The night weighed heavy on Hyrion's body. Nightmares of his past haunted him. He thought he put his past life behind but from time to time the memories came back. The faces of his loved ones, how they danced in the darkness, numbed his mind and chipped away his sanity.

The moon this time loomed close over the small village, its crescent reminiscent of a glowing shiv.

The body of the boy turned and bend in inhuman angles, his face was covered in sweat, contorted in pain and his eyes spun wildly under his heavy eyelids. The slatted frame of the bed cawed under the heavy pressure.

With wild gasps the boy stood up, his body stiff and his eyes bloodshot. His small hands moved to his temples and he began rubbing.

The boy moved his legs closer to his chest and hugged his knees. "Fuck, what is wrong with me?", the boy asked himself in English. Hyrion didn't know but great change awaited him.

A burning headache made the boy grimace as he stood up and walked out of the small house, or rather hobbled out of the house. His body tiptoed its way to the exit, silent without as much as a small creak of the wooden floor.

The door swung open and Hyrion stood alone in the village, it was deep in the night and most lights were out by now. He bathed in the fresh wind, the chill felt good on his overheating skin. With little to no effort Hyrion deducted that a fever was approaching.

His headache, his high temperature, the pain in his limbs - which could originate from his training as well -, all pointed towards a fever. At first Hyrion thought such things didn't exist in a magical world, that people had to have higher resistances against such simple diseases. But he seemed to be wrong.

He just stood there, a few steps in front of his house, the house of his family, his 'new' family. Downcast he gazed at the soil under his bare feet. The cool earth felt good between his toes, it tickled and felt refreshening.

A wisp of white vapor was exhaled by Hyrion before he turned around, to once again embrace sleep.

(BUT, HAHAHA... NOPE!!! JK)

But ,alas, another torrent of pain swamped over his body. The pain was more intense than before, as painful as his first days in this new world, it paralyzed his muscles with jolts of electricity.

The pain mixed with his sombre memories and weighed heavily on his body. With exhausted breaths he fell to one knee and then on the second. His body fell to the side and jerked in sporadic intervals. The blood was drained from his face and his mouth felt dry.

The pain turned unbearable, it made him think of the past. His mind surpressed the long forgotten pain but it was forcefully brought to the surface. Impaled, burned and bombed to shreds, the pain of his past life invaded him.

With white fingers he tried to claw the pain out of his mind, scraping at his scalp and ripping open the skin. He wanted to howl in pain but his throat clenched and only a low gurgle escaped him.

Fearing death Hyrion tried to crawl towards the door, only an arm's reach apart it lampooned him for his inability. His slow crawl resulted in broken nails and bloody fingers. The dirt clustered together under his hands, testimony for his vain attempts to creep over the parched soil.

In a fetal position he laid there, angst-ridden by the unknown changes.

Like a glimmer of hope whispered steps sounded behind the door. "*Huff*, He- Help, So- one, HELP!", Hyrion wheezed.

He felt his lungs collapsing in itself, and his organs started to fail. His heart palpitated and the strength in his limbs faded. The door slowly creaked open and revealed a fair maiden in a dark blue robe. Two ivory horns reflected the moonlight, - beautiful -. His mother gasped in shock as she saw her son groveling on the ground, his hands tainted red and his the light in his eyes slowly fading.

She was shocked and at the same time a sudden light of insight shone in her eyes.

Carefully she lifted the half-consciouss boy up and laid him on his bed. He moaned in pain but she simply ignored it and rumaged in a small backpack that stood in the kitchen. It was hidden inside of a wooden cabinet.

Placing the bag once again inside the cupboard she returned to the spasming Hyrion. In her hands was a small metallic vial with a green liquid. It had a strong herbal scent that made ones nose ignite by the punch it had.

She pulled out the cork of the vial and tipped the small bottle at Hyrion's half parted lips. The liquid flowed inside of Hyrion's throat and he avidly gulped it down, hooked on the soothing feeling that emanated from the liquid he sucked out every last drop of it.

His complexion turned healthy again and his heaving chest relaxed. With his eyes already closed he drifted into sleep.

Ish'ahri looked at her sons mutilated hands. They were bloody and scratched open. A slight mubmle later a white glow enveloped Hyrion's hands. She nodded to herself and gave Hyrion a motherly gaze. "That should do.", she said.

Turning around she exhaled in relief and went to sleep likewise.

I woke up in my bed, drenched in smelly sweat and a dull headache throbing against my skull. It was dawn and from outside I could hear the busy tumult of the villagers.

