On the 1st day of the 1512th year of the Germanian calendar-

Snow fell from the autumn sky.

White crystalline flakes danced in tune with the gentle morning breeze, basked by sunlight, then shimmered invisibly to the naked eye. They slowly descended unto the earth, each inclined to bury the soil of yesterday.

A few of these icy specks dangled on the hair of a cheerful child named Tommy. He ran with great speed on the crunchy ground, faster than most of the children in his age. In his cradle was a spiky fruit that he carried with a wide beam across his face.

Through the rough roads he passed by the bleak, impoverished slums. He felt envious eyes staring at the fruit at his bosom, thus he held it tighter than he already did. However, some waved happily at the child, to which he waved back with pleasure.

Tommy would run for a few more minutes until an orphan approached him.

"Please spare me some fruit." he begged with his palms open. The child only had snow, grime, and tattered clothes poorly covering his visibly malnourished body. He looks no more than 6 years old, just 4 years younger than the troubled Tommy.

"I'm sorry, but... this isn't mine." he spoke with guilt.

Unbeknownst to Tommy, however, the boy was not alone... nor did he mean well.

SMACK!

Tommy felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, then the cold ground afterward. He reflexively caressed the place where it hurt the most. Upon doing so, it coated his palms with a warm, crimson fluid that crawled down the back of his head. The world was spinning for what felt like the longest half-a-minute.

Despite the pain, Tommy desperately tried to find the fruit amidst the thick snow. However, even when he had fully gathered himself, it was no longer beside him. Not anywhere near him.

"N-no..." Tommy was on the verge of tears, not because of the pain, no. A frozen cold durian was his mother's favorite food, but now it's gone.

Just when all hope seemed lost, a tall shadow cast itself over the boy.

"Lookin' for this?" a voice with a Gaelic accent spoke to Tommy. When he turned around, a chubby middle-aged man holding 2 scowling boys in his left hand and Tommy's fruit in the other greeted him. The man stretched out the hand holding the fruit towards the boy.

"Take it. It stinks." he grimaced.

"T-thank you, Mr. Trump." Tommy hesitantly grabbed the fruit. "Please don't hurt them, they're just hungry."

"... Yer too kind, unlike these rascals." Trump clicked his tongue before releasing the snarling siblings, who immediately vanished in the dark alleyways. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Trump."

The man inadvertently saw blood dripping from the side of his neck. Trump turned the boy around and saw a nasty wound on the back of his head. "This is not fine, Tommy. Come with me for a little while."

After a brief walk in front of a vendor, Trump began covering Tommy's head with bandages he bought. As he did, the man would speak.

"How's yer mum?"

"As healthy as a horse!" the child responded with much enthusiasm.

"Hoho! Looks like my fields will get lucky again!" the man chuckled. The bandaging was already done. "She'd been workin' hard. Too hard. So, it's good to hear that-"

ROAR!

The angered skies rumbled with great power. Trump turned despondent so suddenly. "Nevermind. Another storm's coming. Normally it would be rain, but..."

He turned to the wilting crops on the fields from afar. One could even see cracks in the ground.

"10 years've passed since the 6th Great War took my wife, and the nights have been nothin' but colder." Trump clenched his hand before continuing.

"The snow's not helpin' either. Today's supposed to be the first day of spring, yet it feels like we're still in the middle of winter. My lands are poor and my reach, confined. Expandin' outside the village barrier means nothing but awful misfortunes."

From his pocket, he pulled out a vial that contained red liquid. "Here, take this."

"What is it?" Tommy tilted his head.

"It's medicine, child. She must preserve her health, especially durin' these tryin' times. I can't have the flower of our town tainted with illness, can I?" Trump smiled. "I know she's alright now, but ye can never be too careful these days. Nor too healthy in that matter! Should her health feel off again, make sure to give her this medicine."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Trump!" Tommy kept it in his pocket. "I'm thankful that my mother works for your fields. She'll be back soon."

"I hope so... Now be quick! A storm's brewing and you're spreading the odor of that... thing."

"I will! This fruit IS insufferable!"

"Haha! You get off now, young one! She's in the plaza selling the crops!"

It didn't take long for the boy to reach the town plaza — a rowdy place teeming with vendors eager to sell their goods. All kinds of products gather here, and so are all kinds of people.

Lizard-drawn carriages, nobles and their guards hoarding certain goods, impoverished orphans staring helplessly at the flashy toy displayed on the stand; the plaza was busy indeed. In the middle of this chaos, Tommy spotted a relatively young lady in the distance.

