It was a nice day, the sun was high in the sky and in a small, wooden house, located in a village in the middle of the wilderness, a small boy, presumably a 4 year old child, and his parents. The family lived happily and with little misery, thanks to their lucrative and riveting job as priests. All was well, until a certain, awful day arrived.

It started like every other normal day, except this time a storm raged around the village.

The joyous family was in the living room as they hugged their child to console him against the heavy rain, but the small boy knew how this dream went by now. Suddenly, pained screams and the roaring of flames could be heard outside the house as the two parents stood up, abruptly ending the hug.

As their clothes were suddenly replaced by white and golden robes, the two adults left the house. At that point the building collapsed, revealing a black background lighted only by the flames of burning homes. Meanwhile hordes of skeletons and zombies stood among the village's ruins, still and with their eyes on the small boy.

But the child wouldn't stand idle in front of this massacre. Not anymore.

Instead of running away or standing there watching the gruesome spectacle, awestruck by horror and fear, he stood up and began to walk slowly (and a bit shakily) towards the horde. As he got closer, the child gradually started to become larger, taller and older as his muscles strengthened themselves.

And when he reached the horde, from which he could see a gleaming red light...

X X X

...Migoth Bresuma woke up. The 17 year old young man was sleeping in a large bed of simple design while covered only by a similarly large bed-sheet.

As Migoth yawned and shook his head, he got up from his resting place. Wearing only dark-yellow pants, Migoth had a mop of black hair, bright amber eyes, sharp jawlines and his skin was quite tan, having a milk-chocolate brown color. But his most distinctive feature was his musculature, for which he was nicknamed "Might": With a height of 195cm to enhance his stature, Migoth was very toned and had detailed muscled that were the envy of many, his back-muscles and pectorals were wide and robust, his 8-pack abdominals were sculptured yet flexible, his legs were powerful and elastic and his arms were lean yet strong. He has also had large hands and feet, which added to his intimidating appearance.

But appearance doesn't always define everything a person is and Migoth was far from malicious.

He sighed at the memories the dream had awaken and went to his drawer, where a mirror was positioned above it. He took a comb and began to adjust his messy hair, an action that his large hands made it more difficult than it should be, but after years of practice he could use the comb with little trouble. He knew that this action was quite useless, though, because his hair would get messy 5 minutes later while training. But he didn't really care.

Before exiting his small room, he opened the highest compartment of the forniture to take a few pictures. These photos were taken in important moments of his life and "documented" his journey. This was a small ritual that he would practice nearly every morning to remember where he started and how he attained his giant-like strength.

The first picture showed him at the age of 4, smiling brightly with his parents at his sides, giving him a side-hug as they were clad in white and golden robes, their clean and ordered appearance normal among clerics. Of course, this happiness didn't last forever as a horde of undead monsters came a month later and destroyed the village, killing all who dwelled in it, including his parents, who went into the fray to save people while he hid like a scaredy cat. But not anymore. Migoth now had the strength only few could hope to achieve and he would use it to make these monsters pay, as well as to make sure nothing of the sort happens ever again. He had a sad look while looking at this picture, but he shook his head and moved to the next one.

This one showed Migoth at the age of 8, while he was clad only in black shorts, sweating and panting with a pained look in his face as a large and stocky man stood there laughing at him. Despite what the picture showed, the man didn't mean any disrespect or malice. His name was Grimdarl, a legendary adventurer who trained countless men and women into powerful soldiers and adventurers alike. Grimdarl also seemed to be a grandmaster of some kind of guild, but Migoth didn't remember clearly the details. What he DID remember, however, was that Grimdarl took him the day following his village's destruction and gave him the dream and the chance to avenge his parents...

...in the form of a ridiculous training regimen that would've definitely killed any other child. But Migoth had a powerful will, a fiery drive and something else that was seemingly inherent to his body.

Even with all the pain and fatigue that training brought upon his physical body and mind, Migoth toughened through all of it and developed the unique physique he was known for in the training camp.

