Marx just wanted to live a life without misery. He sees his self as someone so poor that begging in the street became his life. After almost 10 years of living as an orphan, left alone on Isle of Doe with other slum people, not knowing of their future ahead.

But unknowingly, something happened that will change his life forever.

In the dark corner of a filthy alleyway where human trash and rotten corpses of stray animals can be found, Marx was leaning on the side. Crying to his terrible faith of almost near death. Being tortured by an unknown mugger for his 20 pieces of black coins, currencies of the islands, he would have never had the guts to buy a piece of bread at the old bakery.

"Urgh." Marx swallowed spits of blood on an empty stomach. The throb of pain on his head being hit by a local gangster after ceasing his only meal can be unforgiven. But who cares, people on this small island cared only for their own personal interest and benefits.

This is not the first time that his life has been in peril. He can still remember the past as if it was yesterday on how he had lost her only sister. After growing up at a local orphanage of a local nunnery in small town called Tulsa from the mainland, he got abducted together with his only treated relative, Olivia. After waking up from being drugged, he bawled and cried like there's no tomorrow.

He never knows what happened to her only beloved person and have been living a life of guilt and pity. If only his life was better, he would have not lived this empty shelled life. If only he was strong, he could have protected the one person he only loved. None of this would have happened.

"Why?" Overcome by the feeling of depression and total lost. Muddle-headed while facing his reality. Brought by this unknown situation he's in. He thought about how he came to this world full of ill luck. He was born and grew up in a small family in a broken community, he lived out of trouble until he was about 11 years old, but at that point life took a turn for the worst.

He would have cave in to the feeling of dying where he could finally meet his sister in the afterlife. Gods only know if she's still alive. There is a reckoning in his soul telling him to not give up and that warmth feeling that tells him everything will be alright.

Who would have thought that a little trinket he mistook as a small black pebble in his ragged pocket would flash instantly and lost its power after glowing for a few seconds. It had saved his life for once. With a heavy breathing, Marx only thought as of this moment is to survive this.

He's hesitant to show up at the front door of Elias the baker or of the Ropp family which he knew of which is only a few blocks away from where he the alley where he is living. Elias have never mistreated him even once even though he's living miserly and the Ropp who has only been kind to him who once a week shared their measly meal of cornmeal and clear broth.

What was once a shirt is now nothing more than pieces of fabric held barely together, it hangs from his shoulders like a discarded old towel. There's a big tear across the backside and holes all over the front, leaving much of him exposed to the elements.

He's wearing a rugged poncho over his shirt. It's a torn, dirty, stinking mess, but at least it helps him stay protected from the elements, even if only for a little.

His pants aren't much better either. There are holes all over the right side and what's left is covered in stains. But at least he has shoes to protect his feet. Although they're ragged, only just the right size and the sole of the left shoe has come loose at the heel.

His bloody head could not be hidden and the gash of being mugged left an abrasion on his forehead that would make any casual onlooker revolt on their stomach.

While dragging his self on somewhat bended knee, overshadowed by the alley's darkness, heard the sound of a horse drawn carriage pulled over to the side. An elderly man walked out of the carriage holding what seemed to be a long staff.

"My child, I can sense an ignis pyre in your being." The old man talking to the juvenile in front of him.

"My Lord, I apologize for the intrusion but that boy is just a homeless beggar" said a pompous man.

Marx recognized immediately that the fellow who knows him well is the well-known trader Lord Dupont. Who's known for his status as a nobleman related to the mainland and slave trader of the island.

He doesn't know the old man though, which he thought was garbed like peasant in plain robe. The old man seems to be holding a long staff carved with unknown markings. He only had witness once in his young age that magic abounds this world and that very few people are blessed by the spirits and deities that they called themselves Gods.

For some reason, he never imagined that he encountered a person by chance on this lone island town, far from the mainland.

There has never been such person on the Isle of Doe who would study magic, as it is only for the affluent or the nobles of the mainland that would be privilege to study in mainland magic.

"I'm sorry my Lord. But I don't know what fire you are talking about." He feels uncomfortable knowing that the old man in front of him is glaring at him. Thinking that he's whole being is being scrutinized by this old man.

"Hmm, strange indeed. I sense fire spirit somewhere near you. Never mind, come along Dupont. I'll be leaving now. It takes week for me to return to the mainland."

"Yes, my Lord. I'll be attending your farewell crew at the dock" said the burly noble.

"By the way give him some few coins to deal with his injury. Looks like this child is dying from blood loss if not treated."

"Yes, my Lord." He uttered respectfully.

"Here you go boy. Now off you go" glaring at the young child in front of him while throwing a few black coins.

For some reason, Marx was thankful at the old man who he had encountered by chance. The few coins he has gained from the meeting was enough for him to treat his wounds with light salve that he can buy from the local healer.

Little did he know that the old man only noticed him when the stone in his pocket was ignited by the spirit flame who he didn't know he possessed during the time he was endangered.