bared. Withwhat little possessions she had, they escaped hours into the twilight, when her husband didn''t come back home. Perhaps it was instincts or a feeling, but it was the best choice she ever made at that moment.


    It saved their lives.


    Escaping to the nearest village, or towns would not be enough. Knowingthe pettiness ofthe lord, she would be caughtandbroughtto kneelbefore him for execution. The attempted assassination of a lord was a serious crime,even despite the circumstances involved. For a peasant, who would lift their arms in protest?


    So they trecked across miles of lands, finding and hunting for what little food the could find. The lands were dangerous, and monsters roamed. Whatever sources of light had to be hidden from view, and they did not wish to attract attention. And they survived off of fruits and mushrooms, and what little rodents they managed to catch.


    Hundred days, and a hundred nights, they survived in the lawless lands of the north.


    On the hundredth day, something changed.


    Jor knew, could even sense it. Something''s altered their fate. Theleather ball dropped fromhis hands, as he enteredinto the small clearing where their camp was.


    And there she was, his dying mother. An undead stoodover her body, with a spearpierced through hischest. The blood and tearsflowed freely, andher eyeswere only for him.


    "Run." She whispered, her hand outstretched, weak and shaking.


    The undead, nothing more than a skeleton wearing shoddy and rusted armor, pulled the spear out. And its emptyeye sockets gazed back to him.


    Jor Jormungandknew who he was, even before he came out of his mother''s womb. After all, how could he forget having lived another life? It was a miracle. A reincarnation. But never before had he felt this breath of rage settle in him. It filled his veins with an empty pressure. It was as if a newborn sun ignited in his chest.


    His fists clenched and gritted his teeth. Even as the undead came toward him, a bloodied spear, Jor didn''t move. Wouldn''t dare to. A boy of ten years stood against an indomitablemight, alone. But not afraid. Never afraid.


    The first downward swing of the spear came, the blade flashing silver and white underneath the moonlight. Jor launched himself to close in, completely avoiding the bladed tip of the spear. The undead would need to back up to actually use his weapon, now that the boy was far too close. And the undead was too stupid and simple.


    Too late. It was far too late.


    The kind of rage simmered underneath the boy''s eyes, something alien and indomitable. Something awful, and ugly, and no boy should have to feel. Jor''s rage pierced the heavens, where even the gods took notice. Perhaps with pity, they witnessed. And they witnessed a making of a legend.


    Jor''s fist lashed out. A boy of ten would stand no chance against even the weakest of the undead. It was unthinkable, impossible, ridiculous. The kings and emperors would have guffawed, and the gods would look down with indifference.


    And yet, his strike connected against the ribs, crushing it entirely. With a silent cry, Jor jumped high to land a vicious kick to its chin. The head came flying off.


    The undead died a second death, as it crumbled to the ground.


    "Hey, mom," Jor knelt next to his mother. Facility Holland was already long gone, having left this world. She died, alone and in despair, just as his father, Mark Holland died against the blades of his former brothers and sisters. The world took away his family, and now he was alone. "I''m sorry I wasn''t there."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He cried, perhaps for the first time since he was born. He cried and cried and cried. It was heartbreaking. It felt like his heart had been shattered to a thousand pieces. It felt horrible, and sadness clung to him like a physical thing. It was horrible, but he didn''t hate the undead. Never the undead. They were simply the function of a very messed up world, serving a purpose for a cause he might even never know.


    It didn''t matter. What mattered was that his mother died, and he''s gonna make the motherfucker pay for his crime of murdering his mother. And then, he''s going to come for the lord that killed his father.


    It was in the dead silence of the night when the ground crumbled underneath his feet. A surprise, that. Jor and the corpse of his mother fell into the darkness. Perhaps this was it, and the boy died in the dark, alone and friendless. Whatever food was there, was ruined and crushed underneath the rubble of rock and dirt.


    And when Jor woke up, it was to find his mother buried under rocks. When he looked up, the shaft of moonlight that pierced through the hole was a long way up. The chances of him getting up there were infinitesimal. Jor didn''t think he deserved to see the light, not after he failed to protect his mother. He''ll survive in the dark, and strive to grow strong enough to gain hisvengence.


    And when he looked behind, more of the undead congregated at the arrival of the living. They sensed it, as their teeth clacked for death.


    Jor grinned.


    Class. Fighter. Level 1.


    Class. Berserker. Level 1.


    Boon Received. Perk.Regeneration. Level 1.


    Jor''s grin widened.


    When Jor looked at his bloodied fists, all he could do was clenched them tighter. Even as his wounds closed, slowly. He was confused. Did some nameless God take pity on him, as they bestowed upon him a sliver of their power? It didn''t matter, not now.His mother and father died fighting. Jor won''t go down, not today. Or ever. He will kill everything that came his way, and once he was done, Jor would give his mother a proper burial. She deserves peace in this unfair world, at least.