Migoth moved on the third picture, showing him at the age of 12, clad in the same shorts, with many bleeding cuts and with more muscles than a child of that age should have, barely managing to stand triumphantly on a lifeless body of a much larger, beaten-to-death Hook Horror. Yes, when Migoth reached the age of 11, Grimdarl did the unthinkable and brought him to an underground arena in order to battle bare-handed, simply because he was unable to use weapons (be it a sword or a bow). At least Grimdarl first let the boy see the creatures he would fight, which ranged from large rabid animals to ferocious monsters. Migoth remembered how scared he was the first time he saw them, but the seasoned adventurer reasoned with him, saying to the child that he would have to kill them to become strong and protect those he would later care about.

With that, Migoth's drive and strengthening body did the rest.

From there, he fought any sort of animal to real-life-monsters as Migoth was bombarded with slashing, bludgeoning, piercing and nearly any sort of elemental attack. Coupled with the still-ongoing hellish training regimen, Migoth was faced with a dire challenge, one that almost killed him more than twice, but he managed to develop his courage as well as his muscles, not backing down from any enemy or attack. He also learned...other sides of his personality and made a promise to himself and to his late parents. The arena definitely was an experience, one that he finished just three months ago and one he would never repeat again...if he had the choice and another kind of mentor.

He reopened the drawer to put back the three photos when he glanced at a pile of dusty books. They were five in total, four rather small and one quite large.

Migoth grimaced as he remembered what those books was about. These four were collections of bedtime stories and popular myths his mother and father would tell him respectively. As for the fifth one...

Years ago, the training Grimdarl put him through gave him little time for himself, but at least Migoth, through Grimdarl's help, managed to obtain his parents' old book of clergy. The young man foolishly hoped to become a cleric like his parents by studying this book, but without a teacher to...well...teach him what the book's writing even meant, it was just a waste of time. He still kept the holy book as a memory of one of the things his parents bound their lives to.

Migoth also saw the small, dark-orange bear plushie he used to hug in his sleep when he was way younger. He liked to think about it as a relic of a happier, long-distant past.

He closed the drawer and glanced at the door, hearing a loud cacophony of voices, signal that the others were awaken too.

X X X

Migoth exited his room and saw the people heading to the training camp, another sign that he missed breakfast. Though he didn't really care, as he could withstand hunger pretty well.

All of them were males, shirtless to boot, because of Grimdarl's idea of manliness. If Migoth was the only one shirtless, he would have felt more uncomfortable.

He shrugged off these thoughts as he, like many others, went outside.

It a sunny day as the blue sky was complemented by few wandering clouds, Migoth could even see the simple and faraway shapes of birds. The majesty of the sky above contrasted heavily against the rustic and barren look of the camp, from the naked ground complemented by a few rare patches of grass to the old wood and weathered stone of the surrounding buildings.

Beside the barracks the residents inhabited, the facility Grimdarl directed was made of four training camps: the far-right camp was for beginners and as such was called "Beginners' camp".

The right camp was for those who had some physical preparation, but no real fighting skills and was called "Learning camp".

The left one was for those who had both physical preparation and fighting skills and was called "Fighters' camp".

Migoth moved with other men to the far-left camp, reserved for those who had great physical prowess and fighting skills, called "Champions' camp". In that camp, littered with large boulders and heavy training equipment, a lot of men were training the various parts of their bodies, ranging from their arms, their legs to their torsos.

They were all older than Migoth and because of that they silently shunned him, despite being far stronger than them, but the young man preferred it that way. They didn't really have anything interesting to say anyway.

He sat down and took two large, one-handed weights. These weights were made exactly for him and weighed 300 kg each, but Migoth could lift them with little trouble.

As he was doing this activity, he eyed two men fighting with greatswords and his mood fell a little. Despite his physical prowess, Migoth could never effectively use a sword, always swinging it like a club. Honestly, after trying and failing with many different types of melee weapons, he finally understood that he couldn't effectively use any kind of weapon at all!