"Mother!" the boy ran towards her. She was talking with a hooded man who held the trinkets that they made last night. This strange man flicked a golden coin toward the mother.

"E-excuse me, mister." she stuttered in disbelief. "With this amount, I can't provide you with change-"

"Then keep it." the man said with a coarse voice before disappearing into the crowd.

"I could've given him thanks, at least." she pouted.

Afterward, the mother inadvertently met eyes with her son. Upon seeing the fruit, she immediately stood up from her seat and came to her child with a surprised expression.

"Is that what I think it is, Tommy?"

"Well... I wanted a gift to celebrate your recovery, but we have no money. So, I was lucky to come across such a rare fruit while foraging in the local woods. We need to freeze it cold first, though!"

"Oh..." the mother looked at her son with happy eyes. She wanted to hug her little boy, but she couldn't. "So this is why you were gone so early! You didn't have to do this!"

"D-don't you like it?"

"Are you kidding! Of course I like it! I like it very much! I'm touched, but you can't go off by yourself! Especially when kids are- What's that on your head?"

"O-oh, it's nothing."

"Show me."

The child refused to do so, but the mother turned scary all of a sudden.

"... Let me see, Tommy." she sternly ordered. Though hesitant, the child had no choice but to obey. When she brushed his bangs aside-

"Oh my god... Tommy!" she immediately inspected the boy's bandages. "Who did this to you?"

"I just fell off the tree."

"You what? You're so careless!"

"... I'm sorry."

The mother sighed as there was nothing else she could've done. Her boy had always been someone who likes to take risks, even the dangerous ones. She can't scold him too badly since he worked hard for the gift.

"... I appreciate it, my love, but I don't want anything close to this happening ever again. Can you promise me that?"

"... Yes." the child swiftly answered. She knew he will do it again. He's that stubborn, after all. However, she had no other choice but to move on. The child leaned forward for a hug, but the mother refused him.

"Baby, I can't hug you."

"Why?"

"I'm... not that well yet."

"What?" the boy crumpled his brow. "I thought you were- then why are you working?"

"Well..."

"... Mother?"

"I know-"

"We talked about this..."

"I know! But... I can't help it! We won't have anything to eat tomorrow-"

"I can watch the store now, just as I did previously! Those so-called "good bargains" didn't even faze me."

"But they would rather buy from the flower of the town..." she fidgeted her fingers around.

"Mom, I have father's face." the boy smirked arrogantly. "I've received 10 confessions this week... Okay, just one- but the point is, my appearance and charisma are not that far from yours!"

"Oh, really?" the mother laughed with his son. "Listen, you're already doing the dishes and the laundry since I've been sick! Though I'm thankful, I'm the parent here!"

"An ill parent that needs the care of his son and some rest." he sighed even further. "No matter. Just take this medicine."

"Medicine?" she inspected the red vial. "Who gave you this?"

"The same person who gave me these bandages. It's Mr. Trump."

"Oh... then we must thank him later!"

"I'll take care of it, Mom. For now, you go rest over there."

ROAR!

Thunder struck the skies once more. The winds howled like a wolf; the snow began intensifying to where even those with the most gifted eyes would have trouble seeing. Staring at the ominous gray clouds, Tommy gulped and clutched his mantle.

A blizzard is upon them.

----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, somewhere else in town was a pub. The overall exterior was a little shabby and rugged, yet it didn't stop the pub from being busy every night—filled with men who thirst for alcohol after a long day's work. One would think that a blizzard would take away their cravings for a cold one, but the ones outside whose bodies are bare and their stomachs bloated would say otherwise.

DING!

The bell jingled. Someone had entered the lively pub. All eyes turned to the door curiously, then to the man that stood warily in the entrance. A flash of lightning cast a dark silhouette over him.

They saw a black cloak that swayed in the air as he walked towards the counter, dragging dark leather boots with his feet. He wore a fedora of the same color, but a crimson red scarf surrounded his neck.

Finally, the man faced the bartender.

"A new face eh?" the bartender spoke with glee. His poise was refined, much like a noble's. "How did you even find this place?"

"A vendor." the man replied while clutching a wooden trinket.

"Can I have your name?"

"Owl."

"Mr. Owl, what can I serve you?"

"Give me a mug of beer and some of this." he replied with a deep, coarse voice while pointing towards the menu.

"Oh, it's Adobong Bituka. Amazing snack that goes well with beer. Pig or Chicken?"

"Chicken."

