Drab. Dull. lifeless. Those were the words that came to mind when one looked up at the sky; the clouds blanketed the noon sky and blocked the rays of the sun. No matter how hard the light tried, it could not get past the curtain of grey clouds; its hope sullied by the clouds' dreary attitude.

In a quaint little village by the name of Birsch village that was on the edge of the Giant's spine, a mountain range, was an orphanage standing tall on the edge of the village.

It's wooden planks on the verge of rotting. It's image blending into the scenery of the muddy brown dirt and pebbles with patches of green scattered here and there.

Everywhere someone could have looked was the same lifeless scenery. All except for a patch of grassland by the foot of the mountain; the scenery there was a little different than the usual mundane grass, dirt and wood.

The muted and monotonous grass was brought to life by a contrast of colour. The bright red liquid was haphazardly scattered and blotted on the verdant green grass. The bright red liquid slithered and skidded down the tips of the blades of grass while coagulating into a drop of crimson.

The wind whistled its harmonic tune yet it could not hide the groans and grunts of little runts. On the floor, sprawled out or hunched over, lay kids ranging from the ages of about five to twelve; their noses bruised and bloody while their mouths coughed up copious amounts of bright red liquid, which quickly dulled and lost its lustre turning it into a dark red colour. A few of the kids faced the sky as they let out their pitiful groans and growls.

The kids were diverse and different in personality and look. A lot of them consisted of a fair complexion with brown hair and hazel eyes, however, a few of them had exotic looks; one of them had spiky flaming red hair, dark brown eyes and a pale complexion, with his right arm covered in intricate black tribal markings.

Another had black hair with two small black horns coming out of her temple and she lay on top of two miniature black and grey wings. She had a lighter complexion than most of the other kids but not as light as the red-haired boy.

The kids might have all looked different on the outside but they all reacted the same way on the inside to the various bruises and injuries they had on their arms, legs, faces and torsos, that is to say, they winced and agonized in pain and many of them were in the fetal position.

A large resounding thud echoed out. All was silent. The wind stopped whistling, the trees stopped rustling and the kids stopped groaning. The kids turned their gaze to the source of the noise.

Two kids faced each other, not moving a single muscle. One of the kids looked dishevelled and bloodied; his silky golden blond hair had bits of debris stuck in it, his face marred by the various bruises and the blood-stained nose, however, the look in his azure blue eyes was fiery, passionate and energetic in contrast to his appearance.

The boy's ragged and tattered clothes were covered in grime, dirt and blotched with blood. A pair of miniature wings, comparable in size to the horned girl laying on the ground, was attached to his back, they were pure white and resembled dove wings; or rather, they would have been pure white if not for the mud smeared on them and the various bits of rocky detritus lodged in between the feathers.

His faltering stance coupled with his black and blue legs gave the impression that he was about to pass out at any second, the kids on the floor watched with bated breaths, against all odds and the kids' expectations, the blond-haired boy didn't collapse and his stance began to stabilize.

Sapphire eyes stared like a hawk at the boy in front of him; in those eyes was a mixture of fear, confidence, defiance and courage. He could feel his heart pound in trepidation, he could feel the butterflies in his stomach and he could feel his legs giving out. But! From the pits of his gut rose overpowering confidence and an unwavering will. He felt as though he could conquer the seas and best death himself. This confidence… it would not last long.

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He carefully observed the boy in front of him: pitch black hair, ruby-red eyes that complemented the vehement look in his eyes and a slight grin on his face that juxtaposed the current situation. On the black-haired boy's right cheek was an imprint of a fist that was reddish-purple; From his nose trickled down blood.

The blond-haired boy's confidence started to waver as he watched this odd reaction that he had not foreseen. The aura surrounding the black-haired boy changed. Before, it could have been described as calm and tame, but now it was bloodthirsty and feral. His lips started to curl, what was once a small grin transformed into a devilish smile. The blond-haired boy could feel that something was off.

From the clouds came whispers of the sunlight's woes. The silent tears gently floated down and shared its sadness with the citizens of the world. The land became silent, listening to the story of the rain.

However, in a stretch of grassland by the foot of the mountain, the denizens of the world were paying attention to something else. Something inelegant and brutal. Something that defied the rain.

The sound of thwacking resounded throughout the air, cutting through the gentle ambience of the rain.

From afar, two adults could see one boy sitting on the stomach of the other boy; as they got closer, they could make out what was happening more clearly. The black-haired boy was on top of a blond-haired boy, flanking them were several children on the ground. The adults could barely make out the expressions of horror, fear and nausea. Their feet pushed themselves off of the floor as fast they could. They knew that something disastrous had happened.

At last, they could now see what the kids were so repulsed by, what they saw filled them with a sense of dread. The rain's gentle whispers became hushed murmurs: not as subtle as before but not as crude as it would soon become.

Blood stained the grass surrounding the kids and the two boys. The blood clung to the blades of grass like a man clinging on to the edge of a cliff for dear life; the rain unable to cleanse the grass no matter how hard it tried.

Thud! Thud! THUD! The black-haired boy kept brutally beating the blond-haired kid with his fists. His sadistic smile only growing bigger as he kept punching the disfigured face on the floor. His fists never letting up the endless torrent of abuse.

The two adults hurriedly chanted a few lines of cryptic sounding verses while running, after a second of chanting, their bodies suddenly hastened as though they were filled with boundless energy.

One of the adults, who wore a black robe and was small and muscular in build, tackled the boy on top, taking him off the blond-haired boy and onto the muddy ground. He put his hand over the boy's face and chanted an arcane phrase causing it to glow in an ominous purple light. The once lively and vigorous boy soon turned into a limp sack of flesh in a deep sleep.

The other adult rushed to the blond-haired boy's side and quickly muttered an incantation that encased the boy in a holy white light while observing the boy's condition. A broken nose, black and blue eyes, bloody cheeks and incessant bleeding.

As the white light covered the boy's body, his wounds began to heal, the bruises became fainter and the bleeding stopped; while not fully recovered, his injuries had become less dire.

With this emergency out of the way, the white-robed adult ran towards the kids sprawled out on the ground and quickly cast the same spell he had done before on each of them. As they were not as injured as the blond-haired boy, their wounds nearly fully recovered leaving them with only a few minor scrapes and bruises.

As soon as they were relieved of their major injuries, the kids sprinted towards the body of the blond-haired boy with expressions of concern and pity on their faces. One kid with flaming red hair remarked: "He's in worse shape than usual." Before turning and telling the unconscious black-haired boy all about how he was going to beat him next time.

"Leo went overboard this time, might even be the end of the road for him!" The black-robed man happily remarked.

"At least try and hide your excitement otherwise you're gonna set a bad example for the children," the white-robed man quickly lectured as he stroked his long, snowy beard, "besides, he'd have to leave in three years anyway."

"Tch, I can't bear another year with this brat still running around and causing a ruckus! It's like every other day that he beats the kids into a pulp; in fact, shouldn't you be the most pissed out of all us here, Haig? You have to constantly keep running around and cast healing magic on the kids. Weren't you the one who wanted a nice and slow retirement life in the village?"

"Well, one, unlike you, Reiner, I have the ability to suppress my emotions or at least keep them under check and two, my healing skills have been improving at an astounding rate despite me not being an adventurer anymore."

"Aren't you just a sly old fox, huh?"

"I'll answer that question later. Right now we have to get the kids inside or else they'll get a cold. You carry Leo and I'll help Valour out. Alright, kids, hurry on over to the orphanage now, I'll take good care of Valour."