Undisclosed Location,
A land forgotten by time—a people forever lost to history's pages in a city invisible to the eyes of the world. In this war-torn land ravaged by the flames of oppression and despotism, a young child solemnly trudged, bare feet crushing stones underneath.
The child, long since numb to pain, made no move to dodge these sharp rocks, nor did he issue a yelp or a squint, he like everyone else in this land, long resigned to their inevitable fate.
As the child walked, brief flashes escaped his hair from where the last remnants of silver chocked for sunlight as they drowned in a mass of brown mud and dirt.
Maybe it was the silver hair or perhaps the murder in those rage-filled yellow eyes. No, it was most definitely the dark, metallic silver glint of the pistol lazily strapped to his side by his belt. In a typical city, the sight of this child with that pistol that looked too large for his tiny hands would have drawn a comical chuckle. But not in this town.
Here, every soul without a death wish moved out of the child's path, not daring to meet his eyes for fear of irritated retaliation. In this town, everyone knew this soulless child: the silver tiger of Hua Xu or as he was more commonly known: the Silver Grim Reaper. People claimed that he was born with a gun in his hand, his silver hair a result of the restless souls tormenting him every day, and the last thing his victims saw.
The child, seemingly oblivious to the fright his presence wrought on the people around him, trudged through the streets, gaze downcast, staring at the yellow earth. He, who had all the roads and paths memorized, did not need to look up to orient himself as he knew no one would dare block his path. In fact, should he choose to walk on the main road, even those donkey cart salesmen and women would rush out of the way.
The boy's steady steps stopped in front of one of the very few walled compounds in the town. The guards, two men whose faces were covered with turbans, grinned at the little executioner as they pushed open the gate. No sooner had the child passed the gate did the guards' expressions turn ruthless, the AK-47s in their hands a strong deterrent to any rebel wannabe in the town.
After the gate, the path continued for another mile, littered with outposts and men and women on armored vehicles, their eyes forever on the gate for any possible trouble. The youth passed the checkpoints, briskly nodding in reply to the cheers from the men and coos from women.
Though considered deadly to the rest of the town, the Silver Grim Reaper was regarded as a cute, sarcastic mascot to the older veterans of Hua Xu.
The child's steps slightly quickened as a massive mansion came into view. However, his feet faltered when he saw a black limousine and van parked in front of the compound. His eyes narrowed at the Japanese men in suits who stood guard by the vehicle, each holding very advanced assault rifles that made the rebels' AK-47s look like toys.
Although the child was confused, as both the vehicle and the people were so rare, they could be considered omens in the town, he shrugged it off as the boss' business and made his way to the back of the compound.
The child's permanently tensed muscles relaxed when his home came into his sights: an old raggedy shack by a small stream. It was not much, barely three square meters, but it had a mat he could sleep on, a wool blanket to warm him on cold nights, and a roof to shield him from the rain. This was far more than 70% of the children in this town had except they too joined a gang.
The child picked up a bucket by the shack and walked over to the stream, where he drew some water. He stared at the reflection in the bucket. A sunken face caked with so many layers of mud and dust greeted him.
The youth stared at this reflection for a second, then snorted. He dug his hand into the bucket and scooped out a handful of water. Rather than his face or hands, the child washed his hair, meticulously scrubbing the dirt accumulated over three days.
The child made a mental note to wear a turban next time he went out on a mission that might require him to hide in mud. Minutes later, the symbol of the silver grim reaper shone brilliantly in the dying sun. The child was just about to take off his shirt to wash his armpits when the slight crunch of a stone being crushed underfoot entered his ears.
With a speed that would leave many security agents worldwide with gaping mouths, the child swiftly spun around pistol already in hand. He did not wait to confirm the appearance of the man behind him, squeezing the trigger immediately the intruder entered his sights.
Luckily, the intruder's reflexes were just as sharp, swiftly dodging to the side as soon as the child spun around, allowing the bullet to sail wide and bury itself in a cedar tree. Knowing the child's nature, the intruder swiftly put up his hands and shouted, "Don't shoot! Not Hostile!"
