“Well, shit.”

King couldn’t help but curse under his breath when he saw the moon’s position in the night sky. Time had dangerously passed and he could feel death crawling up his skin.

At the pub, King was going to end the game sooner. In fact, his original plan was to end the game in ten minutes by using a strategy to force his opponent into the corner. But the frustration on his opponent’s face was absolutely hilarious! He had to play longer.

Wrong move on his part.

Please. Let him be sleeping!

The sound of his footsteps sliced through the silence of the air. Though his eyes could only see black, using his instincts and the faint glow of the moonlight, he guided himself to the familiarity of home.

After exiting the village, his house was on a small hill further guided by a path. Once he reached the building, this was the tricky part of his mission. He had to get into his house without making any noise.

Since his house was two stories, King stood a few meters away so that he could have enough momentum to run forward. He jumped, placing his right foot on the first floor window sill, lunged himself up to grab the loose brick on the side, before grabbing his own window to lift himself up.

With light steps, he made sure not to awaken the individual inside. Not a sound was made.

However, all hope was lost when King noticed a large figure standing in the middle of his room. With his hands holding the sides of a window frame, he awkwardly jumped onto the wooden floor.

Death had arrived. He was too late.

“Where did you go?”

The figure standing in front of him was a burlesque man. His brown, curly beard took up half his face and all that could be seen was his narrowed eyes. With his head reaching the top of the ceiling, there was no doubt that he would be able to pound King in an instant. Even among the common people, his shape was abnormally muscular, bringing fear to all who crossed his path.

King cursed under his breath. Never did he expect his father to be waiting in his room. How did he find out? King had made sure to have escaped quietly while his father was sleeping.

The rising tension in the room was enough to make King quiver in fear.

His father, Galain, crossed his arms. “I said. Where. Did. You. Go.”

King chuckled nervously. “Well… I was just walking down the road to get some fresh air.”

“Bullshit.”

King raised his hands up in defense. “It was very nice outside. The stars were absolutely stunning.”

Galain cracked his knuckles. “You were causing trouble weren’t you?”

King gulped. “Nope. Never. Definitely not. It was seriously very beautiful outside. Look at the stars!”

A sigh escaped from the Galain’s lips.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, Galain had a strange gut feeling that something was off. Luckily, his intuition rarely failed him and when he checked King’s room, he found the boy gone. He automatically knew where his son had disappeared to. King had an extensive record of escaping during the night to go to town. Galain found him at times hanging out with drunken middle-aged men or speaking to sketchy individuals. Therefore, the excuse King was giving was transparent.

Now, to an extent, Galain could somewhat understand the reason to why his son would escape at night. King spent most of the daylight hours training or doing chores, not wasting a single hour for other activities. But this was all his choice. When Galain would ask why he worked so hard on physical training, King would laugh it off saying that he wanted to become stronger. Therefore, since he missed a lot of socializing aspects of his life, so of course he would seek to find others.

But - going outside at night when the drunkards roamed the street was against the few parenting rules he had. That was why, there was always a punishment for King’s midnight escapades, usually through excruciatingly hard physical labor and anger.

Today was different. The night sky was already in motion and the father’s eyelids felt like rocks, forcing themselves to close. He didn’t want to argue any further. He was going to save the punishment for tomorrow.

“I’ll let you off this one time alright? If you fuck up anymore, i’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk again.”

King couldn’t believe it. Was this the end of his father’s anger? Did he truly get away with sneaking out? This revolution was too good to be true. Something was up.

“Why are you looking at me like that squirt.”

“Me?” King said innocently. “What do you mean?”

“You’re looking at me suspiciously? Do you want me to beat you up instead.”

King took a step back and nervously scratched the back of his head. “No of course not! I was just - uh - admiring your wonderful beard. Wow, so luxurious and wonderful. I would love to grow one just like it in the future.”

Compared to Galain’s burlesque facial hair, King was absolutely hairless in that area. His skin as clean as a baby’s.

Galain huffed, unfazed by the compliment. Instead, he began to walk out of the room, closing the door behind of him. Before the door could fully shut, he peered his face back into the room. “You better not venture out again, you hear me?”

King stood up straight and saluted. “Yes sir.”

“Good.”

After Galain left, King let out a sigh of relief. If this interaction went the wrong way, he would’ve suffered his father’s wrath. Since he treasured his ears and his body, he didn’t want to be the recipient of the anger.

He let out a grand smile. What luck.

King spoke too soon.

