The days after Luda officially joined our crew brought an unexpected vibrancy to Talasi. This quiet, dusty town, nestled between a thick forest and rocky outcroppings, had always been a rest stop for travelers and wandering artists. You could tell its glory days were long gone, though. The stone roads were cracked, the market stalls sparsely attended, and the once-bustling taverns now sat half-empty, with only a few loyal patrons nursing drinks and old stories. But with Luda around, Talasi had started to feel a little more alive—mostly because of our constant sparring sessions that spilled out from the backyard into the open spaces of the town.
At first, we kept it contained, sticking to the fenced training yard behind the house. The ground there was already scarred with battle grooves and small craters, remnants of past training sessions with Mom and Steez. But Luda had a way of dragging the best—and the worst—out of me. His sharp taunts and unrelenting energy kept me on my toes. If we weren't launching mana-charged punches at each other, we were clashing swords that crackled with ethereal light. It wasn't long before the yard started to feel too small.
One afternoon, after Luda landed a perfectly timed dropkick that sent me flying through the fence and halfway across the street, we gave up trying to keep it contained. From then on, Talasi itself became our training ground. The wide-open roads, the sprawling marketplace, even the flat rooftops of the taller buildings—all fair game. I can't lie; it felt good to stretch my legs and take the fight across new terrain.
The sounds of our battles echoed through the streets, disrupting the town's usual quiet. The sharp crack of fists colliding, the metallic clash of swords, the booming shockwaves of mana bursts. Sparks of indigo and green mana lit up the early evening streets like fireworks, drawing attention from anyone in earshot. Most of the townsfolk couldn't even see us properly; we moved too fast for the untrained eye. All they caught were flickers of motion—a streak of red as I darted forward, a glint of steel from Luda's blade, or the sudden gusts of wind left in our wake.
The kids were the funniest. They swore up and down that Talasi had become home to some mythical beast. "I saw its glowing eyes!" one little sociovore boy shouted as he ran past me one morning, his friends in tow. Another swore she'd heard the beast roar late at night, but really, it was just the sound of me losing my footing and crashing into a pile of crates when Luda tripped me up. Their wild imaginations kept me laughing.
But not everyone in town found our antics entertaining. Mom, for one, was not having it. After the third time we accidentally knocked over someone's stall or left a chunk of road cracked from miscalculated Mana Arts, she came storming out of the house. I could still feel the sting of that first neck chop—lightning-fast and precise, right to the spirit.
"Did I not tell y'all to keep this mess in the yard?" she snapped, her mana flaring faintly around her as a warning.
"Ma, we was just—"
"Just testing out new moves? I don't care! You're wrecking the town, Xiro!" she barked, crossing her arms. "Luda, I would have thought royalty had more self-control."
Luda lowered his head, "Respectfully, ma'am, I think Xiro started it this time."
She gave him a glare so sharp it could've split stone. "You better respect my damn fence. Now you two, go fix it."
Despite the warnings—and the consequences—we couldn't seem to help ourselves. Luda had a way of pulling me into our rivalry, and I wasn't one to back down from a challenge. He pushed me in ways I hadn't been pushed in a long time. Every time I thought I'd set a new goal, he'd come back stronger, faster, more precise. He wasn't just some kid who got lucky with a few good hits; he had real talent.
But I wasn't about to let him win. Every chance I got, I'd turn up my power output, making him work for every point. Our battles weren't just about strength or skill—they were about growth. Every punch, every dodge, every counterstrike was a step forward. For all of my brothers.
In a way, it reminded me of sparring with Steez, except Luda fights were more of a study. He fought like he wanted to beat me, and that fire made me fight harder, too. It was a mutual respect that didn't need to be spoken out loud—it was there in the way we clashed, in the way we grinned at each other after landing a clean hit.
