In this beautiful and glorious world where the birds sing their heavenly song and the sun shines down upon all men with its grace... ah, who am I kidding? This world is plagued by war and ruled by old crones. Those old bats are nothing more than power crazed mages that had the mana from the world run straight up their ass into their empty noggins.

In this piece of shit world where everything makes me want to tear out my hair and scream everyone is born with a grimoire. At birth the grimoire lies dormant in your body until you turn thirteen years of age. Today is my birthday, I just turned thirteen.

Sitting in front of me are my parents and my younger sister, Kyla. And hovering before my face that looks like it was kicked in by an ass was a simple pamphlet, hardly a damned book. My grimoire was fucking small... they say size doesn't matter... it does, or at least it does when it comes to a grimoire. A larger book means more spells yet mine is so god damned thin I could pick the rotting gunk from out of my teeth with it. Fuck.

"Quick tell us what your affinity is!" It's my mother.

Obliging despite my disappointment in my underwhelming grimoire, I open to the first page. There before my eyes is the information:

Grimoire Holder: Kyte Mangantaire

Current Mastery of Material: 0%

Primary Affinities: Life/Death/Earth/Air/Water/Fire

Reading up to that point I can't help but twist my eyes into slits in anticipation. Any person with an affinity for unique affiliations such as life and death itself are highly valued by many organizations around the globe for their general usefulness. Life and Death primary affinities are incredibly rare! Not to mention having an affinity with so many primary elements! I could easily get into any school in the country with an incredibly specified magic. Now my hands are shaking in anticipation! What kind of magic could be comprised of such elements? Fuck... There on the paper just one line down:

Specialization: Shit/Excrement/Crap/Diarrhea/Scat/Manure/etc.

I'm flipping through the booklet and all of the spells have to do with is well... shit. Looking at my mother I'm trying to calm myself... it's not like my magic decides my fate and how i'll end up in the world. Of course it fucking does! God damn it! Crap! Yes this entire world is just a fucking cesspool full of shit! I blame the world and its cruel tendencies! Curse it all!

Magic is what is used to run this world and decides where you go and what you do. It decides your future. In short my future is no better than my magic! A steaming pile of shit! I can't stop hyperventilating! My vision is going red, I'm too fucking pissed off at this moment. I can't calm myself down! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!

***

*Phew*

*Phew*

*Phew*

Is that my breathing? My chest feels heavy. My vision is coming back.

I'm standing overtop overtop of the dinner table we were all just sitting at. I guess I had picked up my chair and completely busted it because it's now just splinters that are littering the room. My hands are bloody and have pieces of wood lodged in them. The table is flipped over and the food for my birthday dinner is splattered across the hardwood floor.

My mother is looking at me with a shocked expression, I'll be hearing about this later. My father is already standing and face tells me he is probably going to beat me within an inch of my life. My little sister was probably so scared she fell out of her chair. She is on the floor with tears and snot streaming down her cute little face while trying to get away from me.

"Scary...*sob*... brother... *sniffle*... scary..." My little sister is scared of me? I can feel my eyes hardening. My heart is hurting from her words yet I can't cry. I simply stare at her with all of the lingering rage I can muster. I'm quite the scumbag. I'll be honest and acknowledge it, I'm scum. No less than the other shit scoured across this fucking world. I made a little girl cry... yet... I'm laughing, my inner turmoil can't help but come out as mad laughter.

"Hahahahahahahaaahaaaahahaaaaa... *wheezing*... " I take a deep breathe to try and calm my shaking bloody hands.

I think my mad laughter scared the hell out of my sister because she is now screaming while trying to back up. It's like she wants to become one with the wall, how cute. I smile, albeit my smile is likely perverted. I probably look like a cunning wolf about devour a hen. I'm finding some entertainment in my sorrow, I can't help it really.

