《KING - HIATUS》 CHAPTER ONE In the middle of a musty pub was a crowd of old men surrounding two players. With their beer glasses locked in their hands and eyes widened with anticipation, they watched as the players made their moves. Each flick of the fingers was not to be missed. One of the participants was a regular at the pub, a man named Joe. With his large pot-belly and balding head, he was crowned the king of the game Battle Check: a board game involving several pieces identified as the player¡¯s army. It was a game that could only be won using strategic intelligence. There was no other person in the village who could face head-to-head against Joe. Not until now. With his teeth gnashed together, Joe moved his pawn a step forward. Then he watched as his new opponent: a young, white-haired boy casually make his move. There was not an ounce of worry on his face. The complete opposite of Joe. This can¡¯t be possible, Joe thought. How is this boy not stressing out like I am? Is he faking it or is there more than what meets the eye? The white-haired teenager looked up and let out a mocking smirk. ¡°You¡¯re turn.¡± The crowd murmured in excitement. On this late night, they would¡¯ve never expected to be at such a thrilling scene! Who was this kid? He had come out of nowhere, demanding an opponent worthy of his skills. His arrogant entrance had attracted the crowd at first, but his skills compelled them to stay. They all were mesmerized by his talent and attitude. Joe narrowed his eyes. Cocky lil bitch. He could not lose to this child. His pride and dignity was on the line. As a renowned battle check players in the area, he could not simply let a youngling beat him. After all, in this pub, he was always the winner. No exceptions. And this mysterious boy was the last person he¡¯d want to break his winning streak. With years of experience backing his decision, Joe decided to move his precious knight up to beat the boy¡¯s pawn. At the moment, both individuals held a fare amount of pieces. Joe¡¯s goal was to corner the boy through a strategy known as the execution, where he took his opponent¡¯s pieces slowly but surely, until little was left. The goal was to have two-thirds more pieces, making the board uneven in scale. A smile crept up the boy¡¯s face. Not even with five-seconds of thinking, he moved a piece to the side, ignoring Joe¡¯s play. ¡°What are you up to,¡± Joe muttered under his breath. With glowered eyes, he watched the boy carefully. From what he could see, his opponent¡¯s plays were simple and easy to defeat. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the game would not finish. There was always a hidden variable stopping the win. From what he could tell, his young opponent wasn¡¯t dumb enough to let this move slide. He purposely didn¡¯t respond to his action. There was something off. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. White-hair chuckled. ¡°I know my face is good-looking but if you stare at it too much, you¡¯re going to lose focus on the game.¡± ¡°Keep the talk to a minimum pretty boy. Only losers cover their fears with words.¡± ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m scared?¡± Infuriated, Joe moved his knight back. To others, it may look like he backed out from a large scale move but he tried justified himself saying that he was going to refrain from risk. For now, he was going to observe his opponent to find his weaknesses. There was no place in his heart for losing. He was going to use all his strength to wipe that boy''s smirk once he won. Therefore, a safe strategy was the way to go. The boy glanced at the board, a glint sparkling in his eye, before moving his knight up diagonally and taking the spot of his opponent¡¯s pawn. He copied the same moves that Joe had previously made. With a mischievous smile, he taunted Joe, not caring about the repercussions of his actions. How dare he? Disbelief morphed into his face. Acting as if the knight didn¡¯t faze him yet he does the same thing as me. Joe took a swing of his beer. His adams apple bobbed vigorously as the liquid slid down his throat til none was left in the glass cup. He slammed the cup down against the table, some of the board pieces shaking, before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. ¡°My turn.¡± His opponent was completely unreadable. What would he do next? The factor of the unknown scared Joe the most, especially since all his comrades were watching. A large weight was placed on his shoulders - his title as the undefeated king. He couldn¡¯t lose it this easily. Unfortunately for Joe, the young boy had an elaborate plan up his sleeve. Everything was going exactly as predicted. After fifteen minutes, the outcome of the game was clear. With one last movement of his fingers, the young boy was victorious. Joe couldn¡¯t believe it. As the crowd roared, he placed his sweat-covered palms over his face. W-who is this monster? How did he beat me? Joe had been playing Battle Check for over twenty years, longer than this boy had lived on earth. Yet, the youngling beat Joe so easily with no struggle. In front of him was a true genius. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Joe asked firmly. The crowd quickly silenced. The teenager stood up and placed his hands in his pockets. A smile etched across his face as he winked. The ladies at the bar couldn¡¯t help but swoon. ¡°My name is King. It was a pleasure to have played against you.¡± King, Joe thought with widened eyes. An interesting name and the most important player in ¡®Battle Check¡¯. But¡­ What kind of parent names their child this King? There¡¯s still royalty in our day and age, so if the court finds out, he would get in trouble¡­ Is he stupid? Whatever. That is not important Now, for my next question¡­ Joe¡¯s eyes sparkled, he wanted to know where King learned his skills. But before Joe could ask his next question, King bowed before abruptly making his way to the exit, leaving the men in total curiosity. One moment he was in the center of attention and the next, he had vanished. As if he never existed in the first place. CHAPTER TWO ¡°Well, shit.¡± King couldn¡¯t help but curse under his breath when he saw the moon¡¯s position in the night sky. Time had dangerously passed and he could feel death crawling up his skin. At the pub, King was going to end the game sooner. In fact, his original plan was to end the game in ten minutes by using a strategy to force his opponent into the corner. But the frustration on his opponent¡¯s face was absolutely hilarious! He had to play longer. Wrong move on his part. Please. Let him be sleeping! The sound of his footsteps sliced through the silence of the air. Though his eyes could only see black, using his instincts and the faint glow of the moonlight, he guided himself to the familiarity of home. After exiting the village, his house was on a small hill further guided by a path. Once he reached the building, this was the tricky part of his mission. He had to get into his house without making any noise. Since his house was two stories, King stood a few meters away so that he could have enough momentum to run forward. He jumped, placing his right foot on the first floor window sill, lunged himself up to grab the loose brick on the side, before grabbing his own window to lift himself up. With light steps, he made sure not to awaken the individual inside. Not a sound was made. However, all hope was lost when King noticed a large figure standing in the middle of his room. With his hands holding the sides of a window frame, he awkwardly jumped onto the wooden floor. Death had arrived. He was too late. ¡°Where did you go?