Migoth still remembered that one time in the "Fighters' camp", three years ago, when an older man challenged him to a sword duel and, as Migoth prepared an attack, he threw his weight foward too much and at the wrong time, resulting in the opponent slashing at Migoth's neck by accident. Migoth wasn't hurt at all (it wasn't the first time that happened) and the attack didn't even leave a scratch, but his stunned and fearful expression, coupled with his awful swordmanship, made him the camp's laughing stock for an entire week.

That wasn't a pleasant experience at all and Migoth never wanted to remember it.

After lifting his weights 50 times each, Migoth passed to push-up, of which he did five thousand in order for them to actually mean something, so he had to speed them up in order not to do a single exercise for the rest of the morning.

Migoth remembered when these exercises actually held meaning. When he was younger, these activities were a painful challenge, especially when Grimdarl introduced him to the arena; but this challenge brought its prizes, as he could physically feel getting stronger over months.

Now, however? Not only he had done these exercises for more than a decade, as Grimdarl refused to give him different ones, but his strength worked "aganist" him because now he could do these activities without a single drop of sweat. It was utterly boring and he still exercised simply to keep his muscles from getting rusty.

Later in the morning, after doing push-ups and sit-ups, the bell on top of the barracks sounded three times, signaling the start of the running exercise, an activity that the components if each camp had to do separately.

As he went to the locker rooms to wear his weights, he saw two older boys (presumably from the Fighters' camp) fight aganist a younger one (probably from the Learning camp). Migoth stopped immediately and turned towards the three, ready to stop the fight.

Despite not thinking much about the presence of beginners, he still detested "Rookie Crushing", which was a very popular event around here, and always looked foward to ruin them whenever possible, and sometimes even when not.

Migoth strolled up to them, the older boys not noticing him, until he shouted "Leave him alone and get lost!"

The two turned around to see who was interrupting their "fun" and upon seeing the large stature of Migoth, the two run away to the lockers. Another thing that Migoth liked about his muscles was that the intimidating effect they had avoided him a lot of pointless fights. Then remained only him and boy, the former extended a hand to the latter as he asked "Are you okay?"

Looking better at him, Migoth could deduce that he was at least 15 years old and had a respectable musculature, not as grand as the older boys of the Fighters' camp, but still really good for a beginner. If he trained harder, the kid could definitely get strong in some time.

What made Migoth raise an eyebrow was his height, a "meager" 169cm which was below average compared to the others.

Seeing as those that get bullied often become outcasts, this caused the idea of becoming friends with him to bloom in his heart. This thought filled Migoth with happiness, but the younger boy had only fear in his eyes as he eyed Migoth's monstrous muscles and retreated in the lockers too, without even as much of a thank you.

Migoth was stunned, but only for little time as his mind settled in a calm sadness. That was yet another one of those occasions when his immense physique worked aganist him.

Without another word, he went to the lockers, no doubt nearly everyone else already prepared.

It turned out that there were still people in the lockers, who were having trouble putting their weights on, the new models proving to be a bit of a challenge even for those who knew what they were doing. Luckily for Migoth, his weights, even though weighed much more than the other ones, were still the older models and as such he had no trouble adjusting them.

Done that, the run was uneventful: just five laps around the whole facility while trudging in mud, branches and roots. Nothing special, really.

After that, sweaty and smelly, the groups of men went to the showers, still divided just like the camps. Migoth went there as well, simply to get rid of the mud and leaves. These days he couldn't remember the last time he actually sweated or even when branches and mud irritated him. It made these running exercises much less detestable, but it made feel even more boring. Migoth finished to wash himself, exited the showers and went to dry himself outside with nothing but a towel on. At first it made him feel uncomfortable to have nearly no clothing on, even as everyone else had towels, but the the young man saw everyone not minding naked people and decided that it was "okay" enough for him.

