The bright sun shone down on the polished estate that beautiful morning. Trees of a multitude of species peered into the interior of his territory, climbing over the high tower walls. Along them, vines nurturing young flower buds grasped onto the mossy stone and crawled along them down to the hard cobbled floor.
Under the protection of the great wall was a manor situated in its core. Around it was a training center on the west wing while on the east wing, there was a luxurious garden harboring many beautiful trees with small, delicate flowers under them.
Sunlight peered through the large windows of the manor, illuminating most inside. Rising from the East, it initially warmed the large master bedroom a young boy lay in. At the end of the room, he slept on a distinguished bed filled with the pelts of many different animals. Each was soft, fluffy, and warm, deepening his slumber and lighting the dark marks littered under his eyes. Lying down, spread out along the bed, his long, dirty gold hair scattered itself on the pillow he was lying on. Throughout the morning, he continuously slept, soft breaths departing from his lips every four seconds.
At the other end of the room, a gold-handled door slowly crept open as someone walked in. Dressed in a maid's attire, her long bangs partitioned to the side, a brunette-headed woman walked in elegantly, stepping on the design-filled carpet below softly. With a straight, serious face, she looked around the room before walking toward the resting boy. Next to him, her dark brown eyes shone in a dark light briefly, before retreating to the inner of her heart, leaving a dutiful face behind. Skillfully, she pulled her hands up and approached him. With the beginning of a smile, she grabbed onto his silk shirt and threw him off the bed.
With a heavy thud, the boy immediately awoke, his eyes darting toward the perpetrator of his sudden pain. On her face was a proper smile directed toward the boy, yet disgust seemed to flow through her brown eyes, contrasting the smile she held. And in a deep undertone, she spoke.
"Ozias, you were supposed to wake hours ago, the tasks that await won't finish themselves."
Ozias looked at her with a clear despise as she continued.
"Well? What are you waiting for!?"
Suddenly, one of her legs shot straight into his stomach, pushing him back several feet.
"Guahh!!"
With a strained gasp, he wrapped his hands around his stomach, saliva slowly falling from his mouth, as he attempted to breathe. Seconds later, the pain alleviated and his closed throat opened, allowing warm oxygen to flow through his body. Letting go of his stomach, Ozias's hands closed into fists as anger coursed to his head. Yet although he was full of rage after being assaulted, he stayed on the ground and only looked up. Her deep brown eyes shone with a hint of satisfaction seeing him stay on the ground, as her deep red lips rose to a smile.
"Alright, I expect you to finish your duties."
Moments later, she walked out of the room with a hip in her step, leaving Ozias to wallow on the floor.
The boy grasped onto the bed, using it to lift himself with a stagger. He did not think much of the aggression, for in the past four months he had been here, this had been the norm. At first, it was light banter, but with time, it eventually became induced violence. Ozias initially looked past it, hoping it was only out of love. But he soon understood just how despicable these people were. He had only wanted to get used to this new environment and maybe make friends. Perhaps they could have hung out, doing tasks together, or going into the city and eating out. In the end, though, it became the opposite of what he had hoped.
However, Ozias knew why they performed such hideous acts; it was to alleviate their pathetic lives working under someone. But in a small crevice of their soul, Ozias knew it was done because of the jealousy and hate they held. But, even though Ozias understood this well, he was too young to comfort them and far too young to try and help them.
With a small limp, he walked towards the door and stepped out. There, he found himself in a wide hallway with multiple rooms along it. After every couple of steps, a handcrafted window was placed, holding bright sunlight that pierced through it. On the floor, a red rug with various patterns lay along the hallway, giving it the aesthetic of a royal kingdom.
Without a second look, Ozias walked to the left, down the hallway, where he found himself on a large flight of stairs, leading to the first floor. He continued down the stairs before walking to a small room behind them. There, a small door creaked open, leading to a cramped living space.
For most of the time he had been in the manor, he spent his nights here. But in the last two months, something had changed—something that sent small chills down Ozias's back.
In the corner of the room was a small pile of tattered clothes. Digging through it revealed an old and wrinkled servant's outfit.
Ozias slowly pulled his current clothes off to replace them.
With his shirt off, one could see the disastrous marks littered throughout his body. Dark purple bruises battered his being as several bones were visible from malnutrition.
