I used the money I earned these months to buy a video game set and a tv from a shop near my neighborhood. The game I bought was a shooting game—pretty cool, to be honest. I only played it during the rare long-term breaks school offered like summer or winter break because I wasn’t forced to go to the training during these breaks. Maybe it was pure luck, or maybe my dad wasn’t as much of a demon as I thought. Either way, I was grateful for the breaks.

During the winter break last week I was playing video games in the hall when Pachesko bounced in.

"Still glued to that controller, huh?" Pachesko’s voice echoed, filled with judgment as he bounces.

“Leave me alone. I earned this. I worked hard!” I smirked back, but my focus stayed on the screen.

“Did you forget your goal? The wish?” he prodded, almost mocking.

“Yeah, yeah. The wish,” I said, brushing him off. “But like you said, it’s not like I’m being forced to do this now. I’ll get to it later.”

“Fine. Do what you want.” He paused, then added coldly, “But it’s your doom. You’re not even asking people about badges or the mechanics of this world.”

I rolled my eyes. “You already told me the important stuff. Let me play in peace. I’m in the middle of a match.”

“And you think you’ll just magically remember it all? You can barely step outside this house, let alone make progress.”

I ignored him. The screen flashed red. “Damn it—I lost!”

“Exactly my point,” Pachesko muttered. “You’ve grown physically, but your mindset? Still loser material.”

“Leave me alone,” I snapped, frustrated. “Go bother someone else.”

He sighed. “Fine. This is boring. I’ll leave and observe other players. Maybe they’ll be more interesting than you.”

“Good! Don’t come back!” I shot back, though I knew he would. We’d shared nine months in my mom’s womb; we are basically brothers.

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Later that night, I decided to take a walk and clear my head. The cold air felt refreshing, and the streets were bustling despite the chill. As I wandered, I spotted a large wooden board plastered with posters and propaganda for the arena. The board featured the champions, their names and stats painted in bold letters.

Nickname: Orc Jupiter

Wins: 30 | Losses: 12

Class: Champion

Rank: Gold

Race: Orc

Age: 43

Adventurer: No

Titles: Warchief, Bonecaller, Bloodlusted

Description: A fighter of the arena feared for his brute strength and unrelenting aggression. Known to overwhelm opponents with ferocity, he embodies the spirit of a true warlord.

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Nickname: Electric Minotaur

Wins: 28 | Losses: 7

Race: Hybrid Bull

Rank: Gold

Age: 54

Adventurer: Retired

Class: Champion

Titles: Bullchief, Alpha, Carnivorous

Description: A cunning fighter who combines raw power with lightning-quick reflexes. Said to channel electricity through his attacks, making him a terrifying force in the arena.

An arena… so is this a place where the most powerful fights? Or is it just a pool of bloodshed?

Something that caught my eye was.

“A class?” I muttered, confused. “Titles...?”

Also what is “ Rank..”

I tried to recall what Pachesko had told me about this stuff, but my mind came up blank. He’d explained it once, but now that he was gone, I had no one to ask.

But something was for sure.

“ I have a category, is that my class?” I murmur myself

“Figures,” I mumbled. Maybe when I saw Pachesko again, I’d get my answers. Or I could ask someone at school—but that felt risky. Asking questions like this might paint a target on my back. I couldn’t afford that kind of attention.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, shaking my head. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and moved on. One thing was clear—I needed to learn more. If I didn’t, I’d never understand this world or the opportunities it held.

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The yogurt queen:

The winter break had ended, and the new school semester was in full swing. Sundays were my days off from training, and I usually spent them on finishing the homework or lounging around.

Dad and Carol often used Sundays to go to another city, leaving me home with Rika. Not that it mattered much; she was practically invisible in the mornings, always sleeping in until noon.

But today was different. A miracle occurred. Rika was awake—early.

I nearly dropped my jaw when I saw her shuffling into the kitchen, looking like she’d been hit by a carriage. Her disheveled hair and the bags under her eyes were a testament to how unplanned this early rise was.

“You always up at this hour?” she asked, her tone flat and uninterested.

“Yeah,” I replied, setting down the weights. “Got used to it. Dad’s training routine does that to you.”

She poured herself a glass of orange juice from a carton I didn’t even know existed in our fridge. My eyes widened in surprise.

“We have orange juice?”

“Oh, this?” She smirked as if I had asked about the location of buried treasure. “It’s mine. Mom made a secret compartment in the fridge that only opens with magic.”

“Huh? Why go through all that trouble?”

“To keep people like you out of it,” she said, sliding a cereal box toward me. “Cereal suits you better.”