Migoth sat up on the grass, letting the sun heat his body and rid it of the water, and prepared himself for yet another lonely wait as he saw the others forming groups. However, that day would be different.

Migoth felt the grass shift beside him and turned to his left just to see the same boy he helped before sitting with him. Now that he looked at him better, he could see his wet blonde hair glistening in the sun's light and his timid yet deep purple eyes. Migoth remembered that he also wore dark-red shorts.

The boy's friendly gesture made Migoth slightly smile, but he hid it as a habit.

"S-so, um...thanks for helping me out...and s-sorry I didn't thank you before!" the boy hastily said as he avoided eye-contact. Migoth sighed and said "Don't worry about it, I hate Rookie Crushing too. Did you still manage to run the five full laps? Those can often prove too much for beginners"

The boy seemed to relax a little and looked into his amber eyes before squirming a little and lowering his gaze.

"Y-yeah, the weights made running d-difficult, and I'm also building a r-resistance to p-pain, so these b-beatings aren't as b-bad anymore" the boy timidly said as he tried to not look at Migoth in the eyes while not back down at the sight his chest-muscles.

At that point Migoth asked himself if he was really that intimidating, or if the kid was that shy...

...Probably the former, but still, in order to be in this camp, one had to have a tough spirit, unable to back down from anything, or so Grimdarl said. Seeing as this camp was mostly unforgiving on the emotional side, he was led to believe it.

And yet...Migoth felt as if there was something odd about this boy, his smell felt strange to the young man and he didn't look exhausted enough for someone in the Learning Camp. In some extreme cases there were people so tired they simply collapsed at the end of the running exercise and Migoth helped them out whenever he could.

One of the lessons the young man remembered his parents teaching him was to help those in need no matter what.

Migoth lowered his gaze as well to meet the the boy's and said "By the way, what's your name? Mine is Migoth, but I guess you already know that..."

"M-my name is Iseldo, n-nice to meet y-you" the newly-identified boy said between stutters. Migoth was confused by Iseldo's increasing stutters, but then realized that he was looking at him with a powerful gaze and his upper body was bearing over Iseldo's in a manner that could honestly be seen as threatening.

After realizing this, Migoth backed down, softened his gaze and said, with a smile he didn't know was appearing "Nice to meet you too and...I didn't mean to frighten you or...anything like that"

After saying that, Migoth slowly extended his hand, unsure if his words conveyed what he meant or if they were even needed at all, but Iseldo hesitantly took it and Migoth decided it wasn't anything worth worrying over. As the two shook hands, that was the start of a small friendship.

After that Iseldo asked him "So, what do you when you don-" but was cut off by the sound of a bell, signaling the start of lunch.

At that, the men stoop up and began walking (or running) to the lockers and then to the cafeteria.

"We'll continue this talk later. You should really eat something after those laps" Migoth said simply as he stood up and began walking, Iseldo following suit.

X X X

Later, in the cafeteria, the two new friends sat at a table after taking their lunch. While Migoth had a large stake, Iseldo only had some pieces of cooked meat. The rations were, again, changing depending on the camp one was part of.

"Here, if you eat that little you'll never get stronger" Migoth said as he gave Iseldo a piece of his stake. "R-really? Thanks!" the smaller boy responded as he took the piece of meat.

The two ate in silence, Migoth eating his stake and Iseldo both eating and looking at the other tables, full of men laughing or talking loudly.

"You know" started Iseldo, breaking the silence "I thought that being the strongest would make you more popular around here...". Migoth looked at him in the eyes and said "That's how it should work, but I'm different: I was trained by Grimdarl himself ever since I was a child, an honor that these people would probably kill to have. Also...through this whole training, I began growing muscles that no other child had up to that time. I am a force of nature, nurtured by discipline, sheer force of will and (utterly ridiculous) training, but I'm too young to be this strong and, because of this, they" Migoth stopped and pointed his eyes at the other men "see me as an anomaly and shunned me as a result"

Iseldo was stunned for a moment, but mustered enough courage to say "Wait, how old are you?" "17 years old, why?" Migoth answered. The smaller gasped quietly and said, in a quiet voice "You're not that older than me then, just one year!"