The man's blatant show of surrender caused the child to pause. He kept his pistol trained at the man as he took in the intruder's appearance. He looked to be a man in his early thirties or late twenties—obviously Japanese. He had a refined look about him, dark eyes firmly locked onto the child's not holding the slightest trace of panic nor fear like he had anticipated all of this. "Who are you?" In Mandarin, the child asked, his harrowed voice lacking any trace of the naivety and fun typical of a child his age.
"Akari Seki," The man answered, his mandarin surprisingly fluent. "I work for a company called Genaco Conglo—"
"I've heard of it," the boy spat in fluent Japenese, his test finished. Most of the expired cans of food he ate had the company's logo. "What do you want?"
Akari smiled, relaxing somewhat. At least the child did not look like he would shoot him anytime soon. "How would you like to be part of something great, something bigger that would change the wo—"
"Too long," the child interrupted with a snort. "Did Old Man Xu sell me or not?"
Akari faltered, not knowing how to reply. On a personal level, he did not like the term sell, but what could he do? It was the reality of the situation. With a bitter smile, he muttered, "Yes. But only on the condition that you come willingly."
"You actually bought me?" The child's brow rose. Many gangs had come to buy him once his potential became apparent. Unfortunately, his price tag had always been so ridiculously high they all returned empty-handed. "You're loaded?"
Akari coughed. "The company i—"
"Fine. Let's go." The child decisively switched on the safety, then holstered the weapon. With Akari still coming to grips with the child's seesaw personality, he made his way to the convoy he saw earlier Akari soon following behind after he caught his bearings.
They returned to the compound's front, where one of the men in black suits held the back door open. The child was surprised they let him onto the cargo van without taking his weapon, but he soon understood when he saw six other kids his age sitting on the floor of the truck, some with knives, and others with smaller pistols.
The child's gaze was involuntarily drawn to a girl sitting in the middle of this group with striking blond hair. However, what drew his attention wasn't the hair. It was her pair of sparkling green eyes that held lighthearted amusement and curiosity when he entered.
As a force of habit, everyone in this town avoided each other's eyes, forever downcast and filled with despair. But this girl, not only were her eyes gazing directly into his, there was no trace of sorrow or resignation in them. If it were not for the rags she wore and the bruises on her skin, he would have sworn she was not from the same town.
The girl grinned, revealing gaps where teeth had been smashed out of her mouth. "What's your name, newbie?"
"Taiga," replied the child as he took opposite them, resting on the door which was shut behind him. "You."
"Henri."
"That's a dude's name."
"With an 'I'"
Taiga rolled his eyes. "That makes all the difference," he murmured as a sudden bout of drowsiness struck him.
Shit, it seemed someone had released an odorless, colorless, sleeping gas into the back to knock them out.
Taiga, however, did not panic. He had expected something like this. Only he had thought it would b11e administered through drugs or injection. 'I guess this is an upgrade, huh? Rich people really do things differently.'
With these thoughts floating in his mind, Taiga shut his eyes and then willed himself to the nightmares that were sure to follow.
Aygorzi
Inner Ring.
19th Muriel, 1093.
Laying atop the hard earth, Syèl woke to the urgent clattering of hooves. The halben groaned and sat up, lazily rubbing his eyes as he turned to the sound's source. His brow rose as Asha galloped into the campsite, ten massive horses in tow. Like a whirlwind, she brushed through the feline ranks, picking eight warriors to join her. Before anyone could even ask what was going on, she had left Diatte in charge of the remaining warriors and sped off.
Syèl watched the company quickly disappear in the horizon, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. He picked himself up, gaze running over the campsite as he brushed the dust off his pants. Several tents protected by loose fences made from iron posts bound by steel wires took up most of the space in this mini-headquarters of the clearing force. Despite the inviting tents, the halben, possibly as a side effect of spending most of his life cooped up in small spaces, preferred to sleep outside on the hard earth.
Glancing at the red sun on the horizon, Syèl calculated it was about time for the night clearing party to begin their preparations. Sure enough, just as the thought crossed his mind, he spotted a contingent of dwarven soldiers and felur (an all-encompassing term for all feline kind) jogging towards the camp from the west.
The electric healer, Jade, was chatting amicably with a felur and dwarf at the troops' head.
The halben turned his gaze from Jade to a tent from which Shoko emerged, sword in hand. Syèl let out a small smile at the swordswoman's grin as she waved and walked towards him. The young man was no fool. He knew why he was suddenly revisiting his past after all the years of effort to forget.
