And so our journey begins..

A boy with short yet shaggy brown hair and emerald green eyes could be seen sitting on a box as he put on his shoes. Actually these are more of a form of sandals, as they consist of soft leathers and cloth wrapped around his foot before coming up to his shin on his legs.

Shoes or boots were not that common in Marlow town for the inhabitants, everyone wore these style of sandals and stuffed them with furs when it was winter. The minimalist design allowed one to feel the ground with their whole foot but protect against sharp rocks and briars.

Wrapping the last strap around his lower calf and tucking the exposed strap inside the wrap he stood up and dusted off his loose tan almost billowing pants. The bottoms of his pants had been tucked into his sandals when he wrapped them to prevent them from getting snagged. As well as knife straps at his thighs where he kept daggers that his grandfather had always worn.

This left the billowy part of the pants at the knees for unrestricted mobility during combat. Of course it provided no protection, but Duran wasn't planning on getting hit. He had a short sleeved dark green tunic that matched the forestry around him.

Like the pants it hung loose to give him full range of motion for his more acrobatic attacks. He had heard that in Xyrus and other major cities that normal clothes were made were they wouldn't restrict movement and he had long decided he would buy some.

His spear fight wasn't the traditional style after all, he fought nearly like a short sword user. He was quick and agile, moving around the battlefield at speeds normal spear users would not be able to replicate. And he was just 12 years old.

Looking back at the house he had grown up in all his life he let out a sad sigh before closing his eyes as he sent out well wishes to his dead family. When his eyes opened again they were filled only with determination.

He grabbed the spear that was propped against the railing of the house and turned away, slipping on a small pack as he did so. A lot of the villagers had given him things in preparation for his journey, such as medicinal herbs, traveling rations, small cookware and various trinkets and good luck charms from the village kids.

Most of the charms were wrapped around the straps of his pack or woven into the leathers of his sandals.

It was early, so early in fact that the sun had not yet begun to even peek over the horizon. And yet there Marston was with a second pack only slightly smaller than the one Duran was currently wearing. This pack contained a second water skin, butchers tools as well as different spices and seasonings, but mostly salt.

"Thank you Marston." Duran nodded respectfully to the giant who he now came up to the chest of. Duran may only be 12 but he had the body of a strong 15 going on 16 year old. His grandfather had said it came from cultivating with the energy of the world and his rigorous training. Duran couldn't say he disliked such a thing as he felt it would most likely make things easier for him if people didn't take him for a little kid.

Marston gazed at Duran with a hard expression but it faltered slightly as he engulfed Duran in a tight hug. Duran circled his arms as far he could around Marston's back and patted it.

"Come back safe, Duran. We'll be waiting." That was honestly the most Duran had ever heard the man say in a single breath, but he didn't point that out. He just nodded and pulled away from him, gripping his spear tighter.

"Until next time." He breathed out as he turned and heard his words echoed softly behind him by Marston as he began on the path that led out of Marlow and towards the famous floating city of Xyrus.

The first few hours were rather uneventful as the forest was just waking up, but once it had Duran was accompanied by the chirps of birds and various calls of forest animals. There were mana beasts in these woods but they tended to only be around D maybe C rank according to what he heard from adventurers and his grandfather.

Most of the higher rank beasts lived in the elven forest and the beast glades or dungeons. That's why he wasn't surprised to see a pack of d rank flying squirrels trying to surround him. Like their rank suggest they aren't very strong mana beasts, but for a normal non mage they could still be quite deadly.

They used wind mana to "fly" though he was told it was more like gliding and creating small updrafts to keep themselves afloat.

There were 5 of the squirrels and they were taking turns diving as close as they dared, but Duran pretended to be oblivious to them. Finally he felt the hostile radiating from the lead one and without hesitation he spun and whirled his spear catching the squirrel that was diving at his back with the blunt shaft and sent it flying into a tree.

It squeaked weakly and lay there barely breathing, the other squirrels now enraged dived at once at the person who had hurt their leader. They were each batted away by the shaft of his spear, and as they lay twitching in pain in the ground Duran knelt and ended their suffering.

Just as he was about to start skinning them for their cores he felt a strange yet familiar sensation. Diving into meditation he noticed that the cores were leaking bits of mana that his body was reflexively intaking and merging with his small motes of mana.

The cores were no bigger than his thumb both due to the size of the squirrels and their rank but it was still more mana than he had currently. Now he got into position and focuses completely on absorbing the mana coming from the cores. Now the energy flowed more deliberately to him and he eventually finished leaving himself feeling more refreshed.

Looking down at the cores now they seemed to have lost a shine he hadn't noticed before and he could no longer feel any mana within them. A second later the cores shattered and turned to a fine powder that drifted away on a soft breeze.