Iseldo nodded, but then became somber as he said "So THAT is like to be to be the strongest around here? That's a bummer...". Migoth tried to joke as he answered with "Nah, other than being the strongest, you also have to be older than the rest of them to get that amount of respect, but I think no one can train themselves to get older faster" he then got serious again and said "I also don't fit in the group: they're too loud for me and most of the time don't say anything worth listening to, so you can also chalk it to that, I guess"

Iseldo nodded understandably, then asked Migoth "So...what do you do when you don't train?" "What do you mean?" Migoth in turn asked.

"You know...going outside the camp for the weekend, taking on missions...stuff like that" Iseldo explained and Migoth's gaze fell "Honestly, I never went outside the camp, too busy training to become stronger, but in between I just think about my past experiences" he earnestly answered.

"Wait, for how long have you been in the camp?" Iseldo asked and Migoth took some time before answering "Grimdarl brought me here and trained me ever since I was four years old. He took me in when the village I used to live in was destroyed by monsters, so this place is technically my home" he said in a sad tone, revealing a piece of his history that he told to no one. The young man also shivered inwardly upon reviewing the memories of his time in the arena.

'At least I'm glad I'll never visit that place again' Migoth thought to himself in satisfaction 'Although as I am now, the only monster in there that would give me trouble is that dragon'

Iseldo immediately asked him "So you're an orphan too? I'm glad I wasn't the only one!". Migoth looked at him for a moment and said "Now it's my turn for asking questions. How did you become an orphan?". Likewise, Iseldo took some time before answering "I never met my parents. Some farmers took me in when I was an infant, but after some years...monsters attacked and I was forced to run away. Since then, I lived in the wilderness until I met...a really nice girl who offered me shelter. I joined the camp last year to get stronger, but this place doesn't seem to be working out for me, so I agreed to her request to simply join the Musian Guild right away"

"Hold on, what's the Musian guild? Something that can get me out of this place? I've always wanted to explore the outside world!" Migoth asked with a lot of curiosity, suddenly leaning towards Iseldo. The younger boy looked uncomfortable at Migoth's overbearing chest muscles, so he made some distance between themselves before saying "Well, every year there's this event that lets the components of each camp (minus the Beginners' camp) have a chance of joining the Musian guild, partly run by Grimdarl. It's called like that because it's in Musia, the capital of Etherington. While it's not the BEST Guild in the region, the Musian Guild is still quite large with many branches across Etherington and a great selection of missions to choose from. Although...well...participating in this event is tricky because it happens once a year and the older guys say that the test is very hard. You essentially show up to a certain person who is supposed to be Grimdarl's right hand man and if he gives you the okay, you get to participate to the actual event in the nearby area..."

Migoth thought about this information. On the outside he didn't show much emotion, but on the inside inside, his excitement was off the charts. Migoth could finally exit this boring place and fight monsters to save people, the very goal he trained so hard for! He could also use this chance and explore the outside world...and perhaps get to the bottom of what exactly went down that stormy day in his village.

So, very calmly, Migoth asked Iseldo "Ok, when is this event exactly?" "It's today" the younger boy answered immediately. Migoth was now agitated by the question, but before having the possibility to ask anything else, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the resuming of the training.

"Don't worry, I'll tell you later!" Iseldo reassured a increasingly agitated Migoth, who was not even trying to hide his annoyance at the schedule's ill timing.

X X X

The next hours of training were as uneventful as they could be. One-handed lifting, two-handed lifting, push-ups, sit-ups and even longer running exercise, this time taking place across the nearby mountain.

It was now evening as the sky darkened and the moon was rising into the sky. During this time men made their way to the showers, shoving and pushing each other out of the way in order to get there first. Their movements were slower due to overall fatigue, but this didn't stop the waiting line to turn into a chaotic river of muscle, skin, hair, sweat and a little leather too.