¡± The figure standing in front of him was a burlesque man. His brown, curly beard took up half his face and all that could be seen was his narrowed eyes. With his head reaching the top of the ceiling, there was no doubt that he would be able to pound King in an instant. Even among the common people, his shape was abnormally muscular, bringing fear to all who crossed his path. King cursed under his breath. Never did he expect his father to be waiting in his room. How did he find out? King had made sure to have escaped quietly while his father was sleeping. The rising tension in the room was enough to make King quiver in fear. His father, Galain, crossed his arms. ¡°I said. Where. Did. You. Go.¡± King chuckled nervously. ¡°Well¡­ I was just walking down the road to get some fresh air.¡± ¡°Bullshit.¡± King raised his hands up in defense. ¡°It was very nice outside. The stars were absolutely stunning.¡± Galain cracked his knuckles. ¡°You were causing trouble weren¡¯t you?¡± King gulped. ¡°Nope. Never. Definitely not. It was seriously very beautiful outside. Look at the stars!¡± A sigh escaped from the Galain¡¯s lips. When he woke up in the middle of the night, Galain had a strange gut feeling that something was off. Luckily, his intuition rarely failed him and when he checked King¡¯s room, he found the boy gone. He automatically knew where his son had disappeared to. King had an extensive record of escaping during the night to go to town. Galain found him at times hanging out with drunken middle-aged men or speaking to sketchy individuals. Therefore, the excuse King was giving was transparent. Now, to an extent, Galain could somewhat understand the reason to why his son would escape at night. King spent most of the daylight hours training or doing chores, not wasting a single hour for other activities. But this was all his choice. When Galain would ask why he worked so hard on physical training, King would laugh it off saying that he wanted to become stronger. Therefore, since he missed a lot of socializing aspects of his life, so of course he would seek to find others. But - going outside at night when the drunkards roamed the street was against the few parenting rules he had. That was why, there was always a punishment for King¡¯s midnight escapades, usually through excruciatingly hard physical labor and anger. Today was different. The night sky was already in motion and the father¡¯s eyelids felt like rocks, forcing themselves to close. He didn¡¯t want to argue any further. He was going to save the punishment for tomorrow. ¡°I¡¯ll let you off this one time alright? If you fuck up anymore, i¡¯ll make sure you won¡¯t be able to walk again.¡± King couldn¡¯t believe it. Was this the end of his father¡¯s anger? Did he truly get away with sneaking out? This revolution was too good to be true. Something was up. ¡°Why are you looking at me like that squirt.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Me?¡± King said innocently. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°You¡¯re looking at me suspiciously? Do you want me to beat you up instead.¡± King took a step back and nervously scratched the back of his head. ¡°No of course not! I was just - uh - admiring your wonderful beard. Wow, so luxurious and wonderful. I would love to grow one just like it in the future.¡± Compared to Galain¡¯s burlesque facial hair, King was absolutely hairless in that area. His skin as clean as a baby¡¯s. Galain huffed, unfazed by the compliment. Instead, he began to walk out of the room, closing the door behind of him. Before the door could fully shut, he peered his face back into the room. ¡°You better not venture out again, you hear me?¡± King stood up straight and saluted. ¡°Yes sir.¡± ¡°Good.¡± After Galain left, King let out a sigh of relief. If this interaction went the wrong way, he would¡¯ve suffered his father¡¯s wrath. Since he treasured his ears and his body, he didn¡¯t want to be the recipient of the anger. He let out a grand smile. What luck. King spoke too soon. The next day, he was showered with different tasks to do around the house. Not much better than physical punishment. In fact, he preferred the later! There was too many chores to do! Everything was left to the last minute and he had to finish it all in a day. The clothes needed to be washed. Dust accumulated on the bookshelves. The dishes resembled Mount Pariah in the Northern Continents. With a deep groan, King proceeded to finish the long list his father had provided him. ¡°Good job. Make sure your swing is lower this time.¡± ¡°Yes sir!¡± A pip-squeak voice replied. While King was drowning in tears, his father was out teaching students the art of the sword. As a famed retired mercenary, Galain used his spare time to give back to the village by teaching the youth basic fighting skills for the future. He wanted to make a difference in the civilian¡¯s lives by helping them defend themselves in case of future troubles. If one was talented enough, Galain would train them harder to be qualified to become an actual fighter. Although the life of an average soldier was rough, especially since they were competing with gifteds, the pay still exeeded minimum wage. More than enough to support a family. After all, gifteds were rare and the kingdom needed many individuals to help protect and maintain order. The sound of clashing wooden swords echoed within the house as King sweeped. With his hands clasped on the stick, he used his strength to beat dust bunnies while paying close attention to movements outside. Those kids were lucky. Seriously. They weren¡¯t going through the harsh training King went through for most of his life. Although his father was a great teacher to the regular students, when it came to King, he was a merciless devil. Good job? Ha! That was all sugar-coated. King had never heard those words said to him in his life! Everyday, he would be forced to pass his physical boundaries, fighting till his body could not move further. From balancing on the top of skinny sticks for days to being thrown into a cage with a deadly monster, King had suffered them all. Only when he was motionless on the ground was he allowed to rest. This had been going on for five years. Cruel it may be, but these challenges helped King to become quite the exceptional fighter. Although he complained about the hard work, saying he wanted an easier lifestyle, within his heart he might as well be a sadist for he believed the crueler the physical pain, the better. By pushing himself, he was becoming stronger. He needed to be strong. He didn¡¯t want to brag, but he could probably beat any sword fighter with one slash of his sword with the exception of his father. That man was a beast. Even from his physique, anybody would be able to see his talent. Although to him Galain was his father, to the other civilians, he was a hero. Someone who could compete nearly on similar levels to some gifteds without a spirit weapon. Chills ran up King¡¯s spine. He didn¡¯t want to think about the time he fought his father till his body ended up with bruises. In the end, he passed out on the floor, knocked cold till the end of the day. His body was sore for two weeks straight. However, after years of battling against his father, King could feel himself catching up to the old man. His own skills were always increasing at a wondrous speed. According to his calculations, he would be able to beat his father soon. Very soon. Age was catching up to his father and his plays had become repetitive. King noticed the patterns and was going to use them in his next match. In fact, he almost won last time. If it wasn¡¯t for that surprise jab in his shoulder. ¡°King! Get your ass over here.