"Tossed away", is the harsh label society would give him. Some might offer pity, while others cast disdainful glances his way. It was profoundly ironic how a single, seemingly insignificant mistake could shatter one's life. The possibility of changing his fate now appeared elusive.

An entire year had slipped through Leo's grasp since he took to the unforgiving streets. During the initial month, he clung to the fragile hope that his father would emerge from the shadows to search for him, but with each passing day, that hope dwindled. The only thing that kept a spark of hope alive was his mom's golden pendant, a precious gift he had received.

Leo's year on the streets exposed him to horrors few could fathom: witnessing people beaten to death, beggars mercilessly assaulted by the royal knights for their perceived filthiness, and countless other atrocities. It had been a grueling year, but within its crucible, he had forged his resolve and learned invaluable lessons. In this unforgiving world, there existed only three paths to attain power: accumulating immense wealth as a merchant, deftly navigating the treacherous currents of political intrigue, or ascending through the ranks of the military.

After a lot of contemplation, Leo resolved that he would enlist in the military once he reached the tender age of twelve. Today marked the day before his twelfth birthday.

The morning was shrouded in a dense mist, typical of a spring morning. Jonathan and Leo walked back to their makeshift camp, their tattered clothing clinging to them after going by local restaurants for any meager scraps of food. To Leo, Jonathan was a revered figure, a surrogate father who had shouldered the responsibility of guiding him through this bleak existence. Their haul that morning exceeded anything they'd managed to scavenge in the past week.

"Tomorrow marks your twelfth birthday, doesn't it?" Jonathan inquired, his eyes filled with an understanding that transcended words. Jonathan, once a celebrated general with a promising future, had seen his fate cruelly altered when a battlefield wound necessitated the amputation of his leg.

Leo nodded in response, the anticipation of his impending birthday tinged with uncertainty. "Do you have aspirations for the coming year?" Jonathan continued, his tone gentle and encouraging.

"Yes, but they aren't for sharing," Leo replied, his words imbued with the guarded determination he had cultivated over the past year.

They kept walking, but something was amiss. The unmistakable scent of smoke tinged the air, and a distant, eerie crackling noise reached their ears. They quickened their pace, dread gnawing at their hearts. As they rounded the final corner, the sight before them was a nightmare made manifest. Their humble camp, a sanctuary for the destitute, was no more. It was engulfed in flames, the malevolent fire roaring with unchecked fury.

Panic gripped Leo's chest as he beheld the horrifying scene. Desperate screams filled the air, blending with the relentless crackling of fire. The Black Lions, his friends and companions, were trapped within the burning structures.

Without hesitation, Jonathan and Leo charged towards the inferno. The intensity of the heat was staggering, but it was nothing compared to the horror that awaited them within. As they reached the heart of the fire, they discovered the attackers. Armored knights with a golden dragon crest emblazoned on their armor—this symbol now seared into Leo's memory—were responsible for this inhuman act. Their weapons and magic wreaked havoc with merciless precision.

Jonathan, a former general, and Leo, a young boy of six, fought valiantly against the assailants. Leo remembered a time when he sparred with his friend Lucas, a fellow Black Lion, under the shade of a grand oak tree. Their laughter echoed through the air as they honed their skills together. Lucas was the kindest among them, always ready with a smile and a helping hand.

Now, he saw him, half-buried beneath burning debris, still clinging to life. The glimmer of life flickered in Lucas's eyes, pleading for help. The flames danced around him, and his agonized cries pierced Leo's soul. He knew, deep down, that there was nothing he could do. The memory of their friendship, their shared laughter, and the bond they had formed fueled Leo's determination to avenge him.

Tears streamed down Leo's face as he watched Lucas, his dear friend, succumb to the merciless fire. Lucas's eyes, once filled with warmth, grew dim, and his body went limp.

The roaring flames cast eerie shadows, turning the camp into a nightmarish hellscape. Jonathan and Leo charged forward, their hearts pounding with a mix of fear and determination. The attackers, knights clad in armor adorned with the menacing golden dragon crest, wielded both weapons and magic.

As they approached the chaos, Leo's small frame seemed insignificant amidst the towering inferno and armored foes. Fear gnawed at him, but the sight of his friends in peril made him go on. Jonathan engaged one of the knights in a fierce duel, his combat experience evident in every fluid movement. He parried strikes and countered with precision, but it was clear that he faced a formidable opponent.