Faint memories of pain and hellish images surfaced in my hazed mind. I clasped the thin bedsheets, reassuring myself that everything was alright, that the nightmares didn't exist. Yes, they were only mementos of a long-gone past.

With unsteady legs I left the bed. My daily routine began.

A heavy breakfast, meat, bread and eggs from wild geese-like animal that are bred in the village. they are bigger than Earth-geese and the teeth hidden in their beaks are longer as well. In all honesty, these birds could bite your finger of if they wanted.

After taking the delicious meal, and thanking my mother for its preparation, I left for the fields. A shovel that has seen better days already was equipped like a sword on my hip. With spring in its full glory we had to dig the fields over. With familiar movements I hacked at the earth, the rain deprived soil cracked rather than be dug over. Rain this year was sparse.

When the sun was fully displayed over the horizon I went back to my home. I changed the shovel for a thick axe.

At the outskirts of the forest were already a few farmers mowing the trees down. It seemed simple when one watched them, but in truth it was only their high physical strength that made them cut trough the thick oaks with ease.

The Omir forest was, as told already, close to the lone village. It provided excellent firewood.

I moved to one of the slimer trees, felt the gnarled bark and the faint pulse of elemental essence from it. I neglected mana manipulation as of late, I hadn't any use for it, except from probing the villagers and common wildlife.

After the hundredth time of being surprised the excitement slowly calms down. All villagers had, what I thought, exceptionally dense and vivid mana. Their mana nearly fizzed out of their 'cores', the orb of mana that the villagers have situated right inside their chests.

Their colors varied from person to person. For example my mother had a titanium grey-silver orb with yellow streks of lightning. I could only guess what kind of element she could have under her control.

The other villagers didn't dissapoint either. Some even had abstract colors of pink, purple or neon green. Though those abstract colors were always slightly see through. The thought intrigued me of new elements in this world filled with magic, maybe it was even of the mystical psyche series. An element that isn't really an element but more of being able to control minds, reanimate the dead, place curses and such.

Shivers of excitement ran down my spine as I though of such impossibilities.

The cleaving of my axe pulled me back into reality. A deep cut was made in the tree trunk, it bled thick orange resin.

I took another swing and my axe drew strings of orange gum behind it.

BAM!

My axe hit the tree once again, my full body was put behind this seemingly ordinary slash. But this was not the case. I tried to implement as much moves from my combat training into my ordinary lifestyle. It helped keeping the techniques up to date and decreased the time I spent doing menial tasks.

Although it wasn't a technique but rather the fundamentals of a heavy swing, to put your body behind it, rotate with the axehead.

It still helped a lot though

The axe cleanly cut into the cleft left behind by the first swing. Another three hits later the tree fell over, a loud thud echoed through the forest and startled the critters in the distance.

A flock of Bluecrows left the treetops in a hurry, afraid of a potential predator. The sight was something to behold as I gazed at the tens of blue arrows shooting into the sky. I admired the beautiful, unnaturaly beautiful, scenery for a while before I went back to work. A few trees had yet to be felled.

I went down the forest perimeter, greeted passerby villagers and the rare children that could already handle the hard work.

In the corner of my eyes I spotted an unobstrusive glade, it was a straight path right into a small clearing. I didn't know what overcame me but I felt myself drowning in the peaceful imagery of this inconspicuous break. It felt so peaceful, so pure and devoid of human alteration, as though it stood there since time immemorial. The sun shone down on lush green grass and the treetops leaned themselves over it to spare a bit of their shadow for exhausted travelers.

"Hyrioooon! You wanna play with us?", a sudden scream of a certain red-haired girl startled me awake.

CRACK!

I could hear a sound akin to a mirror breaking from my side. I turned around, to the small glade. The glade vanished and in its place was a dark path framed by vile thorns. A dark fog seeped out from the abyssal trail. The miasma's stench was piercing my nose and with a disgusted face I turned away from the bizarre spectacle. At that time I didn't mind it at all, such a quirky spectacle. If only I had known... then... then... things might have gone different. I was naive, thought it was just a crazy delusion of an equally crazy mind in an even crazier world. Now I can only repent... and hope.

I turned towards the chirping voice. Lina stood there, hands on her hips and her chin pointing up, as of late she always had this arrogant stance. Well she deserved it, after all she won the soccer 'tournament'.

A light giggle escaped me as I walked towards this adorable little girl.

"HAH!", I jerked up and reflexively turned around. Cold sweat formed on my back, my eyes turned into slits and stress made my heart pump. A piercing gaze had me fixated on the spot but only a second later it dissapeared.