Talasi might not have been ready for the chaos we brought, but the town sure felt different with us around. Whether it was the kids' wild stories or the townsfolk shaking their heads at our antics, life had returned to those stone streets in a way it hadn't in years. And even though Mom's neck chops were a painful reminder to keep ourselves in check, I couldn't help but feel a little proud of the power we were gaining.
Throughout those first couple of month cycles, the prince—Luda—walked around a lil' tight-assed. Don't get me wrong, I respected his hustle, but the way he carried himself? Always sharp, always on edge, like he wasn't allowed to breathe without checking it off some imaginary to-do list. He moved like he was chasing a goal none of us could see, grinding every second of the day to be the best at whatever it was he was after. It almost made me feel like I was slacking off. Almost. Then again, maybe my life was just a little less complicated.
Now Alex? That boy was a different story altogether. Unlike Luda's ironclad discipline, Alex admired my laid-back nature, which probably felt refreshing compared to all the pressure that Luda radiated. Whenever I took it upon myself to wander beyond Talasi's protective barrier—despite Vericka's strict orders to stay close—Alex would be right there, trailing behind me. No matter how many times I told him he didn't have to tag along, he'd always flash that grin and say, "You never know what I might learn." It didn't take long for me to realize that he was less interested in the hunt and more fascinated with watching me, curious about how I lived life so freely.
One of the most unexpected things about Alex, though, was how determined he was to nail the use of the word "nigga." I'll be honest—it was hilarious watching him try. It was like watching a kid learn how to swing a sword for the first time, awkward and unsure, but too stubborn to quit. He'd drop it mid-sentence, sometimes in the wrong spot, and I'd have to hold back a laugh every time.
"Nah, bro," I'd tell him. "You gotta ease it in, like seasoning. You don't just dump it in the pot."
That usually opened the door to deeper conversations.
He asked me once, "Xiro, where does the word even come from? I've never heard anything like it."
I took a moment to gather my thoughts. "It's a mutated version of 'niger,' which meant 'of black hue,'" I explained.
That seemed to throw him for a loop. His light brown brows furrowed, his confusion painted clear as day across his face. "But how does that even make sense?" he asked. "The way you use it doesn't sound like it means anything about color."
I nodded, knowing it was a lot to unpack. "That's the thing, man. Back on Earth, it had a lot of power for a word. Back when I was a dark skin human—Black folks—took it and flipped it on its head. It came from a dark place. It used to degrade us, but we turned it into something else. Something powerful. A super noun. It's a greeting, an insult, a vibe—it's whatever you need it to be, depending on how you say it."
Alex's expression shifted as he absorbed the history, his usual curiosity tinged with a hint of sadness. "So... it came from human slavery?" he asked quietly.
I nodded, keeping my voice steady. "Humans enslaved humans. There weren't any sociovores on Earth to beef with."
He hesitated, looking down at his hands before saying, "Slavery still happens in the Eastern Kingdoms. Although I don't think the humans call the elves that. I still don't understand it fully, but do you think it'd be cool for me to keep saying it?"
I didn't let him finish the thought. "Alex, listen," I said firmly. "This ain't Earth, and I don't give a damn about rules like that out here. You're my nigga, and that's all that matters. Just don't embarrass yourself when you say it."
That seemed to put him at ease, and he laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, alright. I'll practice."
"You better," I shot back, smirking. "I ain't about to let you go out sounding goofy."
We laughed, the tension lifting as we made our way back toward town. Moments like that reminded me why I kept Alex close. He was learning, growing, and, in his own way, helping me hold on to pieces of the world I thought I'd left behind.
One day in the Gaian Calendar year of 1997, I sat cross-legged on the warm, mossy ground of Talasi's outskirts, trying to explain the basics of electromagnetism to Alex and Luda. Both of them were perched on nearby rocks, staring at me with the kind of intense focus that made me second-guess if they were absorbing anything at all or just pretending. The morning air carried a crisp chill, the faint hum of mana saturating the environment, like static waiting to ignite. It was peaceful, in its way, but the conversation made it clear just how far Gaia lagged behind in understanding the universe.
