Reality

"You want US to teach you how to fight?" retorted Iska, looking puzzled.

"Yes! I-It was amazing... I want to become as strong as you!" exclaimed Livshe, the azure brilliance of her eyes reflecting the purity of her intentions.

"Well, Boss, your talent has impressed her so much that she wants to imitate you..." whispered Shalom as he passed by near Iska's head, unable to hide his mocking tone.

"While talking to you, Iska, I realized that there was so much for me to discover in this world, and if I want to continue my adventure, I have to be strong enough to be able to defend myself. After all, you are only here to escort me to the Wythover Kingdom. I couldn't do anything against these creatures, so who knows what will happen to me once I'm alone."

Livshe grabbed the hands of the sorceress in the middle of her speech, bringing them closer to her chest. Although this act had no ulterior motive or meaning from her point of view, the four men behind the duo could not prevent their thoughts from sailing far, awakening in them a desire very difficult to control.

"Okay... I accept, but we'll have to wait until we get to Zoria, the nearest town, because if we wait any longer, we'll have to spend the night in the forest, and creatures even more terrifying than these Semurians could attack us."

"Understood!" shouted Livshe with joy while her eyes widened, having rarely felt so happy.

She hastened to rejoin the inside of the cab, followed by a smiling Iska. However, she was only hiding her frustration for not being able to make a certain request to the blond sorceress, a very hard job for a hot-headed woman like her who never chewed her words.

"Let's advance, Meir."

"Yes!"

Meir pulled on the reins of the horses to pull the cab forward, making sure not to touch the still-burning remains of the simian creatures. The three others fighters resumed their positions around the carriage, advancing at the same rhythm on their own horses.

"So Livshe, tell me, what kind of incantations do you know?"

"Incantations?"

"Huh? You don't know what it is? How did you heal the villagers then?"

"Uhh... Touching the person I needed to heal was enough for my aura to automatically envelop and treat her. Sometimes, the time needed for a complete treatment varied, but I just had to stay in contact with the injured person."

"I see... A basic application. Well, let me explain it to you. For us, sorcerers, the manipulation of life energy isn't just about moving your aura or being able to see it. As you've seen just now, Yakov and I have transformed our aura into its corresponding nature, which has given it way more powerful abilities. And to do that, we have to chant specific incantations, but believe me, it's not as simple as it sounds. The choice of words is important since they will sculpt the image of the spell in your mind, then it must be associated with a feeling or a sensation, as your aura only reacts to your emotions, not to the formula itself. After rigorous training and many mental exercises, your brain will merge the chosen emotion with the incantation and you will be able to launch your spell whenever you want it!"

"Fascinating... But when I think about it, my aura healed the villagers that it did touch, and you wrapped your dagger with flames without incantation. How is it possible?"

"Well, as I said at the beginning, it's a basic application. Incantations are not necessary for simple uses, but the more complicated and powerful the spell you want to use it, the longer the incantation needed will be, which brings us to the spells classification system."

"Huh? What is it?"

"As you can guess, not all spells are of equal power nor do they have the same complexity. That's why sorcerers of every race and nation use tiers from one to ten to classify them. The higher the tier, the more powerful the spell is. For example, the spell I used,「Lahab Kura」, is a fourth tier spell while Yakov's spell,「Shajar Sajun」, is a third tier spell."

"Oh, yes! I noticed that your incantation was longer than Yakov's."

"Indeed, because fourth tier spells are more powerful than third-tier spells, the incantation needed is obviously longer, but that's not all. I don't know if you noticed, but our incantations were in fact prayers and requests to the primordial entities of this world. This is a unique feature of spell chants from the first tier to the fifth tier since from the sixth tier, spell incantations become orders given by the sorcerer to the mighty forces of nature. This difference marks the gap between second-rate and first-rate sorcerers, the latter being able to control and subjugate the physical and spiritual realms. I actually know only one sixth-tier spell and it drains most of my life energy, but my master, as powerful as he is, knows way more! He is a true legend!"

"Your master..?"

"Yes, he is the one who sheltered me and taught me how to properly control my life energy. A powerful Rakshasa whose aura has a「Fire」nature."

"I see... That's where your admiration for the Rakshasa comes from. But for you, to think so highly of him, he must be an extraordinary individual."

"You have no idea! He is able to turn forests to ashes with a single spell. No one is a match for him!"

"I would really like to meet him.."