Yet, without even acknowledging them, the boy then proceeded to put on his servant's outfit before a bang resounded through the room, pushing the door open. It was a young butler with seemingly no sense of respect. The butler stared at the boy with the same gaze the housekeeper held. Ozias noticed it, yet did nothing as the young man spoke down to him.
"Go sweep the training grounds."
Despite his hateful gaze, he did not harass Ozias, which was a surprise to him.
"I'm sorry. I thought that was what you did."
Before he could finish, the butler stomped towards Ozias but stopped because of the feminine voice that came from out of view.
"Come now; their arrival is near!"
Both Ozias and the butler knew this voice. Hearing it, Ozias twitched slightly; simultaneously, the butler began to quickly leave saying these words in his departure.
"Get it done. You don't want to know what I'd do if you didn't."
"…"
The one who had caused the butler to scatter off was the countess of the empire, considered her honor in the manor. She and the Count controlled a sizable portion of the territory in the empire. This meant they were essentially the gods ruling over this land. It would make sense for the young butler to act that way, with the snap of her fingers, he could be banished to torture and death with no questions asked. There was a sense of respect and fear for the count and countess that loomed over the entire estate.
For minutes the boy attempted to calm his quivering body to no avail. His vision shook as sweat formed on his head. But his duties took priority over his health, physical or mental. Seconds later, the boy walked out with the expectation of finishing quickly.
He traveled from the manor stationed in the middle of the estate to the west wing, arriving at the training center. It consisted of multiple training dummies and fighting mats scattered around a large weapon shed. The center alone took up most of the estate's total territory. The reason for this dates to the fundamental laws of this world, where strength reigned supreme. And although the count and countess acted as though they were incredible, they were incomprehensibly tiny in the grand scheme of this world. The only reason they still had the tag of the count was because of their ancestors, who were considerable in strength centuries ago. Now though, the Count would be considered fodder for those higher in the empire.
Ozias's job at the training center was to broom every single one of the ten training pads that spanned twenty by twenty nons (comparable to meters)
Looking at them, large amounts of mud and dirt lay on top of every mat from constant use. But although cleaning all ten of the training pads would take most of the day, this was the least of Ozias's worries. For less than two hundred nons away were two young boys sparring. Next to them, watching their every move closely was a large broad-shouldered man. They were the countess's children, more known as the young master's. The two of them were twins, each having jet-black hair and dark brown eyes. Their hair was styled in the same way, with medium-length bangs towards the front with longer hair sitting in the back. They were nine years old, the same age as Ozias. In the manor, the three of them were the only young children, which made the bullying from them far worse.
They darted back and forth on one of the training pads, fighting with wooden swords. Each step they took seemed deliberate, as though they were practicing certain motions.
Ozias stared at them for a moment, admiring how they fought. If he had the time, he would have loved to watch for hours, to try and absorb all that he could; nevertheless, he had no time for such things. What he had to do now was finish his tasks, and there was no room for interruptions. He hurriedly swept one training platform after the other, increasingly getting closer to the two training young masters with time. After brooming eight of the training pads Ozias eventually got close enough for them to notice him. Disdain filled their eyes the moment they saw the hunched-over boy, sweeping the pads they used earlier.
Sweat slowly fell down their face with their eyes focused on Ozias. Nonetheless, It was only for a moment before they continued their training. They had no time to deal with the disgusting boy, though one of the boys found it hard to keep this ideal true. After getting permission from their instructor, the broad-shouldered man, the younger of the master's crept towards Ozias. Too focused on sweeping, Ozias failed to notice as the young master approached close enough for him to hit him with his sword. He closed the distance before swinging his wooden sword down on Ozias. Luckily, Ozias noticed seconds before and dodged the young master's attack. Ozias dove out of the way and landed in a pile of dirt, scattering itself on his body.
Ozias coughed as dust scattered through the air, irritating the young boy's eyes.
"Don't dodge you cowardly bastard! Face me in a dual!"
He tried to use the guise of a dual to hide his malicious intent. Of course, this was not a dual; it was a one-sided beating. Hell, Ozias did not even receive a sword to properly fight back!
Knowing this, he still decided to face him. It would be worse to run because then they would have an actual reason to beat him. At least under this guise, he could properly defend himself.
