Giggiam followed his parents. He plunged through the trees, torn leather boots slipping and sliding on the wet earth, the slush, the wet pine needles, breath rasping in his chest, blood thumping in his head. He repeatedly glanced back at the System Warriors who chased them. The moonlight shimmered on their blood red armour. The sigil of a noble family, a silhouette of a horse's head, rippled on the surcoats that billowed over their crimson steel plates.

Giggiam's father, Vesyryn, splattered blood from his injured body on the grass. But despite his wounds, he ran faster than Giggiam and his mother. But he didn't leave them behind.

Every few seconds Vesyryn flicked his eyes back to check on Gigigiam and his mother, Shanaera. At the speed they ran, most of Giggiam's surroundings appeared as a blur. He ran for so long that he sometimes felt that he was alone. The sensation of isolation would always surge a shock of terror through his chest. But each time his and his father's eyes met, it scooped a teaspoon of anxiety out of an ocean of it.

But the rapid pounding of the soldier's running feet behind them drowned him in buckets of dread.

After dashing beside bark, leaping over tree roots, and ducking under blurring branches, they finally reached a clearing in the forest.

They reached a chasm in the mountains. As they slid to a halt, they kicked pebbles across the grass. They fell so far that they never heard any of them splash into the rushing river at the bottom of it.

The chasm was wide. Too wide for them to jump across. Even considering Vesyryn's abnormal strength, not even he could leap across it. Especially not whilst as injured as he was. But they looked to their right. Further down the chasm, the wind rattled a rickety bridge.

For such a thing to exist, people must frequently travel deep into these mountains. They couldn't be people from Villance. No one from Villance would ever travel to such a place. There would be nothing to gain from that. It must be a foreign nation. And they ventured into their territory. Would they be hostile?

No matter. They'd have to venture deeper into it. It's not like they could turn back when bloodthirsty soldiers were at their heels.

Shanaera ran to the bridge. And Giggiam followed. But Vesyryn didn't move for some reason.

What was he doing? Worry wormed up Giggiam's stomach.

"Come on!" Shanaera snapped, snatching Vesyryn's wrist and pulling him. But he was too strong for her efforts to even make him budge an inch. "Once we cross the chasm, we can cut the bridge. They won't be able to leap across!"

"They'll get across." Vesyryn said. "They may be low-levels, but they're System Heralds. They'd chop down a tree with a few swings of their enchanted swords and lay it across the chasm."

"Who cares!?" She shouted. "It'd slow them down enough. It's worth a try!"

Vesyryn shook his head. He pulled Giggiam into a hug. "I love you," he said. He turned and marched towards the approaching enemies. "I refuse to selfishly gamble with the lives of my family. Not again."

Giggiam knew what he was doing. His eyes stung. "Father, please!" He shouted. "Come back!"

"Take him," Vesyryn said to Shanaera over his shoulder. "Trust me to hold off our enemies long enough. I might even kill them. Either way, I'll come back to you. I won't die."

"We don't have time to argue," Shanera said. She grabbed Giggiam kicking and screaming and ran for the bridge. "Don't die. I love you."

"I love you too," Vesyryn said, smiling at the both of them. His smile vanished as he turned away and faced his enemies. A scowl replaced it.

"What are you doing!?" Giggiam shouted at his mother as she carried him to the bridge. "We can't just leave him to die!"

"He won't die," She said as she stepped onto the bridge. "You've seen how strong he is."

"He's injured." His lips quivered and his eyes burned. "I don't want to leave him." His voice cracked. "It's too soon."

Shanaera stopped in the middle of the bridge. She put Giggiam down. She gazed at him with sorrowful, anxious, and tired, but loving eyes. She hugged him. "You don't know your father's strength like I do," she softly whispered into his ear. "He'll be fine. You'll be strong like him one day. So how about taking the first step on that path by mustering up the strength to trust him? Maybe trust me as well? I know you can do it. And so much more."

