Tucker stood at the top of the watchtower and observed Arthur, who was seated in the courtyard. To him, it was a normal day, during which he lazed around during the day and worked during the night, but tonight, his brows drew together, forming a look of discontent, unlike his usual carefree attitude.

"Those scars shouldn't be on a child's body," Tucker uttered to himself, feeling his anger intensify. "They came from the west side of the town… that's close to the slums. Those bastards overstepped their boundaries."

Within the Border Front of Cronia, there was an unspoken rule that the slums were outside the jurisdiction of the town's guards. However, unless there was a cause, they would break that rule. Tucker watched how Arthur unrolled his sleeves and lowered his shirt to cover the scars before grabbing a broomstick.

"That kid is already starting work before the sun has risen. I'll have to lecture him when I see him later." With one hand, Tucker lifted the obsidian-colored fabric below his chin and pulled it over his mouth.

The black cloak veiled Tucker's entire body, seamlessly blending into the tower's shadows. He reached for the triangular hat that was hung on the corner of a wooden chair and carefully wore it. Using supple leather from the hide of a demonic beast, the watchman crafted the hat with a wide brim that cast a veil, hiding his face from any onlookers.

In the blink of an eye, Tucker's figure vanished from the watchtower as if his presence was never there to begin with. Not a single trace of him lingered in the area, nor did any sound accompany his departure. Instead, a small gust of wind swept through the tower and blew towards the western slums.

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Arthur vigorously shook the dust-covered rag as it danced out the window. Dust clouds drifted away with the morning breeze. With a content smile, he stared at his reflection on the wooden planks and nodded in satisfaction. Before, tracks of mud littered the floors, and spiders established their homes in the corners of the wooden beams. Nonetheless, none of that was there now, and instead, a sense of cleanliness and orderliness took place. Turning away from the refreshed hallway, Arthur picked up his cleaning supplies and prepared to head to the next destination.

"Holy shit." Mark patted Arthur on the shoulder once he entered the wall's interior. The sunlight was blinding as it bounced off the surface of the wooden boards and into their eyes. "I didn't even know the floors could be this clean."

"I expect nothing less from Arthur," Paul said a simple word of praise before grabbing the broomstick, mop, and bucket out of Arthur's hands and passing them to Mark. "Come, come, we have training to do."

"The hell?" Mark caught the items Paul tossed at him with a flabbergasted expression, but before he could voice his complaints, Paul had already pushed Arthur toward the training area.

"Alright, what did you learn from yesterday's spar?" Paul asked while grasping the two iron training spears that rested against the wall. In one swift motion, he flung one towards Arthur, who was already prepared to catch it.

"To be careful of how you hold your weapons and that weapon durability is important?" Arthur replied with one hand raised in the air.

"Good!" Paul's fingertips rubbed against his chin, and he raised his brow curiously. "But why are you raising your hand? You're the only one here."

"A habit, I think?" Even Arthur was unsure why he raised his hand. It seemed to be a habit that carried through his memory loss.

"Well, no matter, you're correct. It's as they say: lose your weapon, lose the fight. Lose your limb, lose your life." Paul moved his right arm across his chest and then pulled it close with the back of his left wrist. Then repeated the action with his other arm. "One detail I noticed from our previous bout is that you're already well-trained. Maybe being well trained is an understatement, but even with my last attack imbued with divinity, you didn't blink nor flinch."

"Is that not normal?" Arthur curiously asked.

"Not if it's your first time experiencing it. That's why I reached two conclusions. The first is that you had an exceptional teacher. The second is that it's your instinct." A burst of pale blue energy engulfed Paul's legs as he tightened his grip on the training spear. "Last time, I imbued divinity into my weapon. This time, I'll imbue mana into my legs. This is what they call strengthening. Normally, mana doesn't leak out like this, but since this might be your first time seeing it, I thought a visual representation would be better."

Arthur clapped his hands together at Paul's explanation, but then an unexpected chill ran down his spine. The atmosphere around Paul shifted, revealing a dim light within his eyes. With a bit of hesitation, Arthur calmly asked. "Wait, but why your legs?"

Paul gave a pleasant smile at the question before tapping the end of the training spear on the ground. "Because I can't have you running like last time, can I?"

The smile plastered on Paul's face soon faded when the iron training spear burst forth and darted at Arthur's chest. Before it could meet its mark, the spear in Arthur's hand struck the tip of Paul's weapon, changing its trajectory. It was a concise and quick strike that reaffirmed the potential Paul saw in Arthur, witnessing the blade bounce in the air.

With each step Paul took, Arthur took several steps back in response, and with each strike, the same pattern repeated. The consistency was almost frightening, but Paul paid no heed to it. Instead, the barrage of attacks against Arthur increased, not one, not two, but tenfold. Soon, the spear twisted in mid-air after Arthur deflected it to the side. With all his might, Paul pressed forward and swung his spear downward, sending a surge of pain coursing through Arthur's body while driving it into his left shoulder.

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Arthur gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain that pulsed in his shoulder, and repelled Paul's spear with the center of the spear's shaft. From the constant attacks that Paul unleashed against him, it became clear how difficult it was for Arthur to reach him. The difference in arm span and physique was troubling, even though Arthur was nimble. It meant nothing if Paul matched his speed.

"Why aren't you attacking? Nothing changes if you dance to my rhythm the entire time." The iron spear dug itself into Arthur's right thigh as Paul extended his arm forward. "You need to fight back."

Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, Arthur nodded, gathering a faint white light around the end of the iron training spear. It formed a pointed tip along with a curved blade and soon flew in a downward arc towards Paul. The answer Arthur came up with was simple. If he couldn't avoid Paul's offensive measures, then the only option left was to trade attacks with each other until one of them fell.

Is that an imitation of my attack yesterday? No… it's better.

The thought crossed Paul's mind, witnessing the aura manifest and take form. Unlike Paul who covered his entire weapon, Arthur's usage of aura was concentrated towards one point. If divinity was the power of Gods and mana was something you were born with. Then aura was a force that came from the soul.

Paul tightly gripped the training spear, surrounding it with a radiant golden glow. His arm filled with tension as the spear trailed through the air and collided against Arthur's, creating a shower of bright embers. The end of the training spear in Paul's hand cried out as the divine power dwindled against Arthur's aura. Over time, Paul could feel the impact of Arthur's weapon weakening his divine power. In response, Paul lifted his leg and delivered a powerful kick to Arthur's chest, causing him to retreat several steps as the impact resounded throughout the arena.

In one fluid, arcing motion, Paul angled the iron spear towards the ground and swiftly swept the back of Arthur's legs with the blunt end of the spear, disrupting his balance and knocking him on his back. The cloudy sky above Arthur's head briefly spun as he lay flat on the dirt floor.

"Not bad! Not bad!" The sun shined brightly behind Paul, as if the clouds had disbursed from his presence. With a simple smile, he held out his hand towards Arthur.

"I didn't even do much," Arthur quietly grumbled while staring at his trembling hands.

"That's fine. It's the first day, so there's no need to rush." Paul grabbed Arthur's left wrist with his right hand and pulled him to his feet. "Go take a break and come back in an hour. It was a brief bout, but you must have built up quite an appetite since you were cleaning all morning!"

Arthur gave a quick and straightforward bow before leaving, and once his figure was out of their perspective, Mark bitterly gritted his teeth. It was brief, but when Arthur was falling back, he partially revealed the skin beneath his shirt. Unlike a typical child's body, Arthur's had scores of faint lines

"Who the fuck would do that to a child?" Mark frowned in discontent while sitting down on the wooden stool. "Even if it's for training, I've never seen such a crazy bastard."

"Who knows? There are many people out in the world." Paul shrugged it off as his fingers examined the blade mark at the end of the training spear. "Whoever it was, it seems like he taught Arthur how to use aura."

"Aura? Arthur doesn't even seem to be older than fourteen, maybe fifteen." Mark let out a deep sigh and added. "If he can use aura, then that means his willpower must be tremendous. Dammit, the more time we spend with this brat, the more questions I have."

"We'll figure it out as we go." Paul moved the training spears back to the weapon rack and paused for a moment before asking. "Should we ask him directly?"

"Hell no, are you crazy?" Mark dismissed the idea while waving his hand. "We just met him. If anything, we should get to know him more."

"Get to know him…." Paul pondered for a moment before nodding at Mark. "It's been a while since we went for a walk. Should we grab Arthur and have him patrol the streets with us?"

"I mean, I guess that's one way, but how are you going to get him to follow us?" As Mark asked, he froze in place upon seeing Paul's smug expression.

"What do you mean? I'll just drag him along." Paul gave a casual reply while dusting off the dirt on his shoulders.

"No, wait, Arthur just went to eat. I don't think…you…should…" Mark helplessly watched as Paul stopped in front of the barracks window and peered through it. "Paul, wait!"

"Don't worry; I know what I'm doing." Paul's composed smile intensified Mark's desperation. In less than a second, Paul brought his fist back and smashed through the glass planes of the window. He firmly grabbed Arthur's collar, ignoring the screams that came from the barracks. Then, he simply retracted his arm, pulling a dumbfounded Arthur out of the building.

"You idiot!" Mark couldn't help but curse at Paul for breaking the barracks window, but the moment he was about to complain, a frightening amount of killing intent came from the second floor of the guard tower. "Oh shit, Carl was watching!"

Mark immediately stood up and grabbed two spears from the weapon rack. In an instant, he was beside Paul and dragged both of them out of the area as Carl continued to glare at them from the guard tower.

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"Eh?"

Raph and Claire blankly stared at each other as they watched a tall blonde muscular man abduct their friend. They then turned to Tucker, who was half asleep in the common area.

"Oh, that was Paul. Don't worry about it. Arthur will be fine." Tucker threw a piece of bread into his mouth and then raised a glass cup to his lips, drinking some fresh water.

"Okie!" Claire happily nodded and took a bite of her sandwich as Raphael's jaw dropped at Tucker's response.

"No, it's not okay, and Claire! Don't just pretend it didn't happen!" Raphael put down his sandwich and stared at the broken glass window in front of him. "Arthur was just kidnapped! We have to rally the guards!"

"Hmm, I guess that did happen." Tucker held onto a piece of bread and then threw it at Raphael before lying down. "Thankfully, Paul is one of the guards here, so relax and enjoy that piece of bread."

Tucker chuckled as he watched Raphael's face turn bright red. He silently closed his eyes and recalled Mark, Paul, and Arthur's fading silhouettes. He had spent the entire night searching for the so-called lords of the slums, but for some odd reason, he couldn't find a single one. It was even more surprising that they would leave their territory knowing what type of people they were, but to top it off, there wasn't even a trail for him to follow. The entire situation was suspicious and left a sour taste in his mouth.