Leo, on the other hand, found himself facing a knight who bore down on him with a menacing sword. Panic surged, but he refused to succumb. He had watched Jonathan spar with his friends countless times, absorbing every lesson. Now was the time to put those lessons into practice.

He darted behind a crumbling wall, narrowly avoiding a lethal strike. The flames cast flickering shadows, concealing his movements. As the knight lunged towards him, Leo seized the opportunity and sent a makeshift table hurtling towards him. It crashed into his armor, momentarily disorienting him.

Swiftly, Leo grabbed a shard of wood that had once been part of their camp's furniture. With newfound determination, he lunged at the distracted knight, plunging the shard into a gap in his armor. He let out a pained cry, and Leo retreated, leaving him to wrestle with the agony of his wound.

The battle raged on. Leo couldn't pause to celebrate this small victory. His focus shifted to another knight, who had set his sights on Jonathan. With a quick scan of his surroundings, Leo spotted a rope hanging from a beam overhead.

He leaped into action, pulling on the rope with all his might. It released a wooden beam from above, which swung down with a thunderous crash, knocking the knight off balance. Jonathan seized the opportunity, delivering a powerful strike that sent his opponent to death.

The tide of the battle began to turn in their favor as they used every advantage the camp's wreckage provided. Battered and bruised, they fought with relentless determination, driving the attackers back.

But despite their small victories, the cost was heavy. The camp was in ruins, and Leo's friends lay fallen, their lives cruelly stolen by the merciless flames. Lucas, Leo's dear friend, had met a tragic end, and the sight of him haunted him.

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As the remaining attackers retreated, their golden dragon crest fading into the distance, Leo knew that this battle was only the beginning. The trauma and loss weighed heavily on his heart, but it also ignited a fierce determination to seek justice and protect those who couldn't defend themselves. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but Leo was ready to face it head-on, fueled by the memory of his fallen friends and the lessons learned in the heart of the inferno.

After the fierce battle, Jonathan's hand gently tapped Leo's shoulder. "Leo, they're all gone," he continued, his voice choked with grief and anger.

"I want you to run, to escape this hell. I know you've been honing your swordsmanship in secret. I cannot bear the thought of you meeting the same tragic fate as the others. Take this emblem and this key. Make your way to the nearest military base. Show them the emblem, and you will be accepted as a trainee. The key unlocks a vault within the central bank, where you'll find a sword, a modest sum of money, a cache of potions, and a fundamental guide to various disciplines. Purchase suitable clothing before presenting yourself to the military.

As for me, do not concern yourself. I will be relentlessly pursued by the royal authorities. Oh, and the potions, consume them without hesitation; they will prove invaluable later. But reserve the black one for a time when you are truly prepared to become formidable. Best of luck." With those parting words, he vanished into an ephemeral wisp of smoke, leaving Leo standing at the street corner, torn between elation and grief. All his friends had perished; of course, sadness enveloped him.

Yet, as Leo examined the devastation anew, he noticed a golden dragon crest emblazoned on the armor of the royal knights, a symbol that stirred familiarity, though he could not quite place it. So, clutching the key tightly in his hand, he set off toward the central bank.

Upon arriving at the towering, three-tiered edifice, Leo inadvertently attracted the curious gaze of bystanders. They must have wondered about the filthy boy who dared to approach a bank reserved for the elite of society. As he attempted to enter, stern-faced security personnel barred his way. A burly man, his demeanor more pitiful than hostile, took it upon himself to confront him.

"Don't get any funny ideas, kid. This place isn't meant for your kind," he grumbled, his words carrying an undertone of sympathy.

"Excuse me, sir, but I possess the key to vault 443, registered under the name Jonathan Solas," Leo replied, extending the key and displaying the emblem.

The security guard's expression transformed instantly, and he said, "Follow me, young master; I'll escort you to the vault." With a gesture, he held the door open, and Leo entered, experiencing the rare sensation of someone opening a door for him and waiting patiently for him to step through.

They navigated a labyrinthine tunnel system that seemed to stretch into eternity, with vaults appearing at ten-meter intervals. Finally, they arrived at vault 443, and the guide brought them to a halt.

"From here on, you're on your own. I'm not permitted to witness the contents of the vault," he stated before retreating toward vault 442.

Leo approached the vault door, inserted the key into its designated slot, and turned it with a smooth motion, causing the door to swing open on its own. Within the vault lay a spacious room, comparable in size to their camp's dining area. True to Jonathan's description, the vault contained gleaming gold, a package that intriguingly assumed the shape of a sword, a leather-bound tome, and several crates brimming with potions.