Giggiam grimaced. She pulled away from him and smiled at him again. Despite the sadness and dread that ravaged every inch of his being, he couldn't stop the edges of his lips from curling when he saw her smile. He took a deep breath, and then nodded. "Let's go," he said.

Without her needing to drag him away, they both ran across the bridge.

Giggiam quickly glanced back to see Vesyryn. He whipped his sword out from its sheath, ducked under a blurring blade, and sliced off the head of a soldier. He roared as he turned to another soldier, making the soldier flinch and bristle with terror. A small scent of hope wafted past Giggiam.

Giggiam turned back to where he was running. They reached the end of the bridge. They stepped on the grassy edge of the chasm. Giggiam pulled a dagger out a sheath attached to his belt. He stabbed the left rope of the bridge. His mother got her own knife and sawed through the rope on the right side of the bridge. Whilst sawing the rope, moving his arm faster and harder than ever, he glanced back at the fight.

Vesyryn ran at a shivering soldier with frightened bulging eyes. But his step stuttered. Blood rushed down his left leg as well. Cuts covered it. It was injured. The soldiers yelled and lunged at him from all angles, using Vesyryn's pre-existing injuries as a chance to attack.

Giggiam gasped. The dread only crescendoed when his knife cut all the way through the rope. His mother's did as well. The bridge fell away from the cliff edge and flopped into the chasm. Now there was no way of him getting across. Unless he killed them. Giggiam wanted to look back at the fight, but his mother yanked him towards the forest. He trusted his father. He took another deep breath and shot towards the trees.

But another backwards glance wouldn't hurt, right? It wouldn't be a long look. His father would be fine. It was just for the sake of curiosity.

Two more soldiers laid on the grass. One lost his head. The had blood bubbling out of his stomach.

But another soldier shoved their sword at Vesyryn's back.

It sank through his torso. It poked through his stomach. Vesyryn yelled in agony. But he still spun to the soldier and slashed their torso into two. He turned to the other soldiers and ran at them as if he was full of energy and just woke up.

But after a few steps and a couple of litres of leaked blood, his body shivered. His limbs slackened. His sword slipped out of his grasp. His hands hovered over the sword in his stomach, and his fingers shuddered as he tried to grab it. But his hand dropped and his fingers did nothing more than brush past it.

He limped towards the soldiers, still scowling at them. But his face softened as he staggered. He tripped. Glancing over his shoulder at the chasm, his wet eyes widened at the empty space where the bridge used to be. A slight smile blossomed on his tired, bloody, and paling face. He fell to the grass.

Giggiam slowed. His body felt weak. He thought he might fall to the grass as well. He was at a loss of what to do. His father's voice, his smiles, and his laughter, he'd never experience any of it again.

But he saw his mother looking back as well. She saw Vesyryn's death. Tears spilled out of those eyes. "Why did it have to come to this?" she moaned under her ragged breath. He wracked his brain to say something. Something that would comfort her and make her smile like she'd always done for him countless numbers of times. But everything that came to his mind was stupid. It wasn't the right time anyway.

She grimaced. Her face hardened. She turned away and continued running.

He wanted to lay down, curl up, and mourn, but his mother still lived. His father died so they could continue onwards. He refused to let his death be in vain. With tears rolling down his cheeks he followed his mother, sprinting deeper into the forest.

He glanced back at the soldiers who killed Vesyryn. They slid to a halt at the edge of the chasm. They scowled down at the severed bridge. They began hacking away at a tree. Each swing cut deep into it, but not deep enough for them to get across the chasm any time soon. There was no way they could catch up.

Shanaera stepped onto a bed of leaves and she stumbled. Her foot fell through. She tripped. Giggiam looked into the gap in the bed of leaves. A net of thin and brittle twigs held up the leaves. Beneath them was a pit. It was deep. If she fell into that, there'd be no chance of escaping the soldiers.

