"Once again, I bid thee, reader, to brace yourself. For once more I shall open the portals of time, winding down the clock by 16 years, to the day it all began. Allow my powers as author of this universe to help you gain insight into its secrets. Now, share this power with me and read along."

Signed: Secret Memories

***

A boy bobbed up and down on a broken raft that floated down the river leading to the sea. His tattered clothes and the wounds around his body revealed the immense hardships he had encountered. On his chest was a gaping wound caused by an aether bullet that had just barely missed his heart. He was not yet dead, but he was nigh its gates.

A tall man, burly and strong, in a loose, yellow T-shirt saw him bobbing up and down the river's stream as he was about to go fishing. Immediately, he jumped to his rescue. The tall man waded through the wide body of the river, flapping his arms and feet like a frog. He caught up to the broken raft and took it to shore, thereafter heaving the boy to the ground.

The man checked for a pulse and could make out what barely passed as belonging to a living human. He applied first aid by applying pressure to the boy's wound on the chest.

"Fiora!" he called out to the distance. "Help me out here!"

A woman answered back, running to his rescue.

"Oh my, Mark! What is this?"

"Questions. Later. Heal. Now."

'Ah right!'

Fiora extended her hands and began casting. Out of a sudden a blue glow wrapped around the boy's body, instantly healing his wounds. The spell she casted was no less than a miracle in medical magic, because it was a spell only rare tier-SS mages could do. All of the boy's wounds had straightaway disappeared. Thereafter, Mark slapped the boy's cheeks to wake him up.

"Be gentle Mark," chided Fiora, "that is not how you treat a boy."

Fiora bent down and held the boy's forehead, checking for a fever; she did this because her healing spell could only heal wounds, not sickness caused by disease.

"Seems fine," she affirmed. "We should bring him to our hut for now."

Hence, Mark carried the boy and walked a distance of about a kilometer together with his wife; thus, eventually arriving at their current, temporary residence, which they would soon be leaving the moment their mission here would end.

***

The boy woke up in an unfamiliar place. He could see the underpart of the thatched roof over his head. He scanned his area and took note of the smallness and flimsiness of the shelter he was currently in. He immediately concluded that it was hurriedly made. He moved the blanket to the side and decided to take an ambulatory stroll outside the lush forest. He took one step at a time, as though he found walking a bit strange (the trauma his body had experienced by the beating he had got from his assailants probably hadn't yet waned).

The moment he got out of the hut, Fiora quickly caught a glimpse of him as she was readying a meal outside, cooking over the fire she had made on the ground. She stood up and walked towards the boy.

"Are you okay?" she asked, supporting the boy by the shoulders.

The boy looked at her; he immediately noticed the woman's beautiful face paired with her long and silky black hair. He felt something odd about her gait, her voice, her appearance, and her endearing elegance; she seemed more like a woman of wealth than someone who'd be living in a small space as the hut.

"Y-yes," pronounced the boy, finding it hard to speak, "I think I can walk now."

"Alright, as you wish."

Fiora removed her grip and allowed the boy to regain his motor-skills on his own.

A second after, Mark marched out of the forest a few meters ahead, carrying a bunch of firewood on his back and dragging a deer's carcass with his right hand. The moment he caught sight of the boy, he dashed for the hut at breathtaking speeds that would make you wonder how he'd accomplished it without tripping over that deer or spilling those firewood over. When he had reached the hut he placed the bunch of firewood at the side and gave the deer to Fiora, which she promptly took to use as ingredient for her cooking.

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"You should rest for now," Mark suggested, squatting down to meet the boy at eye-level. "You were heavily wounded when we found you; that is why it's not good for you to be up and about so quickly. Anyhow, how did you even get those wounds?"

The boy didn't respond, not because he did not want to, but because he could not somehow recall the events prior to his arrival here. Mark took notice of his hesitation and immediately changed the topic.

"Do you have a name?" he inquired.

The boy examined Mark from head to toe and saw his appearance (though indeed handsome) as being the perfect opposite of the woman. He was rough, probably uncouth, and slightly too casual. He sported a disheveled spiky hair look, which probably were unintentional. His eyes however, was full of enthusiasm; it was the kind that could lit up motivation in other people, the kind that was just too contagious.

"Umm..." expressed the boy, somehow forgetting his real name. In fact, he didn't remember anything about his past at all—the things he could remember were merely flashes of fragmented memories.

"Arthur!" he spouted the only word he could remember.

"And the surname?" added Fiora from her cooking area.

