When I was a child, someone saved me.
The village I lived in was attacked by an enemy guild.
Their idea of mercy, to give anyone who crossed their path a quick death.
But they just did not imagine a master suddenly arriving there.
She defended me from a group of twenty, spear in hand, crimson in blood, with the ease of a swan and ruthless dexterity... and once she was done, she threw me a glance, and a hint of killing intent flashed across her eyes. I should have been afraid, paralyzed even... but in truth, all I felt was admiration.
Strength. Absolute strength. Thundering as lightning, and just as cruel.
The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, then she grabbed my hand and led me away from the flames.
The journey lasted a few days, time I spent between shivers and nightmares, haunted by faces and events I don’t remember clearly anymore. Not after her help, not after her finger gently touched my forehead, vanishing the dark.
Much like she herself, her action was shrouded in mystery.
We arrived at a city not long after that, one I had never seen before. There, she led me to an orphanage, her behaviour cold, her gentle image a far away dream. Such demeanor was no doubt to shut down any hopes I may have of travelling with her still, yet such were never my plans.
If I went with her, what would I be, but a burden?
So when I saw her turning to leave, my lips moved on their own, my tongue possessed by something similar to yearning, “How can I be like you? How can I reach you?”
A flash of surprise crossed her eyes then, and after a few breaths deep in thought, she opened her left hand and a blue book appeared, which she then threw at me. “Finish it, and you might have a chance.”
Then, her figure flickered and disappeared.
I stood there a while, marvelled at the trace of her figure still burnt in my eyes.
She could have just walked away…
But she chose to show me the difference between us, something I took as a challenge.
A challenge that has been burning in my chest for ten years now.
A person is covered by layers of possible descriptions.
And the man who had fallen unconscious that night, was no different.
If someone were to stroll around the city, maybe looking for a tavern still open, or on their way back home after a long day of work, and for some reason passed through the front gates of an orphanage whose occupants had long gone to sleep, their eyes could mayhaps wander through the place that man had for refuge 一nothing but a hut made of wood, dishevelled and barely standing. Any curiosity, in most cases, that could query their minds would die right then.
If that someone, however, were more observant than the rest, they’d see fissures and splinters on its walls, held together with rudimentary patches, giving the impression that the hut itself had been repaired many times during its fragile existence.
Even if that someone, for some whim of fate, were to pull the plank acting as door aside and take a peek inside, they’d see but a man sleeping on the ground, his long, black hair freed from any restraints, his features shaded by a beard and eyelids closed in solitude and coldness.
That someone, undoubtedly, would describe that man as a beggar.
Right or wrong, if that man were awake and able, he probably would not deny such a statement, much to the frustration of those who, despite his outer appearance, knew him better.
For ‘beggar’ was but one layer of the many descriptions he could receive.
Those who disregarded that first layer, however, weren’t many. Quantity has never been a way to measure bonds, and theirs, even if formed by chance or fortune, were strong enough to glimpse into the man with more detail.
Among them, there was the manager of that orphanage. He was the one who took him in when he was but a child, and so knew that despite his appearance, that man was young, not even in his twenties.
Hence, he saw him for who he truly was: a kind soul whose only sin had been to be born under a bad star. His future bleak, his fate sealed. In his chest, he held a worry shared by those who had a strong bond with that young man, yet none of the hope they also cradled.
For if the day hadn’t been so exhausting, nor the words of that young man so insistent, a girl living in that orphanage would have checked on him that night. Her hands, red from the merciless cold wind, would have pulled the plank he had for a door aside, her gaze tenderly caught his figure, then covered it with a blanket. She was conscious of his struggles, of his inner turmoil, and of the sacrifice he had been forced to make every day for a few months now.
They had grown together, and so her view had the unique glint of childhood memories. Her gaze had met his purple one multiple times, finding a determination she had never seen in others his age, puzzling her, pulling her close, calling to her like a bright flower trying to grow in the midst of bricks and trodden dirt.
And so, she held hope, despite her questions, despite the feeling that the young man had a secret he may never share. Not with her.
But there was someone else who did glimpse into his ambitions, and had also seen that purple gaze up close. Their meeting had been strange, her actions driven by curiosity; and by chance or fortune, her steps took her through the layers covering that young man, delivering her closer to him than anyone.
She was someone blessed with an open mind and discerning eye. Her curiosity gave birth to a friendship the young man himself valued more than his well-being. She knew of his determination, of his kindness, smarts and stubbornness, and her gaze had been gentle enough to see the veiled shape of his ambitions.
And so, she cupped a shiny, candle-light hope close to her chest. It flickered shy, weak, yet it was also warm and bright and threatening. She knew the meaning of such a flame, and also its promise.
