“You must be Jerome,” the kid with the mohawk hairstyle said.

“…”

“You're famous, you know? Heard you meditated for nine days at Mhen Agrh’ur.”

“…”

Now the bully was getting irritated as he never expected that he would not get a reaction out of Jerome. “What did you do, sleep off or something?” he said.

The crowd of Blanks burst out laughing.

“And what does this have to do with you?” Jerome asked and the entire hall went silent for a moment.

“Did he just talk back to Hedon Alvric?” someone whispered. “This kid’s got guts, but he’s stupid if he thinks he can depend on the Royal family against the heir of the Alvric clan.”

Hedon Alvric gazed at Jerome, sporting a broad grin on his face. While he wouldn’t say he anticipated this outcome, it was undeniably a welcome development. This was his chance to prove that the Royal family was just a bunch of weaklings and to establish himself in the hearts of the young generation.

“Everyone knows you broke through to the Essence-Forming Realm after nine days in Mhen Agrh’ur,” Hedon said, “that being the case, your foundation must not be solid. I’m here to offer you a chance to seek protection under me during Pilgrims' Keep,” he added, smiling.

“What a farce,” Jerome responded, then shut his eyes not paying attention anymore.

This pissed off Hedon greatly, for he never expected that the kid in front of him wouldn't pay him any mind.

“You dare to snub me!” Hedon thundered, “I won’t embarrass you today because of the Royal family. Hand over that spear of yours and I’ll look away just this once,” he said, pointing at the butt of the contracted spear jutting out from behind Jerome’s right shoulder.

Jerome opened his eyes to look at the teenager in front of him. He lifted his left brow as if to say, ‘or what’ and he looked like he was giving the teenager a condescending look. Jerome didn't intend to do this. It was just the way he composed himself.

Hedon was incensed and he felt insulted. No one except his father had ever looked at him that way. The kid in front of him was clearly looking down on him. He reached out with quick reflexes to grab Jerome’s neck, but his hand was smacked away just as quickly.

Jerome looked him dead in the eyes with no emotion. He was no pushover. Hedon threw a punch at him but he might as well have been moving in slow motion. Jerome dodged to his right as he punched the teenager in the ribs in one fluid move.

Hedon staggered backward and instantly lost his cool. He had underestimated his opponent and embarrassed himself in the process. Now he had to do everything in his power to regain his stand without seeming like he was bullying the weak. But he wasn't thinking straight, and clearly, the kid in front of him had more fight in him than the average dog.

Hedon attacked, fast and hard. They both exchanged several blows in a few breaths of time, but Hedon had the upper hand. He'd been Blank for three years now. Albeit, he wasn't able to take away the spear from Jerome.

Jerome was on the back foot for the better part of the fight but never lost his cool. The only other person he’d ever fought against was Rihal whose momentum was impossible to break. Compared to Rihal, the teenager in front of him was a child.

He soon found a rhythm in the way Hedon attacked and was barely able to keep up. He parried blow after blow, dodged and punched out with grace that should surpass a twelve-year-old kid.

Hedon made a feint with his right hand and clipped Jerome in the jaw with his left. He laughed, enjoying the thrill of catching his opponent off guard. But Jerome was observing and learning. Hedon broke his own rhythm once in a while with his feints. He moved like the wind but still favored his right leg.

Jerome staggered three steps backward and Hedon rushed him, but Jerome used his momentum to do a backward flip and kicked Hedon’s arm away, and then in the face with his other leg. He spun around while still in a handstand, legs spread wide as he went for Hedon’s leg.

Hedon quickly withdrew giving Jerome the chance to get up, but he came in hot again.

Hedon made a feint for the third time, but Jerome caught his arm and used it to swing on top of him. Jerome used that momentum—and with his legs clamped onto Hedon’s temples—to fling him, head-first into the wall.

The impact was loud. The wall cracked and Hedon saw stars. He couldn’t believe he would be bested by a baby Blank who wasn’t even a season old. Just as his eyes cleared and he wanted to attack again, a guard appeared in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder sealing and core. Jerome felt a hand on his shoulder and his spinning core involuntarily slowed down to a halt.

“No fighting in the Keep. You'll both be punished for breaking the rules.” The head guard said as he hovered in the air.

