HEY GUYS,

I will be honest with you i was really disheartened after getting half a star from a user, and that kind sucked.

I was going to imporve befoe posting again , but i was like fuck it. i will just add it in.

Please tell me ways i can improve my fiction before giving half a star, as this off puts other readers to read my fiction, and give me constructive criticism.

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Galahad POV:

The journey had been amazing so far.

I was never bored as I usually am. I had plenty of time to purify my mana, but also had time to talk and play with fellow church sayers, who were a very nice group of people. Many were families, who had been on the road for several years.

I would often get hungry looks from many of the mothers in the caravan. They gave a gaze at me with eyes filled with hunger. They would look like they want to pick me up and cuddle me till oblivion, in their large bosoms.

I couldn't blame them. Not that I have a kid fetish or anything, but I was an extremely cute looking boy. Before the caravan had left my mother had taken me to a bathhouse wich was quite expensive for our family, as most of the time we would struggle to put money on the plate, and even a decent hot shower was a luxury to us. After years of not properly washing my hair one night at the bathhouse the amount of impurities that came from my body and hair must have clogged up the canals.

My previously dirty blond hair, after having lost all its filth, returned to its original resplendent blonde and, had been tied up in a long braid that reached right above my waist. I had a face that was quite handsome, and with just a touch of femininity that gave me the look of a cute, but fetching child. I had unlike anyone they had seen before bright silver eyes which made me all the more attractive. Coupled with my small stature and cutenesss most of the mothers couldn't control themselves from asking my mother to let their daughters marry me.

Hahahaha…

I would often chuckle at the thought and thank god for my appearance. My magic purification, had reached a whole new level after continuous practice for more than 10 years, I am now able to hold it for 8 hours before having to stop from mental exhaustion.

The World Pulse meditation had now finished my purification of mana, which was the first stage and had entered the realm of 2nd stage of the meditation. This stage was called “World’s Weight” stage and it allowed me to purely strengthen my body, by imbuing my various cells with the elemental energy of my choosing. The knowledge GOD gave warned me to only pick one type of elemental energy and focus on only that for the 2nd stage. While the earlier stage improved my body strength, it only increased it in a miniscule amount. Even after 10 years of training I only had a body of an above average human, but by using this technique I was exponentially raising the strength of my body. This stage focused only on strengthening and is apparently the stage I had to stay in until I reached a power level of A rank. I only focused on imbuing my body with white elemental energy that was floating around me as I presumed it to be Light energy.

I was standing there pondering about the various intricacies of magic when suddenly a beautiful girl of 19 with cascading brown hair and green eyes came to me holding a book, that had the words “YMIR’s CALL” written on it. My sister was walking towards as I was sitting on the edge of one of the carriages, as we were resting today.

Just 5 days since we started on the caravan I was not the only one who had the attention, but my sister also got various love confessions from young priests. I would laugh at the sight as my sister would usually just reject them, with emotionless expression on her eyes without even hearing them out. I pity those poor blokes.

My sister was already drop dead gorgeous and after the bathhouse she had become exponentially beautiful. Her various little blemishes were gone and her beauty had spread though out the slums that very night. Many of the slum boys there were heartbroken to learn that she was leaving on the church caravan. They had lost their Ice Cold Goddess.

“Gala, What are you doing?” she said giving her rare smile that was only restricted to her family.

“nothing just thinking about magic…” I said giving her a smile.

“I doubt any of us can do it, we don't have the bloodline. That's what speaker Tristan says.

“I know but ever since that Leonel kid, showed me the dominance of magic, I am unable to think of anything else.

She came closer hugging me, putting my arms around my shoulders. Her perky generous breasts were grazing my arm, as she spoke softly. “Gala before you were born, mum was working for the Washing station for the queen right? She would come home everyday not tired and father would come home every 2 weeks.”

“we were happy, mother used to smile, and I used to get taught archery from dad. But the night you were born, father was killed.”

I looked at her shocked beyond reason. I was born on the death of my father? I kept thinking about the hardships, the unrelenting screaming sensation, that came from the bottom of my stomach cause of hunger. I was angry at myself, I was angry at the world for taking away my family’s happiness. I was then reminded of the words GOD had spoken, “fate will be cruel to you.”

I was utterly devastated. I didn't think, that I was cause of misery in my family.

“Gala, I am not saying that your birth caused everything but, I think everything happens for a reason, Gala before in my life I had no reason, no aim, but the church caravan has been nice to me. I feel a real calling and I want to spread Ymir’s words to the world. Mum and I are truly happy Gala without you we wouldn't have found this utopia, so what if we cant do magic, what if we cant ever reach the higher echelons. But we can live happily here Gala lets find happiness here…” she looked at me sincerity brimming in her deep green eyes.