"Look," I said, drawing a crude diagram in the dirt with a stick. "Electromagnetism is one of the fundamental forces. It's what makes lightning, magnetizes metals, and—hell—lets you use some tech back on Earth. But here?" I sighed, shaking my head. "Y'all treat electricity like it's some angry spirit you need to tame. No offense, but this planet's understanding of physics is stuck in the damn medieval era."
Luda leaned forward, arms crossed, his ever-serious expression locked in place. "I don't understand. Why manipulate something so complex when you can use mana directly? It's more efficient."
"Efficient, sure," I said, tossing the stick aside. "But that's like saying, 'Why walk when you can run?' Sometimes you need precision over raw power. Science is just another way to control the world around you, and y'all niggas are ignoring it."
Alex furrowed his brow, running a hand through his snowy hair. "But… isn't that what magick is for? We can already do so much with it. Why bother learning something like this?"
"Because magick even benefits from its understanding, Alex," I replied, exasperated. "What happens when you run out of mana? Or when someone figures out how to nullify it?" I gestured around us, the dense forest swaying in the breeze. "Y'all rely too much on what's already known. No offense, but this world feels like it's crawling compared to Earth."
The two exchanged glances but said nothing. I could tell the idea of technological advancement was foreign to them. Gaia's education systems revolved around survival basics, mana manipulation, and what little cultural knowledge was passed down orally. Books existed, sure, but they weren't exactly cheap. If you weren't part of the noble or upper-class sociovores, getting your hands on any real knowledge was a luxury, not a right. It felt like the 13th century on Earth all over again.
Part of the reason for this, I theorized, was the imbalance in gender dynamics across Gaia. With females vastly outnumbering males and wielding naturally deeper mana pools, the power dynamic leaned heavily in their favor. Most matriarchies didn't prioritize technology or scientific advancement when they could dominate with sheer magical prowess. That lack of focus trickled down into every aspect of society.
But it wasn't just about power—it was also about pleasure. Females on Gaia had a biological inclination toward hedonism, amplified by the emotional enhancements caused by mana. It wasn't unusual to see women chasing their desires, indulging in whatever brought them joy or satisfaction. They weren't bound by the same societal restrictions that Earth had imposed on many women for centuries. Yet, despite their dominance, there was one desire most couldn't overcome: the want to be dominated.
It was fascinating to observe. No matter how powerful a woman was, there was a part of her—deep down—that craved to be conquered by someone stronger. Dominant men, the kind who could match or surpass them, were cherished across the board. Those men weren't just admired; they were practically worshipped. Other men aspired to be like them, seeing them as leaders and role models, while women were drawn to them like moths to a flame.
"Doesn't that get exhausting?" Alex asked me one day, after seeing a group of women openly flirt with a traveling warrior who had passed through town. "Y'all are celebrities if you're strong enough. No privacy, no peace."
I smirked, scratching the back of my neck. "It can be… overwhelming," I admitted. "But it's better than being overlooked, don't you think?"
"I guess you're right," He said, shrugging.
"Still, it's wild to me how universal that admiration is. Doesn't matter what race or species—it's always the strong men who get the spotlight." I said with my fingers on my chin.
Luda, who had been silently listening, chimed in. "That's because strength commands respect. Power is something everyone understands, regardless of culture or background."
I nodded, leaning back against a tree. "Yeah, I get that. But on Earth, things weren't this straightforward. There were so many layers to it—status, money, race, politics. Here? It's raw. Honest. Gaia's like a future paradise for someone like me."
As I stared up at the sky, the leaves swaying gently in the breeze, I couldn't help but think about how different my life had become. Gaia's simplicity—its primal focus on strength and survival—was refreshing. And for all its flaws, it was a world where I could carve out my place, on my terms.
