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The Hero's POV

His Ultimate Goal is Power, Power so Unstoppable that no one and nothing could ever hope to go against him. Follow the journey of a Slums kid who, after some unfortunate accidents, ends up on a bloody path for more and more power. He discovers his special abilities and uses them to surpass anyone on his path to true strength so that he can finally live a carefree life. Unexpectedly this bloody path leads up to him becoming a Hero to the masses although he finds himself to be the farthest thing from a Hero. He may be a Hero to many but he's also a Villain to Many. ____________________________________________ This story is focused on the upbringing of a Hero and the tragedies that follow him as he grows into the man he's destined to be. The psychological traumas that follow the so called Hero's and how they manage to handle them though that comes much later into the story. Follow Leroy as he overcomes and triumphs over his enemies, no matter who they are or what their purpouse is. ____________________________________________ If you want to chat then join my discord down bellow. Discord: https://discord.gg/EEq56pStGV

WhiteAuthor · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
55 Chs

The Aftermath

"Were you planning to run away?"

"No, of course not, Elder Brother."

"Well, that's good, now where's my money?"

Sweat started rolling down Leroy's face.

"I had an accident and got robbed. I'll be sure to give it to you tomorrow!"

Leroy said as quickly as he could.

"Tomorrow? I'm afraid that's not going to cut it, LEROY."

Ivar said as he came closer.

"If I tell you to give me 10 copper by the end of the day, then you give me 10 copper by the end of the day."

"Yes, I'm sorry, Elder Brother. It's all my fault, but please forgive me just this once!"

Leroy fell to his knees as he begged.

Ivar looked down at Leroy and then burst out laughing.

"Of course, I can always forgive my brothers. Did you think that I was going to kill you or something?"

Leroy raised his head and replied with a trembling voice

"No, Elder brother, I always trust you, and I would never have thoughts like that."

Ivar turned around and started to go to his bed on the other side of the room.

But 2 steps later, he stopped as his hand started shaking

Then, with a frantic and psychotic expression, he put his hands inside his pockets, and a moment later, his hand came out.

It was now holding a knife.

Leroy was still getting up from the ground when Ivar turned around and grabbed his hair, pulling him up forcefully.

"Do you think I'm a joke? HUH" Ivar screamed in Leroy's face

"No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Leroy repeated constantly

Ivar, with a thunderous expression, took one of Leroy's hands and stabbed it with the knife, pinning it to the wooden wall.

Arthur, the young 8-year-old, woke up from the screaming and curled into a ball sobbing.

Leroy wanted to scream, but he couldn't. If the Master discovered what was happening, Ivar would do worse things next time.

Holding back his screams as Tears flowed down.

Ivar came closer and whispered into Leroy's ear.

"If I don't see the 10 copper by tomorrow night, you're dead."

He took the knife out of Leroy's hand and left the room.

Leroy fell onto the ground, cradling his hand, the pain almost unbearable if not for him already having been beaten multiple times by Ivar.

This, however, was the first time that he had ever gotten stabbed by him, leaving him in shock.

Arthur came out from under his blanket. 

"Leroy, are you all right?" he said while tears streamed down his face, which by this point had become a mess from all the snot and tears.

Leroy turned to face Arthur and told him with a smile

"Of course, Arthur! What do you take your brother for."

He ignored the pain as best he could and tried to maintain his smile, which proved harder than he thought.

Leroy took a part of his clothes that had been torn off him while pinned to the wall.

Wrapping it around his hand as a bandage, he turned to Arthur.

"Go to sleep. You're not supposed to be awake."

"But brother..."

"Don't make me repeat it, Arthur. You know the rules."

"Ok," said Arthur with a downcast face.

Leroy also decided to get some sleep as he hopped in his bed and covered himself with his blanket.

His tears finally spilled and did not stop until hours later.

NEXT MORNING

Opening his eyes to look around him, Leroy found Arthur on his left, curled beside him.

Smiling, he patted his head and got up as carefully as possible. His hand hurt, but strangely, it felt much better than it should have, considering only a night had passed.

He changed into his working clothes, the only other pair he had reserved for while working in the Tavern, and then went down the stairs to the first floor.

Looking around, Leroy felt thankful that he hadn't seen Ivar so early in the morning.

"Leroy, you're awake, eh? That's good. Now come and help me clean this place, will ya?"

Said the old man to name.

"Yes, Master."

Leroy smiled as he went to the storage room, took the cleaning supplies, and started his work.

Last night was a wild one. There were tons of broken bottles all around on the floor, as well as heaps of food and drinks that had been dropped or spilled during the night.

'It's pretty disgusting, but I can't complain. The old man gave Arthur and me a new lease on life; if it weren't for him, who knows what would have happened to us? Probably what happens to most slaves sent to work at a mine or some other industrial place and then gradually lose their health to sickness and die.'

Thought Leroy as he shivered a bit and shook his head to get those thoughts out of his head.

An hour later, the Tavern looked much cleaner than before.

It was 8 am, so it would be opening time soon.

After putting the cleaning supplies back in their place, Leroy went upstairs, changed into his daily clothes, and started heading out of the Tavern.

"I'll be going now, Master; if you need help, Arthur is upstairs. You can call for him."

"Sure sure, go ahead now you rascal"

Deciding to wander around the slums while also looking for suitable targets, Leroy found himself in front of a building that looked to be made entirely out of brick blocks, something rare in these parts. The building looked more like a prison than a house.

This was the Underground Fighting Ring, which, quite ironically, wasn't underground and was the most popular attraction in the slums.

Deciding that he had nothing else to do this early into the morning, Leroy went inside.

Even though it was only 8 am, Leroy could still hear shouting from behind the door as though tens of people were inside screaming their lungs out.

This was the truth, as the most popular attraction of these parts was the fighting ring, which was always close to being full of people, and fights never stopped.

In a land where there wasn't even clean water to drink, never mind food, the only solace of the people was alcohol and any kind of way they could get a dopamine rush.

The fighting ring was a kind of gambling. As such, the addiction it caused to the betters was like no other.

The fighters, on the other hand, were primarily Slaves or those that were deep in debt, with loan sharks threatening to kill them if they didn't pay the interest.

Leroy went inside, looking around until he found a suitable spot to watch the show.

Finding that a corner of the room was empty, he streaked past as though he was running and turned around to look at the ring.

Two people were inside the ring, or what could better be named the Cage.

They were both bloodied, their hands looking wrong as their knuckles had been broken from hitting each other so much. One of the fighter's arms was also broken, but they didn't stop, no, they couldn't stop unless they wanted their lives to end.

They weren't scared of the opponent. No, they were scared of the consequences of losing.

The battle continued for some minutes, after which one of the fighters finally got knocked unconscious, though he looked more dead than alive.

As the next battle was announced, Leroy felt something as he turned his head. No, he wasn't the only one.

Everyone turned around to look at the next participant.