What a sight, Jerome thought in astonishment, looking at the head guard in awe. Wonder when I’d be able to do that.

~~~

“He’ll come after you during Pilgrims’ Keep, do not show him weakness,” Rihal told Jerome as he unsealed his core. His core was sealed for a fourth of the day as punishment for breaking the rules of the stronghold. Of course, Jerome knew those weren’t really rules. The guards just used that as an excuse to get on top of the situation, and for that he was grateful.

Rihal gave Jerome a small pouch. “What is this?” Jerome asked.

“Look inside,” Rihal said. The kid was in for a surprise, Rihal thought. Maybe he’ll get to see those eyes of his nearly pop out in shock this time around. Rihal smiled.

Jerome opened the pouch and took a peek, gasping in surprise at what he saw. “How is this possible?!” he exclaimed with his eyes like saucers peering into the pouch.

Rihal was elated. The look on Jerome’s face was golden. He only got to have fun once in a while and this—he observed Jerome once again—was definitely going to be fun when he used it against the kid. He brought out a memory stone and recorded the scene, all the while schooling his expression so as to appear nonchalant.

“Probably the same way my spatial ring works,” Rihal held up his left hand and looked at the black ring on his index finger. He had never concerned himself with the job of artifact refiners. But how they manage to produce wonders like the spatial ring, or the storage bag Jerome was scrutinizing was amazing.

“It’s called a storage bag. Make good use of the resources inside it,” he said.

Jerome kept his gaze on the inside of the pouch as though searching for something he lost. He dipped his hand into the bag and it was swallowed up, as if by a black hole in the air.

“It’s so big on the inside,” he muttered, “like space was compressed or…folded to fit inside it.”

“Ahem,” Rihal coughed loud enough to pull Jerome out of his reverie. “You should get going.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Jerome nodded and took out a map of the mountain range as he walked out of the tower. The map was very detailed as it showed how he could traverse the mountains and the territories of very powerful magical beasts. It carried directions of places to go, and places crossed out in red ink indicating they were not to be trespassed upon.

~~~

Jerome left the tower with the other blanks as they all raced into the jungle before them. Many of them split into groups and went different ways, while some stuck with him. One, in particular, Hedon was waiting for the right opportunity to attack him.

Jerome could feel his murderous gaze from behind him. He'd dealt with kids long enough to know that they could hold a grudge. This kid however was stronger than him. He wasn't too sure he could get away unscathed if he exchanged blows with Hedon again.

What a pain! he thought. He sighed and changed direction. To his left, he could smell a body of water up ahead and went towards it. If a fight was inevitable he might as well set the stage.

He increased his pace, hopping from tree to tree with intermittent acrobatics in between as he pushed himself further toward the body of water.

A few breaths of time later he landed at the shore of a lake. The lake was large, and the sloppy shore was filled with grasses. He quickly found a high enough tree close by to climb and wait for Hedon. Shortly after the teenager arrived with a crowd of people. He planned to publicly disgrace Jerome to earn back some face.

“Get down here and fight me!” He thundered. “I’ll teach you—”

“Why should I get down? I’m not the one spoiling for a fight, am I?” Jerome countered.

Hedon gnashed his teeth in anger. He quickly pulled a long sword out of a storage bag of his own and ran towards Jerome.

Jerome pulled his spear from his back and extended it as Hedon launched himself upwards at him. He jumped off the tree and met Hedon halfway with a vertical slash of his spear, while Hedon performed a horizontal sweep with his sword.

The two weapons clashed with a loud metallic bang that shook both sacred artists as they were both pushed away from each other. As they landed on their feet, they rushed in again, swiping and stabbing and parrying each other's blows. It was like a dance with no clear winner.

Jerome knew he didn’t have the advantage in strength, speed, or agility so he attacked low. The knees, feet, ankle, every little opening he got, he used his spear which had better reach to poke at his opponent, like an annoying gnat, but he never drew blood. He spun his spear to parry attack after attack and slashed downwards at his opponent who used his left arm to block the attack and stabbed at him.

Jerome spun sideways away from the sword that soon came at him in a wide arc. He quickly spun his spear to knock off the attack and in the same fluid motion, he used the butt of his spear to slash at the ground, kicking up dirt into Hedon’s eyes.

Hedon reacted fast. He shot backward and launched himself at Jerome to slash diagonally. Jerome spun his spear to parry the attack but this time, the attack carried too much weight.

Jerome’s spear was knocked away and Hedon's blade slashed at his left bicep drawing blood. There was so much blood pouring out of his arm but oddly enough, he didn't feel pain. What he felt was anger, rage that was threatening to consume him. His body worked hard to heal his injuries, but he just stood there and stared daggers at Hedon.

Hedon stood opposite him pointing his blade at Jerome. His expression was one of glee. He had regained his arrogant demeanor. “Pick up your spear. We’re not done yet,” he spoke loudly, sounding heroic and charismatic. The other Blanks who were watching the fight from a distance were all excited. Some of them implored Hedon to teach Jerome a lesson.

Jerome’s face was red with rage. All hesitation and morals were gone from his heart now. Somewhere in his heart was the urge to tear this teenage boy apart, to drink his blood and feast on his flesh.

Jerome quickly calmed down as best as he could. He wondered where such urges were coming from. He was never someone who enjoyed the suffering of others. But for some reason, he liked those urges. Goosebumps rose to his skin. He shivered, shut his eyes, and took in deep breaths, but the anger wouldn't go away. He pushed for clarity in his mind, but it was like his emotions had come alive and were fighting him for control.