He leaped at her. He shoved her away from the pit. She stumbled to the side and fell away from it. But he jumped towards her too hastily and too fast to stop himself. He fell into it. He yelled as he slammed against a dirt wall of the pit, and groaned as he slammed against the bottom.

They were nearing some kind of foreign civilization. This pit must be a trap they used to hunt animals or monsters. Or even potential foreign invaders like him.

His mother looked panicked as she crouched by the edge of the pit. "Get up," she said as she pulled out the rope she took from cutting the bridge. She slung it down, but it was too short for him to jump up and grab it. "I'll get you out of there."

"Just go!" Giggiam shouted. "I'll climb out myself!"

"There's no point to any of this if you die as well!" She pulled out Giggiam's piece of rope and tied it to her own.

"There's no time! They'll catch up to us and kill us both!"

"What's wrong with you!?" She finished tying the two ropes together. "Don't you want to live!?"

"I don't want to if it means letting you die!"

"Don't say that!" She said as she threw one end of the two tied together ropes down into the pit. "You should always want to live! Even when I'm gone!"

Now that she threw the rope down, he might as well grab it. But she was making a mistake. She should've ran for it. "Tie the other end to a tree then run. I'll catch up to you."

"I'm not leaving without you."

He sighed as he grabbed onto the rope and began to climb. She was a hypocrite. But they both were. It wasn't like he behaved any differently with his father at the other end of the chasm. And it's not like he would do any differently in her position.

He was halfway up when heard the bang of wood smashing against rock. Was that the tree the soldiers were hacking down? If so, it wouldn't be long till they made it across the chasm.

Once he reached high enough for his mother to reach down, grab his wrist, and pull him up, he heard the shouting of the soldiers, telling each other to speed up.

Once Giggiam stepped on the grass, both he and Shanaera ran. No time to set up the pit trap again. It's not like it would faze superhuman System Warriors like them anyway, even if they were a "low-level" like his father said. Giggiam was glad they didn't, because underneath the pounding of his and his mother's footsteps, the soldiers were close enough for him to hear the soldiers bashing the ground with their steel sabatons.

Giggiam glanced back. Shimmering crimson burst out from behind the trees. What remained of the soldiers that killed Giggiam's father were fast. Giggiam turned away, grit his teeth, and tried to channel every bit of force and power that he could muster into his legs.

He sped up. The world around him blurred. The only way he knew his mother was with him was feeling her shivering hand gripping his wrist. How he was able to duck under branches and dash beside tree stumps was beyond him. He just operated on instinct.

It wasn't enough. A red form blurred in his periphery. The pressure of his mother's hand on his wrist vanished. He turned to her. One of the soldiers tackled her to the ground. He pressed her down.

"Please, run!" She screamed. "Please live!" He glanced at the shimmering blade the soldier whipped out of his sheathe and raised up above his mother. It looked so sharp. One swing of that would swipe his head clean off. The soldier was big as well. Tall and wide. Scars covered his face. He never saw a more violent scowl.

And he wasn't the only menace wanting him dead in the forest. He glanced back at the few other soldiers pounding the grass behind him. They were just as tall. Just as wide. Their faces were just as scarred. They whipped blades out of scabbards that looked just as sharp. He needed to run. Staying would mean certain death.

But what would be the point of living if his mother wasn't there with him? Yes, they'd probably kill him, but life without his parents was worse than death. He was afraid of death. But his father always told him that living with the guilt of knowing that you didn't do what you were afraid of is always worse than enduring the pain of doing it.

Rage filled him. He yelled with reckless abandon as he ran at the soldier that pressed his mother to the ground, pulled a dagger out of his belt, and thrust it at the soldie-

The soldier's left hand blurred. The gauntleted hand whacked him in the face. The world blurred and spun. The bark of a tree slapped him in the face and the grassy ground rammed into his back. A sharp pain flashed across his face. He never felt so much pain before. He tried to mutter obscenities but he could barely control his lips. All that seemed to come out of his mouth was blood. Or maybe he was saying something. It's not like the ringing in his ears would let him hear.