    Jor looked up with eyes blazing, and fury, as the skeletal undead descended upon him with sword and shield and spear. And Jor launched himself at them with a fury of mad berserker.


    Two Years Later.


    Jor stood before the master of the dungeon. It was a normal man, though bald and nude.Its skin bathed in black ink, dripping and wet. Yet, it was more than that. Every inch of the man''s skin was pitch black, a shade so dark that whatever light remained in this lightless world, seemed to be sucked in. It reminded him ofvantablack, the color so dark that light itself gets trapped and bounced about like a ping pong ball.


    Those blue eyes were the only thing that resembled any humanity, and he looked upon Jor with intelligence. And amusement. Insanity, too.


    "I''ve killed your mother," The thing spoke gently, softly. Its tongue, long and slimy and black. Its teeth were rotten and black. "I remember her. You''ve come for her vengeance?"


    Its small smile was infuriating, and its admission of murder left Jor shaking. He hadn''t thought about his mother in a long time, and knowing that this thing killed his mother? It was... an incredible feeling to feel happy. He found the murder of his mother he never thought he would find. He thought he solved it when he killed the undead, but to find out the master of this place was the one to do the deed? Unbelievable.


    Jor willbreakit.


    The master stepped forward, grinning. "I''ve waited a long time. You''ll be a nice thing, I think."


    "Scream for me, little child."


    Jor''s fist lashed out, burying into soft flesh. Too soft. The master''s face simplybroke.Its brain splattered across the floor.It felt as if hitting a regular undead, just a lot metier, and not a powerful master of this dungeon. The body crumbled onto the earth. Too easy. Far too easy, thought Jor.


    And then he felt it. The will of an alien soul pressing into his own, and crushing his mind.


    Jor''s rage surged. "You think it''ll be that easy?"


    Dominate.


    It never is, child.


    Pain pierced through his mind like an enchanted blade through naked flesh. The necromancer''s power willed his own to crush Jor''s mind and corrupt the soul. Already, he could feel his mind being peeled away inch by inch. Once he comes braindead, the body would be free to host the master''s soul. Jor''s own would be forcibly vacated from the material world.


    There was nothing he could do. Jor had no defensive items, or special potions, or enchanted armor or weapons to push away the alien will encroaching upon him.


    All he had was his fists and his rage.


    So he did the only thing that came tomind,when dealing with an absurd situation. Jor needed an equally absurd solution.


    His fingers dug into the walls, his strength easily slipping through the stone. Arching his back, his head low, and with a large intake of breath, and slammed his head into the wall.


    The stone crumbled. His head felt like someone smashed his head across with a hammer. It hurt likehell.But, Jor didn''t stop. He slammed his head against the stone, just as hard.


    What are you doing?!


    Jor slammed his head again. And again. He felt his flesh break easily, as blood flowed. And more importantly, Jor felt his frontal bone of his skull crack.


    Stop! You''ll die!


    Wasn''t that the point? Jor leaned his head back one last time, preparing to kill himself and alongside the monster that killed his mother.


    He slammed his head one last time against the wall.

 The Old Couple

    Ten Years Later


    The dark stilled when he awoke. He was still, as his eyes slowly gazed back to the passage out of the dungeon. It was dark out, and the canopies swayed against the night breeze. A sliver of moonlight failed to enter through the dark of the cave, and it was bright. He was so very afraid, but it was freedom.


    Freedom. A prospect Jor never thought he would ever see again, to feel the fresh wind on his skin or the warmth of the sun on his face. And there, just a hundred feet away, he could hear the rushing of the river and the roaming of a bear. The cubs followed their mother, content yet curious of their surroundings.


    And the sounds was sometimes just too much. In the dark, the absence of any noise can be a maddening experience. And the further one went, the only thing you could hear was your own heart hammering against your chest. It was simply one of the reasons why he felt... intimidated to just... leave. A better life.


    He hadn''t played beneath the trees since his mother was murdered. The young man''s eyes shuttered, groaning as if he was in pain. Tears, hot and salty fell down his cheeks. He was free. Free. After how long? He didn''t know. He couldn''t know, being stuck in a lightless dungeon for so long. And to go out, now, to attain his freedom, left him shaking and confused. And afraid.


    Perhaps it was a miracle, or fate, or just simple coincidence, that someone called out to him. "Hey, boy! You there!"


    Startled awake, Jor took to his feet instantly. When he looked through the arch of the cave, he saw an old man underneath the moon. He wore clean, but clearly well-worn clothes. And the slight frown would have worried even him if he hadn''t recognized just how weak the man was.


    Jor, wary, and his feet defensive.