Yet a strong bond, albeit helpful, wasn’t mandatory to nurture hope for that young man, as unknown to him, there was someone in that city who also saw his potential. She saw him when he was a child, brought to her by the manager of that orphanage to look into his health. Circumstances aside, her strength and skills were high enough to catch something special in his constitution.
For her, he was a beggar. But unlike the many who would describe him as such, her eyes reached deeper, and soon saw herself including that young man into her plans. She didn’t hold any ill-will towards him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be useful. Hers was a bet, and her years of life taught her that the path of an adventurer was plagued by them.
Despite the many descriptions covering that young man, if one thing could be said about him with complete certainty, it would be that he himself lacked the ability to see himself in detail, and his lips would want for an answer if asked such a question. Yet…
Yet that didn’t mean he didn’t know himself, nor what he was pursuing. That was a secret he kept close to his chest, and had never spoken of it to anyone, nor to the man who took him in, nor to the girl he grew up with, nor to his closest friend.
If he had to say something about himself, after years of attempts with no visible results, would be that his hope… was flickering.
And his hands were beginning to lose their ability to keep it from being snuffed out.
“Hey, beggar. Wake up!” a shout, directed at a wooden hut. “I said, wake up!”
The owner of the voice kicked the makeshift door open, the plank bouncing on the ground, just to find a tall young man staring at him, clearly annoyed.
“C’mon, get out, I don’t have all day!”
The young man, looking much older to any casual bystander, begrudgingly stepped outside just to find a youth, about sixteen years old, and two men behind him, in their twenties. He knew this trio, and his demeanour showed it was not the first time they treated him like this.
“C’mon, be my punching bag for a bit. I need to practice my new killer combo!” Said the youngest, a blonde whose round belly and fine clothes spoke of riches and means. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold back.”
The man, when hearing this, just sighed, which annoyed the youth.
“Hmph! I see that after all my beatings, you still haven’t learnt your place!” The other two men just observed from behind, smiling and trading secret comments. “Don’t you dare move, or you know the consequences.”
The young man squinted his eyes, but didn’t move.
“Good!” One punch, to the stomach. His figure bent from the impact and sudden pain.
Another punch, to the face. An unexpected force threw him against the ground three steps to the left, where he could not but spit blood to the side, his long black hair covering his gaze of hatred.
The youth laughed, and without giving him time to stand up, rushed and kicked his sides. Again, a force that he shouldn’t be able to exert lifted the young man in the air, just to receive another fist on his chest, which sent him against the brittle wall of his hut. Soon after, the whole structure came down on him.
It all happened in just five breaths.
The commotion called the attention of some kids in the nearby orphanage. They wore the expression of custom and ignorance, while behind them, a man in his thirties watched the scene with worry and white clenched fists. Soon enough, he told the kids to go back inside, ashamed of how long it took him to do so.
The heavy youth lifted an eyebrow, his swollen cheeks unperturbed.
“Did he pass out already? Man, since I reached the Nascent Essence third stage, these visits are becoming shorter and shorter.” He complained. At his age, such a level of Essence refinement was impressive, albeit not legend-defying. “Oh well, I guess we’ll have to look for fun elsewhere… ”
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His gaze turned to the man in the orphanage.
“Is Sister Ran at home?”He smiled. “I came to ask her for advice!”
The man rearranged his glasses with a finger before approaching the simple fence between them, and said, “She went on an errand, I’m afraid. But I’m sure I can help you with any problems you might have, good sir.”
The “good sir” snorted. “What kind of errand?”
“That…” The man hesitated, not knowing what to say in order to prevent any further damage, but before he could come up with something, the sound of wood and rumble attracted his attention.
From the destroyed hut, a figure emerged. The man knew him enough to be certain his hesitation had forced him to stand up.
“Avaln…!“
Avaln was the name of the young man, albeit only a few ever used it. In any ordinary conditions, his height and physique would have intimidated someone as short as that blonde youth... However, such appearance wasn’t enough, for this world was ruled by something much more powerful than muscle.
“Hmph! It seems my killer combo wasn’t enough to knock you out. One has to wonder what you do to keep yourself in shape despite being such a waste!” The heavy blonde spat.
It’s hardly a killer combo if no one is killed. Was the thought of everyone present.
“Please, Sir Hallen. It is indeed commendable for a beggar to be able to endure four of your moves. You should reward him with a few pointers, shouldn’t you?” One of the men accompanying him said then. “In fact, from what I know, the beggar cleans your father’s orphanage every week, so in a sense he is also your subordinate. It should be your duty to instruct him.”
A smile deformed the youth’s swollen cheeks. “You are indeed correct, friend.”