Ozias stood up while the young master rubbed his eyes. Although he wanted to attack now, it could be seen as cowardly, so instead he assured his opponent.
"Do you truly wish to dual, young master?"
Although he would rather not fight with him, this was the only way to get out of this; he had learned it the hard way. The young master stepped away from the cloud of dust before responding with absolute confidence.
"Yes! Let us dual."
Anticipation mixed with joy could be heard in the young master's voice while preparing. On the other training platform, both the second young master and the training instructor noticed the commotion the two had caused.
Ozias positioned himself on one side of the platform while the young master went to the other.
With soft deftly silent steps, the instructor walked over to the two of them before speaking to the young master.
"If you two are dueling, then I shall judge!"
The instructor smiled as he folded his arms, keeping a keen eye on Ozias.
He was most definitely making sure nothing happened to the young master. It would be his head if something disastrous were to occur, so he had to be on high alert in this dual.
From the end of the platform, Ozias prepared himself by gripping the broom like a sword. Although it was different, he could still use it similarly by holding the long pole up like a sword, at least as the head of the broom pointed down towards the ground.
Ozias gripped the broom hard and looked up at the young master as his heart pumped fast.
From the middle end of the platform, the instructor yelled.
"Begin!"
The young master sprinted forward as Ozias stepped forward and stomped his feet onto the ground. Then, just as before, the young master pulled his sword high into the sky before dragging it down. This time though, instead of dodging, Ozias pulled his sword up before angling it slightly, using the young master's force to propel his sword to the floor.
The broad-shouldered instructor stared in slight surprise as he realized the difference in their skills. Witnessing a skillful move from such a young boy brought questions to the man. Mainly, he wondered just how he learned how to fight like this, how hard he trained.
Feeling the unbreakable shell of the ground, the young master's hands shook as pain slithered from his fingers up to his arm like snakes. Seizing the opportunity, Ozias positioned himself as memories flooded his head. He had been taught since the age of five the way of the sword. His now-deceased father was the one who would constantly train him. Every early day, while the morning dew was still forming and as the sun rose to greet them in front of their small home. Hours on end would his father train and teach him the way of the sword. Thinking of it now, a feeling of sorrow and hate filled his heart. Since the moment he had arrived here, he had kept this feeling dug deep into his soul. Now though, instead of holding onto this feeling, he directed it to his makeshift sword, sliding to the side and preparing to attack!
Seeing this, The broad-shouldered man's smile widened as he yelled, alerting the young master.
"Block it! He's preparing to swing at you!!"
Ozias ignored the instructor's voice as he gathered all the strength he had, ignoring the constant aches of pain in his body. Ozias grasped as hard as he could, transferring his heart to his sword and swinging it towards the young master!
'To think! This swine!!'
In an act of instinct, the young master pulled his sword up, enduring the pain radiating in his hands. With swift eyes, the young master located Ozias's sword and guessed where it would hit before pulling his sword up to block it. Moments later, a hard "Thwack!!" burst through the environment as the young master guessed correctly. But the hit pushed him back several feet as he nearly dropped his weapon from the sheer pain. It was even worse for Ozias; multiple harsh forces surged from his broom to his hands as splinters dug into them from the unpolished broom handle.
Yet, this pain that would have caused any other child to roll on the ground and beg instead created a tragic yet beautiful smile on Ozias's face, one that he had not had since his very beginnings here. Through the pain, Ozias's heart raged like a horse as sweat punctured his dark golden eyes. His radiant golden hair flurried in the passing wind, as though nature itself were cheering him on. And as the sun beamed down onto the two boys, Ozias's eyes lit in a reddish hue that sent shivers into the spine of his opponent.
The instructor stared in surprise once again after seeing the string choices Ozias had made. But after the bout of surprise came disappointment. He could see the great potential in Ozias, it was simply unfortunate that he was born to be a slave, and not a king. If he had been birthed by different parents, he may have very well stood on equal grounds with himself, and maybe, he could have gone beyond.
'I am thinking such useless thing's… This match is already over.'
The instructor closed his eyes as the two boys continued.
Both ready to attack once again, they charged towards the other with only the thought of winning implanted into their minds. They ran and arrived next to the other before mindlessly swinging. Although they had years of training, in the face of a true fight, it had all vanished before them as differing feelings emerged in their bodies.