    "Boy, you alright?" The old man huffed and puffed as he made it to the entrance of the cave. Sweat poured down the man''s face, and he clutched his knees in a gasp. "Oh! I haven''t walked like for a long time."


    Jor stayed silent.


    The old man seemed to sense his hesitance, even fear, and said, "Wow! hey! No need to panic. And you look hungry, so. Look, food...?"


    Fruits and little bits of meat were taken out of his backpack. Jor wasn''t afraid, not against a living fragile thing. The only thing he''s ever been afraid of was the light. But the old man? No, he was quite sure he could kill him, should the man prove a threat. But the offered food... it had gotten his mouth salivating. They smelt delicious.


    He took the gift offered and stuffed everything into his mouth. And they tasted sweet and the most delicious thing he''d ever eaten, and his mouth watered for more. It was unfair, but he did look at the old man with expectations.


    The old man recognized the look. Without hesitation, he offered more. "It''s not every day I find a young man lost and alone, especially in the outskirts of this part of the area. My wife will be very happy at a chance to test her cooking, I think." The old man chuckled with amusement.


    It didn''t take long for Jor to be persuaded out into the open with the offer of more food. Dawn arrived, slowly, as the light enveloped the lands that burnt his eyes, but it felt good. It felt right as if he remembered something nostalgic. Jor felt giddy. Happy. Jor''s mouth curved slightly into a small smile.


    He was out of the cave, and toward freedom. Something seemed to have lifted from his chest, and his stomach felt lighter.


    "Come along, young man. By the way, my name is Benny. Oh!" The old man looked up to him (Jor was taller by a foot) and looked worried. Jor was instantly on guard. "You''ll need better clothes, I think. You''re basically naked, with all that leather and... erm... nothing else." The old man coughed and looked uncomfortable. "My wife is a good knitter, and she''ll want to make you something fitting, I think. But worse come to worse, I think shopping would do just nicely. Sarah had missed that, really. Since my grandchildren moved off..."


    The old man rambled about throughout the entire journey. Jor didn''t mind. In fact, he was happy, even if he wasn''t showing it. It was refreshing and new. Jor hadn''t talked to anyone since his mother. Well... talk was a strong word. But the old man seemed content to just talk for both of them.


    What does that say about Jor? Nothing good, he presumed. He was still wary of the old man, but he relaxed, as the journey continued throughout the next several hours.


    The sun rose higher, by the time they made it to a small hill. The house was larger than his own home he once lived in. It was beautiful, in fact. Set in what can only be described as a spectacular, secluded, elevated position above the still lake, was a charming property made of white brick and a dark shingled roof. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    They were obviously wealthier than Jor previous thought. It was obvious to him that the old man owned much of the land around here, and more than enough money to spare. Was he a lord of some sort, only to be retired? That made no sense. Lords basically owned everything, and retiring was rare unless they had their heirs take up their place.


    "I''m home, dear!" The man yelled out once he opened the hand-carved oak door, and waved Jor inside. "I brought a guest!"


    The interior was beautiful, and the open plan kitchen/dining area has been refurbished with beautiful oak flooring. The large sandstone lintel over the fireplace complimented the exposed ceiling beams, warmed by a generously sized classic wood burning stove. The stove looked brand new, and he could sense the magical something that powered it. And the furniture looked just as beautiful, the leather more than likely to cost a small fortune itself. Statues and artworks lined about here and there, and even a potted plant.


    All this was enough to buy the town he once lived in. And more, probably.


    How in the world did the old couple, old and probably infirm, afford something like this? Some of these things shouldn''t even exist, and everything looked far too advanced. Just how long had he been gone?


    "Well! You are a handsome young man, aren''t you!" An elderly woman arrived through the threshold, wearing silk robes and enough magic engraved into it that it made even his skin tingle. Her smile was wide, and nothing but gentle. It was a motherly smile that reminded him far too much of his mother. "Come, come! Let me take a look at my newest guest."


    The old woman hummed, as she placed the palm of her hands onto his cheeks. The hands were soft, and despite sensing none of the threat Jor was used to, his defenses all but crumbled underneath her gaze.


    "And strong, too!" Sarah, the elder, patted his arms. "But this won''t do. No, just no! You must take a wash, I think. You stink! And I shall not have my guest roam about looking like a barnyard animal. Or smelling like one! When was the last time you even had a wash?"


    ... Jor couldn''t answer. It might have been a while ago, in a river underneath the nest of corrupted lizardmen.


    "Does he not talk?" Sarah looked to her husband in confusion.


    "I think he may be mute," Benny shrugged. "He could hear just fine, but he may have lost his voice."


    "That''s... unfortunate," Sarah looked sad, as she looked up to him with a kind smile. "We should bring in our family doctor to take a look at him. It won''t hurt to be careful."