But despite the pain, he rolled over. He slammed his hands on the ground and pushed himself up to his knees with a growl. Every movement intensified the pain. But sometimes to get through a bush you have to squeeze a few nettles. So he kept moving.

He could barely see, but he scowled at where he guessed the soldier was. He clenched the hand that held the dagger, but all he felt was empty air. The dagger was gone somewhere. He glanced around the ground near him, but he couldn't find it. He didn't have the time to search. No matter. Gotta make do with what you have. He balled his hands into fists, ready to rip the man's helmet off, punch the man's face in till he cracked his skull. That'd do it.

But just as he dragged himself up to a stand and could clearly see what was around him, something snatched the back of his shirt and flung him to the side. His left shoulder crashed into the coarse bark of a tree. He groaned in pain. He turned. A soldier in red armour towered over him. He raised a sword above his shoulder.

Giggiam glanced past him to see his mother and the soldier that pressed her down. Blood pooled on the grass below them. He hoped his inability to see any blood on the man's armour was because it blended with the colour of it. He hoped it wasn't because the soldier wasn't injured. He hoped it wasn't because the blood came from someone else.

But he wasn't surprised to be wrong, as he usually was. He was always wrong. Everything was always going wrong for him. Memories of all the times he argued with his parents rushed through his mind and pummelled him with guilt as he saw blood pool out of his mother's bloody corpse.

He glanced up at the blade raised above him. It blurred down at him. He felt an urge to dodge, but he felt an even stronger motivation to just stand there and take it. Without his father, and without his mother, what was the point? He was a sheltered noble boy. He had no friends. There was no one else in this world who knew of his existence, let alone cared. Except from the violent and red-armoured monstrosities that surrounded him. But they wanted him dead. There was no one left to love or protect.

But another thought followed. Maybe there was a reason to survive. There were many people left to kill. A roaring surge of anger flashed in his chest. He scowled up at the enemy. Survival was impossible. Killing them was impossible. But he at least could die trying.

The soldier grunted. A sticky and viscous liquid splattered Giggiam's cheeks. An axe slashed into the soldier's oblique and cut into the middle of his torso. His corpse fell back and thudded against the grass. Beside the bleeding corpse, a person stood beside him. Not one of the soldiers.

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She was a girl. She appeared around his age. She was much smaller than the soldiers. Even smaller than him. Yet she carried an axe and it dripped blood and pieces of pink flesh onto the grass. Did that belong to the dead soldier? Did she kill him and save his life?

Giggiam's eyes widened at the sight of her. It might've been just the picturesque gleam of the moonlight in the night sky or the fact that she was his saviour influencing his perception, but the sight of her looked like one of the magnificent paintings his parents would pay a fortune to cover the walls of their castle's dining rooms and hallways. Despite her barbarous clothing, she was prettier than any girl depicted in any of them. Prettier than any girl he ever saw. It was like time stopped as he stared into her sparkling blue eyes.

But maybe he was making a great mistake by distracting her with his stare. One of the red-armoured soldiers towered over her back. Standing so close to each other she looked tiny. But as soon as the soldier raised his sword, her body blurred. She spun. Blood splashed out of his neck. Then she stood still, a bloody dagger in hand. Giggiam didn't even notice she had a dagger on her, let alone grab it's hilt, pull it out of somewhere, turn to the soldier, and slash it at the man's neck.

She moved faster and stronger than any regular person. She was just like his father. Was she one of those System Heralds his father referred to himself and other special people as?

That must be the case. The way she calmly adjusted the bone necklaces that rattled against her collarbones, brushed her brown fur collar and black gambeson whilst big, angry, and shouting soldiers ran at her from every angle implied that she ascended above the dwelling of the average person a long time ago.

This time she didn't spin at them and slash their heads off. Arrows burst out of the shadows and bushes and plunged into the necks of a few of the soldiers. People he didn't recognize lunged at the backs of the soldiers. One of the, a girl, slashed daggers between the slits of their armour.