With another "Thwack!!" they were both pushed back, however! Instead of preparing himself for another clash, Ozias fought through opposite moving force and rushed in, pushing through the recoil and catching the young master off guard.
Still being pushed back from their prior hit, the young master was vulnerable as those golden blood-filled eyes approached. Knowing he could do nothing, he shut his eyes and prayed to his god. Ozias on the other hand developed a crazed look in his eyes, in front of him was one of the people who had caused him constant struggle. And he was also the son of the person directly responsible for the death of their family! Next to him, blood lust flooded the boy's eyes as he swung his broom towards the young master's head! He had the sole goal of killing the young master in this one blow!!
'Now is the time.'
From the sidelines, though, the instructor stepped in. At one moment, he seemed like a strong middle-aged man, yet at the next, he was an unrecognizable figure! Strange, tangly energy flew from his body as the air around him shifted! He stepped once yet seemed to move a thousand steps as he pulled directly in front of the two young fighting children.
With his wooden sword in hand, he swatted Ozias away as though he were a fly that needed to be killed.
Moments before, Ozias had noticed the weird shift in energy. He was familiar with it; each morning when training with his father, he would use an energy like it and train him with it. However, in comparison to his father, the instructor seemed to be a god that overwhelmed everything!
With one clean sweep, he swung his sword and smashed through the broom before making its way towards Ozias's chest! Shards of wood flew, scattering in all directions, while the instructor's sword came down and crushed multiple of Ozias's bones, leaving a large imprint on his chest.
The boy soared after the hit, where he was thrown onto another training platform. He briefly made contact before he rolled even further away.
From a glance, it would seen as though he were dead, though he may have still been breathing. Even the instructor did not know, but before he could care about Ozias, he had to care for the young master.
"Young master, are you alright?"
Tears built in the young master's eyes as he sought to stay strong, though in spite of his strength, tears still fell from his blurry eyes.
"It's okay. You did great out there! Although we need to remember to keep using the techniques we learn to ensure we can properly defeat our opponents."
The instructor used this as an opportunity to teach the young master, ignoring Ozias's struggling body several feet away. "I should have won!! That dirty bastard was using cowardly tricks!!!"
Even with reassurance, the young master could not believe he had nearly lost. The instructor smiled lightly, noting the difference between Ozias and the young master before speaking.
"Young master, don't let me helping you there fool you, there is no such thing as cowardliness in a fight. If I had not stopped his swing there, you would have been killed."
"!"
The young master stared in surprise as the instructor continued smiling.
'Though, it would be a shame if he died…'
The instructor looked back to his body before leaving.
'If he dies, he dies. That is the nature of this world, though if he were to live, I might have to sleep with one eye open. Ha, I'd hate to die from being to careless.'
With that passing thought, the young master's and the instructor left.
Collapsed on the ground, blood pouring out of his mouth, Ozias stayed motionless for hours.
Time passed as the sun began to set. Deep, dark clouds passed over the once bright sky, releasing the moisture they held.
Water droplets rained down onto the earth as every plant and tree quenched their thirst. With their roots, they held dearly onto the pour of water seeping into the ground with all they had. Every living thing wanted to live, and to do so, they needed their proper life-giving nourishment. Those that rejected it would soon find themselves dead.
On the training grounds, small puddles formed along the divots between different platforms.
With each drop that fell onto his concussed head, he slowly shook into reality to witness the dark gray clouds blocking the setting sun. He knew the punishments awaiting in the manor. Not only had he not completed his tasks, but he had also been gone the entire day.
With a heavy groan, he slowly attempted to stand. He shifted his weight to his right and moved into a push up position. From there, the young boy lifted his knee and used it to anchor his battered body. At that point though, he had gone through too much pain. The location where he was hit felt like nothing he had ever experienced before. All the hits and bruises that his body had collected before could barely reach half of the pain he was feeling now. Every moment he stood awake, he wished to scream his lungs out and beg to the god's for mercy, though he knew he could not. He could not stand to lay under another, yet he did. He could not stand to let the perpetrators of his parents death live, yet he did. He was a weak boy with no strength to defy those stronger. Yet he wanted to, he wanted to carve his own freedom, and to do so, he could not die.