    Jor just looked down to the floor, uncomfortable and feeling very alien. He hadn''t spoken in a long time, and he doubted he ever could. He might try, but the idea seemed...


    Benny simply shrugged, and said, "Of course, dear."


    The next thing Jor knew, he was pushed into the washroom to clean up.


    Everything looked... advanced, and very white. The white marble splashed with black, and even the walls that looked more like an artwork than a place to relieve yourself. The see-through glass walk-in shower looked beautiful, and they even placed a white oddly shaped tub a few feet away. Well, he could go on, and on, but he didn''t think he cared at this point.


    All in all, this whole place screamed modern technology. Again, Jor could sense the magic overlaying everything that needed to power it. Magic seemed to have become a way of life for these people, accentuating everything in this house. Magic was supposed to be rare, hired only by the nobility. So, what changed? These people didn''t look like nobles, so what was different?


    Another thought for another time, then.


    A shower. A proper, hot, shower. He stood underneath the scalding hot water as it washed down on his body from above. It felt good. So good, in fact, that Jor might have sobbed. Even the shampoo felt nice, and a shimmer of magical gel seemed to sink into his hair. Once he rubbed out the grime and the dirt out of his dirty-blond hair, they felt silky smoother than he ever thought possible. And once he used the soap, Jor didn''t think he would ever be as clean as he was now.


    Once he got out, he used a freshly cleaned white towel to wipe himself. And there, next to a rack of rows filled with nothing but more towels, he found a set of clothes that fit him perfectly, with a note attached. Jor didn''t know whether he should be peeved that he somehow missed them, or happy they didn''t disturb his moment of peace.


    Still, he wore the clothes and they fit perfectly, if slightly too tight around the waist and arms. A simple white cotton shirt, unbuttoned to his chest, and olive corduroy jeans. The shoes were made of leather, and the soles felt incredibly soft and comfortable.


    And there was the vanity mirror, one which he avoided at all costs. He was afraid of what he looked after all this time. A mirror was lavishly expensive and rare, so his parents couldn''t afford it. The ones who could afford a mirror were the merchants and the nobility. For peasants such as Jor, the only way to look upon oneself was from a bucket of water.


    And now, there was a mirror as clear as crystal. Jor avoided it, and moved to the living room cautiously.


    "Oh, by the gods!" Sarah fanned her face with her hand, blinking rapidly. In shock, possibly even red in the face. "By the Light of the Sun God! What handsome fellow! Benny, you didn''t mention this! He looks as if he was gifted from the divines itself!"


    Benny looked stunned, his mouth gaping open in surprise.


    What in the world are they blathering about? Jor, ever the confused young man, floundered when the old woman suddenly took him by the hand and dragged him toward a sofa in the living room.


    "Sit, sit and wait! We must absolutely go on a shopping trip!" Then she was gone, leaving a confused Jor on a sofa.


    "Well, shit, boy," Benny took a leather couch adjacent to Jor with a groan. "I think you just got adopted. Don''t be surprised if she marries you off to our granddaughter."


    Marriage? Adoption? What in the world are they talking about?! He hadn''t even said a word to them since the old man found him. Just what in the world was going on?! Jor''s face looked lost, and Benny openly laughed.

 The Girl With The Cello

    Benny took to his feet and walked toward an odd contraption. Then, music! It surprised him. How was it that some parts of this place were as advanced as his old world, and yet so very primitive like the music box? The sound was scratchy and unclear, but the music was clearly played by a musical instrument with a terrible record machine.


    "Sarah will be down soon, but I do have some concerns regarding yourself," Benny looked nonchalant, but there was a flinty stare behind his polite facade. The old man''s heartbeat elevated slightly, and the tightening of his fingers showed he was wary of something. Him, perhaps. Those pale blue orbs narrowed to slits, just so. "It is obvious you have a warrior class of some sort: the scars on your arms are fairly obvious."


    Benny glanced down to his arms and saw the faint scars that marked his dark brown skin. Those scars belonged to the cursed swords of the Fires of the World cult, deadly as they were vicious, they were not to be messed with lightly. Not even Jor''s regenerative ability could stem the cursed wounds he''d received. It was a painful few weeks when he was forced to let his arms heal naturally.


    Jor shrugged uncomfortably, aware that he was certain they would kick him out, now.


    When Benny caught his stare, he held it with a force of will that dared challenge him. He slowly asked, "Do you even know where exactly you''ve stumbled into? Just who my wife is?"


    Jor blankly stared back.


    "Well, so long as we''ve got that covered," Benny replied with a chuckle. "It''s not every day I pick up an amnesiac fighter in the middle of nowhere. Where are you from, anyway?"


    Again, Jor shrugged and looked down at his fidgeting hands. This time, he really had no idea. Jor frowned. The memories were hazy, but it was never really mentioned what the name of the town he originated from was. His parents hated the idea of living there, having no choice but adhere to the laws of a crumbling kingdom.