¡± Speak of the devil, the sound of Galain¡¯s deep voice rang in his ears. With his eyebrows furrowed, he quickly ran outside to see why he was summoned. In the middle of the field beside the hill was Galain accompanied by a dozen students. All of them were in their fighting clothes, a beige blouse underneath brown, leather chest armor paired with a pair of pants and sandals. Dirt smeared across their faces from the rough training. They all lined up behind of his father, their eyes full of fear. On the other hand, the burlesque man had a wicked smile on his face. Eyes flashing with excitement. King¡¯s smile faltered. Oh no. When the old man was happy, something was wrong. Those were the unspoken rules of the house. He took a step forward and waved; his smile brighter than ever. ¡°How is everyone! Hello my old man, what a wonderful day it is,¡± King greeted. Then he glanced over at one of the shorter students. ¡°Ah it¡¯s Casey isn¡¯t it? Good to see you. I see that you¡¯ve¡­ Grown taller?¡± Galain scoffed. For someone who was being punished with chores, his son was very lively; focusing on his social skills rather than his physical. Nonetheless, the smile on King''s face was going to soon drop. For he was going to face his true punishment. ¡°Stop yapping and fight me.¡± The sword in the large man''s hands glistened against the sunlight. King recognized the weapon as one of father¡¯s main, alongside his sledge-hammer and axe. The chunk of metal was large, fitting with the father¡¯s large frame. The joking glint in King¡¯s eyes disappeared, replaced with determination. He grabbed one of the rusting swords piled up on the ground. ¡°Are you sure you want to old man? Last time I almost beat you.¡± Galain changed into a fighting stance. ¡°Save the talk for afterwards. Let¡¯s see if you can still yap after you lose.¡± ¡°Bring it on.¡± CHAPTER THREE Usually the fights between the father and son pair were done in private. Either after a long day of training or at random. At first, King was utterly terrified by the swords battering him down. He wasn¡¯t experienced enough before. However, as time passed and as his skills increased, he found fun in the battles. Not only was it good practice for King to face an entity that was more powerful for him, but it heightened his expectations of what a good rival would be. Now, for Galain to have announced their fight in front of an audience, this meant that he wanted to showcase his true powers in front of everyone. After all, the only person he could truly fight against in this village was King. Everyone else wasn¡¯t up-to-par for they did not possess the same level as these two. King also expected that this fight tied into his true punishment for last night¡¯s adventure. In other words: father wanted to humiliate him whilst maintaining his position in power. What great parenting. Either way, King was ready for the challenge. The only reason to why he was able to go head-to-head with the old man was not because of strength but his agility, stamina, analysis, and his ability to think ahead. As his father was his teacher, the base structure of their fighting styles were similar. It was their competencies that separated their true strengths. Now, although King was talented in various aspects, Galain¡¯s strength and experience were too overpowering to handle. He had fought thousands upon thousands of individuals during his lifetime. After all, he was quite famous during his mercenary days, especially for a non-gifted. He fought for justice and was regarded highly by regular civilians and even the real King. He was considered a symbol of strength for those who weren¡¯t blessed with gifted powers. On the other hand, King¡¯s experience with fighting people was lacking. Other than random adventurers who scattered the land or bandits, he hadn¡¯t fought with many individuals. Plus, he was homeschooled by his father and the other students did not hold a finger to him. He couldn¡¯t fight the helpless, that wouldn¡¯t sharpen his skills at all. One of the girl students whispered to her friend. ¡°Who do you think is going to win.¡± He grunted. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obviously going to be teacher? From what teacher told us, King always loses. This game is going to be the same.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the girl said. She glanced over at King, her cheeks blushing with pink. ¡°I¡¯m going to cheer for King.¡± ¡°That¡¯s only because you like him. Not because you think he¡¯s going to win,¡± the boy retorted. He narrowed his eyes. ¡°Why do all the girls like that dude. He isn¡¯t even that good-looking.¡± ¡°Are you jealous?¡± She asked while batting her eyelashes. ¡°He¡¯s the best looking guy in our village! Besides, it¡¯s not just because I like him. King is wickedly talented too you know. He¡¯s going to catch up.¡± ¡°Whatever.¡± Unaware of the conversations sprouting from the audience, the two stood a few large steps away from each other; their attention unwavered. On King¡¯s chest, protective armor was placed in case of injuries. Though there was no doubt he¡¯d suffer a few cuts and bruises anyways, the piece protected him from death rather than pain The rules of the fight was simple: King tightly gripped the sword in his hand, trying to predict who would make the first move. Father usually swung first; using the large sword to weaken him off first hit. Would he continue with the same pattern or change things up? Galain¡¯s right foot changed direction, facing the left, signaling that he was going to take action. King smirked before taking a step back, lowering his upper body back to avoid the oncoming metal chunk. Ah, the first move was always the easiest to predict. Father had a weakness. Due to his large structure and power, his speed was slower than King¡¯s, enabling the white-haired boy to avoid many advances without predictability.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°Too slow,¡± King said with a grin. Another jab was sent his way, near his right shoulder. King swiftly avoided it by shifting his feet. My turn. Due to the difference in lengths of their weapons; father¡¯s being longer while his shorter, he had to reach closer to get a hit. He ran forward, shifting to the right, before swinging his sword sideways towards his opponent¡¯s lower body. Their swords clashed resulting in a surge of friction, bringing him back. Knowing that this would occur, King embraced the impact and continued to make his way around his father, until he reached the back. He was a few seconds ahead. Then King proceeded to swing his sword from the left, aiming for the side. ¡°You think I wouldn¡¯t see that coming?