If I asked you: “What makes a hero?“, what would you answer?

Some people might say: “Courage!“, for others it would be strength, wisdom, intelligence or simply talent.

But many 'heroes' have one thing in common, a goal, the goal to become the number one. Aspiring the highest power and being a god among men.

Now, why do these people aspire this dream, this unreachable goal? It is quite simple, they understood. They understood how weak they are, they understood that there is always a higher authority that could not be thrown over with their current power.

The insight in being weak is what makes 'heroes'.

But is that truly it? Do we just need to understand how weak we are, maybe seeing how our loved ones are taken away without being able to do anything?

I call that bullshit!

What we need is luck. Whatever we do, whatever we are and will be is all determined by luck. Yes, even everything you 'worked' for is all thanks to luck. That guy that bought food from your stall and told his family about it thus resulting in more customers and ending in a giant restaurant that you now own was all thanks to luck. Even the food you made could only be done by luck, who taught you how to make this incredible delicious chicken sewers? Was it not your mysterious grandpa who was in reality a fucking awesome five star chef?

It was luck that you were even born in this family and could learn from your grandpa.

Yes I truly believe that a hero needs luck and you know why? Because I already had this sudden moment of brilliance, this miraculous insight in my own incompetence. But let me tell you what the result was, when a six year old experiences a dramatic trauma.

No, I did not thought: “YES, THAT'S IT! I have to train hard because I am weak and could do nothing about the death of everyone around me, yes brilliant! I am a genius!“

NO! I suffered from a fucking mental breakdown! WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?

Even for freakin mental fortitude do we need luck. Not everyone is born with a mind that can withstand the cruel death of his loved ones.

My story was a classic one. Little boy living in a frontier village of a relatively small kingdom. My parents were peasants but our life was still comfortable. Taxation was low and the nobles that were overseeing our small village were quite generous and amiable. It was truly peaceful. Of course I as a small and curious boy made a huge amount of friends and held unlimited love towards my parents and everyone around me, we were a giant family.

And naturally everything had to come to an end.

We were raided by a bandits. First the nobles were slaughtered. Woman, man, children or elderly no one was spared, their sense of equality was truly inspiring!

They did not simply killed them, they were hum... butchered? Yes that is a good word. They were chopped into fine pieces like what you make for a tasty stew. They began with the limbs and slowly worked their way to their upper bodies and organs. The screams and the packed scent of blood filled the air like vapor in a sauna. The stench was so thick you could literally taste the blood in the air.

After they were done with the nobles and their guardsmen they started to rape and kill the villagers. My father brought me sometimes over to the nearby inns and of course I heard about some profanities and I even peeked on a couple engaging in their 'private time' so the wet slapping sounds and the lustful moans were nothing new to me, but the cries of pain and curses that underlined the first truly created a strange cacophony of sounds.

My mother was taken as well in front of my father, naturally. Her and my fathers cries still ring in my head whenever I think back.

In the end they killed nearly everyone, only some children were sparred, I was among them.

Now you think: “And then came a divine being and WHOOSH! All bandits died and the youth now inherited the power of the phenix of chaos an will shake the earth and heavens!“. Yeah... well no.

The bandits were truly crafty. They dug out a large pit and tossed the corpses inside, then they took us and tossed us in as well, afterwards they shut the hole with a iron gate and waited.

Only two days have passed until the survival instincts kicked in. We drank the blood of our lost family and friends. We vomited but still kept on drinking and bathing in our own feces and blood of our loved ones. The stench was unbearable and after a while the first one died.

Flies were swirling around the hole but they did not dare to enter this manmade hell, as if even the flies knew of the cruelty of those bandits.

After a week the leaked blood was now completely dry and sucked into the soil. You have to know, the hole was big and could even be considered a small lake, so naturally the amount of blood and corpses was extremely high as well and would not dry out to soon.

So we had no other choice than to start squeezing out the last blood reserves by eating the now rotten corpses. The feeling of your mothers intestines coiling around in your mouth and the feeling of her crushed bones is truly uncomfortable. My father was eaten as well by me. Even his genitals were not spared. Head, hairs, nails, everything was eaten. Until there were only a few bones left. Most refused to do so and died out of starvation but I continued on.

The bandits began to bet on who would last the longest. Laughter and cheers came from above and some of them even shouted my name, Argan. Hell do I know how they knew it, maybe when they fucked my mother she started to shout my name or something, I don't know.

In the end when there were no more corpses left and people started to bargain on my survival I felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe if I am the last one standing they will let me out?

These were my thoughts. So I took a broken rib and started to murder my former friends, one after the other. My mind was already completely on survival mode and the rest was frozen solid, maybe to help me remain my sanity in the future.

Their youthful cires filled the pit and fresh blood flowed. The other children did not stop me, instead like hungry wolves they started to drink the freshly spilled blood, like babies drank their mothers milk. They even licked the floor clean. And as if this was the forbidden fruit, a first class meal, they began to do the same. We killed each other to drink blood and eat human flesh. Remember we were still children of age 8 at most.

