All Of The Present Cards

A week had passed since Milo had arrived back at the residence with Marcos with him. Marcos' integration into the human world wasn't as smooth sailing as he would have liked, this was down to his registration form. Yes, this world was one in which every single person born in the human kingdom had to send away a specific form to the capital to gain citizenship.

In other words, a birth certificate.

It may have seemed harmless at first, but when the original idea of sending away Marcos' form with his truthful details came up, Renny quickly swatted it down as not only did they have no idea where Marcos originated, the stupid Vampire didn't even know his own age …

Thus, they needed to try to find a loophole to ensure he was eligible for registration. That was when the genius intellect of his older sister Melissa came into play.

Her suggestion was a simple one, but one that deeply angered Milo. It was to register Marcos as a slave.

Slaves were an act that a minority of nobility wished to abolish, due to many reasons but the main was an increase in kidnapping, particularly of noble children. It came as no secret that this minority of nobility were the Baron classes, who quite often had to suck up to higher classes just to maintain their own status.

This led to children being, "Married off", when in actuality, it was more of a trade deal with a minor sum of money going the other way.

To counter this rift forming between his noble families, the king of the human kingdom introduced a hastily written bill forbidding the use of human slavery, but also permitting the use of slaves from other races. Not only was this absolutely disgusting to Milo as it wasn't uncommon for dragonborns from his clan to be attempted kidnapping victims, it was also deeply confusing.

The fact that slaves from other races continued to be permitted led him to believe that humans were by far the stronger race. I mean, it only made sense considering how to enslave another you must first completely overpower them to the point it appears resistance is futile.

But that didn't make sense considering humans weren't specialists in, well, anything.

Elves were specialists in wind magic and had an unbreakable bond with nature. Dwarves were specialists in earth magic and were master craftsman. Demons excelled in dark and fire magic and had known brutal streaks. Gods were specialists in light magic and possessed overwhelming knowledge. Demi-humans were specialists in water magic and had extremely tight nit bonds.

But humans had nothing, flimsy magic, lacklustre relationships, they trampled the earth and used dwarves for crafting, they were ignorant and lived short lives. So how could they be the strongest? That was when it clicked in Milo's mind.

'I see, they have an overwhelming amount of numbers'.

That was the only option he deemed to be the right answer, how could it not be, it was the truth no matter what world he saw. Even in the courts with dragons and tigers, humans outnumbered them 1000 to 1.

Through his countless experiences in battle, Milo noticed that the saying, "Strength in numbers", wasn't just for show. Unless one was close to the peak of their respective world, should an army of more than 100,000 show up, the chances of defeating them all dropped to almost 0.

It was an annoying fact he was forced to accept despite his strength trumps all personality.

After a few more days, Marcos was officially registered as Milo's Vampire slave, leaving him stuck with an assistant he didn't wish to have in the first place. But that wasn't his only issue at present.

"Hey Milo, lets play!", a young boy shouted. He was only about the same size as Milo despite being older and possessed the typical white hair and blue eyes of the Van Belched family. This wasn't all that stood out, the child was thin, almost sickly thin. He didn't have an ounce of meat or muscle on his body.

'How is he even alive looking like that?'.

Milo asked himself, watching the child swing a small wooden sword around. This was Pavlor, Renny's son and the heir to the Van Belched name. As he was beneath the age of awakening, Pavlor mainly spent his days practising with the sword, not that it did his body any good, as he seemed to tire almost instantaneously.

Milo watched Pavlor who was breathing heavily and dripping with sweat crouched on all fours on the floor.

'He's got to have something wrong with him … right?'.

This was all inside Milo's own mind. In truth, Pavlor ate the same meals, trained at the same times and even had personal instructors compared to Milo. Pavlor was just one of the unlucky ones who was born with a body that possessed a small frame that struggled to maintain weight.

Milo watched the boy carefully, his eyes flickered downwards as he noticed something peculiar about Pavlor.

'His footsteps …'.

Milo leaned forward slightly, cupping his ears.

'They're almost silent … no, they are silent'.

Milo had been spending a large majority of his time in meditation, but also trying to think of a way to grow Pavlor's strength. It wasn't out of the kindness of his heart, he was just selfish and didn't want to become the family head. To avoid this, he needed Pavlor to grow powerful in some way.

A single idea flashed into his mind, assassination. His lightweight body coupled with his long and stringy muscles seemed to have been perfectly designed for quick precise strikes. Milo started to assume that maybe, just maybe, Pavlor possessed a terrifying amount of natural speed thanks to his body.

If Pavlor was the type of fighter Milo assumed, then not only could he develop into an excellent left-hand man under his guidance, but he might also be capable of raising the Van Belcheds rank without Milo's help.

What was a disaster, may have turned into a blessing.

Even at the tender age of 4, Milo had already begun to scheme the most efficient way he could grow not only his power, but also his influence. His own strength was easy to grow, all he needed to do was keep up his meditation. But for the first time since arriving in the world, he had already assembled the idea for a small team behind him.

Renny was willing to offer everything he had in order to accommodate Milo, Marcos whose strength would keep growing to match Milo's was perhaps the most perfect right hand man he could find. Finally Pavlor, who should he grow enough, he could control behind the scenes, taking control over a noble house without all the ties that came with it.

It was perfection.

Milo sat up and led Pavlor out into the garden. To start preparing for any situation that may arise, he needed to begin training Pavlor almost immediately. He wasn't so foolish as to think Pavlor would comply simply because he asked, after all, children simply wanted to play. So that was exactly what he was going to do.