¡± Galain muttered before bringing his sword to defence, just seconds away from skin-contact. A pained smirk appeared on King¡¯s lips. Curse that old man! Why does he have so much experience. It¡¯s not fair! His feet skid backwards, arising a cloud of dirt in the air. ¡°Whatever!¡± King ran towards him, his sword over his shoulder. CLANG. Sparks flew in the air. King landed on his feet, his legs bent to keep balance. Taking advantage of his son¡¯s lack of strength, Galain swung his sword from top to bottom, aiming for the shoulder. King looked up, noticing the danger coming from the sky and brought his sword up. Metal wobbled and fro; King grabbed onto the handle with both hands, trying to balance the movement. Damn. Father¡¯s strength was too strong. An average fighter would¡¯ve been brought to their knees, their feet digging into the grass. ¡°Tired yet,¡± Galain said with a grin while swinging. ¡°Oh please,¡± King replied. His arms close to his chest as he blocked. ¡°I should be the one asking you. You¡¯re the one aging, not me.¡± Galain began his execution, continuously bringing down strikes. This was his signature move. ¡°If I were twenty-five years younger -,¡± Clang, ¡°-I would¡¯ve-,¡± Swish, ¡°-Beaten you by now.¡± The powerful swings impacted King¡¯s arm, bringing tingles up his nerves. Death would be upon anyone else under that heavy weight. If King kept this up, eventually he would be the one at loss. ¡°Stop dreaming. I¡¯ve surpassed your fourteen year old self.¡± He said with a pained smile. Time passed and the blows increased. The students all watched with widened mouths. Amazement sprouted in their hearts, growing with each move. Even if they were to go to the Royal Military, no sword fight could compare to this. The amount of sheer strength and talent in view was enough to make a passerby faint. The female student from before squealed. "Don''t you think King might win this time?" "Yeah right." The boy scoffed. "He''s losing. It''s been forever and he''s being pelted blow and blow. He''s going to give up sooner or later." "I - um - I guess so," she said with a sigh. "But I believe he can persevere." "Unlikely." Every single hit was critical. The pain in King''s arms increased due to the immense strength against him. He glanced around quickly in between the battle, analyzing the faces of the people around him. Seeing that the audience and his father were expecting for him to lose, King decided that he had enough of being driven to the corner. It¡¯s time for me to use my special move. He watched for an opening in his opponent¡¯s lower body. The beginning was merely a taste of what was to come. He had an elaborate move up his sleeve waiting to be released. All he needed was right timing as the execution had to be fast and used only once, for he knew father wouldn¡¯t be surprised the second time around. Since, it was his first time using this move. Ever. Not even having practiced it. He decided to roll with the plan anyways. Everything looked good in his head. First, aim for his ankle. King bent down and swung his sword into an eclipse. He controlled his strength due to the fact that the ankles had no protection. When the metal hit, all it did was cause pain, not slicing through the skin due to the dullness of the edges. Good. He didn¡¯t want his father to lose his foot. While he¡¯s distracted by the pain, continue the momentum of the sword, spin around, and aim for the chest. King jumped up, spinning his torso while his feet lifted to a kick. Then he faced his opponent in the air, aiming for the chest. ¡°Fuck¡¯in hell!¡± Galain cried before clenching his teeth. That smart bastard. He improved and thought this out didn¡¯t he? The amount of improvement King showed everyday was hard to believe. Even he wasn¡¯t this talented at that age. Unfortunately, Galain was able to block King¡¯s sword just in time. King expected this. With a smile, he kicked his leg up against his father¡¯s arm to change the momentum to bring himself down to the ground. Due to the sudden shift in gravity and the impact making Galain¡¯s arm rise up, he now had a new opening near his father¡¯s stomach. Checkmate. Even when his feet reached the ground, his sword stayed against his father¡¯s armor. The indentation on the metal plate made it clear who had won. CHAPTER FOUR Glancing at his son, Galain couldn¡¯t believe what had happened. His body was shaking, emotions riling up in his chest. What the hell was that? The move King had executed was anything but ordinary. Throughout his whole life, he hadn¡¯t seen anything like it. To use force and the opponent¡¯s body against them to create an opening in such a manner¡­ Whether or not it was luck or careful analysis, the fact that it worked was more than enough to show King¡¯s worth. Taunts aside, King was improving at a seemingly impossible pace. If this were to continue, he could truly become one of the greatest sword users alive. That was no exaggeration. When Galain challenged him to a fight, he didn¡¯t expect the boy to beat him. Although the results were close last time, he still held an upperhand. Now, everything switched, a new light shining down on King. Galain stood under the blazing sunlight, sweat accumulating on his skin. His eyes did not leave the white-haired boy. Throughout his life, he hadn¡¯t met anyone with similar talents as his son. Even he, lacked at such a young age, both in talent and determination. Sure, King was born with talent but to harness this ability, there was no doubt that his hard-work was the one that brought him forward. It was rare to find such an individual. Was it fate that brought them together? A great teacher and student? Five years ago, Galain had been on a quest to eliminate mountain bandits that had been attacking the civilians and merchants on the roads from Goldwyn and Sorenive. During his hunt, he found King by chance almost dead on the shore of a river. A nine-year-old boy, bloodied and abandoned; a horrific sight to behold. Feeling pity for the child, Galain took him in as a son and retired. Till this day, Galain still didn¡¯t know the life King had before he took him in. He never asked. Perhaps his past is the reason for the ignition of his perseverance? Nonetheless, the fact that King was able to retain the training and improve himself beyond what was taught was a gift. Galain couldn¡¯t have asked for a better son - no matter how annoying he was. Galain placed a hand on King¡¯s shoulder. His palm covering the whole area. ¡°That was a good fight.¡± King let out a smirk. ¡°Told you i¡¯d win.¡± That remark earned him a hit in the head. King placed his hands over the bruised area. ¡°Ow. That hurt.¡± ¡°Cocky bastard,¡± Galain muttered. Yet a smile lingered on his face. ¡°Your skills have improved greatly. It¡¯s all because of me, your great teacher.¡± King hummed for a moment. His index finger placed on his chin before nodding his head. ¡°I agree with that, but i¡¯d say i¡¯m a great student as well.