“Ha-ha, sorry, my hand slipped!” a boy no older than ten laughed, just after he’d kicked a kid a couple of years his senior. The result? The older boy lost his balance and fell on his butt, making the few onlookers laugh. 

“That wasn’t a hand!” the older kid complained as he tried to stand up.

The younger boy totally ignored his “victim” and approached a girl who was sitting under the tree, weeping. They were currently in the garden behind their orphanage’s main building, only one hour after the lunch. 

“Are you okay?” the boy asked as he extended his hand  to the girl. She seemed to be around the same age as him and her features were vaguely familiar to him even if he’d seen her only once before. “Are you, perhaps, the new face from a week ago? Ellea, right?”

The girl ignored his hand, but at least looked at him, her face stained with tears. “H-he killed him! Killed!”

The boy raised his brow. “Killed who?”

“Do you really think I’m afraid of you, Reid?!” the older boy shouted before swinging his fist at his younger assailant. 

“Are you still here, Jerio?” Reid asked as he easily dodged the clumsy attack without even turning to his opponent. “Did you kill anyone recently?”

“He killed Mr. Greeny!” Ellea was the one to reply. “And he wanted to take him away when I tried to bury my friend!”

“That’s just a bug, stupid!” Jerio refuted. 

In the first place, Reid decided to interfere in the situation when he saw Jerio—someone who was prone to bully the weak if allowed—trying  to take away something from a crying girl. Now that he looked more carefully, he noticed that Ellea held a bright-green rhinoceros beetle in her delicate hands. Everything clicked together, and he glared at the other boy.

“Why?” Reid asked.

“Why what?” Jerio replied, confused. 

“Why did you kill it?” the boy asked calmly, expecting to hear a logical answer. Perhaps the beetle attacked Jerio first? 

“Because why not?!” the older boy laughed. “Squeeshing it felt great. And watching this stupid girl crying over a bug is fun!” 

Reid held himself back from beating the shameless boy right there. Usually, fights weren’t a big deal. But there was only one day until the supervisor visited Lucidus Orphanage Thirteen. And having any kids with obvious injuries would be bad for caretakers, who, in exchange, would make it even worse for the actual perpetrators. 

“Do you really have no shame?” Reid said. “Don’t you want to become an Igniter one day?! No Igniter would bully the weak!”

“Ha-ha, here’s where you get it wrong, Reid!” Jerio replied with a nasty grin. “Don’t you know? Igniters sacrifice—kill—their Sparks all the time, that’s a part of the training! Isn’t that’s the same thing? If you feel sorry for a bug like that, how could you use Sparks?!”

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to Igniters!” This time, Reid didn’t hold himself back and punched Jerior right in the face. Despite the older boy being almost one head taller, despite them both receiving the equal level of exercise and food, Reid was a much, much better fighter. He just had a natural, instinctive feel for battle. He was born for it. 

Jerio tried to fight back, but had not much of a chance. On another hand, Reid had also held himself back and, other than the first strike, aimed most of his attacks at his opponent’s body not the face. In the end, the older boy got too scared to continue and ran away.

“Okay, with this nuisance gone, you don’t need to worry about anyone interrupting us,” Reid said to the girl who had already stopped crying, her cerulean eyes still red from all the tears she had shed. “How about I help you bury your friend?”

Ellea hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. Reid extended his hand yet again.

“W-why are you helping me?” the girl asked as she took the boy’s hand.

“Isn’t that obvious?!” Reid gave her a bright, innocent smile. “I’m strong, and that’s the strong’s responsibility to protect the weak!”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

And that was the beginning of their friendship. 

***

Normally, Reid would have nothing to worry about after a fight that left his opponent with nothing but a couple of bruises. Unfortunately for him, the supervisor, who was also a Lowflame Igniter, was very strict on the caretakers for the smallest of faults. Even after the situation was explained, Feterr Cronely—that was the supervisor’s name, as everyone in the orphanage knew—still  blamed the caretakers for their lack of control over the orphans. That meant a cut in their pay for the next three months. And that meant that a disciplinary action was waiting for Reid. And not only him. 

The next day.

“Why am I being punished as well, I’m the victim!” Jerio complained to the caretakers responsible for delivering the punishment—both were women in their early fifties. One overweight and short—Eola. Another tall and scrawny—Lidda.

“We have three witness testimonies proving that you started the conflict,” the short woman replied impatiently as she stroked the soft and flexible scorch-rod in her hands. This punishment tool was made of a branch of the Scorch-Cushion Tree. 

The rod was too soft to leave a real wound even after hitting the bare skin, but due to the plant’s nature it would sting like hell. That pain, not much different from being scorched alive, was so bad that scorch-rods were used to punish some minor crimes, and served as a harsh enough detriment. Using them on kids was a real overkill.

Accompanied by the two caretakers, Jerio and Reid stood before fifty-something kids of the orphanage in the deeper part of the garden. Obviously enough, this type of punishment was a secret from the supervisor and, considering the nature of the scorch-rods, it left no actual wounds. Only mental ones. On the bright side, scorch-rodding, as the kids called it, usually was only the last resort and was used perhaps once every two or three years. 

