Chapter 1: The Birth

It was a beautiful day, the sun was up, the sky was clear, and the air was fresh with slight residues of the morning dew. Yet something just was not right. It was as if the sun had risen from the west, but is still shining nonetheless, or the morning mist was fading, but not rising. There was a certain tension in the air, a certain apprehension of a catastrophic disaster. Everyone in Twin City could feel it; everyone, except little Harold. Harold had been brought into this world just the night before. And it was said that the birds had all awoken at his cries and had chirped and sang through the night. Neighbors had reported seeing pheasants and turtledoves in the city itself, a feat unheard of after the establishment of heavily armed guards at the various entrances into the capital city. Almost immediately, Harold's parents noticed that their son wasn't quite normal. He was abnormally small and seemed to enjoy the outdoors more than the indoors, but they loved their child with all their heart and dismissed his interests as merely curiosity. And so, Harold spent his early childhood in Twin City, as other normal children did.

"Harold! Breakfast is ready!"

Harold groaned and forced himself out of bed. His aching muscles refused to cooperate, sending stinging stabs of pain to his head as Harold rolled out of bed, nearly falling onto the carpet. It hurt to even move. The rigorous training that he had to endure every day was borderline torture. For eight years now, since Harold had been able to walk, he had been commuting to and from the training arena learning how to fight. That was the only profession available. The Pharmacist provided the food for the entire city, the Blacksmith provided the arms, the Seller taught specialized skills, the Warehouseman provided highly protected storages, and so on. The only profession left available was the fighters. With the countless consistently growing monsters right outside the city walls, there could never be enough fighters for the task of freeing the land from the monsters. Harold and all the other children were expected to master the art of war, to learn how to protect themselves as well as to take the offensive against the monsters.

Steadying himself on the handrail, Harold slowly stumbled downstairs to the breakfast table. With a groan, Harold eased himself into the chair as his mother served the usual: one stancher. Since Harold had been born, he had been fed stancher leaves, then the stems, and then as his teeth developed, the entire stancher. It was the staple for young children. Finishing his breakfast, Harold got up and marched back upstairs to change.

"Harold, will you hurry up please? You'll be late to training, and you know how the Birth Master doesn't like his pupils to be late," Harold's mother piped, glancing at the server time.

Clutching his light wooden bow, Harold joined his mother at the door and together, they hoped to school. With a kiss, Harold's mother left to kill monsters for Cloud Saint, the head of the Monster Extermination Corporation. Harold sighed and entered the door to yet another day of training.

To be Continue...