    "And you''re also partially blind...," Jor grimaced. "It''s obvious. You can see, but you react more to sound than sight any time I or my wife make a sound. And yet... you have crystal clear golden eyes. Fascinating, really. It is obvious you have a class, perhaps even worthy of being a student at any one of the academies in our country. Any fool in the ministry would ensure you get the best treatment. But you haven''t..."


    Benny leaned closer, frustrated, as his eyes shined with fascination. "Just where have you been?"


    Jor closed his eyes and counted his breath. His eyes had been cursed by the Gloom Child. In fact, these eyes of his weren''t even his eyes. He plucked it from his doomed enemy and replaced it, letting his regeneration take into effect. It was painful, but it worked. And yet, Jor still could not know why his eyesight hadn''t been fully restored, but he had to deal with it as it came.


    Perhaps the old man must have sensed his discomfort, and sighed, scratching his grey beard tiredly. "Well, I suppose it might become a problem, considering I found you in a cave and wearing little else."


    This time, the old man came to him with a glass of... Jor almost recoiled at the smell. It nearly suffocated his throat at the sheer intense toxicity coming from the damn thing. It took seconds to realize it was only alcohol.


    Benny chuckled at his expression.


    "A shot of Alvish whiskey," He replied, as he handed the bulbous body shaped crystal glass. Jor took the glass reluctantly. Benny didn''t think he was actually supposed to drink it, was he? At Jor''s reluctant look, the old man simply grinned. "A good drink should make you feel a little more relaxed, yes? Honestly, I think we both need one. Especially after Sarah is done with you!"


    At Benny''s amused chuckle, Jor couldn''t know whether he should be more afraid of the terribly non-threatening old lady, or at the old man, for putting him in this position.


    When Sarah arrived, she was dressed in a rich blue ornate dress, complete with a midnight black furred cloak over her shoulders. It was feminine and embedded with enough diamonds and crystals to buy a small island. It seemed to have made her husband grinning with delight.


    "My goodness, look at this handsome fellow," The old lady breathed out, once she finally turned her attention toward him. Jor felt like he was being examined like an item on display. Thoroughly. "Yes. Built like a brick shithouse, pardon my language. Thirty inches shoulders of long, lean lines. Oh my!" Sarah''s eyes glittered with grandmotherly pride. "Come along, now. I''ve called my driver. He should be here shortly. We shall do plenty of shopping, yes?"


    He-... no, they were ordered, clearly. Jor warily followed behind her heels, where a wheelhouse landed in front of the driveway. Yes, landed. The pair of horses had wings as white as snow. They were thirty meters in length. The kind of big that weighed a few tons and could casually pull a carriage thrice its size.


    The driver had his hands on the harnesses. A clean-shaven old gentleman, elegantly dressed with a two-piece awaited them with a small, polite, smile.


    Jor glanced back to the winged horses.


    the pegasi looked right fierce. He had no doubt a single kick from either one could shatter a boulder to powder.


    Once he settled down on the leather seat, and everyone felt comfortable enough, the driver took off. Jor immediately lurched in his seat and clutched his stomach in unease with a groan.


    "Oh, don''t tell me you''re airsick," Sarah looked concerned, her hands holding onto his own. Jor sent a polite smile in assurance. "Ah, I suppose you can handle it."


    Benny laughed good-naturedly, as his arms wrapped around his wife''s shoulders.


    When Jor looked out the window, all he saw was rolling hills and grasslands. It was beautiful, more so of the rising sun. To the distance, he could make out the outlines of the snow-capped mountain range that stretched for miles as far as the eye could see.


    "Beautiful, isn''t it?" Jor whipped back his head to face the old woman. Sarah smiled gently and tapped his hands lightly in comfort. "Not many see this kind of view up close, not the peasants certainly. And the nobles and clans find it a waste of their time to appreciate the beauty we live in."Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Jor nodded, half listening to her.


    "Our country is but a tiny portion in a land that never seems to ends," Sarah smiled softly, sadly. "We survive because we are united. We have allies, of course. From the mysterious elves to the stubborn dwarfs, and perhaps even the ever-fickle God-Queen herself in the North. And, of course, there''s the demon prince Mehanon who challenges the Spartan King to the South, our staunchest ally. To the demon prince''s ever-growing frustration and annoyance, the Spartans laugh in the prince''s face and stop cold whatever hellish armies he sends forth."


    Jor listened, enraptured by the tale.


    Benny chuckled as he took over his wife''s tale. "Oh, I remember those soldiers, the Spartans. Every single one of them, a high-level Spartan! Working as a unit, as a whole, and only as strong as they are together, they are nearly invincible in the field. Spectular people!"