'Looks like the fatigue, the cold wet mud and the chilly gusts of wind really does a number on them' Migoth thought as he observed, with calm and patient eyes, the whole show. Truth to be told, Migoth also wanted to get to the showers, simply to wash out the mud, foliage and the little drops of sweat on his skin. Things like heat, cold and environmental hazards didn't mean much to him anymore.

He considerably upped his training regimen to give some meaning to what would be the last session on this camp.

He also felt Iseldo shiver by his side as the smaller boy side-hugged him in a feeble attempt to resist the cold sensation of the wind and the mud. Though touch Migoth could also feel that Iseldo was quite tired as well.

That was his other reason to get to the showers as soon as possible, but there was also the fact that he was, quite frankly, getting tired of people bumping aganist his right arm, which Migoth using to both shield Iseldo and warm him up. After some minutes of increased pushing and shivering, Migoth decided to flex his arm so that people could get the idea that he was getting annoyed.

Eventually, they arrived at the showers and both boys sighed in pleasure as the steaming-hot water run down their naked bodies, washing their sweat, grime and fatigue off them. Migoth also noted Iseldo blushing as he did his best to hide his private parts. The larger boy didn't mind it, remembering that he would act the same way when he was younger.

After exiting the showers, Migoth and Iseldo sat on the grass, the whole scene having a calm tune as the moon's light shined above and the place was slightly illuminated by tall torches.

Migoth decided to shut off his eyes, tuning out the laughs of the others and focusing his earing on the calmer sounds of nature, like the buzzing of the few solitary fireflies and the quiet, yet ever-present, cries of the crickets.

Then Migoth was brought back to reality as he felt Iseldo shiver beside him, so the larger boy reached for him and scooped Iseldo up with his left arm. The smaller boy yelped as he was brought in contact with Migoth's muscled side and looked at the other way, blushing lightly.

"Don't get the wrong idea" Migoth reassured Iseldo "Staying like this in the night can get you some bad colds, and I'm speaking from personal experience"

Iseldo looked up at him and said "Oh, it wasn't for that! I'm not really used to physical contact..."

Migoth certainly could understand that, since for much of his life the hard part of physical contact was the norm and the soft part practically non-existent.

"You're not really as invulnerable as I thought you to be..." Iseldo said to Migoth and the latter simply nodded, but then remembered their other conversation and asked the smaller boy "So, when does this event start? Are we gonna be late?"

Iseldo was further brought into contact with Migoth, as his muscles hardened and flexed because of the sudden rush of panic. He 'calmly' said "D-don't worry about it! I-it starts in two hours and we only have to show up at the announcement hall with our belongings-" he was however cut off when Migoth suddenly got up and said "Then I'm not wasting time. We're getting out of here as soon as possible" as he ran towards the showers to get his shorts. His steps also caused the ground in a small radius to shake slightly.

Iseldo watched with scared awe and began to follow him back to the showers.

X X X

Migoth was back in his room, clad in his dark-yellow shorts, as he opened the small backpack to double check if he had brought everything he owned. Inside the backpack there were his books, including his parents' book of clergy, his old teddy bear, his photos and a comb.

Migoth nodded satisfied with himself and exited his room, backpack slung along his massive back, and found Iseldo happily waving at him from the other end of the large corridor. Migoth smiled at him and the two made their way to the announcement hall, finding few men around, so the two figured that the others were probably sleeping soundly.

They arrived at the announcement hall and Iseldo pointed to Migoth the man they had to speak with.

The two made their way to the person in question, whom Migoth knew as Groink, one of Grimdarl's adventuring companions, a tall man with a slender yet muscular build, tanned skin and short spiky black hair.