My dad has his grimoire in front of him, I'm waiting for that sensation. It makes me sick every time. And there it is. I'm on my knees with my face on the floor. A constricting feeling, like my whole body is a prison. Joy oh joy. My father's signature blood magic. If I could've inherited such a powerful magic I might be enjoying a celebrative dinner at this moment. I can only blame my lack of self control however.

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"Stop terrorizing your sister."

My father is quite a simple guy really. He does what is best for his own standing. So I know I likely won't last long at this moment, with such a mediocre magic. He just calmly took my grimoire floating in the air and is now flipping through the pages. I can barely lift my head. Is he... smiling? He just raised an eyebrow.

"I don't see what's so wrong with this magic."

Don't see what's wrong with it? It's fucking shit! My magic is shit!

"I see potential." The fact that he is saying so with a completely serious face is unnerving. Not to mention I feel like he read my mind, he knows me too well.

"I know you very well." Can this old man really read minds? Were the sentences written on my face?

"No I can't read minds." Well doesn't that just make him slightly less scary?

"I simply read your facial expressions accompanied by the aura your exuding. It gives me a precise idea about what your are thinking. So remember I can't read minds... but I have no doubt there is a mage that could somewhere in the world."

The fact that he can do that without magic is terrifying yet he is no doubt my father. The man famed for his domineering blood magic Bloom Mangantaire. He is one of the three generals of the current monarchy that rules the entirety of the southern continent which I am currently on, the continent of Hartan. A very scary guy, my father.

***

Three days after my little breakdown.

I have been in my room since that little fiasco. Father told me simply to go to room after saying what he wanted to, typical of him. He had healed my cuts using his blood magic then sent me off. I'm now flipping through my grimoire. I still can't get past the idea that my magic has power over shit. I already know what is coming though so I need to look over it and find that "potential" my father was talking about.

I seriously hate him. He always makes things so difficult. Can't he stop being a cryptic old fart and tell it to me like one might a blatant idiot. I am stupid, I must be, because I'm sure not smart. So now I'm sitting here and flipping through my grimoire I realize, I only have five spells. I can only view one at the moment though the other four simply look like ink stains, shit stains rather.

I pick up the letter sitting at my desk for the umpteenth time. I glance at it and now I'm stomping my feet in frustration. I am being sent off, I knew it would happen when I saw his smile but it was just confirmed this morning when he handed me the letter.

I guess it's not all bad considering I'm going to one of the best magic schools on the continent, Arkler Academy of Magic. However my problem is not where I'm going, it's what I'll be learning. My father chose these courses. There are five courses. One for each of the five school days. Considering three are seven days in each week it means I get two days off per week. So considering each month has thirty-five days means I get ten days of rest per month from my shitty courses.

My five courses are Anatomy Lv. 1, Agricultural Study, Gardening 101, Battle Mage Lv. 1, and Magic Theory Lv. 1. Oh boy. Anatomy is just ok, I don't entirely care about this one. It's Agricultural Study and Gardening 101. Aren't those the same thing! I'm now banging my head into a wall. What does my father want me to become, a damned farmer?! Well I guess not since he enrolled me as a battle mage! Magic Theory is a required course but I mean seriously what is with this other shit!

I think my head banging alerted my butler, George, because he is now standing in my doorway. I stop my head bending only to rub my head. Ouch, that hurt. I shake my head before I ask George simply, "What is it George?"

"Young Master when I heard all that banging I couldn't help but imagine that a young lady was perhaps having a late night rendezvous with you. I was really quite curious to see how you became a man, sadly it was just a childish tantrum. I'll take my leave here." Saying all that with a stern expression then leaving? Aren't I the "Young Master" here?

That old butler was assigned to take care of me by my grandfather. It's not too surprising that George is an old pervert, he hardly holds a candle to my grandfather. Grandfather probably assigned him to me because George has the same... character... I suppose. All I can do is shake my head as George leaves once more. Speaking of which, I haven't seen my grandfather in almost five years.

{CHAPTER END}

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[Help! My Grandfather Is An Insatiable Pervert!]