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± Galain said with a chuckle. On the other side of the field, the students were silent. The sound of their rapid pulse echoed through their ears. A wave of shock knocked all their common sense, shaping their perception of the world. Was it possible for someone to have beat their teacher with a flimsy sword? They were still unable to process the fight that had happened before their eyes. They glanced down at the pile of weapons waiting to be used. In society, the basic rules of survival was that the weapon was the source of power. This was why gifteds thrived in society. However, seeing that King could beat a large, expensive sword with something so cheap arose determination within them. They could succeed too. ¡°Woah¡± A boy spoke. It was the same child that was speaking to the girl during the fight. ¡°I guess you¡¯re right. I didn¡¯t realize he was that uh - good.¡± The girl squealed. ¡°Right? King was too good and so mesmerizing. The way he lifted into the air, almost like a dance with the sky, before the finale of beating his victim made my heart beat.¡± She placed her hands on her cheeks. ¡°Ah my face is so red. I think i¡¯m in love.¡± Her friend scrunched his nose. ¡°He wasn¡¯t that good.¡± Lies. But he wasn¡¯t going to admit it. ¡°You¡¯re just jealous,¡± she teased while sticking out her tongue.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± ¡°Are too!¡± King glanced at the students. Their frozen bodies had finally loosened and the atmosphere was back to being lively. He let out a bright smile while walking towards them. He opened his arms, lifting up his chest proudly into the air. ¡°How great was I?¡± ¡°So good!¡± ¡°Amazing!¡± ¡°The way you went shing and then woosh and then clang made me feel like I was in a dream world. It was epic.¡± In this situation, the norm would be to show humbleness, but King was bathing in all its glory. A confident laugh escaped his mouth. ¡°Good good. Glad to hear your thoughts.¡± He lived for compliments like these. The girl stepped forward. ¡°You were amazing! I bet your skills rival gifteds now!¡± A shift in atmosphere; the air became deathly silent. All the kids glanced over at the girl, no words escaping their mouths. What she said was a bold statement. Could it be true? Did his skills rival gifteds? The young ones weren¡¯t sure because they hadn¡¯t seen a gifted in action, but from what they could tell, King was powerful. And that was all that mattered. Maybe he was powerful enough as them. A nudge was sent her way. Her friend let out a whisper. ¡°How can he beat gifteds? They¡¯re too strong! Nope. Impossible.¡± ¡°But King¡¯s talent! It can¡¯t be nothing compared to them¡­¡± The mentioning of gifteds made King¡¯s smile freeze. A strange emotion swirled in his eyes. Currently, in the world of Wayfort, a feudal hierarchy was in place. The King at the top and at the bottom, normal villagers. However, in the middle of this system laid different systems. The high-class nobles were still present but the power structure between them all depended on either intellect, and bloodline, or the more prestige option, being gifted. A lesser high-class family could surpass the top if their child was a powerful gifted. The possibilities were endless. In fact, although the laws did not abide to the social rules, the most powerful gifteds, in some ways, had more power than royalty. After all, with the flick of their fingers, they could possibly overthrow the whole kingdom. Even a commoner could rise to higher positions if they were gifted. Although the occurrence was unlikely due to the fact that gifted powers are generally passed down by blood, it wasn¡¯t impossible. Furthermore, if one¡¯s family was gifted, this did not mean that every single member would be. There was also a chance for the child to be normal despite having powerful parents. Only the chances were higher for them to become one. This was why the high-class was obsessed with finding marriage prospects with gifted abilities. By uniting two strong bloodlines, there was a greater chance for the child to become powerful. Why are people so obsessed with gifteds? The criteria of being gifted was based on a single trait: having a spirit weapon. When reaching the age of four, a child starts to harness power. They are able to create waves of energy in the form of glittering particles. Not enough to make a weapon, but enough to prove that they have potential. Then, during the age of six to seven years old, the weapon develops and soon releases as a whole. Only ten percent of the population are blessed with this ability. A spirit weapon can be in all forms. From swords, fire axes, to even plush toys; powerful objects which could only be controlled by its user. Any physical entity that could inflict pain could be a spirit weapon. It was not up to the owner to decide but luck itself. According to researchers, some say that objects important to a child manifests as their weapon. But this theory didn¡¯t have enough evidence so it stayed as a myth. Overall, gifteds are given power from birth, making them the recipients of admiration. Discontent arose in King¡¯s heart as he tightened the grip around the sword handle. What was so good about being gifted? In the end, everyone was still human. He walked over at ruffled the young girl¡¯s head. ¡°Thanks, but that¡¯s not my goal.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± King sent her a wink. ¡°I¡¯m going to become even more powerful than those gifteds. I want to become the strongest man alive.¡± Galain stood quietly, listening to the talk amongst the younglings. Although King was happily speaking, the true emotions emerging in his heart must be different. As a non-gifted, Galain knew the hardships of competing against gifteds. The ¡®complement¡¯ of being able to stand the same ground as them wasn¡¯t one at all. Why? Because in the end, no matter how hard normal people tried, they would not be able to beat the strong ones. The level between the two was huge. Even King, at his current stage, would not be able to beat the weakest gifted. Galain had fought a few of those suckers in the passed, the strong and the weak leveled ones but they were another tier. He had won only a few times in his prime. But - maybe if King were to continuously put his blood, sweat, and tears into his training, perhaps, a fraction of his dream could come true. In fact, Galain could sense that King¡¯s current power was just the beginning. Since Galain wasn¡¯t in his prime anymore, King had a lot to go to reach that same level, but at the boy¡¯s own prime, he could become someone greater. Who knew what the future held? CHAPTER FIVE Watercolors of red splashed over the blue sky. The sun was slowly going into slumber, falling down to share the canvas with the night. In the lively house, Galain was in the kitchen cooking a meal for dinner. Since there was no mother figure present, Galain brought it up to himself to take both parenting roles to the best of his abilities. Besides, the man liked cooking. Not as much as he did pounding someone with his sword, but enough to find cutting vegetables enjoyable. In a way, he was still using sharp objects but in a more peaceful manner with the outcome of making delicious meals. Around his waist was a red apron, clashing with his buff body. Due to its small size, the apron covered half of his chest and stomach. The tight fit also accentuated his chest muscles. He was humming a war tune while cooking some chicken soup. The smell rose up in the air and King, who was studying at the table, couldn¡¯t help but look up. ¡°Smells good.