Hey. This is my first story, so make sure to make the criticism as harsh as possible. If you have any advice, please don't hesitate to talk to me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story, and no, this isn't a self-insert.

My name is Terram Quintus Bellator. I was born to Flavio Bellator and Glacies Bellator on a farm that was built a few hours away from the coast of Menagerie, My father not being able to buy a house in the city, despite being a renowned huntsman and fighter, but the true reason he stayed at this old, decaying farm was because our family had built it long before the great war. My father was a... Ruthless man, for the first eight years of my life he simply ignored me.

My mother, on the other hand, cared greatly for me, picking me up when I fell down and helping me through the early years in my childhood. She was also the one who signed me up for classes at a school just on the edges of Menagerie, making sure I made it to and from school safely. My mother grew up outside of the walls of Vale, having already grown up on a farm and having met my father when he was on a mission.

I was born in the middle of summer, the summer that year was harsh and unforgiving, my parents had been stuck inside the farmhouse for a full two days after I was born because of a sandstorm. The sand let up after I had opened my eyes, though of course I don't remember much about my childhood. Most of my childhood memories are... Not very child friendly... The first few years of my life passed by rather uneventfully, being a quiet youth, I didn't have many friends.

I mostly preferred small groups of friends, or simply being by myself, working on Aura Manipulation or school work. Speaking of Aura Manipulation, we come to the part of my childhood that I remember completely, every scent, every feeling... My father started training me when I was 8, giving me one day to learn the basics, and then ramped the training up to difficulties that most huntsman train at. All out, no holding back.

Monday Morning, 6:02 AM

Terram just barely dodged a spear thrust from his father, the action flying at him at strangely quick speeds, his father simply carried the thrust through to a shield bash. The wooden rim of the shield crashing against the young boy's face, his aura shattering and nose snapping to a grotesque angle with a resounding crack. As soon as the bash connected, his father had dropped the shield and helped the boy lay back against a nearby tree, tears streaming down his sons face.

Terram's small cries soon died down to the occasional hiccup, his father tending to the wound on his nose, Terram whimpering out "D-dad, it h-hurts..." his father simply responded by grumbling out "Well, you lasted longer than you did last time. Take a deep breath and bite down on this." The father then held the rim of his shield up to the boy's mouth, the boy instantly chomping down without a second thought. Flavio looked down at his son, asking a simple "Ready?" waiting for Terram's head to nod, and then swiftly snapping his nose back into place, having been given basic medical knowledge in Beacon.

Terram let out a small gasp, but other than that, remained completely silent. After his father had placed a bright blue bandage onto his nose, Flavio stood, strapped his shield back on, and helped his son up. Terram nervously picking up his own sword and shield, placing himself in a very sloppy excuse for a stance, and let out a battle cry, charging straight at his father. Flavio, in turn, sidestepped the very clumsy strike, and gently shield bashed his son in the back.

Despite the gentle bash, the boy still fell to his knee, slowly standing back up and turning to face his father. His father rushed him, grabbing the sword from his son's hand and throwing it to the side, the wooden replica stabbing surprisingly deep into the soil. His son tries to shoulder bash his father while he's still throwing the sword, actually managing to get a good hit on him. Flavio turns down to look at his son, a small smile on his face, before grabbing the shield from his son and throwing it at the same spot he threw the sword.

Flavio turned to his son, strapping the shield to his arm and handing him his spear, the items weighing the 8 year old down quite a bit."Good one, Tem, you got me good with that one!"

Terram's face turned from a confused frown, to an ecstatic smile. "Wait really?! Did I get you super good?"

The grin on the father's face brightened slightly. "Yep. That one's gonna leave a mark!"

Terram suddenly noticed something, (Looking back on it, it was stupid of me not to notice this.) his father was finally talking to him! It had been years since they last had a conversation.

8 Years Later, Saturday Night, 8:00 PM, Behind The Farmhouse

Terram once again dodges his father's spear, responding by grabbing the staff of the spear and using it as leverage to deliver a harsh shoulder bash to his father, having gotten used to the rigorous training at this point. His father in turn pushes off the shield, pulling hard on his spear to force Terram to lose his balance and over-extend, granting himself a forceful kick to his chest from Flavio, feet leaving the ground briefly from the aura charged kick, back slamming against the Farmhouse wall.

They had recently switched their training spot to the back of the farmhouse due to Terram's mother having had enough of the battle scars left in the front yard. One particular battle scar being the first time Terram had even gotten close to breaking Flavio's aura, his father actually using his semblance against Terram. The family's semblance was a scary thing. Their semblance worked in a strange way, the ability to manipulate natural sources, such as dirt and rock, as well as various metals, but some metals can not be controlled by the two, like brass.

Back to the fight. Terram recovers from the shock of being kicked at full force, by bringing his shield up to block a strike from his fathers spear, and bashing as soon as the spear hits, the action causing his father to take a step back to recover. Using this to his advantage, Terram slashes with his dagger, before shifting it back to its other form and firing off a shot into his fathers side, once again shield bashing him to get some distance. Terram had invested into weapons, going to a blacksmith in vale and having his revolver daggers made. The revolvers were yet to be named at that point (Though now I call them Brick and Pestal.) but were colored a light golden with black accenting.