A smile crossed Duran's face as he now had another goal other than getting stronger that just so happened to help his goal of getting stronger. He would kill as many mana beasts as he could on his way to Xyrus and use them to fuel his still formless mana core.

He had plenty of money, so he wouldn't need to worry about losing out on selling the cores. Plus from growing up in a town like Marlow his skills in skinning was good enough that he could make money by selling the pelts of any beasts he killed.

With that thought he got back to skinning the squirrels, washing the furs in a nearby stream and placing the edible meats into a butchers bag that Marston had given him. It would keep the smell contained and not attract predators from all over. Duran would cover the pelts in preservation oils when he stopped for the night.

He still had many hours before sundown and he wanted to make as much ground as possible before setting up camp. He slipped on his pack once again and grasped his spear in his right hand and took off at a small jog. This was nothing compared to his training so it didn't even tire him out, at least not at any noticeable rate.

This familiar and repetitive motion allowed him to absorb energy from the world to fuel himself anyways. He made great progress as he ran only stopping to kill any mana beasts he noticed nearby and absorb their mana from their cores.

When it was finally beginning to darken he made his way off the path and a little ways Into the forest and began climbing a tree. He had decided that this was the safest place to sleep as most travelers, unless they were trackers, wouldn't notice him up in the tree. As well as it giving him a great vantage point and view of his surroundings.

So he was only a little surprised when he saw a faint orange glow leaking through the cracks if foliage and the scent of wood smoke drifting on the wind. Deciding to check it out, he slipped down the tree and began to stealthily approach the light.

Due to many years hunting with Marston in the surround forest of Marlow, he knew how to move silently and blend with the nature around him.

What he came across us not what he expected to find so close to a out of the way town like Marlow.

It was a small bandit camp. Rough looking men walked around the camp, setting up tents and other things like fires and pelt racks. The smell of booze and tobacco were in the air as well as a different smell that Duran couldn't recognize. Only the sound of a mournful cry mixed with moans coming from a tent made him realize what it was.

One bandit exited a tent he heard the sound coming from and another that had been sitting outside entered. The sounds soon began again and Duran had to shake his head and curse himself for being so naive. They're bandits, of course they have slaves.

"Ha ha! That bitch from the caravan we raided really has feisty streak to her! She almost got me in the eye when I wasn't looking." Duran heard one say from outside the tent.

"Ya, but one good slap across the face, cools that temper of hers. She'll just glare at you with tears in her eyes after that." Another responded and the group sitting outside the tent nodded before laughing.

"Ya it's a good thing we had that slave collar we found in the caravan! Who knew we would stumble across some nobleman's caravan around here in these backwoods."

Sounds of agreement circled the group as they sipped on their alcohol and some smoked pipes filled with cheap tobacco. They continued talking around the small fire awaiting their turn when suddenly one of them stiffened and let out an airy cough.

"Hah! Jerry still can't smoke without coughing." A scarred man laughs as he reaches over to smack "Jerry" on the back only to feel a stick poking from the the man's back. Jerry lets out a pained gasping choke before falling forward.

The fire illuminates a crude arrow made from

The branch of a tree. Blood began to color the ground and before the man could react and arrow found his neck. He fell to the ground scratching and clawing at the arrow in his neck, but this just caused him to tear it from his neck and send blood spurting everywhere.

The other 3 around the fire finally broke from their surprise and stood up. One cupped his hands to his mouth and went to yell but he found an arrow sticking out of his chest.

A faint "Damn it!" Could be heard from the forest. This was Duran as he had missed any vital points in the 3rd man. Due to his angry at what the men were doing to some poor girl in that tent he hadn't taken the time to make sure he carved the arrows perfectly so it didn't fly like it should have.

Once he had realized what was happening, he immediately began working out a plan to take out these bandits. He made a bow and arrows from the strong and flexible branches nearby and used the tendons from the beasts he had killed along the way as the bow string.

He only had time to make enough arrows for the group around the campfire, so he sent his 4th arrow out at a guy that helping his wounded friend. He found lethal purchase this time as it slipped through the rib cage and found a lung. He wouldn't die right away but without a healer it didn't matter.

However it was too late because as he knocked the final arrow and sent it flying to hit the last unharmed man, the one that he had only injured screamed out.

"Attack! We're under attack!"

The last arrow sailed true, and killed the last one standing. Leaving the man with the arrow protruding from his right shoulder still screaming for help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~chapter end~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can kinda see where I'm going with him getting a core, but it will be a while. Which may not make sense now but soon it will be explained.

Also what's a journey without bandits? Hope the scene isn't too graphic due to it being heavily implied what they are doing to the woman in the tent.

Thanks for reading.

Until next time