“Get up.”

Anger burst in Amaro’s gut, he snatched that unruly sword up and swung with all his might.

SWSHHH!!!

It burned. His father was simply too quick. Amaro had suffered cuts before during training. For a xiozian like him, it was nothing to suffer a blade wound. A cut to the skin or even down to the bone would often heal before sparring ended. He’d hardly ever notice when he got hit, but a single cut from his father hurt more than anything he’d ever endured.

He felt its shape burning across the bridge of his nose. Amaro yelped, clutching his face and curling up in front of his father.

“I had wanted you to acquire your first battle scar after a hard fought and glorious victory over something like a dragon or a human champion.” His father said with such cold disappointment in his voice, “But I believe that this is more suitable for one so disobedient as you. It hurts doesn’t it? A strike made with such powerful magic that your body will never fully heal from it. Let it serve as a reminder, Amaro. Respect those who are above you until you have enough strength to properly challenge them.” He swiped the saber through the air, spattering Amaro’s blood across the floor, snapping his fingers to have Lorshiir take it back from him, “Never dishonor me with a challenge like you have on this day. Ever. Unless you are prepared to impress me or die trying, do not dare speak back to me like you have ever again. You live today only despite your insolence, Amaro. Never forget that it is because of your father’s restraint, and mercy that you still draw breath. Do I make myself clear?”

Amaro hated to remember it. The way his father had treated him. The way he was made to grovel and beg for forgiveness in front of everyone. Forced to perform with his father and save his reputation among the cruel and warlike members of other noble houses.

His father had been so ready and willing to kill him for even the smallest sleight against his reputation. Because, above anything else, xiozian nobles cared for obedience under authority. The strong kept the weak firmly where they belonged; Under their boots.

Amaro touched the scar on the bridge of his nose again, tracing the rough skin that had healed over it. Had he been slashed any higher he’d be blind today. Any lower and he’d be mute. He was thankful he still had his sense of smell, though it had taken a bit of time for him to regain it.

Amaro was drifting off to sleep now. He dreamed of the day he could take that mantle from his father. To prove that there had been a better way to teach him that day. When Amaro had his own son, he’d never lay a hand on him like that. He’d never teach such a cruel lesson.

That was not mercy. That was not restraint. That was not civil.

That was not love.

He fought off his drowsiness. He had to do something.

Amaro planted his palms above his head and sprung to his feet. He swung the blade, hearing its metallic hum.

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It felt so good to wield. Too good.

He didn’t need it, he could make due without it. Lorshiir had always taught him it wasn’t the weapon, it was the wielder. Such a weapon was an unfair advantage. He’d be better by not relying on it.

Amaro could envision his story now.

“Though The Godslayer tried to keep his son firmly under his legacy, Amaro the Great rescinded his gift and instead carved his own legacy with a humble katana.”

The first thing Amaro would do is find someone to craft him the curved blade. He put Quinrai back in its leather sheath. It had a strap on it which he could sling over his shoulder.

It did feel cool to have this weapon on his back. Maybe he’d keep it around just for aesthetic purposes.

Perhaps his legend would be about how he found no opponents worthy of making him use such a powerful weapon.

Maybe Amaro would live the life of a vagabond for a little while. That way no one could say he didn’t work for everything he had. Amaro’s wasn’t going to let his legend be one of bloodlines and birthright. It would be one of hard work and dedication. He could prove that anyone who put in the work and showed their merit could rise in their society.

He thought about the Venator Knights. A prime example of commoners rising to nobility through merit. Perhaps Amaro could rescind his noble soul mark and become one instead? He could make his own bloodline.

He thought of The Crow and what he’d been told. Being a Venator Knight was dangerous and endlessly difficult. Plus, he was born to a noble household so the other knights would never accept him.

He could also become a Tibur. Slaying monsters, going on grand adventures, seducing exotic xio and xia with his refined charm.

Amaro smiled to himself, yes he could definitely do that. Amaro was a rather handsome boy, after all. The Tiburs had likely never seen someone like him, his skin and hair so pure white he might’ve looked divine. But when he got there he would show his humility.

He would calm them down and show them he was a normal xio like them.

He remembered the red haired girl he’d seen at the foot of the mountain. How she’d stared at him with such awe. Her eyes had been so distant, like she was comparing him to something.

He imagined how he’d protect her and show her she could stand at his side. She wasn’t strong enough to open the gates, the poor thing. She was so kind and caring to look after a tailless urchin like she did. He’d open those gates for her the next time they came.

She was unkempt, but her eyes still lingered in Amaro’s head. Her beautiful face hidden beneath the grime and dirt. That was natural beauty, not the artificial beauty that noble xiozi believed in. Not the make-up, glossed lips, fashionable clothing, and ravaging hairstyles.

That girl did not need to hide her beauty beneath a mask.

Her two friends had also been strong enough to enter through the gates even though they were as young as he was. They likely had their eye on her too.

Their love could be forbidden, frowned upon by both sides. They’d face much hardship, but Amaro would beat them in battle if it meant winning her.

Perhaps they’d bond over being rejected by either family, and that’s how Amaro would establish his new bloodline.

The possibilities were endless.

But one thing kept bothering him. The matter of The Venator Knight, the fire, The Crow, and what he’d seen at the base of Mt.Xirxus.

It wasn’t difficult to put together that the Tibur girl had some sort of involvement in the event. If his family was also participating in the trafficking of venator knight children then he wanted to put a stop to it in whatever way he could.

But as he was now, even with all his talent, he wasn’t enough to fight someone like The Crow. He needed to disguise himself and his intentions.