I begrudgingly poured some cereal into a bowl and added milk, watching as she nonchalantly pulled out an expensive-looking bread bag and a small container of yogurt. The logo was fancy, and even I, someone who couldn’t care less about food brands, recognized it.

“What’s that?” I asked, gesturing toward the yogurt in her hand.

She froze, then quickly hid it as though guarding a family heirloom.

“This,” she began, her voice dripping with reverence, “is not just yogurt. This is the yogurt. Made with 100% natural ingredients by Don Farmfarm, the greatest farmer in the kingdom.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Her eyes blazed with passion, as if she were introducing a sacred artifact.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s just yogurt. What’s the big deal?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she snapped. “It’s not for peasants like you.”

Peasant? Her ego was immense but I decided to let it slip to not start an argument.

“Can I have some?” I asked, half-joking but a little curious.

“No.” She grabbed her treasure and clutched it tightly, as if daring me to try. “Don’t even dream about it.”

I watched her retreat from the table, taking her fancy bread and divine yogurt with her.

Yawning, I glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall. “What am I even going to do today?” I muttered to myself. Training was already done for the week, and Dad wouldn’t be back until later.

Then my eyes landed on the date circled in red. My birthday was coming up in seven months. I’d be twelve.

Seven months left until I’d be old enough to start making my own decisions and become an adventurer.

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The independence:

And so on, the days bled into weeks. Weeks become months, and months stretched into years. By the time I turned 12, I had enough of it.

One day, after another punishing shift, I stood before my dad, determination burning in my chest.

“Dad, I want to become an adventurer. I’m leaving to live on my own, and you can’t stop me.”

In my previous life, this kind of bold declaration worked wonders. Independence was sacred, and my resolve always won the argument.

My previous parents only had to look at me and they did not say anything.

This time, it didn’t work like that.

The first punch came like a bolt of lightning, straight to my face. Before I could react, a second blow landed in my gut, stealing my breath. His knee slammed into my stomach, and then his fists came in a brutal combo.

I hit the floor, gasping, trying to make sense of what just happened.

He didn’t stop.

His boots connected with my ribs, my back, and my legs. The pain overwhelmed everything else as fear surged through me.

“What’s wrong? You want to be an adventurer? A life full of danger?” he growled. “You better be ready for monsters. They won’t wait until you’re prepared before they attack.”

Another kick landed on my side, and I curled up, trembling.

“If you can’t even stand up to this, you’ll be dead meat the second you leave this house,” he spat, stepping back finally.

I lay on the ground, shaking, my pride shattered. This wasn’t how I imagined proving my independence. This wasn’t the father I thought I knew.

“When you can land a punch to me, you can earn your independence boy”

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The new son:

Middle school flew by, and I graduated at the age of 14 with some effort. Rika, however, passed without dropping a sweat.

I still went to the training with my dad, but since the beating the purpose was more about getting in better shape than earning money. Since that day I saved my video games in a box, and hid it until the day I will become an adventurer. When no one was around, I spent my time doing push-ups, squats, or whatever else could help build my strength. Of course, I made sure to rest at least two days each week.

I could have just left and gone on my own without telling my dad. In fact, I did try that once, sneaking out in the middle of the night. I still don’t know how he caught me, but I got a beating for it.

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High school was coming in, and with it, a new set of problems. and those problems were coming and fast

In one evening, during a family dinner, Carol began talking about Rika’s future.

“Dorion,” Carol said, matter-of-factly, “since the kids are on vacation, I’ll spend my time teaching Rika what I do in my shop. It’ll be good for her.”

Dad nodded in agreement. “That sounds good. Daryn could benefit from that too. He needs to learn some responsibility.”

Carol’s expression immediately soured, and she shot back, “No. I can’t teach two kids at once. Daryn isn’t cut out for this. He’s too lazy—spends his free days playing with that ball creature or napping on the sofa. He’s wasting his time. He needs discipline. You should take Daryn with you to the construction site full-time. He needs to work hard, not waste time. He’s lazy, and he needs to learn how to really earn his keep.”

Dad frowned, clearly irritated by her words. “That doesn’t sound bad, Carol. But I want him to have some time to relax, sure. He passed middle school, Carol. I never even finished middle school.” He drank a sip his coffee as pause

“It would be unfair to take his vacation away entirely. I’m not saying he’ll be lazy, but he’ll still work part-time at the construction site.”

Carol huffed in frustration but didn’t argue further. For once, my dad seemed to be making a reasonable decision. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the most fair I’d seen him in a long time. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to like him more.

----------------------------------------

The first year of high school was nothing like middle school. It felt like a completely different world. The other kids were more aware of their talents. Flaunting their power in ways I wasn’t prepared for. My situation was different—nothing special about me, just another regular kid trying to survive.