    Sarah continued. "They say that the Hell God Xultus sent in his chosen champion to drown the world in chaos and death, to pave the way for his ascension to claim our world. And the closest city was Apena, the capital of the Spartan kingdom. An easy task, the demon prince Mehanon thought. Why? Because the city had no walls! Madness! Foolish! Thought the demon prince. And so, prince Mehanon and his demonic armies descended upon the city like an endless tide, scurrying for the taste of flesh and blood to spill for their God."


    Here, Benny took over the tale with a whisper. "And before the demonic army could reach the city limits, the armies of the Spartan King arrived, with shield and spear and sword to spare. The Spartan King himself was not far behind. The shield walls of the Spartans shuddered when the demons crashed upon them like a tidal wave, unstoppable, unopposing. Confident in their victory.


    But the step of a spartan shall not be faltered, nor forced back. Only pushed, as their feet dug grooves into the ground. The demons'' attack stymied, momentarily. And then...," Benny smile widened. "The Spartans took a step forward."


    Jor leaned forward, fascinated and excited.


    "Ah, we''re here!" Sarah gestured out the window. Instantly disappointed, Jor glanced out the window and gasped. "Welcome, to the City of the West. Welcome, to Heaford."


    This was ancient Rome, but so much more. The city seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, and magic itself seemed to pervade every street and to its very bedrock. There was no grand schema of wards, or devious wards, or defenses, even. Just... simple magic, pure and simple. Colours abound in every street and house, and sounds, spices, and the hammers of smiths were omnipresent in this tiny corner of the world, but it was enough to have caught his interest. And more.


    It wasn''t long before the massive wheelhouse parked in a large yard closed off to the public. The castle and the walls protected the rich and the nobles, and Jor sensed invisible wards and armored squads walking about. And once Jor got out of the wheelhouse, he was immediately herded toward another carriage. It was a smaller sized wheelhouse, and only normal horses to pull it. Jor was only simply relieved that these horses don''t have wings.


    "We''re at the market district," Sarah smiled gently. "Here, we shall find you some fashionable clothes to wear, I think."


    The market district was gaudy and looked expensive. This was where the rich and powerful frequented, with the means and the connection to acquire whatever they desire, so long as they had the coin.


    One particular building caught his attention. It was small but was built sturdy using red brick. The painted symbol emblazoned on the glass windows showing an outline of a figure holding a lute. It intrigued him enough to have caught his attention.


    The carriage moved on, the image was forgotten.


    Eventually, the stopped in front of an extravagant building, a fashionista of blues and white. Jor was quickly herded inside the building, where a black man awaited them with an ivory smile. Jaune Costa, he was called, and the man was a force of hurricane that doubled in intensity once Sarah joined him.


    Benny only grinned evilly, gave him a thumbs up, and skipped out the store to parley for some sweets.


    Jor was shuffled, prodded, poked, and measured. Dozens of clothes he tried on, examined, criticized, until eventually, exhausted, he was back in the carriage, carrying a number of bags filled with clothes.


    "Well, that was fun!" Sarah brightly replied and turned to her husband. "Wasn''t it, dear?"


    "Of course, hun," Benny smiled politely, as he licked on his cone of vanilla ice cream. "It was a wonder to watch."


    Jor''s stare was indignantly flat.


    He slept that night, on a bed of pure comfort and silk. Comfort. Since when had he known such a thing? Jor couldn''t remember. A distant memory, a feeling, of his mother holding him to her chest. It was a moment of bliss, of comfort and strength. Still, he was more used to the hard stone, and while the carpet was a poor imitation to sleep on, Jor felt safe and sound with his feet tucked to his chest and his arm under his head.


    There were times, those moments of weakness, really, where Jor would do anything to feel the warmth of his mother''s touch and love. Now? All he felt was cold and dead. His heartfelt slow, empty, as if he was turned onto a machine. He could not, ever, trust his instincts. Death was the End. How could he give his soul to the emptiness?


    "This is insanity," Jor thought, as he took to his feet. "I''m insane. I hate this feeling. I should end it. All of it."


    Then, the image of that particular building loomed into view. Jor wanted perfection, as impossible as that was.


    Jor took to his feet and jumped out the window with nothing but the silk clothes on his back. Still, it was enough, as he spent memorizing the signature scent of the magic of this one particular area. It was still difficult to get to the building, but it was enough to finally locate it.


    When he tried to open the door, it was surprisingly unlocked. In the middle of the night? It had to have been a mistake, but Jor went inside. There was a large auditorium inside when he walked past the receptionist area, and he heard the most beautiful sound. It was a cello.


    When the sonata ended, the magic was gone. She noticed him, then, eyes wide and lips parted, pale ivory.


    That was the beginning of the end, he realized. He fell for her. Hard. And, Jor didn''t think he had the strength of will to leave her grasp.