Lina gave me a quizzical look and tapped lightly on my shoulder. "Hyrion what's wrong?", her startled voice made me loosen my stance, unconsciously I had the axe raised and ready to strike.

I turned towards Lina and saw her eyes getting watery, my actions have frightened her more than I could have imagined.

Dissapointed by myself, that I could make such a young girl cry, I patted her head. Her silky hair felt smooth between my callused fingers. I grinned as I caressed her small head further.

Seeing my delighted smile, Lina smiled as well. It was a carefree and joyous smile inherent only in kids.

"Wait a bit, I still have work to do. I will join you later then.", I replied to Lina.

She nodded her head vigorously. "I ask Erik if he wants to play as well.", Lina said while waving and running back to the village.

The afternoon was spent by me induldging myslef in another round of Whac-A-Hyrion. I got less and less beatings as my body grew and my techniques refined. The beatings got lesser, but harsher in its stead.

Beaten black and blue I was once again on the fields, playing with the kids. Today the villagers seemed more energetic than usual and I played with the kids till late at night.

There was even a small campfire errected for us. I told them about films from earth, revising it into a more fairytale like manner. The heroic Avengers, The Guardians of the Nightsky. I really found it quite hilarious to blatantly alter the plots and the kids made eyes as if I told them the greatest of all tales.

I also told them about the shepherd boy and the wolf, indoctrinating the old proverb: A liar will not be believed even when he speaks the truth.

At the end of the night I finished with the tale of Red Riding Hood. About the wolf that stalked the helpless girl, how it tried to deceive Little Red and then felt retribution at the hands of the Hunter. I also remembered a post on a frequented website. Of a girl running from the wolf through the woods every night, how she reaches her home, her safe bed and the wolf stands there, behind her window. He begins to talk. The little girl has to flee every night from the wolf but the wolf, the wolf only needs one night, if in one night he catches her it would be over. Chills ran down my spine as I remembered this peculiar memory.

With goosebumps I went back home. The campfire died and darkness descended upon the small village. I stood in my room, thinking vain thoughts. The inexplicable feeling of dread flooded my body, my heart began to race and with a bad feeling in my guts I went to sleep.

Thinking back it was quite ironic. The wolf had longst set its edacious sight on our small village, but was there a hunter to punish the beast? Was there a way to flee? And if, for how long... for how long should we flee from the wolf?

-----------This is a line-----------

In a brilliant castle, eclipsing the sordid mansions around it, an old man was pacing around. In a dark cellar he stood, his old face wrinkled and beet red in anger. His crooked nose and the viperous eyes exposed the maniacal persona within. The room was devoid of any other signs of life, only a solid wooden desk, a chair and a silver chandelier that bathed the room in a dim light.

A knock sounded from behind a massive wooden door.

"Enter.", the old man commanded in a husky voice.

The heavy door grinded over the floor, with a strained expression the man behind finally openned the door completely and entered. Light sweat formed on his face as the chubby man entered. His well nourished paunch, beetled over his extravagant waistbelt and his equally expenssive cullotes.

The man's chest heaved up and down. He took out an ornament piece of cloth from within his dark mantle. The cloth asorbed his sweat and his face turned less disgusted about his own trickling grease.

Wet strands of brown hair glued on the fat man's forehead, his fat lips openned like a fish on land and begged for air. The moustache of his moved with each of the pained and heavy breaths. His bulbous nose puffed hot squalls of air.

The old man turned to his desk, pulled the chair and presented it the fat man.

"Th-Thank you.", the man mumbled between forced gasps and sat his overweight torso onto the chair.

The chair vented his pain by low creaks and bending wood.

"S-So when can *huff* we... *huff* When can we begin?", the porky man asked.

Tauten his robe with his knotted fingers the old man whispered in delight. "Tomorrow... Tomorrow we shall burn the heretics.", he stated his ominous response matter of fact like, as if the burning of people was the most normal thing to do.

"Good, good. But you know what you promised me right?", the fat man regained his composure and asked with crescent eyes.

"Of course, now go!", the old man barked back.

"Grevon my friend, isn't this time for celebration?", the fat man asked Grevon, his eyes were delighted.

"Finish the preparations, now!", Grevon shouted back, louder and more aggressive this time.

The fat man only waved it off and slowly stood up from his chair. With slow strides he went back towards the door and gazed with horror at the set of stairs leading upwards. The fat man gulped and trotted his way to the surface.