The world watched in surprise as he forced his mind past its limit! In his mind, this was all he could muster.
'Stand!! Stand up and continue!!!'
With a heavy struggle, he placed his arms onto his thigh and pushed up, allowing his other leg to stand. There, under the tears of the earth, the world stood in awe at the display of his mind, and at the display of his spirit.
Cool bursts of water relaxed his mind as the once-dried blood around his mouth became moist. Ozias lifted his heavy hand and wiped the blood off, his eyes glinting in a passion and hatred rarely seen in children as he limped to the manor slowly.
With each trudge he took, hate grew in his heart, fueling his dying body to continue.
After five minutes, he arrived at the front of the estate. There, he saw the countess standing under an umbrella with countless servants around her, watching for her every need.
Her nightly hair tailed down her sky-blue dress as she stood, watching.
The direction her purple eyes were looking at was two horses pulling along a caged carriage towards them. Inside the cage was a young boy, similar in appearance to Ozias. He also had gold hair, although, something seemed different. It felt as though his gold hair was dim, stiff, and rough.
From the side, the countess smiled with a light blush on her face as she spoke to servants. From far away, he could not hear what she was saying but knew what was happening.
It was only a matter of time before it occurred; since his very first day, he knew. Ozias turned around and entered through a side door, trying not to see anyone. Inside, he trudged towards his room, every step he took staining the carpets inside a muddy brown color. He continued anyway; currently, all he wanted to do was rest; that was what he absolutely needed.
After a short time, he arrived in front of his small, cramped room. He walked in and removed his drenched servant's outfit. Under it, a deep slash made its presence known. On his chest, there was a dent where he had been hit. Luckily, it did not spur blood as it had not broken skin. Surely, though, inside his body, he was bleeding horrifically. It was a surprise that he was not lying on the muddy ground outside dead. Just by moving, he could tell that the bones had shattered, yet they did not pierce any important organs that would have killed him. Many would have considered it an intervention from the gods; however, Ozias viewed it differently. He realized the gods wanted him to suffer more, as though he had not gone through enough pain. But Ozias himself also wished to struggle, for he wanted to live.
With staggering steps, Ozias looked through everything in his room and managed to find bandages.
Carefully, for the next thirty minutes, through pain and torture, he was able to wrap himself in them.
Afterward, he stepped back and delicately laid down on the rough, old bed. To survive, he needed rest, which was the only thing he had access to currently.
But the gods seemed to not even let him have that. Seconds later, his door was pushed open as the same butler that had come earlier appeared again. He stepped into the cramped room before speaking to him.
"The countess would like to see you now."
Ozias looked at him blankly as he meticulously stood up.
"Okay… Thank you for alerting me."
He slowly walked past the young butler with a limp while wearing his silk shirt. The butler looked at him with disgust as he walked to her quarters.
Up the stairs and down the hallway, just as before, Ozias found himself in front of her bedroom. He knocked lightly as his body twitched. A moment later, a female servant opened it, welcoming him in.
Anxiously, he stepped in and looked towards the large bed, where he saw the countess. Her long, pitch black hair hung down her perfectly shaped body, while her perky breasts were protected by it, allowing no one a peak. From what he could see, the countess sat atop the bed, waiting for Ozias greedily. Under her hair, she wore a see-through silk nightgown that comfortably fit her figure.
She had a light blush as she smiled, her gaze filled with lust, looking at Ozias. She had light makeup on, which, when accompanied by the soft lighting in the room, made her look beautiful, entrapping most who would look into her violet eyes.
"Come, join me. It is quite cold tonight. Let us embrace each other one final time."
Ozias knew what this meant. She had used this excuse many times to get him here, where she could do as she pleased. But even though he knew this, he could do nothing against her.
She walked over to him before wrapping her arms around him. Her semi-long nails carefully gripped Ozias as she dragged him to the bed. He stayed still for a moment, wanting to resist, scream, and flail for help, yet he could not. The servants here would kill him with any sudden movements. All he could do was follow her request.
Just as today, it had happened months ago as well, when he had lost his chastity to her. At the age of nine, two months ago, she had sexually used him for the first time. And today, they would perform the same act they had done months ago, without the consent of Ozias.