    "Who are you?" The woman demanded as she stood to her feet, her brown eyes piercing. "What are you doing here?"


    Jor snapped out, frozen. What could he say to satisfy her? He felt like a stalker, a fool bent on acquiring something beyond his imagination.


    Then, he saw a five-string violin and bow resting on top of a crate next to him. He picked it up and felt the sound strum along with the length of the strings. It felt beautiful, as long forgotten memories stirred inside his memories. How long has it been since he held an instrument? Closing his eyes, Jor''s fingers felt the polished wood.


    The girl watched on, fascinated, intrigued, but no less wary.


    Jor played a sonata of Beethoven: Violin Sonata no. 5 in F major. The stranger stared, transfixed. And then, she joined. It was magic, as they played together. And they played for hours once the strangeness evaporated, once they put their heads together. It was instinct and sheer passion, and their fingers moved with something cosmic and otherworldly.


    When, once the music ended, Jor let the musical instrument rest by his side.


    The woman, our of breath and wide-eyed, transfixed, asked, "What is your name?"


    Jor couldn''t answer. He just stood, head bowed low, and unable to speak.


    "You can''t speak, can you?" She said, instantly understanding. "Well, my name is Helana Milay."


    Jor looked up and tried to speak his name. All that came was a croak, a sound like gravel and crushed stone.


    Helana sighed but smiled. "You can always tell me your name later. I don''t know where you''re from, but there are a few beds you can use. It''s late, but you look like you could use a rest."


    It was the beginning of his new life. And the end.

 Isobel Black

    Jor ran away, bursting through the exit doors and out into the moonlight. He didn''t think his face turned as red as the time he was set on fire by the Fire Crawlers.  The last he saw of her was a surprised expression. It didn''t matter. He just wanted out, to get back to where the elderly couple lived. It was good, safe and without monsters and deadly magic trying to take his life. The world wasn''t about to get him, not there. And certainly no girl with a beautiful smile.


    When he made it back, Jor slept on the floor, next to the bed.


    "Breakfast is served!" Sarah made bacon, sausage, eggs, and placed a spot of black coffee. Jor added a few sugar cubes and milk into his own steaming mug. "Eat up, dear. You are far too skinny."


    The island table of black marble housed Benny, and finally Sarah, once she put the food on the table. It was a wonder why there weren''t any servants or magical constructs to serve them, considering their advanced age. Magic, probably. It seemed to be able to do anything.


    "So, I think we need to know your name, don''t you think?" Benny placed a crisp white paper in front of him, and a ballpoint pen. "Do you think you can write your name?"


    Jor looked up to Benny with a blank expression. He had no idea how to write. Sure, he knew the language, but he wasn''t taught the letters. His parents had no knowledge of letters and numbers, they were simple peasants.


    "Ah... you haven''t been taught." The discomfort passed quickly when she looked to him with a knowable gaze. "I had the liberty of applying you to the academy. Normally, getting you on such short notice would be a little difficult, but the president is a friend. She would make an exception for you."


    Sarah smiled proudly. Well, Sarah sure looked smug about it. He supposed she should be if she had the political connections to make that happen. Jor had only come to admire that about her. Her husband grinned painfully, though he certainly looked embarrassed.


    "You start in two days." Sarah simply replied. "Of course, you will be tested before any allowances can be made, but before that, your health will be examined to ensure you have no deficiencies before the start of the term. So be prepared!"


    "I thought we talked about this! I don''t think he''s ready. He certainly looks strong, but surely he''s not good enough to attend the Diadochus Academy," Benny grimaced, as he rubbed his brow. "He''ll be ostracized, and considered persona non grata by his classmates, even should he pass. A miracle itself to accomplish for a boy without a lineage of nobility or sects. The boy is a complete unknown, without history, or possibly even a unique class to accommodate his abilities to compete with the other students."


    "I have made up my mind," Jor looked up, Sarah with her firm tone. "I have prepared all your baggage, and I have made sure you received a room in the dorm. The academy shall provide everything if they understand the consequences."


    Benny groaned louder. "You didn''t threaten the executive board... did you?"


    Sarah looked up, surprised. "Threaten? Dear, you have been reading into this far too much. I just... gave a suggestion."


    "The fact of the matter is," Benny exasperated. "We don''t even know what level the boy is, or what class he has. We need to assess his class and level, not to mention his health. The boy looked like he''s been through a warzone and back."


    "The school has resources to help," Sarah waved the matter aside. "The school should figure him out, and place him where he''s needed. Besides, I have a feeling he would surprise everyone."


    "And how do you know that?"


    Sarah smirked. "Oh, call it a woman''s intuition."


    As they continued to bicker between one another, Jor was lost in his own world, as he gobbled down his breakfast. Who was that girl? The girl with the dark hair, and crimson eyes. She played beautifully, beyond even his own ability. Jor had barely kept up, as their tempo crescendoed. Just who was she?