Leo settled beside the crates, their contents beckoning. Three distinct colors of potions met his gaze: blue, red, and black. The black potions would have escaped his notice if not for Jonathan's earlier mention. "Only two diminutive bottles of the black substance," he muttered to himself. Approximately twenty vials each of blue and red potions were neatly arranged. He reached for a blue vial and drank its contents. Initially, he felt nothing out of the ordinary, but soon a torrent of energy surged through his veins, invigorating his entire being.

He followed this with a red potion, which produced a similar effect but concentrated on different areas of his body. He kept repeating the process of drinking a red one and after that a blue one. After drinking nine blue potions, a bright blue circle appeared below his shirt. After pulling his shirt off, he noticed a tattoo on his left chest. The same happened when drinking twelve of the red ones, but it wasn't a circle but a black fang tattoo on his neck. After the two tattoos appeared, nothing special happened while drinking the potions. Now, only the two bottles of the black substance were left over.

"Well, why don't we just drink both bottles at the same time? They are both so small anyway." The cap of the bottle was quite hard to pull off, but Leo succeeded on the second try. A very disgusting smell came from the bottles. He opened the second one and poured both together at the same time. It was disgusting, so disgusting that he almost spit it out. When the taste finally faded, a burning pain took over his entire body.

The torment persisted, and his cries for help echoed in the desolation, but no savior arrived. Why was it that help never seemed to materialize when he needed it most? If only he could endure this. Didn't Jonathan tell him that enduring would grant him power? So, he persisted, for what felt like an eternity, until the searing pain gradually ebbed away. It was only then that he realized his eyes had clenched shut.

As he summoned the courage to open his eyes, he was greeted by a gruesome sight. The ground beneath him was stained with a gruesome mixture of blood and water, a testament to the ordeal he had just endured. But it wasn't just the aftermath of pain that held his attention; it was the transformation that had occurred within him.

A sinister black aura seeped forth from his eyes, like tendrils of dark smoke unfurling into the air. His vision was obscured momentarily by this eerie phenomenon. When he blinked away the residual discomfort, he dared to peer into a nearby pool of water, his reflection revealing the extent of the metamorphosis.

His once-brown irises had undergone a profound alteration. They were no longer a simple hue; they had transmuted into a mesmerizing shade of gold-brown, a striking contrast to the eyes he had known his entire life. The transformation was both enchanting and unnerving, leaving him with a myriad of questions and uncertainties.

As he contemplated this transformation, he couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of the black potion and the powers it might have bestowed upon him. With this newfound transformation, he was looking forward to embark on a path unlike any other, one that held both peril and potential, all fueled by the enigmatic elixir he had imbibed.

After resting within the vault for a while, he mustered the resolve to venture outside. He chose to take ten golden coins from the vast riches, along with the book and the sword. As he left, the guide expressed gratitude for his visit. His next destination led him through a few city blocks until he reached a clothing shop. Upon entering, the cashier's distrusting eyes bore into him.

"Why are you here?" she inquired with suspicion. Avoiding unnecessary conversation, he nonchalantly tossed her three gold coins and replied, "Fetch me military attire and a hot bath." She nodded, took his measurements, and retreated to the back. Half an hour later, she emerged with clean clothing in hand. "Are you ready for a wash, young sir?" she asked. After submitting to her ministrations, she offered to provide a free haircut, as she was still honing her skills. He consented and waited patiently. Once the haircut was complete, he donned the new clothes.

"You look splendid, but there's a small issue. You lack proper footwear, and I cannot allow you to roam the streets barefoot. You need only pay with two gold coins for these additional clothes, which I will use to purchase two pairs of shoes on your behalf. Consider it recompense for my practice from before." She had a valid point, and he agreed. In the end, she returned with two impressive pairs of shoes. Both were a perfect fit. He thanked her warmly and departed with a sizeable bag on his shoulders. Inside lay additional clothing, the book, and some bread he had acquired from a nearby bakery.

Familiarity with the city's layout allowed him to navigate swiftly to the royal military base. Upon arrival, the clashing of swords greeted his ears. He entered the training grounds and observed several individuals engaged in sparring matches. His journey continued until he arrived at a building bearing the sign "Registration Office." With a sense of purpose, he knocked on the door and stepped inside.