Jerome looked at his left arm covered in bright red liquid. His blood had stopped flowing at this moment. He wiped off the blood on his hand with his robes and walked up to his spear. He knew Hedon wouldn't attack until he was ready. The teenager wanted to make Jerome lose face while looking heroic and fair to establish his dominance amongst the younger generation. Apparently, he saw Jerome as an equal now—but not a threat. Anyone who saw their first fight would know Jerome wasn’t a pushover.

So, he took his time to wrestle his emotions under control, picking up his spear to face his opponent. The moment Jerome moved, he went blind with rage.

~~~

Rihal was a few miles away in one of the towers built around the mountain range, watching the events play out in the mountains through specially crafted artifacts.

He wasn’t the only one. There were many other Spirit Realm experts here like himself. These were the seniors and protectors of the Blanks who came for Pilgrims’ Keep. They were all watching the events playing out in the mountain range.

Their attention was drawn to a specific spot where a group of Blanks had congregated in a semi-circle around a lake, observing two Blanks fight it out — Jerome and Hedon. They were all paying attention to the fight as they watched Jerome get better and better at tackling and countering Hedon's moves.

These were all expert sacred artists, and they could discern a potentially powerful warrior when they see one. Jerome had been growing throughout the fight, demonstrating an impressive ability to anticipate and counter Hedon’s move. Hedon, on the other hand, relied solely on his superior strength and speed to fight. He showcased his strength, regaining back some of his lost reputation. He fought well but he didn't win, and neither did he lose.

Everything changed when Jerome bled. Rihal could sense that something bad was about to happen. The feeling was fleeting, though. He looked around him and saw that everyone was concentrating on the fight, withholding their opinion, so he didn't think much of it.

Jerome attacked.

Chairs scraped the floor, some tumbling over as many of the experts stood up in astonishment. Rihal stood up too. What they were seeing was beyond their comprehension. Many of the experts stole glances at Rihal but saw that he was just as bewildered as they were, which made them all the more confused.

What’s happening, Rihal thought to himself, he’s never moved like that before. No, no, no, no, no. He shouldn’t be able to move like that! He shook his head in frustration.

~~~

Hedon had never seen a Blank move like the one in front of him now. His eyes couldn’t keep up, and neither could his body. It was like the kid was a whole different person from before. He started defending right from the start and was doing a pretty lame job of it.

Hedon was starting to lose blood fast, his injuries piling up, and his body’s healing capabilities couldn’t keep up. He almost started regretting picking a fight with this little brat.

What kind of stamina does this kid have? He’s nothing but a monster! Hedon thought to himself as he kept trying and failing to defend himself.

Jerome on the other hand was slipping into oblivion. Although his body was moving and he felt stronger than he ever had, it was like something had woken up inside him, like a beast that wanted only carnage and destruction. He was finding it hard to keep a clear head.

At some point, he had dropped his spear and was fighting bare-handed. Hedon shot back twenty paces away from him looking bloody and disheveled. He was trying to catch his breath and make sure his body healed so he could regain some strength, but Jerome obviously didn't get the memo.

Jerome arrived in front of Hedon just as fast and punched him in the gut sending him flying more than fifty paces backward. Before Hedon landed, Jerome was there to punch him in the face in the direction he came from. Hedon’s jaw broke, and a few teeth were sent flying out of his mouth as he spun through the air.

Hedon couldn't think straight. He didn’t know what was going on or what went wrong. The only thing he knew was that he was taking blows mid-air without touching the ground. Jerome’s punches were so heavy that almost every bone in his body got broken before he landed on the floor in a crumpled heap unable to move a muscle.

Is it over? He thought to himself, or did he ask it out loud? He couldn't tell. He tried to speak but his voice sounded choked. His jaw hurt badly. Every part of his body hurt like hell. He shed silent tears at the injustice.

~~~

Somewhere millions of lightyears away from Jerome’s world, on an asteroid deep in space and floating through the void, sat a young man, crossed-legged and meditating. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, but his demeanor was that of an ancient being. He wore a white loose robe that made him look like he was born amongst the stars themselves. This was the Patriarch of the Royal family, the Sovereign of the kingdom of Vorthe, Yun Vorthe.

Interesting, Yun Vorthe thought as he was awoken out of his deep meditation. It’s only been thirteen years and it’s started to awaken. He looked in the direction of his home world and his eyes glowed with a golden light.

The seed of darkness I planted inside that woman thirteen years ago shouldn’t have sprouted yet. There are still nine more years left before the darkness awakens in the woman’s offspring. And yet he could sense the beast, rear its head.

The Dark One is rising, he thought. It was time to head back home and prepare his house and kingdom for the inevitable.