    "What do you think of the idea?" Benny turned to him, clearly frustrated.


    Jor nodded along, absentminded as he was with his own thoughts. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "Great...," The older man sighed. "The boy''s probably lost in the conversation. Wasn''t even listening to us the entire time."


    "Excellent! The president shall arrive soon. I already sent the message." Sarah bullied forward.


    "... Of course, you have." With a deadpan voice, Benny stated.


    The man looked about ready to give up on life.


    Jor''s attention was elsewhere. All he thought of was the girl with the crimson eyes. Her features were sharp enough to cut glass. But it was her eyes that caught his attention. That gaze was as cold as the deep depths of the Antarctic. She plagued his thoughts, and it hadn''t left his mind even when he woke up the next morning, along with a headache. Just there, lingering.


    It was the next day when he was received a visitor, as he ate his lunch.


    "So, you''re the boy." It was an older, strict looking middle-aged woman. Her rainbow-colored hair tied up in a neat bun, and her skin was without wrinkles or blemish. She wore a black and white, gold-buttoned military suit, of some kind. Everything she wore looked expensive.


    Yet, despite her beauty, there was a kind of fierce intelligence hidden behind those blue orbs. She was overwhelming in confidence and persona, and more intimidating than beautiful.


    "The Elibets have a long-standing relationship with our king, and to have recommended someone to one of the greatest schools in this country," The woman looked down upon him with contempt. "Well... suffice it to say, you''ve caused quite the stir in the king''s court."


    Jor blankly stared up at her.


    "Yes, they did say you weren''t much of a talker," The woman said. "Still, I think I should introduce myself. I''m Isobel Black, the current president of Diadochus Academy."


    She paused, as she looked down at him, seeking something. Jor ignored her, stuffing more food into his mouth. Her lips thinned in displeasure or surprise. There was little care left in him to give.


    "Boy, look at me while I''m speaking." The cold demand in her voice would have had any other stand erect, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. There was much to fear from a woman with such power and influence.


    A woman of high nobility, birthed and raised in the highest upper echelons of their society. Her words may break, or uplift one beyond the confines of their status, and had the ear of their king himself.


    It must have been a new experience to be ignored and dismissed by a snot-nosed brat quarter of her age. Her pride took a hit.


    "I said look at me while I''m speaking!" A mountain of invisible pressure descended upon his body. Along with it, came the sheer invisible heat.


    An instant. A moment of time where time didn''t seem to move, but so much more happened. The woman''s gilded broadsword appeared out of thin air and held before her horizontally. She was fast. It saved her life, for her sword blocked his fist on the flat end of her blade. An entire section of the wall behind her was simply gone, as she was bodily flung through the brick walls.


    Her feet slid across the grass until she found her footing. Isobel''s eyes widened in surprise, yet quickly fled to replace it with resolve. The sword swiftly came up, held in a stance. Waiting.


    Jor ignored her, as he turned to clean up the mess left in their brief, but destructive fight.


    Isobel scowled. She was ignored. Again!


    Isobel relaxed her stance, and her sword dispersed in motes of light.  "What the hell are you?"


    He didn''t answer.


    The woman turned to the frantic elderly couple as they hurried over, and bowed. "I apologize for my behavior. It was most improper. The academy shall reimburse for whatever damages occurred. But, the boy...,"


    There was the maddened gleam in her eyes. "I want him."


    Benny scratched his head and sent a questioning glance to his wife as if to say, ''You wanted this.''


    "Ah, well, that''s alright," Sarah nodded toward the boy. "What can you tell me of his abilities?"


    "Extraordinary. Supernatural!" Isobel simply said. "His level is nearly similar to my own, a master! And while his technique is... nonexistent, the strength overcompensates his ability to simply power through his opponents. I thought my sword was about to break!"


    "He''s a prodigy, then?" Benny asked.


    Isobel scoffed. "A prodigy?" The gleam in her eyes deepened. "He hasn''t mastered any fighting arts, technique or skills of any kind. The boy''s just a pure brawler, and a ball of rage wrapped up in stupidity. I saw multiple openings in the split second he threw that punch. In fact, he has no skills! The boy''s so unpolished it would take a decade at least to ensure the boy doesn''t die from stupidity. But... he has experience. He has fought monsters before, but not humans. I could see that as clear as day.  I want him. Scholarships, room, and boarding, food? He''ll get all of it. And if it means paying out of my own pocket, then so be it. I shall not lose a child to rival masters!"


    The elderly couple was stunned, but it was Sarah who responded. "Well... you''re certainly passionate about him."


    Isobel glared at the boy. "The king shall be notified."


    "Well...," Benny exclaimed. "Shall we get some lunch?"