Whether it was their hair, eyes, or temperament, the similarities between Shoko and Henri were too much. So much so, if he didn't know for a fact that it was impossible, he would have suspected them of being the same person. As a result, even though he knew it was unfair to Shoko, he could not help but constantly compare and contrast the two at every turn.
The only reason Syel had not chosen to distance himself from Shoko was that he believed it was about time to let the past be the past. However, he had spent so long running from the past that he had forgotten how to face it. Taiga could easily face death without flinching, but he knew himself to be a coward in the parts of life that mattered.
A part of him—Syel did not know which—but a small piece of him believed that which Shoko around, he might finally be able to break free of the ghosts that had him in their clutches. It helped that although Shoko knew he was comparing her with someone else, she did not seem to mind too much.
"You woke up early today," Shoko hailed as she came over to his side. "What is the occasion."
Syèl revealed a toothy grin. "According to your calculations, we should be able to finish clearing by tonight. The excitement couldn't let me sleep."
"Hoh? So, are you finally going to go full throttle today?"
"Nah," Syèl shook his head. "Momma bird's still watching over us."
"Tch." Shoko clucked her tongue. "That bird's persistent. It's been up there for days already." Shaking her head, she patted the halben's back. "Still, I suppose I should praise your detection skills. I could never find something that high."
"Ah, please don't do that," Syèl groaned. "I'm using mana-lock, a beginner level skill to keep track of it. The only reason we knew about the bird is that that freak Shadow 'sensed' its gaze on us from over a mile away."
With a raised brow, the swordswoman scanned her surroundings. "Where is he, by the way?"
Syèl shrugged. "Who knows. He has a habit of popping up whenever he wants. For all we know he coul—"
"—Right here."
"Jumping Jehoshaphat!" Syèl cursed as he just about managed to stop himself from jumping out of his own skin. "What did I say about that!?"
"It's a small pleasure," Shadow noncommittally answered in his trademark dry tone, though there were clear hints of humor in his eyes.
"How long have you been there?" Shoko asked, slightly shocked as well, but not as much. As a swordswoman, her instincts were much sharper. Earlier, she had sensed a weak presence near her but had not been able to pinpoint its location.
The assassin shrugged. "Since the beginning."
Shoko's eyes widened. "Invisibility?"
"No," Shadow refuted with a firm shake of his head. "It's a skill assassins, and thieves automatically learn at level 100 [Hide Presence], and advanced form of [Hide Breath]. It makes it so that our presence is so thin, even if you are looking straight at us, a part of your brain dismisses us as background noise, just as you do not pay attention to every pebble on the road, even if it enters your view." He paused when he saw the horrified look on the halben's face. "What? The skill is not invincible. Someone with high enough instinct or level difference can easily catch me. And in the event the skill gets interrupted, I cannot erase my presence until the person stops looking at me or locking on to me."
"Ah, no, your skill is fine." Syèl stiffly shook his head. He broke into a toothy grin as he teased, "Just never knew you were capable of more than four words in a row. Daddy here's proud of you." He moved to pat the assassin on the head, but Shadow swiftly backpedaled then humphed as he stormed away. "He's cute, isn't he?"
Shoko chuckled. "And you wonder why he enjoys scaring the shit out of you. Come on, let's finish our job. I have a feeling I shall finally hit 110 today."
Syèl snorted as he followed her towards the west. "You level way too fast, you know that?"
Shoko shrugged. "Not fast enough. Once we finish here, I'll find some dungeons to train in. The monsters here are no longer cutting it for me."
"Hmm, guess you're right. The developers better have something big planned, or we'll hit endgame very soon."
"Endgame, eh? Look who's learning his gaming terminology," Shoko teased with a cheeky grin.
"Hey! I'll have you know I have played videogames before."
"You read the online manual, didn't you?"
"..."
The duo bickered back and forth as they walked towards the setting sun, its red glow basking them in its warmth.
Diralis,
Merriheim's Right Claw.
Roars and excited shouts echoed out from the crowd gathered around a small octagonal arena, reveling in the bloodlust as they gambled on the lives of the fighters in the ring. Two felur, one a Sphinx (lion-man) and the other of the just-about-extinct jagur (jaguar-man) bitterly ripped at each other with their teeth and claws. Having lost all semblance of sentience, the once-proud warriors had descended into rabid beasts. The desire to rip the person opposite them to shreds and survive this nightmare for just a single day longer filled their blood-soaked eyes.
