~ A true state of suffering is not sadness, nor pain but Indifference ~

At the first glimmers of dawn crest the enchanted horizon, the melodious song of birds resonates in the distance. A young lad, barley an adult, strodes through the mystical alleys and the cobbled streets of a bewitched city, wearing a jet-black shirt, moonlight white trousers and cloak, with two iridescent blue-sapphire stripes on either side of the uniform.

While he maintains an exceptional balance and posture as he walks through the street, his movements exude an aerie emptiness. His black messy hair forms stark contrast to his pale skin, while his eyes, through vivid shades of green, wields no warmth nor emotion. They continue to observe and analyze his surroundings, however they lack any reflection of the slightest glimmer of life.

He gazes skywards, where the silhouettes of aarakocras, the avian-human hybrids, glide through the early morning sky, some are seen bearing courier bags.The human proceeds toward the heart of the city, where towering skyscrapers and apartment buildings scrape the dawning skies. Around these soaring edifices lie the suburbs with the roads converging toward the city's core.

A kaleidoscope of diverse humanoids begin to flood the streets, infusing life into the streets, unlocking the doors to shops and establishments. Diligent half-orcs, minotaurs, towering goliaths, and sturdy dwarves labor away at bustling construction sites, their toil harmonizing with the ceaseless hustle of humans by their side. Amidst the urban commotion, some denizens glide behind the wheels of vehicles, while others are cocooned within modern metal carriages, each drawn by a single centaur adorned with a blue cap, bearing the unmistakable insignia of 'Centaxi.'

Suddenly, when the young man draws near, a sudden shift ripples through the bustling street. The vivacious and lively district turns eerie and gloom within seconds, almost as if turned into a ghost town, where the residents, though still present and trading, emit a sense of discomfort with the overbearing intensity of hushed murmurs. Some wear expressions of feigned ignorance, their wandering glances towards the lad however reveal it as a facade. Others, with unwavering stares, emanate uneasiness and displeasure, their whispers overflowing with an unsettling mix of disdain and concern. Among themselves, they mutter 'The cursened?,' 'It's him?' What fallen the sky for him to be here? He should know better, Is he fogged in the mind?!','The poor child…Leading a life of misery, how can his family live with it?'

The young man's expression tightens slightly with irritation while he navigates the now silent street, his green eyes darting to and from, scanning the diverse people around him all sharing a similar expression. `Forsaken circle every day` he sighs, Thinking to himself. `can't find any lack of just in it though… to bear through wearing a mask facing an unknowable.. an abstract… how else would I be any differ in that regard...`

Proceeding onwards through the now hushed streets, he finds two conspicuous individuals, barring his path, a man with recognizable human features however, his pointy elven ears are hidden beneath his disheveled, greasy brunette hair, and a long-eared female centaur. Their attire, torn and rugged, they sport muddy, tattered boots, the occasional glimpse of skin peeking through the small holes on their clothes. A malevolent shady grin creeps across their faces as they spot the newcomer drawing nearer.

'Two pick of the clods… driven by a craving for the feeling of twisted authority, How fitting… the people are different yet their gaze never changes when they think they gaze down upon who they deem weak...'

The half-elf fixes his gaze squarely into the emotionless eyes of the young human, a mocking expression playing on his features "Whoa there, Damnrick. Where the winds' carry ya, wretch?" He inquires, his tone dripping with mockery, advencing closer to the young man.

The human proceeds along his route, his demeanor unchanging, and he responds with disinterest "I am named Danrick. If you know my name you should remember it, is your mind capable of remembering it, or does it struggle even with such a simple task? as for where I am off to, is to school, so my fate would not mimic your own...".

The thugs' arrogant smirks quickly shift into menacing grins, as the centauress responds "ohh… isi that fake confidence? a cursed smartass like you shouldn't be havin' any…." the centauress responds.

Danrick gazes back at the centauress and lets out a chuckle as he replies: "Better be a smartass than a jackass" and proceeds down his path.

The half-elf continues to smirk, but his eyes betray no hint of anger: "How about you hold your legs for a bit?!". Danrick's demeanor remains indifferent, however his irritation is evident in his tone: "As I said prior to your fragile mind's memory short lifespan, On my way to school."

