(Author Note: So this is my first attempt at a fiction and I'm expecting a lot of critiques both creative critiques and outright scorn. Let me have it. It'll help me grow as a writer and come out with better content in the end so in advance, ""THANK YOU."" Please enjoy.)Logically, when you flip a coin a hundred times, you’d expect heads to come up once, right? In this world the haves and the have nots, tend to be decided by that tiny margin of chance. My life, and maybe you’ll empathize with me, feels like some big guy in the sky flipped a coin and decided to toss me like a rag. Fifth, was the son of a prostitute in the backwater slums of the great Nightfall Empire’s 3rd second-class district, Krill. His mother was neither attractive nor ugly, thus her ability to make money using her ‘craft’ was minuscule at best but once again, that fickle ‘bastard’ chance decided to grant her a high ability to become pregnant and that is where the life of our protagonist begins. The fifth son of a brood of 5, abandoned as an infant in a stable, poorly held together with a badly made thatched roof with holes riddling its surface, save for a few animals no other living being was there, with no cloth to protect him from the weather, left to chance. Beg he lives, Pray he dies.