I was a coward and only killed when I was sure I could kill in one strike but this strategy provided me with a bountiful harvest and in the end I killed and ate them.

The bandits roared madly and cheers of joy and groans of anger could be heard. Clearly someone did not bet on me. I feel sorry for that guy, he mostly lost some gold coins.

Lucky me, I was not released. They covered the gate of the pit with another layer of thin plates, until no light was visible anymore. I did not understood them at first but when the rotting gases started to fill the pit I understood.

I will sufocate?!

But I was far off from the truth. The gases of corpses are highly inflammable and like I said, the bandits were rather tricky in their execution methods.

When the pit was filled to the brim with the stinking gases the lid was opened and a long robed bandit stood there. I could only hear a few murmurs until a spark erupted in the centre of the pit, igniting the gases around me.

The heat was unbearable and I could feel how the flames were licking my flesh blank and charring my bones. Soon enough my whole right arm was completely burned to smitherness and only a black charcoal-like stump remained. The rest of my right side did not fare any better and most parts were scorched black.

Why it was my right side? I think it is human nature, that when you face danger you immediately turn to your strong side to defend. Well how can one defend against fire?

The left side of my body was burned as well, but mostly only in a deep bloody red which would result in an amputation or ugly scars.

I cried out of pain, no I howled out of pain like a dying wolf.

But I survived and afterwards another robbed bandit came over. He chanted some words as well and I could feel how my pain was lessened and my wounds healed. But only the light wounds were healed, the black stump or the bloody red spots remained as they were.

Without any care for me they dragged me out, my right leg was black as well, so I could not walk, or even climb.

It seemed as if their leader was quite fond of my stubborness and so I joined their bandit group.

Who am I kidding? I was a slave and beaten to the brink of death nearly everyday and then in the night I was used as boytoy for the leader. My ass was so sore I couldn't sit for a weak DAMMIT! Hehehehe.... It was a fucked up time.

Everyday I cried, was beaten and then abused. Regular day for a six year old right?

Two years were spent like that.

Two years I have waited for help until the stupid shit kingdom, called Ripose, took notice. TWO YEARS! We were only a hundred or so miles apart. How could it take two years for them to notice the bandits that killed an entire village!?

A play from the heavens, that was what it was, a cruel play from the heavens.

The village was completely desolated and only the bandits remained but when they saw the knights in golden armor and the cloaked men as well, with their ornamented robes, they were truly startled... and then beheaded.

I did not rejoice about this event. How could I? They most likely abandoned our village and only because some merchants were killed and they lost some trading partners did they finally attack. I felt utter disdain towards these people, so I simply left.

But fate is a cruel bitch, a whore which was born in the deepest pits of hell.

The bandit leader survived and fled in the same direction like me and... drummroll please... he saw me! HOORAY!!!

I could not believe it. The fatty, bald, yellowed toothed and one eyed asshole has survived and ran into me.

The time I spent in the bandits den I acquired a small branch to support my body and help me to walk and even run.

With the help of the branch I immediately commenced a sprint into the nearby forest, but of course a person with two functioning legs is faster than a cripple with a branch.

He won on distance and in the end caught up with me.

(Bandit leader) “YOU think you can run away from me? I will screw you over a hundred times before these imperial pretty-boys can kill me!“. The fatass raored madly at me, but how could I care?

Kill me? Well I somehow wished for it long ago so it did not sound to bad. Torture me? I endure. Threaten me? With what?

He had nothing that would make me cower in fear again, or maybe my emotions were already completely dead. I couldn't even remember why I was in this bandit camp or how I got my scars. The brain is a wonderful companion!

I just looked at him coldly without any reaction, like a glacier, I stood firm and was freezing cold. He just beated me through the forest but suddenly stopped.

I looked at the expression of the bandit leader and it was filled with utter terror, he even took a few steps back, then I looked behind me. The space of the forest started to distort and white fog was filling everything in sight. The agonizing cries of billions could be heard and a moment later skeletal hands started to dug into the bandit leader and ripped his flesh apart and splitted him in two.

I did not even care in the slightest instead I looked down on my chest. A rusty knife was planted right into my chest, penetrating directly into my heart, it was the bandit leaders doing.

Hmmm... So... I will die? That is it? BORING!

I looked at the skeletal hands that were now died in red but they did not even bother with me and slowly dissipiated.

The fog condensed behind me and with the last bits of strength I turned around. A giant door stood before me. It was obsidian black with crystal white runes on it. In the midst of it was a giant spiral of gold and silver and a gem of a indistinct colour that made even my emotionless self shiver with fear.

I wanted to move towards the door but to my chagrin I fell to my knees. No strength was left in this eight year old body.

I strechted out my bloody hand towards the door in a last attempt to open it but my consciousness grew already dimmer until it was pitch black. I died.

And this was the moment where I finally realized what a hero needs. LUCK!