One of them, a big man with a great grey beard, didn't even bother slashing between the plates of armour. He just rammed his axe straight through the red steel, smashing his axe through it, skin, muscle, flesh, bone, and out the other side as if he was slicing butter. These unusual people all wore similar attire - bone necklaces, fur collars and ragged gambesons.

It wasn't long until all of the soldiers fell bloody to the earth. The menacing bone necklaces that rattled against their collarbones looked savage and barbaric. He felt an urge to run. But they didn't kill him yet. They didn't look at him with much scorn, so they'd surely be much safer company than the red-armoured soldiers. So despite a bit of hesitation, he let himself sigh with a bit of relief. But it wasn't a relief. Because the diminishing anxiety just brought forth more repressed sadness. And there wasn't any anger to distract himself from it. That vanished as soon as all potential targets from his rage were killed.

His eyes once again burned. He felt like crying again. But he tried to keep it together as much as he could. It may have been understandable considering the circumstances, but sobbing and moaning probably wouldn't be the best first impressions to provide these newcomers who saved his life. Especially considering how hard and savage they looked. People like them might not take too kindly to showings of weakness.

But one glance at the bloody corpse of his mother, and one memory of his father falling to the grass with a sword through his stomach broke down all his defences. He fell to his knees. He shuddered. He sobbed. Not just tears, but snot sputtered out of his nose and onto the grass. At least he had the self control to hunch his back and point his face at the ground so they hopefully couldn't see him.

"Who were they?" The bearded man asked.

Giggiam tried to respond in between sobs, but he could barely speak. It just came out as a mumble.

"Speak up, boy!"

"Stop it, father!" The girl who saved him said, glaring up at the bearded man. "The dead woman over there was probably his mother. And the man lying next to the chasm was probably his father."

She turned away from her father and approached Giggiam, kneeling down next to him and gazing into his tear smothered face with a surprising amount of concern. Another woman, quite a bit taller than her with shaggy and curly brown hair, and brown eyes looked at him the same way. He was shocked. They didn't even know him, yet they cared?

He expected them to all look like her father and the third girl amongst them who had shaggy black hair, green eyes, and a scar across her left eye.They barely looked at him, instead their eyes scattered across their surroundings. They stared at the pouches attached to the belts of the dead. They were probably looking for belongings to scavenge from the scene. Whilst it was a bit cold of them, he expected much worse.

"She's his mother?" Her father asked with a shrug. "What does it matter? Get away from him, Leieffa. Or better yet, get closer and slap him till he speaks up."

"What if that was your daughter down there, Scorpard?" The brown-haired girl said, narrowing her eyes up at him. "How would you like her to be treated?"

Confusion fluttered across his face as he looked between her and his daughter. "You two are asking some bizarre questions," he said with a chuckle. "For starters, Megella, he's not a girl. Secondly, he has nothing to do with me, let alone being my daughter."

"My point is that you should treat others as you want to be treated."

"Why in the world would I do that? That'd lead to some very bizarre behaviour."

"Whoever hired these soldiers to hunt him down must be quite wealthy and powerful," the scarred girl said, eyes gliding across the bloody carnage. How they could be so calm whilst witnessing so much gore and blood was beyond Giggiam. The thought of them being used to such a thing sent a chill down his spine. Other than Scorpard and Megella, they looked the same age as him. "And there's not much the wealthy put effort in besides acquiring more. You should know that better than anyone, Scorpard. So this boy must have plenty as well."

"All the more reason to get him to speak! And fast!"

"You may get him to speak by doing that. But the only thing he'd say is for you to go fuck yourself. And if you looked in a mirror recently you'd know that there's not much money to be found in doing that. Sometimes a soft approach is profitable."

"I am taking a soft approach. A punch in the face is much softer than a knife to the throat."