“This is what happens to the bad kids who can’t keep their fists in check!” the tall caretaker—Lidda—declared. “We only ask you to behave for two weeks before each of the Mr. Cronely’s visits. Is this too much for you brats?!”

Both Reid and Jerio were stripped to nothing but their underwear. The latter had a frustrated, pained expression, while the former was smiling. Reid found Ellea in the crowd, the girl was giving him a worried look—after all, she was partially responsible for what was about to happen. He just winked at her. 

“Do you boys have anything to say in your defense?” Lidda said as she stood behind Reid, her rod at the ready. Eola—who was known to be less strict—was responsible for Jerio. 

“Please spare me!” shouted the older boy.

“Do I get it right that you want to train my pain tolerance?” Reid asked with an amused smile. “Thank you! Please don’t hold back!” 

Lidda could only shake her head helplessly. Reid was well-known to be a troublemaker, but he’d never been scorch-rodded yet. He had no idea what awaited him. 

“Prepare yourself, you both,” Eola said. “Believe me, we don’t enjoy doing this but you left us with no choice.”

It was hard to say if the two women even believed their own words but it couldn’t be helped since they really hated to have their salary decreased. Also, they still had the head caretaker to worry about. 

The caretakers gave each other a nod to signal the beginning of the punishment. Boty boys inhaled and held their breath—something they had been taught to do to improve their ability to tolerate pain. It didn’t help when the scorch-rods hit their backs. 

Both Jerio and Reid cried out, loud. But while the former’s cry was filled with nothing but anguish, the latter’s hid the hints of mirth. The younger boy still had a smile plastered on his childish face. 

The second strike struck the two thin backs simultaneously. This time, Jerio screamed even louder. Reid, on another hand, gritted his teeth and made no sound. He was still smiling. 

The punishment continued—that was fifteen strikes for Reid and ten for Jerio. The younger boy was the perpetrator, after all. Also, there was a rule that the punishment was over when the victim loses consciousness. As no kid ever endured more than nine strikes, their punishment wasn’t different at all. At least that was how the caretakers saw the situation. The rest of the children silently watched the torture—that was perhaps the better term for what was going on. No one wanted to be in their place. No one, except for one girl.

“P-please stop it!” Ellea made a step forward when the boys received their fifth hit. “Reid d-did nothing wrong! Please, punish me in his stead!” 

The head caretaker who had been overseeing the situation blocked the girl’s path. She was a woman more stout than an average man, her features angular. Her name was Cindea, but among each other children called her She-bear. 

“If you keep causing the scene, I’ll add ten more strikes as their punishment, even after they faint,” She-bear growled, making Ellea freeze in place. The girl got weak in her knees and barely kept herself standing. 

As he saw the scene, Reid smiled even wider. He had one more reason to endure. And, perhaps for the first time in his life, he found someone who could become his real friend.

The scorch-rod made Reid feel like someone made a bonfire on his back. Or perhaps like they were trying to burn a mark on his skin. It hurt like hell. It hurt so much that he wanted to cry, to escape, to beg for forgiveness. And yet, the words of his late mother—the only memory of her he had—resonated in his mind, giving him power. 

“Look on the bright side, see the opportunity in any calamity, and never give up. What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. Remember, you’re born to rule, Reid Lucidus.”

Reid repeated those words in his mind, over and over. He’d been doing it every day—each time he woke up, each time he was getting to sleep, each time life was hard on him. And, at some point, he had started to believe those words. Blindly. Unconditionally. 

Jerio managed to endure seven strikes before losing his consciousness. He fell on the ground, his face red from tears, his expression distorted in suffering, his mouth filled with foam. He was still alive and well physically, but it was impossible to say how long his mental wound would last. 

Reid was still standing when the rod hit his back for the tenth time. After eleventh, he half-kneeled on one leg. Twelfth made him kneel down completely. Tears were flowing from his eyes and each hit made him cry out in pain, and yet he still managed to keep a smile, no matter how forced. 

When Lidda was done with his punishment—fifteen strikes in total—Reid was crawling on the ground. His condition was sore, but the fact was—his eyes were still open. More than that, he still kept a smile. Faint and barely noticeable, and still unedniable.

Everyone present was watching him with mixed emotions—apprehension, surprise, pity. Even fear. He was the first orphan in their memory who didn’t faint after the first ten strikes of a scorch-rod. This wasn’t supposed to be a type of punishment that left a ten-year-old kid still conscious at the end of it. Even most adults could tolerate, at most, twelve strikes. Not fifteen. 

“T-thank you for t-the training,” Reid mumbled, his gaze locked on Lidda. His eyes of gold were pure and innocent, his auburn hair disheveled, his face without a hint of malice. And yet, that weak and harmless boy made the much older woman shudder. 

“M-monster. . .” Lidda whispered as she took a step backward. The hand holding the scorch-rod was trembling and a primal emotion took a hold of her. Fear. 

Reid grinned and tried to raise his body by pushing his hands into the ground. He failed. At that point, with the whole scene frozen, a certain girl run towards him. 

“Reid!” Ellea supported him with her shoulder. The girl’s face was stained with tears, even more than his own. 

“I guess my new friend is totally worth all the pain,” Reid concluded but had no strength to put his thoughts in words. 

Despite everything that had just happened, Reid knew that very fun days were ahead. The days he would hold dear for the rest of his life.