Chapter 16:

Sleep escaped Rine tonight.

Staring at the glimmering stars of the night’s sky, he could no longer keep his doubts at bay. ‘Can I really grow stronger?’ ‘Why am I so weak?’ ‘Does this old man know what he’s doing?’

As he fell deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of self-doubt and fear, he grew more still. He was afraid. Afraid for he knew what dwelled at the bottom of this pit.

‘I can see her now.’ He thought as he stared at the almost emotionless face of his only victim.

‘My death will be as worthless as hers.’

Form birth to death humans strive to grow stronger, might makes right. And so children are taught at a young age that success was based not on the amount of wealth one had, but their ability to dominate; the victor writes history.

Good and evil? They are but childish concepts dreamt up by the weak too bored or indignant. It is only strong and weak; able or not.

Grow strong, grow fast. Find someone stronger, kill him. In Himmel, the king of Verlau is not some unsurpassed god rather they are merely the strongest. Thus it is every citizen’s dearest wish, no, obligation to aspire to surpass him. Ascend to the throne and become the king, no, be the first to become a god!

Take a step up on this bloody ride and become a legend!

Rine turned his body to the side as if the stars’ shimmer grew too strong. ‘Can I really do this?….”

As he continued to wallow in his self-doubt a sarcastic voice sounded.

“If sleep escapes you then we shall continue to train.” The old man said as he appeared next to Rine.

The young boy started to regret setting up camp near the geezer’s grave.

“Leave me alone.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing I just want to be alone.”

The old man stood stroking his non-existent beard. How could he not know what ailed the child? It was a problem most people faced, if not all. A lack of self-confidence.

As he stared at the child’s pitiful frame, he began to have doubts of his own. Was he truly doing the right thing here? The fate of the world may be relying on these two. Of course, there were others but these two were his.

The old man sighed audibly.

“Say boy let me ask you something.”

“What?” Rine asked as he turned over.

The old man, once known as Samuel, the mentor, began his favorite speech. A speech all of his students knew by heart, unwillingly.

"Where do the strong come from?"

"What are you talking about so late at night old man have you gone senile?" Rine slept repositioned himself to be facing away.

Unfazed the spirit continued.

“You see strength is not assigned at birth, it is gained. The strong are not born, they are made. Sure some people possess more potential than others but it is effort that eventually decides someone’s fate. Give me someone with able legs and arms and I’ll turn him into a legend. We as humans are beings that strive to advance, every solid step is a step forward, and magicians represent that philosophy wholeheartedly and completely. So yes, you may now be a pitiful worm that has spent its entire life covered in dirt and dog shit but under my wing, I’ll make a magician out of you even if I have to evoke Goddess Aria herself to make it happen. So pick yourself up, wipe your snotty face cause we are going to defy the heavens!"

"For that is our dream, no that is our goal. Magicians are born from the desire of taking what is not ours and making it ours! We are the noblest of thieves!”

The old man stood with his chest puffed as a solemn expression decorated his face. Under the moonlight he cut a gallant figure, as if he were a sword pointed towards the sky in defiance of gravity. Yes, he bore the air of a retired hero reluctantly, yet nobly stepping into the battlefield once more.

The majestic scene would have been worthy of being the main act of some heroic play, that is if it were not being undercut by the snoring of a young child.

A vein popped in the old man’s forehead as he stared at the child’s resting face. If he was able, he’d have knocked a few teeth loose. But alas……

“Ladies and gentlemen I present to you our future king.” The old man sad mockingly as he disappeared into the night.

Rine’s snoring lessened as he felt the ghost’s figure wane.

He could feel it. He could feel the old man’s resolve. Shame flooded his heart as he thought of how weak he was being. For the first time in his life, someone was willing to guide him towards strength yet he only complained.

‘I’m an idiot.’ He lamented.

[We are the noblest of thieves!] The old man’s words rang within his heart.

He clenched his fist tightly. If someone was willing to bet on him, might as well reciprocate in kind.

‘Whatever, it’s not my job to think, tomorrow I’ll give it my all.’

…………………………………………

Cort returned to the campsite in a haggard state while carrying a large object wrapped in cloth. Evidently, he was in a foul mood as he tossed the bag down in frustration. As the bag landed heavily, large amounts of blood started leaking out of it.

This was the deer’s carcass.