I kept a low profile, making sure to avoid attention, both good and bad. I didn’t want to be noticed, to stand out. I figured if I stayed in the middle ground, I’d be left alone. To be honest, no matter how hard I tried, I knew I’d never reach the A grades. The lessons were tough, and frankly, I didn’t remember much of the stuff they taught. It was as if my mind was already clouded with everything I’d been through.

As the months passed, the results of our grades came in, and I could see the disappointment in my dad and Carol’s faces as they read them. They didn’t even have to say anything. I knew what was coming.

“It's not bad... I mean, it's better than my grades when I was young,” my dad said, trying to keep the mood light.

“Better?” Carol scoffed, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look at me. “Darion, this kid is a lost case.”

Before they could say anything more, I quickly slipped out of the room to hide. I didn’t want to hear their disappointment.

“Please, Carol,” my dad pleaded. “Don’t say things like that.”

Carol’s expression darkened. “And you think I like to say these things? Look at Rika’s grades.” She pulled out Rika’s report card. “They’re average.”

“They’re not bad,” my dad responded, trying to defend rika.

“Average,” Carol snapped. “It’s almost the end of the year, and she’s still only average.”

“What's wrong with that?” my dad asked, clearly frustrated.

“Do you think average is enough?” Carol’s tone was cold, calculated. “Dorion, we don’t have the luxury of money. Do you realize how much we’d have to spend to send an average student like her to university? It doesn’t make sense. It’s illogical.”

My dad’s face fell, his eyes darkening with concern. “But how? What are we supposed to do?”

Carol leaned back, her gaze fixed on the wall. “How? We start planning, Dorion. A long-term plan.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and cold. I knew she was always calculating, always thinking ahead, but this... this felt different.

“I’ve been saving money. I won’t send Rika to university. That’s a waste. Instead, I’ll use that money for something better. A better investment.”

My stomach churned at the implications. She was willing to sacrifice her own daughter’s future.

A soft, eerie laugh escaped her lips, too soft to be anything but sinister. “Let’s adopt a new son.”

My heart skipped a beat from that comment.

“What? We can barely maintain two kids, and you want one more?” My dad said in a tone of voice with concern.

Carol didn’t flinch. “Don’t be stupid, Dorion. We can love them, sure but we are not forced to give them luxury.” her tone was low and persuading my dad was an easy task for her.

She shifted her tone of voice to a more serious one. “ But when we’re old, who’s going to take care of us? Who’s going to pay our bills, provide for us when we can’t work anymore? Those kids”—she pointed toward me and Rika— from afar“ will just get average jobs, earn average money. Do you want to be stuck, old and poor, while they struggle to pay their own bills? No, I won’t stand for that.”

I sat hidden, silent to hear all of it, my chest tightening as I listened to her cold, calculating words. Good thing rika was in her club of appreciation of yogurt until the evening, else she would have been here and made things worse.

“But what’s going to guarantee that we get a child who’s not average?” my dad asked, his voice low.

Carol’s smile grew colder. “I’ve thought ahead. There’s a private facility on the outskirts of the city, near the end. They specialize in... transactions. Only people with money can afford to adopt these children. They aren’t just any kids—they’re the result of accidents, born to royalty or with bloodlines from old heroes. Their names are erased, their documents wiped clean. But their potential? Their blood? That can’t be erased. They’re prodigies.”

I felt my heart race, my mind trying to wrap around what Carol was saying. She was talking about buying a child—a prodigy—to ensure her future.

Dad hesitated. “But... it would be really expensive, Carol.”

Carol shrugged, unconcerned. “Don’t worry. The money I’ve saved can cover half of it. You just need to help me raise this new child by paying half of the debt by selling your old house. Once I’ve recovered financially, we’ll be set. We’ll go this weekend, what do you say?”

“My old house? But it is hard to sell that place”

“I see, then. We do not have to sell it but use it as a hypothec, you can pay month by month the debt with your own money.” I was able to see my dad from afar, a doubting expression given but Carol giving massages to my dad was a well counter strategy.

“Don’t you want to please me?, because I'm always thinking of a way to please you” she spurred in my dad’s ear

My dad looked conflicted for a moment but eventually nodded. “Yeah, Carol. You are right”

Carol kissed my dad cheek

“You will have your fun tonight “ she laughed, reminding me the other night when they shook the walls. Disgusting.

They were already planning to replace Rika with a child they could mold into something more than I could ever be. Something better, something more useful. The whole idea sickened me, but at the same time, it felt inevitable. I wasn’t even surprised anymore by the coldness in Carol’s voice. This was her world—a world where people were just tools to be used, to be discarded when they no longer served a purpose.

Rika must know this but she would believe me? Her own mother spending her university money on another child? No, for now I will keep quiet.