¡± His mouth watered. After the fight, he was deathly hungry, his stomach on a prowess for food. Galain nodded. ¡°I learned the recipe from one of the mothers in the village. Apparently it¡¯s the best, passed down from generations in her family. I was specially given the knowledge due to the fact that her son is in my classes.¡± King raised an eyebrow. ¡°You talk to the ladies of the village? Really? When did you become best friends with them?¡± Although they were family, King wasn''t knowledged in Galain¡¯s life outside of home, his job, and training. He wasn¡¯t interested either. After all, he was busy with his own schedule. Early in the morning, every day, except for the household chore day which happened every month on the saturday, he partook in their a five hour private training section. Galain would plan lessons to help King improve in areas and to give him knowledge for new skills. Sometimes, they would spend a week or a weekend together for special training occasions, but the usual routine was a few hours. Then afterwards, King would continue training in his own time till dinner while Galain went to grocery shop and teach his sword-fighting classes for the village kids. After dinner, King would continue sword-fighting or studying in his own time. Since he didn¡¯t attend regular school, due to the fact that he believed the education system was a waste of time, he self-taught himself everything. ¡°Listen bud. You don¡¯t know since your too busy with work but after our sessions I always go down to the village to do my house duties. And when I go down, there are always plenty of mothers who look up to me. I¡¯m a hero in their eyes. A man who not only protects the village and educates their children to become stronger, but also a provider who takes care of his own like a mother. I¡¯m the complete package. You¡¯re a lucky bastard.¡± King chuckled. ¡°Yeah yeah. I¡¯m lucky. Whatever.¡± ¡°Ungrateful,¡± Galain said. ¡°Don¡¯t think about having any of this soup. You lost your right.¡± King widened his eyes before running off his chair to go down on his knees. ¡°No! Please! I want food. Don¡¯t leave me in this hungry state.¡± Galain rolled his eyes. ¡°How desperate.¡± There was a pause. ¡°Well, since you went on your knees, you could have some.¡± With a giddy smile, King returned to his textbook. He didn¡¯t need to go that far to gain his portion of the meal considering that Galain was joking but his body couldn¡¯t help but move on its own. ¡°By the way,¡± Galain began. His mind trailed back to the fight that happened earlier in the day. A deep root-gutted feeling lingered in his chest. ¡°What was that move earlier? How did you do it?¡± ¡°Not telling-¡± ¡°Chicken soup. Do you want it or not.¡± King let out a nervous laugh. ¡°I just thought about it one night and decided to test it out.¡± ¡°Be serious.¡± There was a moment of silence. King sat quietly, trying to recount what went down when the idea first popped up in his head. In all honesty, he didn¡¯t know how to describe the experience. ¡°I¡¯m serious. I was just thinking of ways to defeat you. I went back to my memories and looked back to our previous fights, trying to find out what went wrong. Since you usually don¡¯t have any openings due to your experience I thought that I should create one. Although I hadn¡¯t practiced the move before, everything was laid out in my head. I just needed the right timing.¡± King knew his strengths and weaknesses. He had a general idea of what he was capable of. This was why his own execution ran smoother than it would with someone else. He was confident that he would be able to pull through. Galain use the wooden spoon to stir the soup. Chunks of celery, carrots, chicken breast swirled along. Once the words registered in his brain, he stopped. Everything stayed still, only the bubbles rising up. He let go of the spoon. Turning around, a strange expression took over his face. No smiles, just pure disbelief. ¡°So you¡¯ve never physically practiced that move before?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. King looked up. ¡°Yup.¡± A sigh escaped Galain¡¯s lips. King was joking. He had to be. If it was by pure luck, Galain wouldn¡¯t have questioned anything but the fact that King planned the move out and executed it perfectly without practice was a feat. A talent that only a few in the world possessed. His brain-body coordination did his current status no justice. He was made for fighting. Although Galian was a sword user himself, it was a real pity that King was a non-gifted. If he only had a spirit weapon, he could¡¯ve been much stronger. No matter how much effort was placed in blacksmithing a normal weapon, a spirit weapon would win by a hundred times. It was made from pure energy and from the user¡¯s soul. A spirit weapon had magic powers on top of being a physical entity. If King had only been a spirit weapon user, he could¡¯ve been one of the best in the world with his perseverance, intellect, and physical strength. It was really unfortunate. Why was life so unfair? When he was younger, Galain had always cried to god because he wasn¡¯t blessed. But after knowing King, the feelings rose up once again but this time, towards his son and a lot deeper than before. Galain cleared his throat while turning off the fire. The soup was cooked, ready to be served. He put on his mittens and picked the pot to place it on the trivet on the table. After taking off and placing his mittens on the kitchen counter, he turned to face King. ¡°So what is your next steps? What do you plan on doing?¡± King moved his textbook to the side to make way for the bowl and utensils. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Galain brought them over, placing the objects in front of King. ¡°You¡¯re not going to school. I don¡¯t imagine you working for the Kingdom¡¯s military or being an adventurer. What are you working so hard for?¡± The question was finally dropped. Galain couldn¡¯t contain his curiosity. What was King¡¯s true intentions? The reason to why he worked so hard? Throughout his parenthood, not once had he never questioned why King¡¯s goals to begin with. He just assumed that his son¡¯s past had a large reasoning for it and decided to leave King alone. He didn¡¯t want to rip open past scars. In fact, when the young boy said he didn¡¯t want to attend the basic school in the village, Galain didn¡¯t even complain. He let the boy do what he wanted. That was his definition of being a good parent. As long as King had a goal and Galain was helping him achieve it, that was all that mattered. ¡°Valentia Academy.¡± King poured the soup into his bowl. A smile permanently stamped on his lips. ¡°I want to go there.