The thug then cracks his knuckles and wears a menacing expression as he retorts, "But why wasting the school's time on a lost cause like you?! We can provide ya' lesson instead. Now, class is in session. Enlighn' me, students—what can we learn from 'survival of the fittest'?"

His female partner raises her hand, a malicious smile on her face, and chimes in, "oh, Teach, I know: the feeble should bow to the mighty!", the male thug nods and sneers, maintaining his intimdating gaze into Danrick's green, indifferent eyes "Well, it seems you have been breakin' that rule, you'd better…" The half-elf lowers his body, bends his knees, and springs forward, launching himself toward Danrick's face, all while proclaiming, "...to remember it! damned boy!". In a single agile bound, he propels himself toward Danrick, his fist clenched, and directs it swiftly toward the young human's face.

With minimal motion and almost no reaction time, Danrick tilts his head to the side, narrowly evading the punch. However,he feels a sudden sharp pain on his cheek, realising the elf had grazed him, inflicting a bleeding wound just beneath his eye.Danrick swiftly seizes the half-elf's arm and raises his leg, aiming to deliver a powerful kick to the thug's ribs. However, as his leg hovers mid-air, the thundering sound of hooves pounding the ground reaches his ears. He spots the other thug extending her hand and voice echoes as she chants: "Arcenic Magic: minor telekinesis" telekinetically lifting debris from the surroundings.

In a sudden motion, the thug that Danrick is holding breaks free from his grasp as his partner straighten her arm towards the young man causing the debris to hurtles towards Danrick. With keen awareness, he manages to spot the flying projectiles and raises his hands, skillfully deflecting the oncoming barrage.

A sharp pain courses through Danrick's arm with every strike of the debris hitting him, causing him to lose his stability. At the same time the other thug hurls a punch towards him, knocking him to the unforgiving ground below. Bruises begin to form across his body, and his once-clean clothes marres with dirt and torn fabric.

As the thugs draw near the injured young man, Their mockery and disdain can be easily sensed even by the people around, kicking his stomach relentlessly. They watch with satisfaction as the human flinches in pain, and a twisted, pleased expression spreads across their faces. Chuckles of cruel amusement escape their lips "Ah, what was it you were spoutin? Remind me runt! You're no warrior nor a magician, you damned child! Look around us, freak! Everyone seein', and yet every single soul 'round us doesn't seem to care about you… a futile fuckin' sorry excuse of a lifeform."

The half-elf continues smiling with a wicked glee: "In fact,you are so be-damned you might be even cursed by the Holy Arcane! a lost cause! The entire fuckin' world relies on the Arcane in one way or another, but oh, it seems like you are damned even by it! Respect the strong, and you'd better stick your shitty useless tongue and lick off your blood from my boots… they worth far more than it, you arrogant wretch!" As onlookers in the vicinity gaze upon the thugs and the injured young man, a noticeable reluctance to become entangled in the unfolding conflict permeates the crowd..

The half-elf raises his leg, intending to stomp down on Danrick's face with his leather boot. However, in a sudden, agile move, Danrick leaps backward, extending his straight arms toward the ground, supporting his body with his hands and legs he executes a swift backflip.

He straightens his left leg andmanages to strike the half-elf's chin forcefully, sending him staggering backwards.

Danrick swiftly rises to his feet, a glint of unwavering determination emanating from his emotionless eyes. He stretches his limbs and body, preparing for the impending clash. Meanwhile, the half-elf's once-arrogant smirk fades into a seething rage. He extends his arm to his side and conjures a jet-black, one-handed axe into existence.

Simultaneously, the female centaur lifts her legs and strikes the ground, causing tremors to ripple outward. She then raises her arms, and debris from the surroundings starts to levitate around her "1st tier - Elemental Magic: Enflame" while her voice echoes through the street, flames suddenly materialize around the hovering debris. In a blazing spectacle, the flames engulf the debris, turning them into fiery projectiles, adding a dangerous twist to the confrontation. "My condolence, Mr. Braindust, I reject your lesson. What, after all, does true strength and power mean? To submit or to fight even when you can barely stand? I choose to defy fate itself, even if it will lead me down the strifing end, I shall never bow down!" Danrick replies with a slight glimmer, as if the fight reawakens his confidence and resolve.