“First things first, we need to set a few ground rules; make sure you know what is and what is not possible,” Connor sat at his desk, listening attentively.
“Firstly: no vagueness! I control Fate, but Fate can often interpret the commands for its own ends and means. So nothing like: ‘kill that guy!’ It’ll be rendered null and void because that guy will die, albeit in 80 years or so; you understand?” Connor nodded.
“Secondly: if Fate determines your soul isn’t strong enough, nothing will happen, and although this can be alleviated with the utilization of loopholes, it's still the highest priority to strengthen your own soul!” It allowed a brief pause for Connor to brand the statement into his mind.
“Next, rule three: use loopholes; things like inks or brushes made from beings with stronger souls will help disguise your weaker one and allow you to control the fate of potentially stronger beings,” Another pause.
“Finally, this is the last rule, and the most important one at that: Language use! This plays back into the third rule, the older the language you’re writing in, the better! Why? Because the older the language gets, the more souls it will have come into contact with! This means it will add up the small traces of souls in the language with yours to create a bigger soul!”
“I see, but how do I make my soul stronger? And what do I do if I’m content with controlling fate to do the little things?”
“First question: Go kill some people, a small trace of their soul will be absorbed, or you could kill animals too; whatever works! As long as it’s alive, it has a soul! Second question: Go right ahead! Many of my previous owners did just that! Do you know what happened to all of them?" He shook his head slowly, "They all died miserably,”
He immediately felt goosebumps on the back of his neck; sadly, the book was far from finished.
“Why? Because in exchange for controlling fate, it gets to send all sorts of trouble your way! Furthermore, according to the contract(You should've read that, huh?): *Ahem* 'You shall, from the time you left your signature on the Book of Fate, henceforth be its master until your death!'," It paused, "So unless you wanna end up dead in a ditch, I suggest you start hunting!” Running out of things to say, the book went back to sleep, leaving Connor to his own anxieties.
It took a while for Connor to untangle the mess that was his emotions, but he did manage to ground himself enough to realize that sitting around doing nothing wouldn't be very helpful. So he took hold of what would certainly be his greatest defence against the attacks of fate, and with a pen in one hand, began writing...
And writing...
And writing...
And writing...
Writing until...
-Bang!-
The door slammed opened to reveal his father: Cretass Callaway.
Cretass was a good man, a veteran serving twenty-five years before meeting his wife and Connor’s mother: Matilda Anakroma. Right now, he just liked grilling meat and the game he hunted in the woods a kilometre away.
“Heya, bud! I know I’ve been a bit busy with work lately, and I don't really get to spend time with you. So I was thinking... wanna spend time with your old man?” Cretass said apologetically. Naturally, Connor had no problem with the idea and readily agreed to it.
“Good, I was thinking we could do some hunting! Teach you how to hold a knife and whatnot! Get your greenest clothes, ‘Kay?” Cretass instructed before leaving to prepare his own things.
“Sure!” Connor gave him a thumbs up before searching his closet...
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In about thirty minutes, they arrived at the forest on foot.
Stepping foot into the forest, Cretass handed Connor a bow about one meter long and a quiver full of arrows. Studying the weapon, Connor was impressed with the craftsmanship: sleek and efficiently shaped wood. In addition to that, the grip was wrapped with comfortable brown leather, allowing him to grip it as hard as he wanted.
“How do you like them? Long Tie made it himself!” He remembered Long Tie: he was the city’s best weaponsmith-cum-carpenter, making both weapons and furniture alike. This, in combination with Cretass’s hobby, meant they had become fast friends, with Long Tie coming to attend his weekend BBQ's regularly.
'Good, this is all according to plan,' He thought cheerily to himself, thinking of the various instructions he had inputted into it.
“I can’t wait to try it on for size!” Connor was just about ready to run straight into the forest when Cretass spoke:
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"I appreciate your excitement, but unless you want to waste arrows, we're gonna need to go over some tips. Oh, and before I forget!" Cretass took out a short-sword from his bag and handed it to Connor. He continued:
"Take this, just in case you run out of arrows; all good hunters are going to need a backup weapon!" Connor accepted the blade, and they immediately got to work training.
(Insert humorous training montage)
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After an hour or so of learning the basics, they began hunting for some quarry...
Their first prey was a moderately sized doe in the middle of eating, hardly paying any attention to the two "predators" stalking it from a dozen meters away.
As Connor silently observed the oblivious animal, his father whispered: "Ok, the animal didn't notice us, let's keep it that way," He looked pointedly at Connor's bow, "silently draw your bow as far as you can,"
Slowly and carefully, he drew the bow to a full draw, his biceps straining all the while.