¡± Galain covered his mouth with his fist as he let out a series of coughs. Perhaps, he didn¡¯t know his son as much as he thought he did. Valentia? He never expected for that name to escape his son¡¯s mouth. To hear that King wanted to go to Valentia Academy. What was this new sensation riling up in his chest? Valentia Academy was the top educational institute in the world. Not only did they have an extensive library, famous teachers, and brag-worthy alumni, but they also schooled the strongest individuals to exist. It was a school made for the gifteds. For a normal person like King to enter its establishment was impossible. Especially since he wasn¡¯t of high-status. The requirement of entering the school was to be at least sixteen years of age and to complete two tests: physical and intellectual. Each test was comprised of different levels and hard subjects. The academy only accepted the top one hundred applicants out of thousands from all over the world. There was some ultra rare instances where non-gifteds were admitted to the school, however, they were of high-status and perfected the intellectual portion of the exam. Although they didn¡¯t bear a spirit weapon, since they had been tutored and trained at a young age on physicals and school work, they were able to pass the physical portion to a minimum. It was all based on luck. Due to their high intellect marks, their overall average outweighed some of the competition. After all, not all people possessing spirit weapons were smart. The lazy ones didn¡¯t make it into the school and had to go to other gifted institutions. Plus, they had connections to pass through the gates. Their parents of these exceptions were most likely gifted individuals who had attended the school. But for King to announce that this was his goal? Although he still had two years left till admission, the likelihood of making it through the doors was slim. Too slim. ¡°Yummy!¡± King dug in and slurped his soup happily. How can he be so calm after announcing that? Galain couldn¡¯t believe his son. Sometimes, he questioned whether or not King was sane. Clearly, from this situation there was something wrong with his thinking. How can a normal person have this goal? Yet, Galain couldn¡¯t help but see some hope. King. He was extraordinary, proven from today¡¯s results. Although his son did not attend regular school, he was smarter than the average child and studied on his own in his spare time. Was it for Valentia? Although Galain¡¯s common sense was telling him no, his heart was telling him yes. Maybe King could actually succeed. ¡°Does it taste that good?¡± He asked. King nodded eagerly. ¡°Yeah. This recipe is a masterpiece. You gotta teach me!¡± Galain let out a small smile. For his skinny frame, the boy had quite the appetite. He took a sip of his own creation before dropping a bomb. ¡°Eat up. You¡¯re going to be suffering hell starting from tomorrow for the next two years.¡± The white-haired boy choked on the liquid, dropping his spoon before looking up. ¡°W-what do you mean?¡± Galain glanced out the window. The sun was peeking from the hills, saying goodbye one last time before disappearing slowly under the green blankets. His eyes glistened against the light. ¡°You said you want to attend Valentia Academy right? Then you have to pass its test. I want to help you reach that dream.¡± He faced his son, a sinister smile creeping up. ¡°From now on i¡¯m making your training a lot harder. Be ready.¡± ¡°But- argh,¡± King said with a sigh. ¡°Okay.¡± More work? Didn¡¯t he already do enough? Those were the thoughts whizzing through his head. A normal reaction for most teenagers. Yet, despite the saddened expression on his face, his eyes were telling a different story. Determined. Eager. Passionate. He was going to pour everything into these two years and he was going to get into Valentia. He was sure of it. CHAPTER SIX Training I The next morning, King prepared for his morning lesson with Galain. Their schedule always started at eight o¡¯clock in the morning, the meeting place at the field behind their house. Since the ground was flat with no rocks to incur accidents, it was a great area for physical activity. This was why on most days, other than special training, they practiced in this area. Plus, it was close, there was no need to go far. King began to stretch his arms, pulling his muscles to reveal a stinging sensation. He then moved onto his legs, sitting on the floor and bringing his body forward, to the left, and then to the right. Since he had arrived a few minutes earlier than scheduled, he wanted to use his time productively. Two years was short. He had to use every second wisely. Now, where¡¯s that old man, he wondered while glancing over at the quiet house. Impatience piled up in his chest. After yesterday¡¯s conversation, he became very curious about the training father had in store for him. That night, King couldn¡¯t sleep, squirming in his bed trying to get rid of his thoughts. What could the old man have prepared? Knowing Galain, there will be some new factor in the training. Although King was sure hell was going to befall upon him, if he could get stronger, he didn¡¯t mind the pain. Besides, he was also very touched by Galain¡¯s determination to help him achieve a seemingly impossible feat. Although Galain was his father, he was very rough at times, acting as if he didn¡¯t care about his son. But in his heart, King could tell that Galain was quite the softie. This was why he had come out earlier than usual. Curiosity was eating him up. Once King saw Galain walking through the doors, he immediately stood up and waved his arms. ¡°Good morning!¡± However, when he saw what Galain was wearing, he couldn¡¯t help but freeze. The large man was covered with a thick grey and brown armor. It was his old mercenary outfit he wore during his fighting days. King hadn¡¯t seen the armor on his father since he was a child. Intriguing patterns decorated the dark metal which spanned from his chest, shoulders to his arms. Thick scale-like leather wrapped around underneath as the first layer of protection. On other parts of his body such as his forearms, knees, and lower region, metal plates were placed for protection. A large crest embodied the front of his chest with Galain¡¯s logo - an image of his weapons in a cross-like formation. In his right hand was a large sledgehammer, the head as long as King¡¯s arm. By the way it shone against the sunlight, it was obviously made by top-tier quality with even engravings decorating the dark metal. It was father¡¯s original sledgehammer: one of his three companions. During fights, this weapon was used to incur serious damage on his opponents. King gulped. This did not look good. In Galain¡¯s other hand, there was another set of armor. Much more simpler than his father¡¯s flashy gear but better than the one King himself was wearing. Once he walked down the hill, Galain threw the armor before King¡¯s feet. ¡°Wear it. You¡¯re going to need the extra protection.¡± King felt reluctant to grab the piece, his hand floating right above it, but he fought the strange feeling in his gut and picked it up. The only time Galain wore this suit was in dangerous situations. He could already tell where the lesson was going towards. Nonetheless, King obeyed and slipped his feet into the pants piece. Due to its relatively simple design, the get-up wasn¡¯t hard to wear. He just needed to wear it by layer and piece, starting from his pants to the helmet. Once everything was worn, King moved around, trying to find any flimsy areas. The armor itself was a tad big for him, loosening in the arms, but tight enough for him to be able to function inside it. He would be able to fight without much worry. From the proportions, King assumed that this piece used to be one of Galain¡¯s companions as the suit was made for large-muscled skinny-framed bodies. King patted down on the metal. ¡°Who picked the forest green color? It¡¯s ugly and clashes with the silver.