Same as always...

This is the start of how I, a weak powerless human, rose to stand with the gods...

"Come on! When are you going to stand up for yourself?!" My parents are yelling at me again, all because I make the humans look weak. We live in a world where humans are seen as the weakest race of all.

The world is now filled with 4 races. The humans, the Animen, the Dark Folk and the Highers. All the races live with each but that doesn't mean we are all equal.

The Highers are seen as god-like beings that make all the rules and govern all the other races. The Dark Folk keep to themselves but are still the second strongest race. The Animen are like humans but still stronger and with animal like characteristics.

"Those Animen shouldn't be able to put a scratch on you, if you just fought back!" Mark used to be a prodigy in sword play when he was younger, but after an accident he lost all his motivation. That day, he may never forget that day.

"Why fight back when it will only make them angrier with me?" He mumbled this when ever his parents are yelled at him. He knew that they only wanted what is best for him, but after the accident, he just didn't think that he would ever be able to fight again.

"Fine! Just become a punching bag for the rest of your worthless life!" His dad, now screaming as if he thinks it's the only way for Mark to hear what he's saying. "But I won't be associated with you."

Those words made him look up in my father's eyes for the first time in the conversation.

"What do you mean?" Mark mumbled the question, only just audible enough for his parents to hear.

"You will no longer be our son. Pack your stuff and get out of out house." His mother spoke, her blue hair covering the sight of her crying eyes.

"This... This is a joke right... You're not disowning me... Right?" Mark asked, now backing away from his parents.

"YOU HEARD YOUR MOTHER! NOW GET OUT OF OUR SIGHT!" His father screamed at the top of his lungs.

After hearing those words Mark turned and ran to his room grabbing a bag from his wardrobe. He stuffed as many clothes as he could into the small bag, all the while, tears flowed down my face. Mark took a look into the mirror in his room, only to see a broken and sorry sight of a human being.

His blue hair and eyes were both a mess. His clothes have his blood and dirt on them after he took the last beating. His tanned skin looked darker with all the mud on it. He doubted he would have time to wash it all off.

"Is this what it's like... to lose everything?" One last question came out of Mark's mouth before he turned and looked at the sword leaning against the mirror.

'Never know when I could need it...' He thought grabbing the sword and the bag. He left his room only to see his parents waiting by the door with their swords in their hands, looking like they are about to attack someone.

He wanted to ask them if this really was a joke, but with the look on their faces told him they were deadly serious. If he didn't leave now he would never leave again.

"Mother, Father. Goodbye." Mark walked past them and out the door before looking down at the floor and mumbling under his breath one last statement.

"I can't wait to see you in hell..."