"So you're the only ones that want to join the Musian guild, huh?" he said, then turned to Migoth and said "Never thought I'd see you leaving big boy. You better use this opportunity to bring honor and fame to the camp!" as he pumped a fist in the air. The man turned to face Iseldo and said "And you...will also be able to leave and join the Musian Guild, in extraordinary circumstances"

As he said that, the man's eyes seemed to be clouded by a mist, but Migoth wasn't paying too much attention, wrapped in his own excitement, so he could have been mistaken. Iseldo also said nothing about it, also very excited about the news, so Migoth thought nothing of it.

The man suddenly began walking to the double-faced door and gestured the two boys to follow him, his movements resulting wobbly. Migoth definitely noticed that, but the duo still complied. So the three men exited the main barracks of the camp, walking a path Migoth knew well.

The group eventually arrived at a square-shaped clearing with rows of small houses on the right and the arena on the left. The dark, dome-shaped stone building almost brought Migoth on a trip down the memory lane, but he managed to snap out of it, now a bit on edge.

Would they have to fight monsters to prove their worth? Migoth had no doubts about his own, he was in fact looking forward to put his muscles through some real use and end his last day at the camp with a bang, but then the young man looked at Iseldo and worry crept in his mind once again.

Even though he had respectable muscles, that boy was nice and timid, and he practically looked harmless! There was no way he would be able to keep calm with several bloodthirsty monsters in front of him, much less win an actual fight against them!

Besides, Migoth also didn't know if Iseldo even knew how to fight in the first place. If the situation this morning was of any indication, then...

Migoth shook his head and tried to think about other things, like the building's structure. The dome-shaped part only constituted the entrance of the actual arena, which was located way deep underground.

Migoth knew the placements of the stalls where one could spectate the fights. 'As soon as Iseldo's turn comes, when the monster arrives I'll just have to smash through the reinforced metal bars and save him!' Migoth thought about his plan and decided it was worth a shot.

"Alright boys, you can choose which house you like. Sleep well for tonight, tomorrow Grimdarl's gonna come to evaluate you both" Groink said as he walked away.

Migoth was confused by this turn of events, but quickly reasoned that Grimdarl probably intended them to rest first and THEN take on the test. 'Well, my plan if Iseldo needs help will stay the same anyway' Migoth calmly thought as his mind lingered on the arena.

After all, Migoth knew from personal experience how traumatic and unforgiving that place could be.

"This is it, Migoth. Tomorrow we're going to join an actual guild!" Iseldo said with a voice dripping with excitement and Migoth said with a smirk "Yeah, I can finally put my training to use" as his muscles bulged and hardened, reflecting the boy's excitement.

Iseldo then let out a yawn and sleepily said "Well, I'm going to bed. Night Migoth"

"Good night, Iseldo" Migoth said as he too went to bed, not noticing a figure moving from behind him, their steps as silent and graceful as a cat's.

X X X

Night had finally fallen, and the thick forest that surrounded the expansive yet spartan training camp changed its appearance, as most predators returned to their lairs and prey scurried out of theirs, deciding that now was a safer time to go and gather food for themselves and their offsprings.

One such specimen was a large rat, about the size of a fully-grown dog, scurrying around bushes and trunks of trees in order to find delicious berries and avoid eventual predators such as those strange Stirges and large boars. As the animal continued its usual trip throughout the forest, it felt that something was wrong.

As the large rat stood still inside of a particularly thick bush, it surveyed its surroundings to find out the source of the wrongness that kept nagging at its brain.

After a few minutes of scouting the large rat saw that the weather was calm, no traps were in its vicinity and the food it gathered was just as good as that of every other day. Thus the large rat came to the only possible conclusion.

A predator must be around somewhere, but where-

The animal had no time to finish its thought as a pair of fangs tore into the bush and stabbed themselves into the animal with savage speed tempered by cold precision, its snout contorted into an expression of terror as it couldn't find the strength to screech or the mental capacity to feel the pain.

Before the large rat could comprehend what had just happened poison immediately flooded the prey's bloodstream as its limp body was dragged out of the bush by the grisly maw, revealing the mysterious predator.