The next day, he was showered with different tasks to do around the house. Not much better than physical punishment. In fact, he preferred the later! There was too many chores to do! Everything was left to the last minute and he had to finish it all in a day. The clothes needed to be washed. Dust accumulated on the bookshelves. The dishes resembled Mount Pariah in the Northern Continents. With a deep groan, King proceeded to finish the long list his father had provided him.

“Good job. Make sure your swing is lower this time.”

“Yes sir!” A pip-squeak voice replied.

While King was drowning in tears, his father was out teaching students the art of the sword. As a famed retired mercenary, Galain used his spare time to give back to the village by teaching the youth basic fighting skills for the future. He wanted to make a difference in the civilian’s lives by helping them defend themselves in case of future troubles.

If one was talented enough, Galain would train them harder to be qualified to become an actual fighter. Although the life of an average soldier was rough, especially since they were competing with gifteds, the pay still exeeded minimum wage. More than enough to support a family. After all, gifteds were rare and the kingdom needed many individuals to help protect and maintain order.

The sound of clashing wooden swords echoed within the house as King sweeped. With his hands clasped on the stick, he used his strength to beat dust bunnies while paying close attention to movements outside.

Those kids were lucky. Seriously. They weren’t going through the harsh training King went through for most of his life. Although his father was a great teacher to the regular students, when it came to King, he was a merciless devil.

Good job? Ha! That was all sugar-coated. King had never heard those words said to him in his life!

Everyday, he would be forced to pass his physical boundaries, fighting till his body could not move further. From balancing on the top of skinny sticks for days to being thrown into a cage with a deadly monster, King had suffered them all. Only when he was motionless on the ground was he allowed to rest. This had been going on for five years.

Cruel it may be, but these challenges helped King to become quite the exceptional fighter. Although he complained about the hard work, saying he wanted an easier lifestyle, within his heart he might as well be a sadist for he believed the crueler the physical pain, the better. By pushing himself, he was becoming stronger. He needed to be strong.

He didn’t want to brag, but he could probably beat any sword fighter with one slash of his sword with the exception of his father.

That man was a beast. Even from his physique, anybody would be able to see his talent.

Although to him Galain was his father, to the other civilians, he was a hero. Someone who could compete nearly on similar levels to some gifteds without a spirit weapon.

Chills ran up King’s spine. He didn’t want to think about the time he fought his father till his body ended up with bruises. In the end, he passed out on the floor, knocked cold till the end of the day. His body was sore for two weeks straight.

However, after years of battling against his father, King could feel himself catching up to the old man. His own skills were always increasing at a wondrous speed. According to his calculations, he would be able to beat his father soon. Very soon. Age was catching up to his father and his plays had become repetitive. King noticed the patterns and was going to use them in his next match.

In fact, he almost won last time. If it wasn’t for that surprise jab in his shoulder.

“King! Get your ass over here.”

Speak of the devil, the sound of Galain’s deep voice rang in his ears. With his eyebrows furrowed, he quickly ran outside to see why he was summoned.

In the middle of the field beside the hill was Galain accompanied by a dozen students. All of them were in their fighting clothes, a beige blouse underneath brown, leather chest armor paired with a pair of pants and sandals. Dirt smeared across their faces from the rough training.

They all lined up behind of his father, their eyes full of fear.

On the other hand, the burlesque man had a wicked smile on his face. Eyes flashing with excitement.

King’s smile faltered. Oh no. When the old man was happy, something was wrong. Those were the unspoken rules of the house.

He took a step forward and waved; his smile brighter than ever.

“How is everyone! Hello my old man, what a wonderful day it is,” King greeted. Then he glanced over at one of the shorter students. “Ah it’s Casey isn’t it? Good to see you. I see that you’ve… Grown taller?”

Galain scoffed. For someone who was being punished with chores, his son was very lively; focusing on his social skills rather than his physical. Nonetheless, the smile on King's face was going to soon drop.

For he was going to face his true punishment.

“Stop yapping and fight me.” The sword in the large man's hands glistened against the sunlight. King recognized the weapon as one of father’s main, alongside his sledge-hammer and axe. The chunk of metal was large, fitting with the father’s large frame.

The joking glint in King’s eyes disappeared, replaced with determination. He grabbed one of the rusting swords piled up on the ground. “Are you sure you want to old man? Last time I almost beat you.”

Galain changed into a fighting stance. “Save the talk for afterwards. Let’s see if you can still yap after you lose.”

“Bring it on.”