Avaln didn’t say anything. He just stood up and ignored the pain running through his torso, for he knew that talking would only extend the current situation, and maybe even enrage Hallen, who could not only beat him to death, but also bring trouble for the already troubled orphanage. Hallen’s father, lord Edward Hallen, was known for spoiling his son, and was willingly blind to any of his misbehaviors around the city…
“What can a few pointers even do, Sir Hallen? The beggar is so old, yet he’s still at Nascent Essence first stage. I fear there is no helping such trash.” The other man accompanying Hallen, spoke. The three men weren’t pretty, nor that strong by any standard, yet they exuded the confidence of someone with a background big enough to not have to look at anyone’s feet.
Avaln knew this, and so, he did not act, he did not speak… he lacked the one thing this world was ruled by: strength.
A punch. A kick. A throw. Another punch. Avaln lost consciousness multiple times, yet he still stood up despite the pain, his muscles sore, his legs weak, his vision hazy.
For he feared what Hallen might do if he didn’t have his fun.
“Sir! Please stop!” Called the man behind the fence. A man Avaln knew as uncle Arthur.
Hallen locked back at him, clearly displeased. “What do you want?”
“Sir Hallen, please…” Arthur was at a loss for words for a second, then continued.”I fear if you rough him up any further, he might not be able to clean the orphanage tomorrow…”
Hallen, after a breath of internal struggle, his round features already covered by sweat, nodded. He then rearranged his clothes and let his blonde braid fall on his back.
Avaln didn’t move.
He had passed out.
“Tell sister Ran I’ve been looking for her.” Hallen said before leaving, followed closely behind by his lackeys.
It wasn’t until Arthur lost sight of them that he finally freed his breath.
“Avaln…” he muttered.
“Uncle Arthur… is he gone?” a female voice asked from inside the orphanage.
“Yes, little one. He is gone.”
After hearing this, a figure clad in a simple blue dress rushed to the young man still on the floor.
“Avaln! Please wake up!” The young man had fresh bruises all over, and she could see by his grimace before her touch that every part of his body hurt and even his breathing was but a whistle. Not hesitating, a red vial soon appeared in her hand, which she uncorked and emptied in his mouth. “Drink it. There…”
Her expression eased as soon as she heard him swallow. Soon after, his bruises began to disappear, as a faint red mist emanated from his body.
“Ran… was that vial the last one?” inquired Arthur, from behind the fence.
She nodded without sparing a glance.
Arthur’s gaze dropped to the ground.“Then I’ll have to bother Miss Lizbell tomorrow…”
It took a while for Avaln to open his eyes, and this time, a petite face with freckles and orange hair received him.
“Ran?” It took him a few breaths to adjust himself. He moved a bit, then his face sank. “You’ve used a potion again… didn’t you?”
“And what of it?” She voiced, slightly annoyed.
“They are expensive…”
“We can afford them.”
“We both know that’s not the case…” Avaln finally stood up, releasing himself from her arms. “But… thank you.”
Then, without saying another word, he turned and began working on his hut. Given the amount of times such a scene had happened the past year, he was already used to it, and it didn’t take him long to fix it. Ran also silently assisted him.
They both knew that, sometimes, words were not necessarily helpful.
That evening, inside his hut, Avaln opened the cause of his weakness.
It was a nameless blue book, whose pages had only a slightly lighter shade.
It all began ten years ago, after the woman who had saved him, left. He was given a room to sleep, and as an eight years old child, he was told the orphanage would be his new home. He nodded without complaining, for in his heart an obsession had taken root: The book his saviour gave him.
So, once alone, he proceeded to examine it. He thought it contained some kind of secret art to become as strong as her, a kind of shortcut or guide… but when he tried to read the first page, a heavy disappointment fell on his gut.
There was nothing.
How was that possible? Did the woman give him the wrong book?
As such thoughts crossed his mind, he tried to turn the page to see if the next one was the same… yet to his surprise, he couldn’t. To his shock, he discovered he was unable to even look away, driven by a force his mind couldn’t explain.
A sense of dizziness assaulted him next, and then his consciousness faded into the deepest of blacks, a darkness only broken by the first rays of the morning sun. Struggling to sit on his bed, not daring to even glance at the book, the words the woman had said played inside his head. “Finish it, and you might have a chance.”
Maybe the secret art or technique was written on the last page? Spurred by blind courage, Avaln tried to open the book there, yet the damn thing seemed to be completely against any kind of cheating, so he could only resign himself to try and turn each page one by one…
But that morning, he passed out at the first one again.