Those training days etched themselves as some of my favorite memories. The bonds I forged with my squad gave me the space and encouragement to explore ideas I'd only dreamed of back on Earth. With their support, I made leaps in creating new mana arts and skills. One of my proudest breakthroughs was using [Transmutation] on pure Bio Mana, transforming raw energy into stable matter. It felt surreal, conjuring items out of thin air, the air shimmering as mana coalesced into tangible forms. The process took focus and precision in controlling each magiton, rewriting them in real-time using [Molecule Manipulation]. I could feel the particles shifting under my control, like sculpting energy itself, every change rippling in response to my intent. The excitement of discovery fueled me, and my squad, always curious and willing, became my test audience for everything I created.
The month cycles blurred together, filled with chaos and laughter. Each day brought something new. Mom's relentless training sessions were humbling, as she routinely schooled us, often taking all of us on at once in handicap matches. Her speed and precision were ridiculous—every dodge, counter, and strike reminded me why she was the undisputed queen of our household. Then there was Kimmi-Wu, whose temper flared one afternoon after an argument. In her frustration, she nearly melted the entire town. I still remember the heat radiating through the streets, the sky above us shimmering like molten glass as her mana raged uncontrollably. It took all of us to calm her down, Vericka barking orders while Alex and I worked on containment.
Artamis and I often found ourselves in the middle of experiments, pushing boundaries with reckless abandon. After explaining the concepts of nuclear fission and fusion to him, we set out to replicate the effects through magic. The results? Boiling water and explosions. Lots of them. The house would shake at random hours of the night, the air filled with the acrid tang of burnt mana. The hum of unstable energy rattled the windows more than once, and Mom… well, she wasn't too fond of waking up to another crater in the backyard.
By the time the last of those nights came, the air felt heavy, like something significant lingered on the horizon. Vericka gathered us together, her tone quieter than usual, her sharp eyes scanning each of us.
"You've surpassed everything I could've hoped for. My work here is done, but yours is only just beginning."
Her words landed with a weight I wasn't prepared for. It wasn't just a declaration of our progress—it was a reminder that our time under her watchful guidance was nearing its end. Still, she watched me more than the others, her gaze lingering as I spoke. I knew why. She couldn't hear [Moon Sage: Tsukuyomi] or [Midnight Star: Belial], but she could see me talking to them. Her silence wasn't apathy—it was observation. And something about her demeanor made it clear she knew more than she let on.
One night during our final spar, when she thought I wasn't listening, I overheard her muttering to herself.
"Rumors from the Spirit Realm have made it to the mortal," she said, her voice low, almost reverent. "I knew it would only be a matter of time before Xiro got her attention. I'm going to have to keep my promise soon."
Her hand rested on the sheath of her katana, her fingers drumming against the hilt as if grounding herself. Her mana signature had weakened over the years—I could sense it. She wasn't the powerhouse she once was, and while her Battle Class had lowered, her presence was still commanding. It didn't matter to me, though. I'd decided that this would be the last day of my losing streak against her.
"You ready, Moonlight?" she called out to me, her voice carrying both challenge and affection.
"Yeah, Momma," I replied with a grin, rolling my shoulders. "We can box it out. Here I come."
I sprinted toward her, a smile lighting up my face as I closed the distance. Instead of launching into a fight, though, I greeted her with a hug—one of those tight embraces that spoke volumes. As she held me, I could feel her resolve, her silent pride, and her unspoken worry all at once.
Deep down, I knew these peaceful days were fleeting. Somewhere beyond our view, a storm was brewing. I could feel it in my bones, like the hum of impending thunder on the horizon. But for now, I didn't let that stop me from cherishing these moments. Every sparring session, every laugh, every shared meal—I wanted to make sure these memories would stay with my family forever.
As the training days came to a wrap, I promised myself one thing: whatever awaited us, I'd face it head-on. But for now, I'd hold onto this peace just a little longer. The storm beyond the horizon called to me, faint but insistent. I didn't know how much time we had left, but one thing was certain—it wouldn't wait forever.
[End of Chapter]