It was a tarantula, in size larger than a horse with a wide maw sporting two large dagger-like teeth; her equally wide, flat head was adorned with eight crimson eyes shining in the darkness of the canopy like rubies; lastly, her hairy exoskeleton was bone-white and somewhat thin, hinting at the spider's young age.

With the prey tightly kept in her mouth, the predator jumped over the bush and made her way home, uncaring to conceal her presence as she was confident in her ability to fend off or outrun whatever enemy came her way.

She skittered out of the woods and into a small clearing where a lone tent stood, her master standing right in front of it as his short silver hair shone in the moonlight.

"Moonshine!" a youthful voice called to his lifelong companion.

It belonged to a small boy, about 15 years of age, who ran up to the giant albino spider and affectionately stroked her head. Moonshine then proudly showed her owner her newest catch, to which the young boy responded by fawning on the giant spider, stroking her fur with both hands very gently.

The boy was named Faen Shackle, he was 154cm tall, had unearthly black skin, shining purple eyes with black scleras, long pointed ears and wore a simple white short-sleeved shirt and white shorts.

He was a drow, a subspecies of elves that committed heinous crimes many eons ago and were sentenced to live away from the light by their gods. Thus they created cities in the Underdark, where every day acts of unimaginable cruelty take place, either on each other or whatever intelligent races were unfortunate enough to be captured by raiding parties during the night. But among the population some drow do not like this lifestyle and so leave for the surface to start a new life.

Faen was one among them.

Suddenly he heard rustling a few ways behind him, causing the young drow to fumble around his pouch, worn at his hip, and wore a special ring.

It was a Ring of Hiding, crafted using magical metals both from the Overworld and the Underdark, and it was used by drow to conceal their presence, essentially turning them into elves. A wave of relief washed through him as his body changed into a more pleasing form, his white hair turning pale blond in color, his skin becoming fair and his eyes turning into a soft green surrounded by white.

With his appearance taken care of, Faen turned around to greet his teammate. She was a young girl about the same age as him with shoulder-length orange hair, but she was taller at about 163cm, had tanned skin and her body, while slender, was considerably more toned and had noticeably more muscle.

She also wore simple clothes, but they were brown in color and instead of pants she wore a skirt of medium length.

"Oh hi Xinjiang, what are you doing here?" he asked as she got closer to him with a tired and somewhat annoyed expression, making her sharp steel grey eyes even sharper, and replied "You're way past your bedtime and I'm going to drag you back to bed whether you want it or not. Musia isn't too far from here, but I know how you become when you don't get enough sleep"

Faen nodded as the uncomfortable memory of her hauling his half-asleep body around, whether back in the dojo or in the wilderness, resurfaced in his mind and said "Oh, I was just waiting for Moonshine to finish her nightly hunt" as the giant spider galloped forth and eagerly showed Xinjiang her catch, although there was some hesitancy in her steps towards the human girl.

Xinjiang noticed and made her a friendly grin as she stepped forward and looked at her newest prey. "That's a pretty good catch, Moonshine!" the girl said as she gave the large spider some headpats, however she quickly took a few steps back from the girl as she was too rough with her petting.

Faen then went beside Moonshine as he began stroking her fur in a more delicate manner and said "yeah, we'll be right back, have a happy night stroll!"

"Ok then, I'll go to bed then" Xinjiang said nonchalantly as she turned around and towards the tent, but she wasn't smiling anymore.

Now she knew his companion's secret, and she wasn't happy one bit.

Well everyone, after several months, here is the first Chapter of the first story I was supposed to upload this year!

I swear, this got through MANY changes. First being about four characters, then having four more added because I deleted the story they were supposed to be in and then I noticed the spells some characters had didn't make sense for their level at the start of the story (I still have to work on that by the way). I think you can see that from the title itself too...and the fact that I wrote no introduction when working on the chapters.

Rant aside, I will publish the second chapter this afternoon (or immediately, depending on my speed). The rest of this story will come slowly as you might have guessed, but no matter.