That was far from enough to deter him though, and so day after day he’d try to push that wall separating him from his dream, and unable to fight the dizziness and sometimes pain, would lose consciousness. Such behaviour was of course quite strange, and soon caught Arthur’s attention.
He thought Avaln was sick, so he brought him to the best alchemist in the city, yet she was unable to find the problem, and finally told him that Avaln was probably born with an incurable disease associated with his soul. Arthur’s mood sank at hearing this… but decided to support him anyway.
During this period, Avaln realized no one was able to perceive the blue book, which only further supported his idea that it was by no means ordinary, that there surely was a secret hidden inside.
Five months later, one night, he successfully turned one page.
Five more months down the line, he reached the 4th page.
One year later, feeling a sort of wall crumbling before him, he suddenly reached the 15th page in one night!
His consciousness would always fade as a consequence of opening the book, strained, clouded and gnashed by sharp pain, as once he started he was unable to stop, nor did he want to. Yet somehow, this lifestyle had no repercussions on his physique. In fact, he always seemed to be in top shape. He also assisted all classes which Arthur gave in the orphanage, so even if his knowledge of the world was still small, it wasn’t non-existent.
If anything, it could be said he was quite smart.
However…
There was one part of him which had remained exactly the same.
That is, his Essence.
Essence. It courses through all creation, and it’s especially strong in sentient beings.
Some even call it the primordial flame.
There are many theories and paths towards its comprehension, but what was undeniable is that someone’s Essence never remained the same… except for Avaln’s.
His Essence was still at the Nascent first stage. That’s the reason why Hallen, the heavy blonde from earlier that day, had been able to punch him around so easily despite the difference in their physique. Two minor realms were enough to create such a gap.
Even if Avaln had chosen to defend himself, the result wouldn’t have been any better.
Everyone around him thought this was due to his own special sickness, but he knew the source of it. He held it in his hands at this very moment, and the dizziness in his head was already unbearable, edging on pain...
In ten years, he managed to turn a total of three hundred pages.
And that night, despite his willforce and frustration, he passed out three pages away from the end.
“Two loaves of bread, please.” Asked a female voice, somewhere in the middle of the city.
“Four crystals, my lady.”
She smiled, paid, and with a flutter of her long, blonde ponytail, she turned and walked back to a group of three men who were talking among themselves.
“Squad leader?” Inquired one of them once she was close enough. He had short brown hair, and was known for being a reliable veteran. He glanced at the bread, then at her scarlet eyes. “Let me guess… we are departing through the west gate again today.”
The corners of her mouth twitched slightly before nodding.
The other two men, one short and burly, probably in his thirties, and the other tall, skinny and around the same age, stopped their conversation and assumed their positions surrounding her. Once everyone was in formation, the young woman released a sigh and took a step.
“Isn’t that Alary Greenleaf?” She heard someone muttering in the background.
“Good day, my lady!” greeted a male passerby, to whom she slightly nodded back with a smile. The other three men, particularly the skinny one, glanced at him menacingly.
“Isn’t she the daughter of the guild chief?” Another voice, somewhere to her right.
The group quickly left the market, turning heads as they went. Greenleaf city wasn’t particularly big compared to others in the continent, but it was still highly populated.
“They say she is incredibly strong. What was her refinement level? Tempered Essence?”
“Tempered Essence? Are you deaf? They say she reached the Manifested Essence realm not long ago!”
Alary kept walking with the bag of bread in hand, quite cheerfully. She was already used to being stared at like that, and long ago had decided to act indifferent unless someone specifically talked to her. Such was the life of someone with the surname of “Greenleaf”.
For not only her father was the chief of the most powerful guild in the city, after which the entire place was named, but she was also a highly ranked adventurer and member of said guild. In this world, ordinary people could naturally refine their essence just by living, and a person would actually have no problem reaching Nascent Essence second stage in the middle of their teens, while capping at the peak of the third stage by their forties… but adventurers were different. They were highly sought after because they were able to further refine their essence by slaying their foes. Anyone could become an adventurer… but such a life came with its own risks.
And moreover, she was a Manifested Essence first stage adventurer in her twenties! There were two whole major realms of difference between her and an ordinary person!
As such, her name was known throughout the city, and it even reached some other countries where their respective guild’s leaders acknowledged her as part of this generation’s elite group. In fact, she was stronger than the men guarding her right now.
Not that she cared about such things though. She knew the path of an adventurer was plagued with risks, and many elites who were even stronger than her had suddenly met their end at the hand of monsters, traps… or other guilds.
Such was the nature of this world.
After a while, her destination came into view, bringing a smile to her face… but then, when she paid more attention, the smile gave way to annoyance, then sadness, then frustration.
“That bastard Roland has been here again...”