"I can hear you," Giggiam was finally able to get himself to speak, but after hearing all of that nonsense a bit of venom slipped into his voice. Whilst he expected indifference, that didn't mean he had to like it. "After blabbering on like that, what makes you think I'll give you anything?"

"Didn't you see what we did to the soldiers who wanted to kill you? You're not immune from that, you know?"

"Father!" Leieffa shouted up at him. "How can you say such a thing!?"

The brown-haired girl scowled up at Scorpard as well.

He frowned at the sight of his daughter's glare, but he took a deep breath and scowled down at Giggiam. "Well?" He asked. "I know you can speak now. All I had to do was anger you a bit and poof, the sadness and sobbing is gone and you can finally speak."

"Thanks for that," Giggiam said through gritted teeth.

Cutivia sighed. "He may be speaking, and he may give you some of what we want, but he would never give us all of it. If you were nicer he'd feel obliged to give us everything."

"You underestimate the power of a good beating," Scorpard said. "That's something you three kids need to learn. Or else someone else will teach it in a way you'll never forget."

"You underestimate me," Giggiam said. "I'm not giving you anything, no matter what you do to me. I can't wait to see you waste all that time." It's not like he even had anything. He had no idea who these soldiers were or why they wanted to hunt him down. He barely had any idea why his father was so special. But it's not like had anything to lose or anything to gain with his parents gone into the mud. At least he could die with the satisfaction of sticking it to this cruel prick.

"How old are you?" Megella asked.

"Fifteen."

"You come from the Kingdom of Villance, correct?" Cutivia asked.

He was about to nod, but he stopped himself. Maybe if Leieffa or Megella asked, but not her. She wasn't as bad as Scorpard, but she didn't look at him like a person. She looked at him like the front door of a bank. Didn't anger him that much. Banks look pretty cool in all honesty. But it still ticked him off.

"You ran here because you're not safe there anymore, for some reason. Out here in the wilderness alone, you won't be safe either. There are bandits and System Beasts scattered across these mountains. If you come back with us, we'll keep you safe behind the walls of Spectden Village."

"Under whose roof?" Scorpard asked. "We're trying to get money, not waste it, housing a useless boy."

"It's a trade. We give him safety, he gives us whatever power or money those soldiers were after from him and his parents."

"A few strikes of the pommel of my axe against his skull in exchange for his money is a much better trade."

Cutivia rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless."

"Have you even looked at his System Screen?" Megella asked, staring at Giggiam intently. He remembered his parents saying 'System Screen' a few times, but he never knew what it was. And why was she staring at him so much?

"Why would I?" Scorpard asked. "If he was so helpless against such weak System Heralds, there's not gonna be much worthwhile to look at there."

"Your assumptions are wrong."

"Ah, I see," Cutivia said, also staring at Giggiam. "That must be why they hunted him and his father down. How they managed to kill him is beyond me. But it's a shame the boy's mother got caught in the crossfire."

What did they see in his System Screen? Whatever that was.

Leieffa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "What does his System Screen matter when his parents just died?" she muttered. "We should've buried his parents and walked him home by now."

"I don't like it, but sometimes you have to meet people where they're at," Megella said.

"Brilliant," Scorpard said, also staring at him. "Good catch, Megella."

"Beating him on the head isn't gonna let us harvest the fruits from this orchard," Cutivia said. "We have to nourish him. Help him. House him. Feed him. Then one day, he'll lead our Chiefdom to victory."

Scorpard shrugged. "Maybe there'll be less beatings. But everyone needs a few. Especially thick-headed boys like him. Such a skull won't let any words in."

Giggiam scowled up at Scorpard. "You can go ahead and beat me all you want. Just don't be surprised when I respond by skipping straight to ramming a sword in your face."

Scorpard snorted. "I'd like to see you try, child."

"Didn't you listen to a word I said?" Cutivia asked. "Why make an enemy of him now?"

"We're not enemies. He needs us. We want him. We both have the same goal. Self-preservation. Grudges are nothing in the face of greed."