I nodded, a small tear streaking down my face.

“NO FAIR, you are sticking too close Sister Veilantif!!”

Our emotional talk was disturbed by a small girl, of around 12 years old, wearing a flowing white cotton summer dress. She had short black hair and bright brown eyes. She was looking at me and sis, with red rosy cheeks.

She was one of the friends I had made on my journey so far. She was the first of the children to talk to me, and would always blush fiercely, when I talked to her. It was abvious that she liked me.

“Sister Veilantif, please don't hug Galahad like that, I don't want him to grow up to be siscon, I plan to marry him.”

The girl would often, tell me that we should get married, her childinsh whims were often interspersed with these erratic confessions. I would not say anything or talk back to her demands but when I do talk to her, she goes beet red, and stutters uncontrollably. I loved that honest side of her.

“Teresa, for the millionth time I cant marry you, I want to travel the world remember?” I questioned her.

“but we are me..men…ment…to…to…b…e .” he stuttered

I gave her smile stood up escaping from my sister’s hug and went towards her. She became an even deeper shade of red, the closer I got; As I opened my mouth, I suddenly heard

“BANDITS, BANDITS RUN, HIDE, ESCAPE…FELLOW CHURCHMAN ESCAPE”

The next seen can only described in one word.

Carnage

10 bandits riding horses came rushing in from the east side of the campsite, holding their swords in the ready and started cutting them down in a moments notice. Teresa screamed in the top of her lungs, crying at the site of her family getting chopped down, her fathers head cut clean off, and blood spurting like a Geyser from the opening of the severed head.

The caravans were upturned; many were empty as most churchmen were doing their morning chores.

One after another, more and more men came out of the carnage ready slay and slay and slay. My sister directly faced me, and told me to gather all the children here, and try to stay inside one of the upturned caravan. And stay there quietly and hide. My mother soon came rushing in blood all over her white clothes.

I could hear some of the priest boys, saying that god is with him, and drawing his sword. Before one breath their heads was rolling in the dirt, and the assailants, had a grin was stretching from ear to ear.

“where did such strong bandits come from they all seem to be D level warriors.” Screamed Priest Jeremy, while begging the leader of the group to spare the children, the leader seemed to not care of anything as he skewered the mans head with his sword, right through the eye.

I was suddenly, caught by a attacker, and he proceeded to slash me down, with my non existent battle skills, I quivered in fear as the strong sword came down, swiftly a white blur came in standing right infront me taking the full brunt of the sword attack. And the person pushed me out of the way right into the Briar Thorn bushes, which were just adjacent to the caravan filled with the children.

To my dread I saw that the woman who defended me was none other than my mother. She had tears in her eyes as her lifeless soulless body dropped down, I could see that her last words were for me to not make a sound, from the finger over her mouth.

My soul screamed, my mind went blank. I wanted to scream, my heart twisted and ached as I saw my own mother die in front of me. The thorns were digging deep into my skin as I wriggled and fought my away, out of them. But to no avail. The thorns dug deeper and deeper the more I fought, slowly reaching my bones.

Then one of the bandits all gathered at the leader who seemed to be the one who killed my mother. He hadn’t noticed that I was in the Briar Throns, and I was making no sound just watching as he proceeded to search for me. He eventually came across the upturned caravan. He opened the door to find all the children, huddled inside tears streaking down their face.

They screamed and howled as the leader proceeded to drag them out one by one, cutting them down. I couldn't bare see the sight as the child would be dragged out by his legs kicking and creaming, their nails breaking on the wooden door as they desperately held on to it digging their nails inside. The children couldn't do anything. I could just watch them, my face going into distortion as I tried to scream but a sound never came out.

Teresa was the last to be dragged out, her eyes still held resolve, she seemed to have thought that someone would come and save us, anyone. But no one came, and she was cut down just like the rest of them.

I was praying to heaven, no I was praying to GOD, to please let my sister escape this carnage; but just then, an arrow whizzed right towards the leader coming from the woods behind the caravan, the leader dodged it with ease, and proceeded to run down at great speeds, to catch their assailant.

Before minutes my sister, was brought kicking and screaming towards the place where the children were killed. My sister was brought to the center as they bandits eyed her with lecherous faces.

