— Hurry!!!
Eric and Arthur dashed into a deserted alley. Suddenly, Eric stopped.
— Stop. Let's wait here for a moment.
Arthur dropped to his knees, catching his breath, while Eric carefully scanned both ends of the alley.
— Did we lose them?
— …Seems like it.
— Good.
Arthur stood up and turned his back, ready to leave.
— Let's get out of this filthy place.
But suddenly, he felt Eric's hand grip his shoulder from behind.
— Arthur… can I ask you something else?
Arthur half-turned, puzzled by Eric's behavior, while Eric continued in a calm tone:
— When you agreed to risk your life for something that doesn't concern you at all… it can't be for some trivial bet. Tell me, Arthur… are you planning something?
Arthur remained silent, staring ahead with troubled eyes, as if the answer weighed heavily on his tongue.
— What is it that drives me to follow this man…?
In Auraya, in one of the villages where I was born, I spent most of my childhood with my father.
Before that, I was used to hearing my mother shouting at him—sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening. I was scared… just a weak, ordinary child, pressing a pillow against my face so I wouldn't hear their arguments.
And yet, I also felt a warm hand holding mine.
— Are you okay, little Arthur?
A gentle female voice that eased my fear.
— Don't be afraid. Your sister is here.
…
In my surroundings, where half the people were divided between ordinary humans and the gifted—those known as the Children of Lumière—it was hard for me to make friends.
I was only comfortable playing and spending time with my sister.
But my parents' arguments grew into something worse.
…
One morning, like any other, I opened my eyes and didn't find my sister beside me.
When I went to the living room, I found only my father, asleep with his arms folded and his head resting on the table. There was no sign of my mother either.
— Dad… where are Mom and my sister…?
He didn't answer. But as a child, I couldn't understand—only later did I realize that was the last time I would ever see them.
After my parents separated, my mother took my older sister with her.
I had to take a new step… face the world on my own.
At first, it seemed like I managed to make a few friends. But the gifted were seen as angels in the eyes of children. I remember one of them could control fire—he was arrogant.
We were sitting in a circle, deciding what to play.
— Let's play the egg game.
But the gifted boy interrupted.
— No. We're playing Demon Ball.
— No, we played that yesterday—and you play too rough!
— What!?
The argument escalated until the gifted boy punched the other child in the face, forcing his decision through violence.
In scenes like that, I would tremble in fear… afraid I'd be next. The thought of being unable to defend myself disturbed me deeply.
One night, I heard my father call me:
— Arthur? Are you asleep?
I turned to him with a sleepy smile, my eyes half-closed.
— Yes, Dad.
He smiled and sat beside my bed.
— Hmm… you look more tired than usual today.
I hesitated, then whispered:
— Dad… why do some children in the village have abilities that I don't?
His expression tightened for a moment, but he quickly patted my head.
— Son… in the past, our land was pure. There were no differences between people. But now… some control water or fire, some master magic, and others are granted power by gods. As for us… we believe in the one true God, not in false idols that claim divinity.
That's when I realized… there was one thing I always lacked.
Power.
Another day, that same gifted boy tried to bully me—throwing his ball far away and ordering me to fetch it. Somehow, I mustered the courage to refuse… pitiful as it was.
His arrogance pushed him to approach me and try to attack.
Instinctively, I shoved him away and ran.
But I didn't get far.
I remember screaming clearly:
— Stay away from me!
Five boys surrounded me. Four held my arms and legs, while the fifth stepped forward with hatred on his face, holding a small flame in his hand.
— Let's see if you're fit to be roasted, you outcast!
The flame came closer to my face as I struggled helplessly.
— I said stay away from me!!!
Suddenly, I gathered all my strength and headbutted one of them. My fists lashed out wildly, hitting another. My arms broke free—I staggered to my feet and charged at the fire wielder.
I beat him relentlessly until his face was swollen with blood and bruises. The others stepped back in fear, then ran away, leaving me trembling from what I had done.
That evening, his mother stormed into our house, shouting at my father.
But he didn't shout back. He simply apologized with a faint smile and paid compensation so I wouldn't be punished.
Later, he came to my room. I braced myself for scolding.
Instead, he said:
— Arthur… I'm sorry for bringing you into this cruel world. The bullying you face… it's my fault. But remember… I'll always stand by your side.
My desire for strength grew every day.
I began learning how warriors became strong—training, endurance, running.