¡± ¡°My good comrade Dolan,¡± Galain answered. Long ago, while he was still working as a mercenary, Dolan was someone who stayed with him through fights of life and death. During their third year together and near Galain¡¯s own retirement, Dolan had found the love of his life on a mission and decided to quit the dangerous life for the sake of his new family. He gave Galain his armor as a token of friendship. Therefore, Galain was not going to stand any slander against his friend. ¡°You should be honored to wear this.¡± The frightening glare his father was sending him made King almost jump out of his skin. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. ¡°Yeah sorry about that. I take that back. This is a wonderful color and my my, the armor itself is fine too. I feel very honored.¡± King sent quick glances towards his father to see if he settle down. Luckily, the fire fanned away after his statement. ¡°So anyways,¡± he drawled. His eyes flickered to Galain¡¯s armor. ¡°What is this all about?¡± Galain let out a dark chuckle. His grip tightened against the handle of his axe. ¡°We¡¯re going to fight again.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. King predicted another fight would come, yet he couldn¡¯t help but gulp. ¡°Again?¡± ¡°Yes again. And this time¡­¡± Galain brought his hand to his neck, grabbing his chin and moving it from left to right. The sound of his cracking joints filled the air. ¡°I¡¯m not going to hold back. Don¡¯t you dare die.¡± King glanced at his own sword. It was similar to the one he used yesterday except the metal was a lot cleaner and sharp, but it didn¡¯t compete against the large sledgehammer in Galain¡¯s hands. ¡°Isn¡¯t this a little unfair¡­?¡± Plus, his armor wasn¡¯t that good to withstand the strength of that boulder-on-a-stick. ¡°Today¡¯s lesson: Fighting with a disadvantage. If you¡¯re going to go to Valentia you¡¯re going to experience this everyday so don¡¯t complain.¡± King raised his eyebrow suspiciously. For some reason, more than Valentia, he felt as if the fight was more geared towards Galain¡¯s own satisfaction to beat him. But what he was saying did make sense. The weapons that the gifteds would possessed were much more stronger than his father¡¯s sledgehammer. There was no room to complain. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s do this.¡± The sledgehammer was scary as fuck. Everytime the big chunk of metal neared his body, King shifted to the side, his heart beating rapidly. Different from the sword, this monster was made to crush bones and guts. King could already imagine himself made into a bloody mash against the grass. A shudder rose up his body. Terrifying. This had been going on for an hour. ¡°Don¡¯t hide. Fight!¡± Galain roared. He swung the beast around, aiming for King¡¯s upper body. Due to his fast reflexes, he was able to dodge without a scratch. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead. He understood that through deathly fights he would grow immensely in strength but as his father, did Galain have zero worry of him possibly dying? Just a slight? Perhaps, the old man trusted his skills too much. King didn¡¯t know whether or not that was a blessing or a curse. After all, it was true that he was able to prevent himself from getting hurt. Since the sledgehammer was on the heavier side, the movement was slower than other weapons. Furthermore, when swinging the object, the trajectory was harder to stop due to its weight. By using this weapons weakness, King was able to avoid with ease. Didn¡¯t mean that the object wasn¡¯t scary though. The sledgehammer banged against the floor, right beside where King was standing. ¡°Stop stalling and start fighting!¡± A chuckle escaped his lips. King wiped the sweat from his forehead and tightened his grip against his weapon. It was time to stop avoiding the fight and to partake in it. His father was right. He was stalling. The longer Galain swung that monster, the more strength he was going to use. With the power came the downfall, the quickly depleting energy. By now, his swings were a lot slower than when he made his first. This would make it hard for the old man to block his advances. It was time. Swish. While the axe went to the right, King jumped back, avoiding the weapon, and followed its trajectory. By following the weapon, it would be harder for his father to switch the direction and aim for him. Many openings would open for a few seconds, enough time for him to strike. ¡°Gotcha.¡± King lifted his sword to Galain¡¯s neck. The game was finished. The victor King yet again. All the avoiding was worth it for he won in the end. ¡°Hell yeah!¡± King exclaimed, pumping his fist up in the air. He did a little dance, the chirping of the birds as his music, before sending Galain a wink. ¡°I beat the sledgehammer monster.¡± Galain placed his hand on King¡¯s head. ¡°Good job. You found my weakness and used it against me.¡± King let out a smirk. ¡°It was pretty easy.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the biggest downfall of such a heavy weapon.¡± Galain balanced the head against the floor and leaned against the handle. ¡°I only use this when I know that my opponents aren¡¯t fast, have intense armor, or if its a short battle since it has an obvious flaw. Of course, not all opponents that you face are going to have an easy weakness like me but it¡¯s good to see your brain running.¡± Galain took of his helmet, revealing his sweat covered hair. The sun glistened against his strands as if he dived into a lake. ¡°But you shouldn¡¯t be celebrating. I purposely picked the sledgehammer knowing you would win. Now, let¡¯s take about your flaws.¡± Was he played? King couldn¡¯t believe it. He was supposed to be the smarter one out of the two! He cocked his head. ¡°My flaws?¡± The old man nodded. ¡°You¡¯re good at analysing and you have a talent with strategizing. but because you lack experience. You¡¯re knowledge in how to strategize is limited; you are not able to see the full picture because you can¡¯t decipher all of its components. This can be seen by how long the game unnecessarily played out for,¡± Galain began. He continued with another statement. ¡°Tying in, another thing I have to mention is that you lack speed. You need to be faster. There has been opponents that I couldn¡¯t use the sledgehammer against because I knew that they would beat me the second I swung my weapon. You need to reach that level. As of right now, you were waiting for me to lose my strength so that you could attack back. That¡¯s great, but in a battle against multiple opponents, this shit isn¡¯t going to work. You need to be faster and you need to understand that this method isn¡¯t going to work unless it is one-on-one.¡± This was the difference between King and Galain. Although King was able to analyse his opponents with his current knowledge, he was not able to look further, ignoring the scope. He also couldn¡¯t point out his own flaws, a mistake on his part. Now, he realized what today¡¯s training was going to be about. ¡°If this was a real battle¡­¡± The white-haired boy said. Galain continued his statement. ¡°You would lose.¡± Admiration filled his body. King widened his eyes. ¡°Teach me please.¡± Galain let out a hardy laugh before dropping his smile. Darkness took over his complexion. ¡°That¡¯s what i¡¯m here for. Let the training begin.¡±