He had placed a bit of rock into the guard, so he could use them as throwing daggers, being able to retrieve them using his semblance. Throwing his shield to the side, the 12 year old boy rushes his father, his guard already broken, creating a small ramp for him using the ground beneath him, before taking a leap and pressing all his energy into feet, as well as forcing aura into his feet. The wooden shield his dad was using to defend him cracks and strains under the intense pressure, before the boy pushes off and fires a few shots at him.

His father responds by throwing his shield in an arc, the shield curving and slamming into Terram's side and, because of his momentum from the kick off, stumbles to the ground. Flavio uses this opportunity to throw his spear straight at his son, the spear slamming into the ground right next to Terram's head, signaling the end of the fight.

"Holy shit!" Terram bursts out, slightly scared at the spear protruding an inch from his head.

His father responds with a swift "Language! Now, get up, you gotta get some sleep tonight, you're going to that combat school tomorrow morning."

Terram's happy expression drops, instantly taking on a look of pure exhaustion. "Oh no... I'm not even packed up yet..." His expression changes once again, back to one of glee. "Actually, I gotta hurry, I have to pick up my new weapon from the blacksmith's super early tomorrow!"

His father too took on an expression of carefree nature "Aah, right! That... what did you call it? Battle-Axe Sniper Rifle? That's quite a long name..."

Terram turned around, already making his way inside, saying over his shoulder "I'll figure out a name at some point, good fight, Dad. Night!"

Sunrise, Monday Morning, 5:04 AM, Terram's Room

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The sudden incessant beeping is suddenly cut off as a stone crashes through the small machine and crushes it into many pieces, a groan punctuating the shattering of the alarm clock. A very frazzled looking Terram emerges from the bed residing in the center of the room. Brown hair erupting in many different directions, golden brown eyes lazily trying to focus in the dark of his room, the sun only just beginning to rise, his hand flicking to the right to sloppily switch the fire dust lantern on. His hand rises to his face, giving it a quick few slaps and sliding ungracefully out of his bed, feet hitting the ground with a muted thud, he stands, shivering at the cold wooden floor under his feet.

He slowly shuffles his way over to the bathroom connected to his room, having built it himself after getting fed up with the other bathroom being taken by the other two residents. His warm golden brown eyes take in the sight of his disheveled farm, flicking on the lantern next to the door and taking a second to fully scan his body. Messy brown hair, ending in light golden brown tips, his eyes, ignoring the sight of his hair, scan downwards, meeting his own eyes.

The golden brown orbs looked calm and focused, but also had a hint of something else in them, something wild. His eyes scan further downwards, realizing he doesn't have a shirt on because of the large claw-like scar running across his chest, as well as the many small scars received from either going on grimm hunts with his father, or training with him. His tanned skin marred by a myriad of scars, all differing in sizes, one even running from his left shoulder, to his right hip, two other claw mark scars running along with it.

He groans once again, taking a moment to splash some freezing cold water onto his face, taking in a sharp intake of breath, and exhaling heavily as the cold feeling rushes through his body. He turns to turn on the shower, preparing to do his normal morning activities, before suddenly realizing as he steps out of the shower, that he only has three hours to get his new weapon from the blacksmith, and get to Beacon. His golden brown eyes widen as the realization hits him, the color shifting to a deep burning orange, sparks of black intertwining inside of the iris.

"Oh shit..." Terram spouts out, quickly drying himself off by encasing himself in rock and then letting it crumble around him, the dirt absorbing the liquid dripping from his body. His body is completely wiped of dirt with a quick flash of his semblance, and quickly throwing a pair of clothes on, strapping his weapons to his belt, and making sure to strap the shield to his back correctly, having hit himself in the head many times over by strapping it to far up on his back. He prepares to leave the house, giving himself one more look in the mirror, admiring his choice in apparel.

Once again scanning down his body, he sees his brown hair, still messy, but at least somewhat presentable, he runs a hand through his hair one more time. Scanning lower, he once again meets his own eyes, the golden brown orbs still having flakes of black circling around his iris, he blinks once or twice, dispelling the strange material from his eyes. His once bare chest is now covered by a brown hoodie accented with a dark gold color, his family sigil custom made into the hoodie. Under the shirt was a golden shirt, accented with pitch black cloth, a golden battle axe printed on the front with the words "Get Axed!" printed on in a strange, regal looking font. Lowering his eyes further his legs are covered with golden shorts, this time accented with brown, his boots tying the whole outfit together, reinforced to provide better stability and improve the effectiveness of kicking.

His body was further covered by a thick bronze chest plate, fore-arms covered with bronze grieves and his shoulders protected by steel pauldrons painted with a warm looking golden brown paint, allowing him to effect the metal somewhat, but only to a small degree, slight movements and adjustments. His fists covered by a pair of brass knuckles, legs covered by knee pads and calf guards, both bronze in color, and the aforementioned boots. He smiles to himself, grabbing his bag and placing a thick bronze centurion helmet over his head, he begins his trek to Beacon, but not before saying a quick goodbye to his parents, giving them Beacon's contact information, if they wanted to send a letter.

Yes, I know, it's short. Honestly this is just a short test run before I actually get the story started. Don't worry, the next chapter will be much longer.

~Aether