Realization dawned on me, the bandits had the same look some of the men had, from when I was at the war, the look of lust, desire and thirst. I screamed but the sound each time escaped me, I was coward, I couldn't scream because of my own cowardice.

Each of the men proceeded to rip my sister’s clothes to shreds, exposing her beautiful body, the ten men, looked greedily at her. Each of them proceeded to do unspeakable things to her.

They tore into her body, taking her, thrusting their manhood into her. She screamed and I cried, I could do nothing I fought I tried to escape, this hook prison but th more I fought the further they dug. My sister kicked and screamed, yelling for Ymir to save her but nothing came, and eventually her lifeless soulless body lied there. Broken beyond repair…

My mind went blank, If everything I had done since birth had amounted to nothing, that I couldn't save my sister, or my mother then what was the point in this life, I was angry at everything, I was angry at the gods of this world, I was but foremost wanted to instill my wrath on these people.

Slowly my mind broke, I had one thing in my mind, revenge, I wanted to kill them, slaughter them, destroy their souls. Something primal in my ssoul responded to my urge, I wanted slaughter, wanted death, I wanted REVENGE….

My mind then snapped.

Bevin’s POV

The whole camp site ran red. Blood in the gutters, blood on the flagstones, blood in the fountain. The corpses posed as corpses do. Some comical, reaching for the sky with missing fingers, some peaceful, coiled about their wounds.

Flies rose above the wounded as they struggled. This way and that, some blind, some sly, all betrayed by their buzzing entourage.

“Water! Water!” It’s always water with the dying. Strange, it’s killing that gives me a thirst.

And that was The Church Caravan. Two hundred people of the church lying with their mouths hanging open, some were holding swords that hadn’t been used since its buying.

You know, I warned them that we do this for a living. I said it to their leader, Priest Jeremy. I gave them that chance, I always do. But no. They wanted blood and slaughter, they believed Ymir will help them. And they got it.

War, my friends, is a thing of beauty. Those as says otherwise are losing. If I’d bothered to go over to old Jeremy, propped up against the fountain with his guts in his lap, he’d probably take a contrary view. But look where disagreeing got him.

“Shit-poor church maggots.” I discarded a handful of fingers over Jeremy’s open belly. He came to me, holding out his takings, as if it was my fault.

“Look! One gold ring. One! A whole caravan and one fecking gold ring. I’d like to set the bastards up and knock ’em down again. Fecking bog-churhchman.”

He would too: he was an evil bastard, and greedy with it. I held his eye. “Settle down, Brother Rike. There’s more than one kind of gold in Church people.”

We then brought a young beautiful, dame and had our way with her, poor girl couldn't even take 3 of us before she died, from the trauma. I chuckled this trip had been quite productive.

Suddenly I felt immense pressure building up, the whole world seem to weigh on me, I then saw all the hook briar thorns melt away revealing a small figure, of boy with flowing gold hair was covered completely in pure bluish white flames, the flames were flickering, and the heat from them was scorching inside of my cornea. My mind didn't even have the time to think as the inside of my body melted from the sheer pressure that emanated from the boy.

Me! A “D” level warrior was burning away not from the flames, but the sheer pressure the boy emanated, I could see that my fellow bandits had gone through the same, and were reduced to nothing but puddles of meat. This boy slowly walked to me scorching the earth underneath, slowly cracks were appearing on his face and flames seeped out of them, he took one step and my body melted…

Luthor’s POV:

I was returning from my secluded training as I heard that my daughter wanted to introduce me to my grandchildren. I was flying through the air, when I suddenly felt immense pressure coming from 40 kilometers away from me. The pressure was so strong that it pushed me a SS level fighter down to the ground, and stopped me in my tracks, I ran towards the source, in great speeds, and in 3 mins reached there to find a campsite filled with carnage, nothing but blood and guts were strewn on the ground.

I then saw him, the boy was wearing nothing but he emanated such strong heat the armour on my body was slowly melting away, an artifact level item I was wearing was melting away from this boyos gaze alone. He looked at me and suddenly went limp, all the pressure was gone and the boy stood there before blood started spurting from him like a geyser, and he dropped to the ground.

I cautiously went towards him, and saw that he was breathing small faint breaths. I held on to him and proceeded to run towards the capital, I was only 10 kilometers away from it and it took me only 4 mins to reach there with the boy in my arms, I ignored all the people who had paraded to see my return and ran towards the castle.

I was fascinated with this boy, he had so much power in him, raw untainted power. I was bored of life before I met this boy, I wanted to save him , I was not excited for 200 years this feeling felt new to me, I was excited of this boys potential…

I had to save him.