"Excellent, now, take aim," Came his father's whisper...
Narrowing his eyes, he strangely felt the world go silent— as if he could hear nothing but himself...
-Drip!-
He could feel the sweat dripping down his chin and onto the ground, but he ignored it, lining the bow just a bit above the doe's neck.
"Now..." his muscles tensed even further, completely ready to shoot on command...
-Drip!-
Another drop hit the ground, this time, he was unable to see anything but the target, the prey...
"...Shoot!" He released his left hand, and a split second after that, he could practically see the arrow moving in slow motion as it travelled through the air before being followed by the tight sound of the bow releasing all of its tension at once.
-Twang!-
<>
"Great, I knew you could do it," He grinned, "Let's keep going,"
Soon, early morning turned to early afternoon, and the pair decided it was time to head back home.
As they were walking through the quiet forest path, Connor spoke:
"Today was fun," he said, studying the bird in his hands with pride, "Thanks a lot,"
Cretass scratched his cheeks in embarrassment, a smile plastered on his face. But just as he was about to reply, he immediately fell to the ground, pushing Connor along with him.
Not waiting for him to talk, Cretass had already answered, "Someone was here not too long ago; we were followed," This shut Connor up for good.
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Outside the forest, thirty minutes ago.
Two strangely dressed men were waiting outside the forest. They had arrived about one hour ago and were patiently waiting for Cretass and Connor to walk out. One of them held a sabre about one-third of his height while the other chose to dual-wield a pair of daggers. They had a perpetually stoic expression as they waited, but amid the boring silence, one of them spoke:
“Why don’t we go in and look for him? Why wait in this hot summer weather?” He complained, but his counterpart smirked in amusement at his whining and said:
“We’ve been living in the Murukhali desert for ages! Do you really think I would believe you of all people would care, Khurun?” True to his claim, these two men were from the south, a giant desert called the Murukhali desert. It is said the desert encompasses the entire south of Deusterra...
“That doesn't mean it isn't hot! But you’re right; I wanna get this over with and go back home. I know you wanted it too, Bala!” The man named Khurun instantly shed his facade when he was exposed. They had followed the boy home in hopes of an opportunity to steal it from him, and now that the chance had finally presented itself, he was a tad impatient.
“I’m sorry, but we have no information about his father. And things can sour if he decides to be a hero and sacrifice himself,” He sighed in defeat, it could happen, and they wouldn't put it past the grizzled war hero...
"Fine, but I'm going to stretch a bit; keep a lookout," With that, they stopped talking and went about their business, waiting for the duo to come out...
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Back to the present,
Connor waited impatiently for his father to say something, but other than a signal for him to re-equip his bow and arrow, he was dead silent. This didn’t last long though, as Cretass had his bow drawn to its limits the moment he stood up.
-Fwip!-
In a split second, the arrow left the taut bowstring. There was barely any sound. With only the muffled crack of the bowstring losing all of its tension and the soft, shallow sound of the arrow as it travelled in the air to denote anything had occurred at all…
“Ach!” A loud gasp sounded a ways away from them, eliciting a small smile from the old man. Sadly, Connor wasn't very amused— quite the opposite, really.
Knowing this, he was quick to reassure him:
"There's nothing to worry bout! Stay low, sword ready, make as little sound as possible, and you'll be alright," This did little to assuage his worry, though he didn't have to be nervous long.
-Twang!-
"Argh!" Another cry of agony rang out, finally calming him down a bit.
'That's right, dad's an awesome archer... It'll be just... Just fine...'
There were a few minutes of silence, and after confirming there was no one else in the vicinity, Cretass got up, beckoning his son to follow.
When they arrived, Connor's face lit up in surprise.
"D-Dad, I know these guys!" He quickly turned to his father, who curiously looked at them as he heard what Connor said.
"Yeah! These guys were standing around outside Mrs Adelaide's shop!" He explained. Hearing this, Cretass nodded before crouching down close enough to talk to the two men.
"So, why are you guys here?" He asked the two men. But all he got in response was a spit in the face. He easily dodged the ball of mouth water.
"I know, I know... You guys are a part of some secret dark organization and refuse to budge, right?" Unaffected by their rudeness, he joked around.
"We have nothing to say to you, greenhorn," Finally, one of the men spoke up, trying to insult Cretass. It didn't affect the older man one bit, but he did lose all pretence.
"Fine then, I'll answer the question for you... What are the Kharan doing here, hm?"
“!!!”