Seated just outside the arena, Steel-Cage Olgar Rigz downed another goblet of wine, guffawing usuriously as the jagur bit into the sphinx, only to be rewarded with a bite to his exposed left ear, nearly ripping it off. The lycan, a brute with sharp, snow-white fur and similarly white bone spurs jutting out of his back, screamed in excitement and laughter, paying little heed as the pieces and wine fell onto the female Chesch warming his legs with their bodies.
A necklace made out of his enemies' bone and teeth rattled as Olgar sat upright with the fight peaking, both men having completely abandoned defense to kill the other as soon as possible. Just as the fight was at its climax, the jagur suddenly biting at the sphinx's exposed throat, a young servant, only about eight years old tapped on Olgar's arm, "Sir, an urgent mess—"
The servant never finished his sentence as with a maddening roar as an enraged Olgar tore his head clean off. "What Did I Say About Disturbing Me During A Match!?" The maddening scream caused the temperature in the room to cool by several degrees. The bloodlust enthused crowd suddenly turned as docile as mice.
Within the arena, the jagur's teeth stopped millimeters from the sphinx's jugular. The two, released from the bloodlust that made them lose their minds, stepped away from each other and awaited Olgar's verdict.
Olgar, eyes bloodshot, glared at the ring. Snorting in disgust, he commanded, "Clean those two up! We'll reschedule their fight for later!" Displeased with having his fun interrupted, the lycan stomped on the child's corpse to relieve his anger then exited the arena grounds, the chetah women running close behind him.
The jagur and sphinx shared a common look in their eyes as they gazed at each other despite desperately trying to end each other's lives just a second ago. Relief. Relief that they would not have to kill another of their brothers with their own hands, and comfort that they would both live on to see another day. The duo shared a brisk nod of acknowledgment before they were led away by Olgar's thugs to their respective slave dungeons where they were given the best treatment.
Yeah, just like a prized bull, these contestants would not be allowed to have any injury that could be healed with magic. After all, if the fighting dogs were injured before the next fight, there would be no fun.
Elsewhere, Olgar, with an angry humph, hopped off his avespa, a warbeast indigenous to Merriheim. It was a reptile with a scaled, gray body of a horse, neck of a snake, and head of a hawk. Claws extended from its hooves, making it easier to tear flesh apart, and its tail strangely ended with beautiful white feathers. The beasts were light, fast, and carnivorous, providing an excellent alternative to horses, which were difficult to rear in Merriheim.
Olgar's good eye narrowed as he spotted the merrite that ruined his fun. "What do you want!?" The merrite, Halfir, was Orthana's emissary who lived some days off from Olgar's town. Although the lycan recognized the need of an emissary from the blasted elf to stay nearby, he would rather have the spy kept as far away as possible to reduce the information that got to one of his potential enemies.
"Greetings, your grace." Halfir patted his bald head, a nervous smile on his face as he bowed. Although logically, Olgar should not kill him unreasonably, logic was never something attributed to the madman. If Halfir so much as looked at him sideways, he knew he would lose his neck. "I bring a message from Lady Orth—"
"Hurry up and get to it!" Olgar growled, patience running thin.
"Ah, yes, yes, of course!" Halfir blubbered. He quickly recounted all the information he had received from Lady Orthana before she left to meet Froy at the harbor.
Olgar, who at first had only been thinking of which way to murder this idiot, began sporting a wider grin the more Halfir spoke. By the time the merrite finished, all of Olgar's terrifying teeth were in full view, eyes ablaze with crazed joy.
"HAhAHAHa!!! Someone fetch this fool some women and drink!" Olgar turned to a lycan at his side, clad in strategically placed blue leather armor to protect his vitals and joints. "Rufer, get the men ready, and kick those slaves out their beds!"
Rufer, understanding his lord's intent, asked only to confirm, "How many men do we bring, sir?"
"Naturally," Olgar sported a wide grin as he cracked his knuckles. "Everyone!" His eyes flashed bloody murder as they gazed at the south. "We march for Second Under!"