Milo tossed the small wooden sword across to Pavlor, prompting him to pick it up. As soon as he did, before Pavlor had the chance to even look up, Milo swung down towards the back of Pavlor's neck. To Milo's surprise, Pavlor was able to narrowly avoid the blow.

'I knew it …'.

Milo grinned to himself standing a few paces away from Pavlor.

'Even his reflexes are naturally lightning fast!'.

Whilst this training got underway, Marcos, Melissa and Rebecca watched from the back entrance. This unusual group was created courtesy of Milo, Marcos would protect his sisters and in return, Marcos needed to pry any suspicious information from them.

"He might be better than father", Rebecca said, twirling a lock of hair around in her fingers.

"You don't know anything about fighting Rebecca", Melissa responded, "But I agree, he definitely is much more stable in his movements than father. It makes me wonder how he ever lost to father".

"For such a little girl you sure use big words, not to mention you know a lot", Marcos spoke, towering over Melissa.

Melissa wasn't in a hurry to respond, so she carefully thought over her words before saying, "Boredom … boredom drove me to these lengths. I was a natural born genius, but I had nowhere to direct my intellect. So instead of sitting around, I spent the majority of my days reading, writing and analysing anything and everything".

"Pfff … Nerd", Rebecca poorly attempted to stifle a laugh, earning an annoyed look from Melissa.

"Oh please Rebecca, I would much rather spend my days working towards a goal than stand in front of a mirror wondering about my appearance", Melissa retorted sarcastically.

"Yes well, I can't train my intellect. So I'm just working with what I have, is that such a crime?".

Rebecca's response left Melissa completely dumbfounded, this wasn't what she expected from her arrogant, self-absorbed older sister in the slightest. Rebecca wasn't an idiot like she portrayed herself, she just played with the cards life had dealt her and that was it.

Unlike Melissa who spent her days desperately trying to collect more knowledge in pursuit of reaching a higher level through the sheer expanse of her intellect. Rebecca spent her days honing and refining her single card, her delicate appearance. Even though when they were born they were almost identical, as they grew older, small differences became apparent between the girls.

Rebecca was always glowing, her natural pristine white skin was so smooth it was like she was carved from marble. Her large brown eyes always appeared as if they were tugging from the slight smile constantly pulling at the corner of her lips, even the way her hair naturally bounced around her person, but never got out of control was perfect. Rebecca was like a goddess of beauty.

In Melissa's case, her hair was always tied into a tight knot behind her head, her white skin was starting to become stained with a rosy colour around her cheeks and marks had slowly started to become apparent from the way she was always furrowed in concentration while reading. She was still beautiful but was in no way comparable to her older sister anymore.

Melissa looked up towards Rebecca, her eyes swimming with emotion. Was it jealousy? Hatred? Guilt? Curiosity?

No, Melissa's eyes were filled with pure admiration for her sister who she had falsely judged.

Her gaze was drawn back to Milo as she watched Pavlor's body skid across the floor.

Pavlor lazily pushed himself back to his feet, his weak body swaying side to side as if it could be sent tumbling by a small gust of wind. He trudged forward with a defiant look on his face, standing in front of Milo, he suddenly leant forward so the others couldn't hear him and whispered, "How do I get strong like you?".

Tears started to pour from his eyes, "I know father and mother are disappointed because I'm so weak", he whimpered, wiping the tears away, "But I don't know how I'm supposed to be better. The kids in the town are stronger and so are you, I don't understand it", he continued to wail, like the fragile child he truly was.

"Then train", Milo said bluntly, extending his hand forward to lift the boy, "Find your specialty and train like hell until no one other than you can match it. Don't listen to these people who want to learn it all, become the master of 1 art and don't ever, ever, let anybody beat you".

"B-But … I don't know how", Pavlor stuttered out.

"I'm still just a child", Milo responded, trying to ensure he didn't blow his cover, "But I can help you find something through research".

Despite his young age, Pavlor had no complaints about relying on Milo even if he was much younger. The reason for this was simple, Milo had shown he had the capability to surpass him. From a very young age, Pavlor had been told by staff and his own parents that someday he would become the family head, and that if anyone dared to challenge him for it, he was to squash them to send a message to others.

Thanks to his natural weaknesses, he knew that this was going to be an issue for him. All he wanted, was to make his mother and father proud and to achieve that, he would even bow his head to Milo.

Milo peered down at Pavlor, a wicked smirk crossed his lips as he realise he found himself a new pawn.

He hadn't expected Pavlor to join his side as quickly as this. What he didn't expect, was for Pavlor to have a deep inferiority complex as well as an intense amount of guilt thanks to his own parents expectations. It was as if all of the luck in the world aligned, perfectly settling on them at that single moment.

They picked up the swords and began to spar again, with Milo repeatedly knocking Pavlor over.

Marcos who remained eerily still watching this, finally began to understand just what kind of child he had sworn to serve. It was as if an image flashed around Milo each time he took a stab at Pavlor, the image of a devil threatening to uproot the entire world.

A shudder ran down Marcos' spine as he stepped out towards them, conjuring his blood sword. Marcos too began to teach Pavlor, allowing Milo some much-needed time to cultivate his own strength.

The training regimen for the group consisted of the perfect balance of physical and mental, allowing for time to study and gain knowledge, as well as building up their physiques and natural talents.

Pavlor sat hunched forward on the floor with sweat dripping off his face. At a single glance you could see he was tired beyond belief, but his non-existent muscles were bulging ever so slightly.

This hastily put together schedule continued for 8 years, until finally, they were proposed an opportunity to show the fruits of their labour.