The world is a dump full of misery. I love it. No, not really, perhaps I hate it, but I guess taking a more distant attitude to things allows me to more easily lie to myself when it comes to these things. My teacher tells me that I am way too young to have this kind of cynical view of the world, but I say that this deep kind of cynicism is the province of the young. After all, those who are that disappointed in the world rarely live that long. Digressions aside, I think that the only reason that he thinks it weird that I am like that is because it has been way too long since he lived among the people of my tribe, his former tribe.

When you live in the kind of society that I do, if you're not a complete monster, then you quickly figure out that unashamed cynicism is the best weapon you have against insane righteous fanatics. And if you don't figure it out, well, then you're in a world of pain.

Take my aunt for example: Sure, she is the strongest warrior in the tribe, but it doesn't mean that she is exempt from the terrible things that withered and crazy old hags like my grandmother makes everyone do. I fear that after directly confronting my grandmother and losing terribly, my aunt may have been broken, but oh well. I am still so close to being able to escape the hellhole of a place, and it's all thanks to my teacher.

I was always a difficult child, a devil girl of sorts, or at least that's what my mother constantly tells me. I'd like to think that I had developed a strong sense of freedom from a young age. Nobody escaped from an adult's supervision as often as I did and no other child wandered out of the village as often as I did either. I think that the biggest reason for that is that usually children wouldn't return alive after wandering out of the village. I am often told that the biggest reason for that must be because I am blessed with uncommon luck. Just as often I retort that I just am that good. In truth, it's all thanks to my teacher, but I wouldn't tell that to his face, or he might get too full of himself.

The first time I left the village to explore, following my strong sense of independence, I was almost eaten by a Razor Lizard, a common monster in the forest that my tribe lives in. However, instead of becoming food, I became acquainted with this really exceptional and fascinating person.

“What are you?”

My confused mind could not think of a better question after I had been saved from an untimely demise. I believe I was 10 at the time. The smiling ogre in front of me just shrugged and asked me, slightly confused.

“What do you mean? I am an ogre, just like you.”

That he was an ogre, even a child like me could easily comprehend, but there was something weird. Something that wasn't quite right.

“You're all wrinkly, like grandma's friends, but grandma's friends are all women...”

As I spoke of my grandmother, the strange ogre's face lit up, as if he understood what my doubt really was.

“Well, that's the thing. I'm not a woman, I am a man. But like your grandma's friends, I am old. You see, when you grow very old, you face starts to get really wrinkly.”

Even if I was a troublemaker of a child, I still paid attention to my surroundings, so happy with understanding something, I tried to confirm with him something that I had learned from the elders of the tribe.

“Oh, I know, you are really wise then, right? The elders say that their wrinkles come from the amount of wisdom they accumulated!”

That prompted a bitter smile from my savior.

“Well I don't know about that. I may have grown old, but I'm sure that whether I am wise or not remains to be seen, especially since I have returned to this place.”

I would have really wanted to keep talking to him, but at that moment, the sound of approaching people could be heard and before I could ask him anymore, the mysterious old ogre man that had saved me disappeared.

“What is that? A dead Razor Lizard... You say that it just collapsed trying to eat you?”

The adults may not have believed in me, but after cutting it up, it seems that they discovered it had died from a stroke. Of course I said nothing of the man who had saved me.

“Why didn't you tell the adults about me?”

He asked me the next time I ran away from the village, this time actively seeking him. I gave him my best devilish smile before answering him.

“The adults all keep their secrets, I know because I heard some of them. So I get to have my secrets, it's only fair.”

Oh, I sound like quite the well-spoken six-years old. Well I'll have you know that I may be correcting my original speech slightly in this retelling. To be fair, this isn't that important, except for reminding you of how awesome I am. In the following year, I learned more and more about this mysterious man. I already knew the name of San'gok, but I didn't know that it belonged to him. Among the people of my tribe, he was something of a bogeyman, someone that learned powers that he should not have and as a result was banished. Now, being the awesome child that I was, I already had realized how really rotten the leaders of my tribe were. Or perhaps I was just being an impossible child that constantly did exactly what the adults didn't want me to do.

I pestered San'gok constantly, or at least as often as I could wander away from the village, which funnily enough became easier with time. Maybe the adults gave up on keeping such an awesome existence contained, perhaps they thought I was charmed or something and couldn't be harmed by the creatures of the forest. This couldn't be more wrong, as I painfully remember that one time when I almost died from a snake's bite. Good thing San'gok had tons of different kinds of antidotes with him.

I learned from him many more interesting things than I did from my tribe. I learned exactly why he was exiled: He had learned Blood Magic by himself. Among all races in this world, none have the control over their own life-force and mana that ogres do. While most ogres prefer to take the path of warriors, directing their bodies to become war machines, some, like San'gok preferred to develop their control of their own mana. At the end of this lies Blood Magic, that deals primarily in manipulating life-force.

Honestly, it is a strange punishment. To exile someone from this terrible place, but that is what was done to him. Ever since then, until around the time that he met me, San'gok travelled the world and had many adventures. He was quite happy to tell me about them, I was even happier to listen.

He told me all about dungeons and other fascinating things. My favorite story is from when he beat this strange dungeon full of undead creatures along with a bunch of other powerful people. The one who led them was Gauron, a name he told me I should remember.

“If you ever get out of this place, if you meet him, you should tell him my name, he will probably have even more stories to tell you. Maybe if you need a favor or two, my name might get you that from him.”

Not sure if I was that interested though, if I ever got out of this dump of a forest, I'm sure that I will have the best and most interesting adventures there can be. So then, there wouldn't be a point of asking others to tell me of their adventures. Maybe I would tell this Gauron of my adventures. When I said that, San'gok laughed that it would probably work. Gauron always liked to listen to the stories of others.

Stories weren't the only thing I learned. It didn't take much insistence for him to start teaching me Blood Magic. It went without saying, but I could never let anyone in the tribe know that I was learning it. He may have been exiled, but if they realized that I was specifically being taught by him, them they might decide to just kill me instead. That would be really bad, so I did my best to keep it hidden.

Time passed and I grew up. My family was unhappy with my apparently weak body and inability to fight in a physical manner. Fortunately, my incredible survival and hunting skills in the forest was enough to convince them that I must have been cultivating some uncommon but incredible skills from a young age. And so, I escaped a close probe and safely became an unwed at the age of 15.

Everything was so nice and perfect, except that around that time, San'gok became weaker and weaker. According to him, it was the price of Blood Magic, finally exacting its toll on him, in his old age. Having become decently adept at it, I offered him some of my own strength, some of my own life so that I could extend his. He refused it, saying that he had come back to give, not to take from anyone. And besides, he said that he really missed the “little ones”, a pair of gnomes he had befriended and traveled with for a long time.

I wasn't ready, I didn't want to see him die, yet I was not yet experienced enough to force him to receive my healing. I didn't want to be alone with the madmen. Yet, eventually that is what happened. He left me a very good knowledge of Blood Magic, more than he knew when he was exiled. He also left me the priceless magical items that he had obtained in his adventures. After I buried him, I realized that this was his intention in coming back: He wanted someone to pass on his knowledge and his power. It was almost like we had been destined to meet. Perhaps a world that allows these things to happen might not be so terrible after all.

Still, it is terrifying to live among my tribe. San'gok told me that one day, some adventures might show up and give me the chance to go away with them. Even if that never happened, I believe that I am almost adept enough to break the spiritual bonds that enslaves every member of my tribe from birth. Either way, soon I will escape this garbage of a place, by myself if need be. But really, I'd really love if I could find some great companions. Half as great as me is okay, because that's really great.