I trained alone most of the time. Every free moment—after school, after work—my mind was focused on training. Over time, it became harsher… more intense.
I believed that one day, I'd be able to face anyone.
But I strayed into darker paths.
Years later, as a teenager…
While waiting in line for bread, someone shoved me aside and took my place.
— Excuse me Oh، you !?
— Huh?
Unlucky for me, he was gifted.
— What!? What do you want?
Realizing there was no way out except violence… I struck first.
It was the first time a "gifted" person fell from a single punch.
One blow… and he collapsed, chaos erupting around me.
In that moment, I believed I didn't need powers to defend myself—or to defeat the gifted.
But reality was harsh.
I kept fighting in the streets—sometimes in response to insults, sometimes for trivial reasons, And sometimes I end up imprisoned, Sometimes I end up locked up by security guards, causing problems for my father, and sometimes I escape.
But The truth was, I was often beaten brutally by gifted individuals who could have killed me.
It broke me inside at times… but I refused to give up.
When I turned sixteen…
My street troubles lessened. I became someone my father could rely on. But day after day, I began noticing signs of illness and weakness consuming him.
One day in afternoon, My father fell into an unusually deep sleep.
I entered his room, trying to wake him up.
— Dad…? Dad!?
I tried to wake him—nothing happen.
My mind was filled with tension and terror at the thought I was having. I tried desperately to wake my father, but to no avail,When I regained my senses .. I called the village doctor to my house
...
— Is my father okay? Please tell me he's fine.
— I don't know, boy. Give me some time.
I wandered far from home, my mind lost. By sunset, I saw an old woman struggling to pick up potatoes she had dropped.
— Let me help you, ma'am.
— Oh, thank you, gentle young man.
…
— Here you go. Be careful.
— Thank you, my child. May God bless your life and those you love.
— I… I actually have something important.
I ran back home.
A crowd had gathered.
— Move aside!
As I tried to enter, a guard held me back.
— Wait, boy.
— Let me go! My father…!
From in front of my house, two men emerged with their backs to each other, carrying the front of a coffin. They slowly brought out the coffin, and behind them were two other men carrying coffins from each corner.
My world shattered.
After my father's burial, I don't remember the last time I cried except in my childhood, but I collapse to my knees and sob in front of my father's grave.
The last person in my family is gone
..
..
A year passed.
I had grown tired of the village.
So...I decided to leave.
After asking the doctor, I learned the truth:
— Your father died from a malignant illness… likely hereditary. Even magic couldn't cure it، May God have mercy on him
( You need to know that، There's a chance you might have it too.)
After I left the village ،I wandered from place to place.
Instead of causing trouble, I trained with skilled fighters, avoiding gifted individuals.
My life became simple: train, work, eat, sleep… repeat.
I watched underground fights—people betting, gangs organizing them. Good fighters earned well.
So…
I entered the world of street fighting again—more organized, more brutal.
Despite my fear before every match, I crushed my opponents savagely… and took heavy hits in return. Most fights were barehanded, sometimes with knives—against ordinary people.
I grew confident… too confident.
Then… I met her.
In a dangerous district, two thugs threatened a woman in desert clothing.
— Hand over your bag, miss. Don't scream.
She smiled faintly.
In a blink—
The man's knife split in two.
A slash appeared across his face, blood dripping.
His companion ran. The other backed away in terror.
— What the…!?
I watched in shock.
A coin fell from my pocket and rolled to her feet. She picked it up.
I approached quickly.
— Sorry, that's m—
Before I could finish, two long daggers were pressed against my neck.
I froze.
She had long red hair… and pink eye
A gifted.
..
And now…
..
— You're Arthur, right?
— Who the hell are you?
— Doesn't matter. Let's make a bet. If you beat me, I'll give you as much money as you want.
— And if you win?
— You'll become my subordinate. Don't worry—I'll pay you well.
— …Fine.
He defeated me with a single kick I didn't even see.
That's when I understood the gap between us… between our worlds.
— Arthur… what if I told you I could give you that power?
His words pierced my heart.
A thread of hope in all that darkness.
In that moment… I decided to end the meaningless cycle of fights.
Arthur returned from his memories, raising his gaze to Eric, who was still waiting.
— What am I planning? …I lost a bet. And that man keeps his word.
— Really, Arthur? If I were you, I'd run immediately.
— Because you're a coward?
— No… because I'm not insane.