Iska's eyes widened before answering:

"But you ca-... Uh, never mind. So, we're almost there, Meir?"

The young mercenary turned her eyes to the small window of the cab, her expression had completely changed as if she regretted what she just had said.

"No Boss, not yet."

Several hours passed and the sun began its descent towards the horizon, alerting the inhabitants of this part of the world that dusk was near. Nevertheless, Livshe and her escort, minus Uri who had to take care of the crossing formalities with the guards, already passed Zoria's giant gate. The bluish eyes of the young sorceress lit up as she saw spirits for the first time of her life; ghostly figures dancing over the broad and unique buildings of the merchant city.

One of them caught her attention, a large spiritual being resembling a flying whale. The upper part of his body was covered with a majestic crimson fur, while the lower part sparkled with a white smoke one, contrasting with the red's intensity. He seemed to be devoid of eyes, having instead two towering antennas directed upwards. His body was thinner at the back, joining in a tail with the strange shape of a wing.

It was a show that only a few gifted people could see, the sorcerers.

"They are beautiful, huh?" said Iska, also admiring the picture of the magnificent oddities animating the sky above them through the window of their cab.

"I feel like I could watch them scroll like this for hours..." answered Livshe, stunned.

"It's not a bad idea, but you have to train to become stronger, remember? Spiritual dances like that can be seen in every heavily populated town."

"Yes! You're right!"

The car finally stopped near an inn where Iska went down immediately, starting to stretch just in front of the entrance.

"Hmpf... I thought this travel was going to kill me, luckily we had some exercise with the Semurians."

"Always so energetic, Boss..." replied Shalom, stepping slowly toward the front door.

"Your attention, all of you! Shalom and I will take care of renting the rooms and stocking up. Meir, you take care of the cab and the horses, and Yakov... You will accompany Livshe to the Coliseum to start her training."

"Huh? Coliseum?" Livshe's eyes widened at Iska's announcement as she comes down from the cab, turning her head slightly to see the giant building in front of the inn: the famous Zoria Coliseum.

Most of the warriors who came to Nirith were actually from this same Coliseum, braving the dangers of the Edoria Forest to train against the fiercest creatures and test their limits.

"Understood Boss!" retorted Yakov firmly, taking a straight stance similar to that of the royal guards.

Moreover, the dazzling platinum armor he wore really gave him an imperial soldier's stature, its incredible brilliance and the clarity of his skin highlighting his jet-black eyes and his dark hair, characteristic of the natives of the southern regions of the Bursk Kingdom.

"Everyone at work! Hop Hop!" shouted Iska before entering the inn with Shalom.

"So, I'll be going to the stable. These brave beasts must be tired." said Meir, patting the horses whose reins were in his hands, pulling them for the last time today, so the carriage would move forward.

"Uh.. Should we go, too?" almost whispered Livshe. So far, she had not yet gotten acquainted with the group, except for Iska, and tried as best as she could to break the ice.

"Yes, follow me." Yakov's dry and formal response demoralized her, but she still followed him to the Coliseum, convinced that she could improve their relationship before night falls.

Needless to say, among the warriors of the arena, Livshe was not a stranger. As soon as she passed the gate, the cries of welcome rang out on each side. Over the years, her great beauty earned her a cult among some fighters, who, before each event, organized a small-group expedition to the village of Nirith, mainly to prepare themselves by confronting the monsters who were in the Edoria Forest, but also for the healing session they got from who they labeled as the Goddess of Victory and Beauty.

This explains the large influx of injured warriors as warmer months approached, the season when most festivals are held in this part of the Kingdom. But when there were no such events, the Coliseum arenas were accessible to everyone, either for training or for tourism.

Livshe could not help but greet the gladiators who welcomed her with such big smiles, some even tried to charm her by emphasizing their muscles. Though vain, the sorceress appreciated these attempts and replied with an equally warm smile, filling their hearts with indescribable joy.

The duo stopped a few moments later in an isolated corner of the training yard where Yakov proceeded to hastily remove his armor.

"Ya-... Yakov right?"

"Yes."

"What kind of training will it be?"

"Physical training."

"Huh?"

The young man finally unhooked his armor, revealing himself bare-chested to the sorceress. He seemed well built, sporting the king of muscles that you only gain through rigorous training. For her, it was clear that his current power was not only due to talent.

He then handed her a wooden stick with his left hand, holding a second one with his right hand. Livshe grabbed the weapon, wondering if she was really going to be able to fight in a hand-to-hand combat, she who never really had done physical work.

