Chapter 1:
As far as history goes, there has never been an instance of a being that could use nature to its will. Never was there anyone who could coexist and harmonize with the surroundings that mother Earth had to offer. Never was there someone able to control these things according to their will. Up until this world fell into an imbalance. About five hundred years ago, there was an event, in which people with powers were forged into existence. These people had what others had, not differing from the usual human kind: A heart, a body, a brain, a soul, a will. But their will, it was different. Unlike other humans, they could use it not solely to motivate themselves to reach their goals: No, they could change the world to their will. Nature itself had to obey those people, because of their will. It was said that there were so-called godfathers: Humans or spirits, perhaps gods, who descended upon this world from another one. These lived a life among the other humans, successfully hidden from the public of society. But with the godfathers came also evil: Spirits of the dead, materializations of plague, mischief, jealousy and evil began to roam the surface. Thus, technology collapsed. Technology of the convenient art was no longer usable, since an object of material was ineffective against a summon of evil. Civilisation retreated, accepting more rural life, traditional life. Inventions were never discarded, but they haven't been found in use for about five hundred years. At least not against the plaguing monsters. So, the time passed, as said, five hundred years, now an era of darkness: Murder isn't a moral dilemma, genocide neither. It is either "You die, or I will". No sane being would like to be born in these times, to tell the truth. But not everybody could be lucky enough to be born in other times. That goes for Jamono too. Anazuki Jamono. A child living in Europe, or fairly what has been once Europe. In a city, built atop the ruins of Florence. Poverty wasn't uncommon, rather in fact more common than living off the minimum. So he was pretty common, to say the least. In the Country of Lombardy, based on the ancient region with the same name. In this region, there were three clans who inhabited these lands: First was the Denari with its two bloodlines: Do and Chi. The Do ruled this soil for ages already, with them establishing themselves as the main bloodline and the sole inheritors for the throne. Then there were the Anazuki and Rokujaku. The Rokujaku clan was the strongest competitor for the throne, constantly battling with the Denari. These battles lasted for days, maybe weeks. Blood was shed and a cycle of violence was laid. Jamono was from the Anazuki. He had no family, nothing to call home, just a house, where he had to crawl in to escape the freezing temperatures of winter or rain. A painful life, if it was that to begin with. No, it wasn't life, it was more like torture. Sitting daily on a bench, begging for the last piece of bread, coin, sweet, clothing, anything that went. Depending on the kindness of others. If only there was a way out, if only there was a way for salvation. Anything would be fine, anything! Even if there might be the tiniest bit of hope, then even one single drop can still the thirst of a stranded for another second. He searched, he wandered, he thought. Thankfully for him, medicine was still effective against most of the diseases. Suffering was real, but there was relief from the plagues. At least some positive influence. One day, while wandering the streets, he found himself at the gate to an academy. That spot was a spot for praying. … No, not praying, more of a pleasant dream, never would he be able to get into that institution. Saddening, really. But a hand grabbed his shoulder and he turned: A man in a noble suit stood there smiling, holding Jamono's shoulder:
"Is this your school kid?"
Jamono immediately backed off and lowered his head whilst shaking it in fear:
"No, sir-"
"And would you like it to be?"