"You're in for a rude awakening when I get my hands on the next sharp thing I see and you let your guard down."

"You'd sacrifice a warm bed and a hot dinner to get vengeance for a few cold words?"

"Why would I care about any of that!? None of it would bring my parents back!"

"Neither would getting angry at me."

"Nothing can!" His voice cracked and his words jumbled into a mumble as the sobbing came back. "That's why I don't care!"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Leieffa said, enveloping Giggiam in a warm and pleasantly tight hug. "My mother died when giving birth to me, so even though I lost a parent before, I can't imagine what today would've been like for you. But still, I believe you can recover from this."

"Recover? And then do what? I have nothing."

She pulled away from him, gently grasped his cheek, and turned his head to the side. With the other hand, she pointed into the shadowy depths of the forest.

"Look at them," she whispered, close enough for him to hear with such a soft voice. Something rustled the bushes and pounded the grass where she pointed. Amidst the shadows, white fur dimly shimmered. Their eyes glowed pink. Purple hooves galloped across the grass, splashing up clouds of dirt. Swirling silver horns curved up from majestic heads. A few moments later they were gone. All they left behind was the sound of their fading galloping. But the memory of their mystifying beauty stayed within his mind. The memory was vivid, it was as if the sight of them was chiselled into his brain.

"They're called asuriger horses," she said. "Aren't they beautiful? I've wanted one ever since I first saw one six years ago. I ride them in my dreams."

"They are beautiful," Giggiam said. He bristled when he noticed a smile on his face. It dropped back into a frown. Leieffa seemed to notice and giggled at the sight of him.

She pulled him into another hug. "As you learned today, there's lots of terrors and monstrosities in this world. But there's a wide world out there and there's more beauty than you could even imagine. There's still lots out there for you to experience. Don't give up just yet."

His eyes welled up with tears as he hesitantly returned the hug. He wanted to say thank you, but he was too busy holding back a sob for him to be able to pull that off.

"We're here to help you," Megella said, smiling down at him. "You may not yet understand what we saw in your System Screen, but you're just as valuable to us as we are to you. Scorpard won't hurt you, regardless of how much he threatens to do so."

Giggiam hesitantly nodded. She seemed trustworthy, but he didn't really understand what they were talking about.

"If you want to get a bit closer towards understanding what we're saying, stare at your hand and state in your mind 'System Screen'."

"They don't teach you something so basic in Villance?" Scorpard asked with a chuckle. "Do you just eat cake, dance in dresses, and squeal at spiders all day?"

"We spend our time building castles, ships, and latrines," Giggiam said. "Whilst you're busy shitting in holes in the ground like apes."

"Latrines? What's that?"

"Exactly."

"Villance," Scorpard snorted. "Large castles. Small brains."

Giggiam ignored Scorpard's rambling and instead did as Megella said. He mentally stated 'System Screen' whilst staring at his hand. A glowing blue square flashed in front of him. White writing covered it.

"Woah," Giggiam murmured as he stared at it. "How come this doesn't pop up when you guys do it?"

"Only you see your own," Megella said.

Giggiam nodded. So bizarre. He loved his parents, and he understood why they sheltered him from the world considering how terrible and violent it could be, but they could've at least taught him about whatever this was. He scanned it.

Level 0 (Iron) Mana 0% Class (None) Origin Skill Omnigatherer Skill (1) (Locked) Enchantment (1) (Locked) Twillion Skills (None) Strength 1 Defence 1 Agility 1

Hopefully one of them would teach him how to get rid of those question marks. He looked at the System Screens of the others. It was the same for them, question marks covered most of it. All he could see was that Cutivia was a level 5 and had the Assassin Class. Megella was Level 10 and had the Archer Class. Scorpard was Level 20 and had the Bruiser Class.

"So this is a soft approach, huh?" Scorpard said with a derisive smirk. "Well? Have they charmed you, boy?"