Even though she lived in a village of cultivators, she spent most of her time in the temple or taking care of the farm animals of her parents, nothing very exhausting.

"I'll start by gauging your level, attack me with the intention of killing me."

Livshe's eyes widened, it was the first time she would be trying to hurt someone. Could she do it? She will know the answer immediately.

The sorcerer slightly backed his left foot while bending his knee, then shifted the upper part of his body to the right, so that his left arm would be directly in front of Livshe. He kept the wooden stick behind his back, holding it firmly in his right hand.

At first sight, the young sorceress saw no fault in his posture. It's not like she's really going to see one even if it was a weaker opponent, but she was trying to do a brief analysis.

"I'm coming!"

Without wasting any more time, she threw herself on Yakov, concentrating all her strength in one point, before slanting the stick of wood on her target in an oblique motion, aiming at the head.

The young man's response was quick, almost invisible to the woman's eyes. He shifted his body to the right, sliding his retreating foot in the same direction. However, he raised his left hand near the trajectory of the stick that was falling on him, grazing the latter slowly up his left arm to the throat of Livshe, who, losing her balance because of the failed offensive, almost collapsed. She caught herself at the last moment, but Yakov's closed left fist was already a few inches from her larynx.

"If it was a real fight, you'd already been dead. Never attack frontally like that, especially when you're a sorceress. Even though we're forced to train physically to maximize the aura production in our body, our main weapon is Sorcellery. Losing your voice is losing your usefulness in battle because without incantations, you would just be a moving target to kill. Never forget that. You have to learn how to read your opponent's movements, that way you can dodge when you need to, and counter-attack when the opportunity arises."

"Y-Yes... Understood!"

"Another one."

"Yakov reopened his left fist, stepping back a few steps before resuming his original position. He then motioned Livshe to attack him.

The latter noted the remarks of her fellow trainer, but without any real physical force, what was the use of learning the movements of her adversary in hand-to-hand combat?

Livshe finally put aside her questions, forgetting them during the exchange of blows that will follow :

"Here I come!"

_____

"Three rooms for two please."

"Four silver crowns and fifty bronzes."

"Here they are!"

Shalom and Iska came out of the inn after renting the rooms for the night. The sorceress stretched again, this time while watching the sky become vermilion because of the twilight. The bright lights that emanated from the spirits began to soften as their dances slowed down, it was as if they, too, were preparing themselves to welcome the darkness of the night.

"So, where is Uri? Still not back?"

"No, otherwise, he'd have come here."

"Hm... What do you think about it, Shalom?"

"About what?"

"Uri's mother sickness... Of all the women I have met, his mother was the healthiest and toughest."

The armored mountain of muscles that was Shalom seemed to tremble as he heard Iska's questions, signaling his hesitation to the sorceress.

"What's up? Did he tell you something?" she added, alerted by his reaction.

"Uri actually lied to not endanger us... he received a letter a few days ago.. they found the body of his mother, dead, in a brothel. According to him, it was his father's assassins who threw her there, but he did nothing in fear of something happening to his little brother."

"ARGH! I knew something was wrong. This damn pervert, he's going to pay for it. Even if he's a Noble, he shouldn't be allowed to play with people's lives like that. Did he tell you something else, like, what he was going to do?"

"No.. Not really. But from what I know, he will probably try to put his little brother out of danger first, then, he'll be able to deal with this monster."

"When the times come, we'll help him defeat this noble, right?"

"Yes.." Shalom's answer was once again so full of hesitation that it forced Iska to wonder if she still was the same proud warrior with whom she fought so many enemies.

_____

On the other side of the town, Meir came out of the stable where he had left the horses of his companions and the carriage. He took a big breath of air, which he expired soon after, enjoying the perfect view this part of the city gave him to watch the sunset. This beautiful picture reminded him of the many twilights he admired with his future wife, a woman whose resplendent beauty from her southern heritage had made many jealous.

Meir himself was an average looking man, with a skin neither too light nor too dark, an ordinary figure, dark-colored eyes, and brown hair; nothing distinguished him from the masses, and yet he managed to win the heart of such a unique creature. Many exceptional men had tried to have her before him, only to fail miserably. Perhaps it was this normality that made him so attractive to his fiancée?

"Well, let's go back. The others must be waiting for me."

The mercenary went back to the inn as the sky lost its vermilion glow, gradually replacing itself with a thick veil of darkness.

