Chapter 1

Nicholas woke up as the rays of the morning sun hit his face through the holes in his tent. Waking up he checked the date on his old wristwatch. It was the 22nd of January 2243. His 13th birthday had been just 2 weeks ago. The hunter academies would start accepting applications for admission in a few days. He needed to get in the city for him to have any chance of getting in.

He subconsciously looked towards the direction of the city walls. It was too far to be seen from here but the huge walls of the city of Erypolis stood a daunting twenty meters tall. The top of the tower had mounted weapons at regular intervals and was patrolled by guards.

The only way he could think of getting on the other side of the walls was the guards opening the gate for him themselves.

Nicholas took a sip from a dirty yellow bottle lying beside him and got up. He was thirsty but he would not drink any more water until he got inside the walls, that is. He needed to create the image of a helpless young boy for the guards to buy his lie. He had got only one chance. There were no failures allowed.

He stood up and ruffled his hair. He was tall for his age and had broad shoulders that he had inherited from his father. He had slim muscles all over his frame. Overall he looked robust and strong for his age if not for his chapped lips and dry face.

According to his father's instruction, he did not put a heavy emphasis on strength training, as gaining too much strength before skill may give him a false sense of security. Additionally, gaining too many muscles may interfere with the body's natural growth at a young age. So, he paid more emphasis on his endurance training and training his skill with weapons.

Nicholas stood up and picked his spear and his axe placed next to him. He stood awhile and debated whether practicing his daily workout today was a good idea or not.

"I can just skip the running as getting tired today might not be a good idea. I can just practice my weapons," he thought as he glanced at the weapons lying beside him.

Making his decision, he fixed his axe into his belt and came out carrying the spear in his right hand. He had been practicing with these weapons for as long as he could remember. They were already second nature to him.

Outside the sunlight was coming by getting filtered through the forest trees. It was morning and still a little cold. He scanned his surroundings with a practiced look to spot any dangers. Not finding any immediate ones he found a small clearing and started his training.

First, he performed a set of 30 pushups to warm up his body and then he took his spear and got into stance. He imagined the thick-skinned bear he had hunted a few days ago as his opponent. He thrust and dodged as he imagined its attacks slowly, training his reflexes and responses. After about a half-hour of shadow fighting, he then focused on his technique and performing attacks in the air and on a tree. The spear rod had been made by himself. It had a small worn-out blade attached to its end. It was as tall as him.

After practicing with the spear for about an hour he dropped down to the ground and performed another set of pushups before taking out his axe. Then he followed the same routine with the axe too, performing shadow fighting, followed by technique training.

The sun had almost come up as he ended his practice. He was a little out of breath. He picked his weapons and put them back in his tent and sat down to rest for some time.