(Trigger warning: Physical Child Maltreatment)

"You're using words, but the thing about this world, is that the only universal language is violence."

- An Anarchist Pig

In one of the storage rooms of the Castle of Folde hid a little boy. He was shivering, his legs hugged by his arms with his face planted on them, not out of cold; muffled sobbing could be heard in the dusty room.

"M-Mommy…" cried the boy.

A slightly older voice resounded from outside the room, "Oh, Thomas. This is your last chance to get out of the room."

Hearing no response, the voice continued, "I guess you don't really care about your mom's rapier, huh? I'll just have the blacksmith melt it, then."

It didn't take five seconds for the door to open.

"Give that back..." demanded little Thomas as he jumped forward to grasp his mother's blade.

Only to feel air come out of his lungs and pain shooting through his entire abdomen. He fell to his knees before lying on the carpeted floor.

"You damned bastard! You'll pay for what your traitorous mother did!" shouted the boy's half brother as he began punching and kicking him, letting go of the sheathed rapier.

Thomas took the weapon and hugged it as he did the best he could to curl himself up. He pleaded, "P-Please, stop. It hurts…"

"What was that? I can't hear you," mocked the older boy as he kept hitting the younger one.

"Stop…"

A punch.

"Stop."

A kick.

"Stop it!" exclaimed the youngest prince, unshielding his face to glare at him.

To that, he received a punch to the face. "Why should I? Your mother didn't listen when she killed my mother! Tell me, you damned traitor! Why should I!?"

Thomas just stayed silent, still hugging the rapier. Not long after, noises came from the other side of the hallway. It was the servants calling for the princes.

"Tsk." The older boy looked down on Thomas and said, "You aren't worthy of being called a Folde."

He continued, "When I become emperor, I'll have your head. I will find your mother, Elizabeth Slate, and have her head too! And then, I will hunt down every single Slate and have them burn as my pyre in the night! This, I swear on my name as Henry Folde!"

His half brother Henry walked away, leaving him bruised and in tears.

Two people were currently facing each other in the backyard of Victoria Goa's house. The backyard was mostly barren in the middle, surrounded by grass on the edges and a tall tree on one side. The twins were watching through a window from the kitchen. Thomas flashed a challenging grin towards the man who introduced himself as Voltaire. It didn't take long to convince the black outfitted man to battle him; the kids themselves wanted to see it happen. He went on his usual stance with his mother's rapier in hand. The wind blew on his wheat colored hair. He squinted his crimson eyes as his bangs neared them, before he combed it back with his free hand.

The man opposite to him stood impassively, seemingly undeterred by anything. He didn't even go into any combative stance. Thomas' grin became wider. After his master challenged Jack's master, Thomas knew he couldn't go out fully against the other boy. If he did, then he wouldn't only betray his master's anticipation, but also of everyone else's involved. While he looked forward for that day to come, he couldn't really wait or stay still for that long. He'd been piling up some heat since his last spar and needed to let off some steam. Fortunately it didn't take long to find someone to fight; someone stronger than him.

"Before we begin, I would like to ask you your name," said the man suddenly.

He answered as usual, "Thomas Slate."

The man titled his head. "A noble son?"

"Something like that." He shrugged his shoulders.

Voltaire nodded and continued, "Well, then. Come at me any time."

As soon as he finished those words, the boy jumped at him, his rapier aimed to pierce him. Volgoa focused deep into himself. He sensed the twin orbs circling inside his soul; one red and one white. He pulled out the red one using his skill, [Golgota]. The Mocking Demon, as he called it, wielded a gigantic wooden stake and had the power to cast illusions on his target. He didn't know what they were about, just that when it used its power, his enemies almost always became provoked by it. The demon came out of his body and launched itself, aiming the longer weapon at the boy.

Thomas saw this and activated his skill, [Prisoner]. An earthen spike erected from the ground to pierce the approaching entity. [Prisoner] wasn't originally able to do this. At first, it was only able to cover him inside a triangular pyramid shaped from three triangular walls surrounding him. But, with the help of his master, he was able to somewhat control its shape and point its location. The red winged thing used its stake to block and ram through it.

Volgoa narrowed his eyes. The ground wasn't safe, he thought. He quickly summoned his angel to carry him onto the top of the tree that was on the side. Unlike his other summon, the angel did not attack despite wielding a sharp scythe (although, it did good at deterring enemies and feinting attacks with its weapon). Instead, it had a power connected to the stake the demon carried. Any blood spilt on the stake will connect its owner's sense of pain to the angel. The angel would then harm itself using its scythe, hurting the victim in the process. Although the victim would not bear the injuries, they would feel an equal amount of pain. He named it the Repenting Angel. Volgoa decided not to use its power, using it only for its ability to carry him and fly.

He had recognized the boy from the festival almost a week ago and had remembered what that woman said to him. One of those boys was her son, and he wasn't going to take any chance to potentially anger that woman by hurting her child. He only complied with this spar in fear of displeasing that woman if he denied him the challenge.

Thomas narrowed his eyes when he saw the man get carried by a different creature up to the tree, but quickly dodged to the side to avoid a piercing attack by the red creature. He frowned. He could feel the lies in its attacks; the man was telling it to hold back. The man himself wouldn't fight him seriously. He knew he had little chance to beat this man since the very moment he felt the man's aura, but to be looked down upon like this… was unbearable. The young prince formed a plan; one that involved lifting off the ground. He made more similar exchanges with the red creature while slowly inching closer to the tree. When he felt it was close enough, Thomas launched himself using a platform made from [Prisoner]. He shot far higher than the tree before falling down.

"Sword arts..." started the boy as he pointed his rapier towards the man on the tree. "...Falling Swallow!" He activated his other skill, [Dragoon].

(I contemplated releasing this chapter. It was supposed to be longer, but it just didn't mesh well as one chapter, so I decided to split it. I also wasn't sure if this chapter is appropriate for the appropriate readers.)

(Tell me what you think of this one.)