Grumpily, Cort brought out a change of clothes from his tent and made his way down the river. And as the cool water soothed his body, he managed to rid himself of some frustration. Truly, leaving such a treasure behind was a waste, but what was he to do. The turtle’s corpse proved much too heavy for him to carry and thus with a reluctant heart, he decided to leave the majority of it where it lay. Luckily he was able to extract the beast’s eyes, its teeth, and some other bits before leaving. Organ wise he was again unlucky as the shell was impossible to break.

Cort found himself being held back by his physical strength more frequently ever since he came to Himmel. On earth, his strength alone was amongst the best, yet here he was unremarkable. In terms of raw strength, the humans of his world stood no chance whatsoever. Luckily strength was not his specialty. His speed, it seemed, was still considered to be rather impressive.

Plus it wasn’t like Earth was inferior in every way, in fact in terms of technique the victor was clear. Even the so-called strongest team in Phentar boasted predictable move sets and patterns that any martial artist worth his salt would scoff at. Everyone’s intentions were so clear it could be read a mile away. Of course, that was not to completely discredit them. Specifically the silver-headed leader, Cort could still vividly remember the technique he used as his death approached. Such terrifying power.

Thus if hypothetically, an all-out war were to break out then Earth would probably etch out a victory. And if victory eluded them then mutual destruction was certain. Though it is true that nuclear weaponry proved useless in the latest of Earth’s war that is not to say it would be the same for this world.

‘A war of worlds…..Who’s side would I be on?’

Cort thought as he washed away the blood.

…………………………………………

After a refreshing dip, his mood was improved and he was ready for the final set of chores.

Donned in a new set of hooded robes, he repacked his ‘Goods’ tightly to avoid unwanted spillage. Finally, he stored his sword at his side and made his way to his destination.

After an hour of moving at top speed, he stopped before a large gate.

Phentar was a small, unremarkable, blimp on the continent of Elemente. It lied within the Wind Palace’s domain, closer to its border than its center. Far north was the very center of the Wind palace’s lands. The west and south were bordered with Phentar’s woods and on the east were more districts belonging to the wind palace, some smaller, some larger than Phentar.

Phentar was considered a decent district due to one reason, Shadewood. It was bottom-ranked when it came to teaching magic, but the mere fact that it was an institute that dedicated itself to magic made it the most important institute in Phentar. Even the local branch of the Wind palace which signified the main authority was restricted in the actions it could take against Shadewood.

Speaking of the power structure, the wind palace’s was rather simple. Similar to an autocratic monarchy, one individual held absolute power, and such power was kept tightly within the confines of their family. When elected as a ruler the individual would automatically become the head of the family regardless of age and gender. Though the methods of electing a head were rather crude. After the death of a head, all those capable within the family hold a battle of Origin. The battle differs based on the previous head’s inclinations, and it could range from a tournament to an all-out slugfest. This ensured that the most battle-capable of the candidates would always rule.

However, this simple manner of election is made more complicated by several factors. Chief among them is the ability for the family to be challenged by other competing families at any time.

Cort was still unsure of how said conflict would be resolved, but he had an inkling of an idea.

He made his way to the gate while carrying his precious cargo, but he was stopped by one of the guards.

“Identify yourself, traveler!” The man’s tone was forceful.

Cort watched the other people at the gate pass through without so much as a glance by the guards. The difference between them and him you ask? It was the bag on his shoulder.

“Name’s Core, I’m a herb merchant from the east.” His accent was foreign and odd.

“A herb merchant you say?” The man eyed the bag suspiciously. Granted the bag was about as large as Cort himself, but in this world of super-powered people, a bag such as that was commonplace.

“Yes.” He replied curtly hoping he would not need to resort to doing ‘that’ again.

“That bag seems awfully heavy for mere herbs, I’m sure you’ll allow me a peek inside it.”

Cort sighed before opening a smaller bag attached to his side. Taking out one red, and foggy, crystal he handed it to the man with the bare minimum effort of secrecy.

The man took the crystal eagerly before inspecting it thoroughly. A smile bloomed on his face as he said. “Welcome welcome friend from afar. I’m sure you’ll find your stay at Phentar a most warm one. If you ever need a guide just talk to me I’ll aid you.

‘At a price of course.' Cort thought while saying. “Thank you, my stay is already warm from your greeting alone.”

But the guard had already turned around and left, disinterested.

Finally, within the city’s borders, Cort took a deep breath. His first city. Phentar.

What a sorry excuse for a city it is.