_____

The sound of the clash between two timbered weapons echoed throughout the training yard, now almost deserted.

"Again!"

"Understood!"

The two audibles voices from outside the arena reappeared every few seconds, signaling the start of a new fight. But as the clashes succeeded each other, the gap of time was widening between each shout.

"Again!"

"Understood!"

Livshe, taking a position for the hundredth time, launched a frontal attack towards Yakov, but this time, she distributed her weight equitably at different points of her body. Thus, she will not lose her equilibrium if her opponent manages to dodge her offensive.

As she had expected, the young sorcerer deported himself an umpteenth time to his right, while slanting his wooden stick obliquely towards Livshe's skull.

Reacting in time, the sorceress warded off the counterattack by raising her weapon in front of her head, resulting in another bump.

She then seized out this opportunity, shifting her body with an elegant step forward to prevent Yakov from resuming his defensive posture, and in a brilliant move, attempted to slap him at the torso, dragging her weapon along her opponent's staff. If both fighters had the same physical condition, Livshe's move would probably have succeeded. However, the difference in sheer physical strength was too great, and while trying to disengage her staff, the sorceress ended up breaking it. The sudden destruction of her weapon made her lose her balance again, resulting in her collapsing on the ground. Yakov intercepted her at the last moment, his body dripping with sweat.

"We will stop there for today."

"Understood.."

Livshe lost consciousness as soon as the young warrior let her go, probably because of physical exertion; she was exhausted, her heart was beating too fast, she was bathed in sweat, her breathing was irregular and her vision was blurred. She had never experienced such symptoms.

"Wait, I'll help you."

Yakov stepped toward the poor woman on the edge of unconsciousness, helping her get up by letting her rest on his shoulder. He then made a painful march to the inn across the street, where he thought that his comrades were waiting for him.

"What do we have here... You really exhausted her, did you?" Meir spoke with a haughty tone, arriving at the same time as they in front of the entrance to the inn. He didn't notice any reaction from Yakov and, naturally, helped the young sorcerer carry Livshe, who was already sinking into a deep sleep, before pushing the door.

The innkeeper saw two men, carrying a pretty and unconscious woman, enter his building, one of whom was shirtless, late at night. Without saying a word, he slowly turned away his eyes as he continued polishing the glass he was holding, acting as if nothing happened. The fact is that such things were not uncommon, and most of the time, no one dared to say anything for fear of being involved in a shady business.

The two young men climbed the stairs while going to Livshe's room, where Iska was already sleeping in one of the two beds. They deposited her without making any noise, leaving immediately after.

"Uhh, we managed to not wake up our boss.."

"Yes, we avoided the worst."

"Well, I'm exhausted. We'll meet up tomorrow morning, so good night, Yakov."

"Good night, Meir."

The mercenaries exchanged these few words before both of them entered a different room, Meir being normally in the same room as Uri.

"Huh? He still hasn't returned?" said the young man, before throwing himself in his bed, far too tired to think of anything else.

As he entered his room, Yakov saw a distraught Shalom sitting on his bed.

"Hm? What's going on? Want to talk?" he asked the muscle mountain. He had never really seen him in such a vulnerable state because for him, the mighty Shalom was an infallible iron wall that nothing could scratch. He was wrong.

Shalom held in his hands a letter written by his seven-year-old daughter, Lily, who lives with a foster family. A few years ago, his wife died during the childbirth, and unable to take the baby with him during his missions, he had to hand her over to this family who will take care of her, in exchange for a certain amount of money each month.

"Nothing.. don't worry about that." said the pensive father, before closing the letter and putting his head on his pillow, not giving Yakov any time to insist on his questions.

The reason he was so thoughtful came from the nature of Iska's request.

She planned to attack an important figure of Bursk's nobility, the Marquis Belaizel di Eliever, a dangerous individual and also the father of Uri, hence his real name, Uriziel di Eliever. His mother was a poor peasant named Melikha, who came from the southwestern regions of the Kingdom. She was sold by her family to the nobleman who violated her in every sense of the word, using her body as a toy to satisfy his perverse desires. He inevitably ended up making her pregnant and had two children, the eldest being of course Uri. It was these two beings who made Melikha remain docile despite the horrible acts of her husband.