"Umm..." Arthur thought hard for an answer but just couldn't find it despite already having it on the tip of his tongue. He needed something to trigger his memory. In the distance, a flock of cranes flew away; after seeing them, he somehow felt they were related to his real name.

"Crane!" he uttered happily.

"Alright then! Arthur Crane it is," spoke Mark.

"How old are you Arthur?"

Arthur looked up, "Twelve," he beamed.

"Any family?"

"Of course!" brightened up the silly boy, "I have this little brother whose so intelligent that he skipped grades and actually caught up to me, which makes me so very prou—"

Arthur looked down, "Wait," he hesitantly said, "do I even have a brother? I feel like it was all a dream."

Both Fiora and Mark looked at each other, sending mutual glances that hinted they more or less understood the situation.

Mark tried to lighten up the atmosphere.

"Of course you do have a brother," he said, putting two hands on his waist as if in triumph, "from now on you're part of our family. I have this adorable son you see; he's still three so he's staying with his grandpa since he can't join us on our expeditions, but after we're done with our current mission we'll bring you to see him, and you can be his big brother!"

Fiora secretly smiled at Mark's suggestion. In truth, she'd been meaning to have another child lately—a wish that couldn't be granted easily considering their situation.

"Welcome!" spryly screamed Mark, "To our cooperative guild group—the dark organization."

Arthur smiled and accepted their goodwill.

A cooperative guild group was a hybrid group between mages from an adventurer guild on the Aetherean's side and warriors of a mercenary guild on the Gaian side.

The dark organization only had two members: Fiora and Mark. The two of them built the group after they had met on a rescue mission, which spanned a year, during which, the two of them fell in love. To Mark, Fiora gave him the hope he needed to prove that his convictions weren't merely a figment of his imagination. On the other hand, Mark presented to Fiora a whole new horizon to what it meant to be a 'hero'; hence, Mark would forever be her hero.

***

Within the week that had passed, Mark had begun to teach Arthur martial arts (Arthur himself requested this of him), which he called swaying steps, in order so he can fend for himself in the near future. Nonetheless, it was something Mark himself couldn't use as a form of circuit technique since his activation power was at level 3. Normally, he shouldn't even be allowed to go on missions by the mercenary guild because of this handicap; however, strangely enough, he had a success rate of a hundred percent, which forced the hierarchy to keep his valid membership afresh.

Arthur, after he had finished his training, sat on the grass and rested for a bit. Immediately afterwards, Mark joined him, sitting down and placing two hands on the ground behind him then leaning back.

"Master, I've been wondering," confessed Arthur, breaking the friendly silence between the two of them, "why did you call your cooperative guild group dark organization?"

"Because I wanted to exemplify the fact that our goal is to save lives in secret," Mark replied with a hopeful grin.

"I want to help those in need whom the majority neglect. Our guild group is one that protects in the shadows—in the dark, so to speak; and I am willing to give my life for this purpose."

Mark turned towards Arthur and smiled.

"Do you know that in mercenary and adventurer guild's bulletins only high-paying jobs get taken?"

Arthur shook his head, indicating he didn't know.

"Well, as unrealistic as reality is, that's actually happening. Hence, I have made it my duty to take on requests that pay less. Although, because of that, people have taken me for a coward, for lower-price requests are considered low-ranking in difficulty."

Arthur vehemently shook his head from side to side, disagreeing with Mark's statement.

"Not at all master!" Arthur blurted out, "I'm actually amazed at how brave you are!"

"Oh?" Mark raised an eyebrow, "why would you say so?"

"Because," said Arthur, his eyes brimming in admiration, "you're able to take on that much hate for doing something so noble!"

Mark was surprised to hear such a response; usually, he'd be met with harsh criticism and malicious laughter.

"As much as possible I hide myself from praise, lest I grow a big head," Mark told Arthur, ruffling his hair. "But hearing it innocently said by you, I just can't help but smile."

"I've decided master!" declared Arthur, quickly standing up, looking into the distance and pumping a fist. "Someday I'm going to grow up just like you! A man who will not run away from his responsibilities even if he doesn't get recognized for it."

"Oh, will you now?" Mark stood up and hefted Arthur, placing him on his shoulders, "then first; be a good child."

Mark ran around the grassy landscape with Arthur scarily holding his chin, afraid he'd suddenly fall off.

"Let me down, Master!" Arthur childishly screamed in horror; "I'm not a child anymore."

"La la la la," happily chanted Mark, pretending to not listen.