While the bartender prepared his meal, the Owl looked around the place. He saw all kinds of men, even women, to which some stared daggers at him. Some had distinct features, like tails that swung across the floor and ears that peeked on top of their heads.

It seems that demi-humans still dwell in Germania, even after the war.

"Hey matey." a man, whose belly bloated like a water balloon, approached him. He then pounded on the table with a sharp thud, looking to intimidate the new face. "Ye look rich. Why go down here and not up there, huh?"

"Am I not allowed to?" he replied, revealing an owl mask.

Through his mask were eyes that the chubby man dared not look at directly. He had seen eyes like these before in a place where no man should be. The man left paled and shivering.

"Hehe, he got a taste of his own medicine, eh?" the bartender served the order.

"You just let him do that around here?"

"His name is Josh. He enjoys scaring off new faces as a joke, but he's a great guy. Don't be too angry at him."

"I'm rather a bit angry at you for tolerating his behavior."

"Come on, a joke or two won't hurt anyone! It even provides good fights sometimes... What's a pub without a brawl and a bet? It's just like sabong, get it? Red cock, white cock?"

The man did not laugh.

"You're not fond of jokes, are you? Say, let me make it up to you. It's on the house... for 5 coppers instead of 10!"

Owl stared at the bartender's expectant face. Afterward, he smiled.

"Rather than that-" Owl tossed a golden coin for the shocked bartender to catch. "Tell me something. Is there anything particularly... strange here, recently?"

"Hmm... Anything strange..." the bartender smiled before quickly pocketing the coin. "Aside from you, kids have been disappearing in this town lately."

"And the culprit is? Is there anyone suspicious in this town?"

The bartender's face immediately soured. "... Why would you ask me that?"

"Because you're the bartender. You're the one who knows every single person in this town."

"... I don't like this conversation."

"Well, give me the coin back then."

The bartender scowled before tossing the golden coin back to Owl. "It's because I know everyone in this town that you shouldn't ask me that. They're my kumpadres and kumares, and I would never be friends with kidnappers."

Owl smiled at the bartender. His friend was right, tough times create strong men.

"You should leave after eating. No need to pay." the bartender spoke while wiping a glass under the counter. "Have a nice night."

"... And who says I can't handle a joke?" Owl tossed the coin into the glass.

The bartender picked the coin up before raising a brow. "If that was a joke, then you're bad at making jokes, Owl."

"Yeah, a friend told me the same thing. Let me make it up to you."

CLINK!

Owl placed a purse brimming with golden coins at the wooden counter. The weight was such that the sound it produced attracted the eyes of nearby customers.

"This purse has 10 golden coins, some silver and copper mixed here and there. Would this do?"

"T-this is..."

Sweat ran down the bartender's troubled face. The large and shiny golden coin he held was enough to fix the entire shop's rugged look. He wasn't sure whether to grab the purse or simply leave it there, but upon the crispy thud of a second purse, he eventually caved.

"... The disappearances are mostly of orphans. Though recently, Ronaldo's child disappeared. They say that it's a monster."

A monster that got past the barrier... this is just like back then. - Owl thought before continuing. "Who is Ronaldo?"

"That's all I can tell you-"

CLINK!

The bartender sighed exasperatedly. "... This town's carpenter. He lives downtown near the slums... though he's not the same man anymore. They couldn't even talk to him without ending up with bruises."

"And who's they?"

The bartender refused to reply. This time, he was expectant of another purse. Owl stared at him without speaking a word. Some time passed, and after a period of what looked like a staring contest, the bartender clicked his tongue. He pointed his lips toward Josh and his friends.

"Thank you." Owl stood up without eating or drinking. It made the bartender furious, which confused Owl. Still, thinking too much was not like him. Money talks, not him, and it proved to be the case once more when the bartender's fury was quelled at the clink of another purse.

Understandably, the the demi-human sighed.

"... Be careful with that tongue, Owl." the bartender said in a somber tone. "You'll make enemies with it."

"So I was told." Owl replied curtly, before standing up. "But as you've seen, I'm quite rich."

"That too will make you a target."

The man in black smiled behind his mask. He had heard this sentence way too many times, and they were true. Perhaps his lips may be better off sealed.

But he doesn't care, for he had lived with death for years. Those who have taken part in the 6th Great War know his might, and those who have fared against him never returned; only those who witnessed.

Widely known as "Humanity's strongest", he is Alexandrius Lupus, the Great Owl.

"Indeed, it would." Lex snickered. "But for now, I have a drunk to drink with."