When Uri was fed up with the restrictions imposed on the people of noble lineage, he left his father's estate and became a mercenary, causing the indignation of the patriarch who could not bear his name being soiled like that. He planned to have him killed by his assassins, only to be stopped by Melikha who had discovered everything. She threatened to reveal to the whole kingdom his involvement in the slave trade that was gnawing the nation from within. It goes without saying that she signed her death warrant at that very moment, the assassination that took her life was meticulously planned to not attract suspicions to the Marquis.

Who knows what Belaizel would do with Shalom's precious daughter, if, in the worst case, the operation didn't succeed.

Yakov did not add another word and lay down on his bed, just in front of the window. From there, he could see the entrance to the Coliseum, a place that reminded him of memories deeply rooted in his mind.

He remembered that night very well. It was cold and he has crossed half the capital from Bursk's royal domain. The young man worked officially there as the bodyguard of the third princess of the kingdom, but he was secretly her lover.

With an irregular respiration and a forehead dripping with sweat despite the very low temperature, he finally arrived home after twenty minutes of running. As soon as he stopped, he remarked that the door was open despite the late hour, and while getting closer, he saw traces of blows on the lock; the door had been forced. Without asking himself more questions, he unsheathed his sword and propelled himself inside the house, just to be greeted by a horrible smell of putrefaction. His ocher eyes landed on the source of this smell, and to his great misfortune, he found himself nose-to-nose with the corpse of his poor father.

His throat was savagely slit and his belly was opened, bringing out his guts.

Yakov felt his head heat up as if he were on the verge of explosion, followed by a feeling of extreme nausea. The picture presented was morbid enough to make a seasoned warrior like him vomit.

After his stomach was emptied, the sorcerer began to hear faint laughter coming from the upper floor. He immediately straightened up, pulling his sword with him as he walked towards the stairs. By drawing nearer, he had the impression that he was living a real nightmare; his mother lay on the ground, her clothes torn off and her legs lifted like a frog. It was clear that she had been raped until death ensued.

"Aaaaaaaaah!"

The cry of the young man helped him exteriorize his pain, being now animated only by pure hatred. He went up the stairs at an incredible speed, shaking the modest home with every step. And as he set his eyes on the nearest room, an even stronger rage took hold of him.

Five men used his twin sister as a plaything, raping her in turn and slapping her every time she dared make a noise.

However, this rage did not threaten to explode, on the contrary. She instilled in him a cold anger that allowed him to advance slowly towards them, his murderous intent filling all the house. He could notice their pronounced musculature and their atypical paraphernalia, characteristic of the gladiators of the Yeim Coliseum.

"「O infinite earth, mother who nurtures all life, giveth me the strength to destroyeth the receptacles of mine own rage. Feedeth on mine own misprise and pronounce thy punishments on these wretched creatures... Shajar Qatal!」"

Yakov could feel his life energy gushing out of every pore of his skin, illuminating the dark abode of an intense malachite light that alerted the assassins.

They tried to take out their weapons, but they were far too slow to respond to the fourth tier spell, which, draining into the unique aura produced by a living being during moments of intense rage, materialized many anthracite roots from Yakov's hand, immobilizing the five targets.

"You are going to pay, you infamous monsters.." while he muttered these words, the roots rolled up their genitals, crushing them immediately by tightening themselves.

As they tried to exteriorize their pain by shouting, other roots appeared near their mouths, prohibiting every noise.

"We are going to play all night, then you will tell me nicely who ordered you to come here." these words had instilled a powerful sense of satisfaction in Yakov, who only now laid eyes on his sister whose posture also resembled that of a frog.

After confirming that she had lost consciousness, the young sorcerer clenched his left fist that was connected to the roots. Immediately, the gladiators felt intense pain in their anal orifices. He was determined to make them experience exactly the same pain as the women they had just raped.

Two years later, he is watching a Coliseum from the window of his room. Until recently, just seeing gladiators was enough to get him into an intense rage, but he managed to calm his urges with the help of his new friends, and tasted once again, the joy of a normal life. These horribles memories still haunt him every night, but at least, during the rest of the day, he is able to forget.

After the incident in question, he had learned that the gladiators had been paid by a nobleman to whom the hand of the third princess was promised. The case was stifled and the princess refused to help him. This led him to leave his post as a bodyguard, tired of the corruption gnawing the Kingdom. In the meantime, he had met Iska and joined her group of mercenaries, making friends in which he sincerely believed.

"This world... Is worthless..." he muttered before closing his eyes, deciding to sleep.

On the other side of the alley, in front of the inn, two figures shaded by the night veil stared at his window.

Indeed, he was right. This world was really worthless.