Michael always wanted to be a spell weaver ever since he was young. He imagined the fame, the respect, and the wealth he would obtain, but sadly, he later figured out that spell weavers were to be feared and hated by the citizen of his country. The citizens of the Republic of the Third lived peaceful life majority of the time and they believed that becoming a spell weaver was deemed an act of terrorism in which could ruin the peace of the citizen's livelihood.

When they found out that Michael's father was one, the officials took everything away from him. Michael held hatred for that place until this very day.

They ruin his life and his family. Even more, those people lived a hypocritical life in which they drowned themselves in technologies that utilized the fundamental of weaving spells. Since many were not able to do so freely, they despised those who did in the name of peace.

Michael looked at Lyndon and sighed.

'He must not have it easy either. Abandoned by the age of eight. I doubt he could remember much at all about his parents. At the minimum, he does not have an existential crisis.' Michael pitied him because his life will only get harder for him, with him being unable to survive without the help of others.

Lyndon was simply enjoying the beauty as he playfully ran ahead without a care.

Seeing that fifteen minutes had passed, he thought it was about time to see if his newly made trap works.

"Let me see the how much fish I caught, hehehe." Michael was proud of his little trap and walked into the river to where his trap was. He reached out to grab it but to his disappointment, there was only one fish and not a big one at that.

"We are going to starve…" A somewhat medium-size fish that could not possibly feed the two of them. He reexamined on why his trapped did not work. After a few seconds, he figured out one possibility. It was that water was too gentle that they could swim around it with ease.

'At Least there is a fish stupid enough to get caught.' Michael looked at Lyndon and thought to himself. 'I will name you Lyndon." He smirked as his own joke.

"Lyndon come over here. Food!" Michael decided to give this first fish to him or else he might get beat up in a fight for it. Michael had gathered a few branches and leaves away from the river.

'These should be dry enough.' He gathered them together at the bedrock and began to cast an incantation. The area around his palmed turned red till a single spark shot out.

'I hate using fire spells…'

Lyndon, who was already next to Michael, got a closer look with amazement at the fire caused by a single spark.

"Idiot, do not get closer! You are going to put out the fire. Quickly move, I need to fan the smoke." Michael shoved him away gently and began to blow on the burning leaves as lightly as possible. After a couple of minutes, the leaves and wood ignited creating a small campfire.

"Haha. Quickly grabbed me that branch. Let's cook this before the fire dies on us." Michael pointed a small branch so Lyndon could retrieve it. With a stick in his hand, Michael stabbed the slimy fished through its mouth.

With little to no time at it, the fish was cooked. Michael removed it from the campfire. Lyndon stared at it with eyes that were begging for it. Michael sighed but and hand it over to him. He was planning to give it to him so he felt not as bad when doing so.

Lyndon did not hesitate to bite on the fish and ignoring that there was bone in it, thus, leading him in pain.

"You are what you eat." Michael shrugged in delight.

"After you are done eating, let's go." Michael was hungry but he felt that staying in one place will bring danger to them. He stomped on the campfire.

A couple miles away from the fire, I group of three was casually wandering in the wood with blood on them. There were two men and a woman with fit physiques. They saw the smoke floating into the air. They silently nodded in agreement and began to head into the direction where Michael and Lyndon were at.