He pulled away from Leieffa, and stood up to scowl up at Scorpard's face. Maybe what they saw in his System Screen was related to what made his father so special and so strong. If they helped him to understand, awaken, and harness whatever that was, then maybe he could become strong enough to put this scum in his rightful place. Maybe he'd become strong enough to find out who it was who killed his parents. Maybe he'd become strong enough to prevent such a catastrophe from happening again. Because considering Leieffa's beauty and kindness, he hoped it wouldn't be long until he had plenty to lose once again.

"My name is Giggiam," he said. "You have a deal."

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Five years later.

Giggiam cracked his knuckles as he walked through the southern participant's tunnel of the Spectden Village's Arena. Participants he defeated in earlier rounds glared at him as he walked past, but most importantly they cautiously stepped away once he got close. The ones who lost but he personally didn't' defeat looked up at him in admiration. But their admiring gazes were nothing compared to what he received as he stepped out of the shadows of the tunnel and into the bright and open space of the Arena's fighting pit.

The crowd roared, stomped the ground, and rattled the audience railings as he and Cutivia walked into the fighting pit. The way civilians would look at him when he first stepped foot in Spectden Village felt like a memory of a distant dream. It was night and day compared to how people treated him now. Young boys treated him as an idol to strive towards, cheering his name, dressing the same as him, and styling their hair like him. Womenblushed at the sight of him and threw flowers at his feet in the arena. Older men would glare and gossip from afar, but step lightly and utter pleasantries when close.

The crowd's excitement for his and Cutivia's presence, and the finals for the Annual Holy Tournament of Graeron wasn't uncommon, but it punched his ears more than usual. Did more people attend? Surely not. Maybe it was a matter of perception. Maybe it was because he wasn't sitting in the crowd, trying to distract himself from the sorrow of his loss this time. This time he actually made it to the finals. He felt similarly excited for the finals as they did. Because Giggiam finally had a chance to win the tournament and get a wish granted.

There was no other way to bend Scorpard's will. If Giggiam won the tournament, then Scorpard would be bound by Graeron tradition, culture, and religion to grant him whatever wish he asked of him. There was no other way Giggiam could convince Scorpard to grant him Leieffa's hand in marriage.

As all of the training, monster killing, bandit killing, and tournament fights flashed through his mind, he vowed to not let Leieffa down again.

Once Giggiam and Cutivia took their positions in the arena, they both looked at the stands surrounding the arena. They both looked at the same place.

The nobility sat on seats placed on a platform at the head of the arena - towering above the stands of the common people. The Vice-Chiefs of Graeron sat there. Unfortunately, Scorpard sat there as well, able to get a good view of the arena. Able to give Giggiam more direct scowls and sneers. They weren't fond of Villance, and Scorpard was even less fond of Giggiam's desire to marry Leieffa. But they found his rapidly growing strength and loyalty to the Chiefdom to be promising, so they let him stay. Scorpard was probably scowling at Giggiam's System Screen, weighing whether his growing strength was worth it or not.

Giggiam thought he'd check it as well. As Megella taught him, he stared at his hand and mentally stated, "System Screen!"

Level 10 (Silver) Mana 100% Class Bruiser Origin Skill Omnigatherer Skill (1) Stunning Strike (Iron) Enchantment (1) (None) Twillion Skills (None) Strength 40 Defence 40 Agility 40 Magic 20

Making the raised nobles' platform a bit more fortunate, Cutivia, Megella, and Leieffa sat there, able to give Cutivia and Giggiam more direct waves and cheers. Despite neither Megella or Leieffa wanting Cutivia to enter the tournament, let alone win it due to it interfering with Giggiam's and Leieffa's desire for marriage, they still cheered her on just as much as Giggiam. Even if he lost, at least they'd get to watch their friends fight each other. They were the same level, so it'd be a close fight.

So when Giggiam turned away from their friends and at each other, they smirked and nodded. Regardless of the outcome, he was sure they'd both enjoy themselves.