Brom lived his life being miserable, but he didn't hate being miserable. All he knew was that he would starve to death if people didn't see the miserable state he was in. Brom understood that he could cling on to life only because of the pity people took in him.

It was a cold winter. He sat in a corner s.h.i.+vering. A girl who lived in the slums just like him moved closer to him to keep away the cold. They sat there huddling close together. It didn't keep the cold away but it was better than nothing. A middle aged man saw the duo when he was pa.s.sing by. Seeing the scene melted his heart and he bought a blanket and food for them. Brom was grateful to someone after a long time, his cold heart that didn't feel much grat.i.tude or warmth for anyone thawed a little for the girl next to him. Maybe it was because he hadn't had much contact with anyone in a long time or maybe it was because he liked the girl. The world seemed bright to him despite the gloomy weather.

Good things never lasted, a homeless guy looked at the duo with much envy. He hated how the brats received more help from people just because they were kids. The kids got all the attention from the people pa.s.sing by and got treated kindly while he had to beg for a single bite and got nothing but harsh words of contempt and disgust.

The homeless man waited for the middle aged man to depart. The moment he left would be the moment he took action. He made sure the middle aged man was gone before going over to the kids. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the food out of their hands and kicked away the hands holding the blankets tightly. The kids resisted with all their might but their starved small body couldn't contend with the homeless man.

Brom tried to comfort the girl who was sobbing. He didn't know why but seeing her cry evoked an unknown feeling in him. His heart felt like it was being poked by a needle. The boy held the girl closer to him and tried to keep her warm. He was starving but the only thought in his mind was to keep the girl warm. The girl stopped crying and eventually fell asleep. The boy too fell asleep embracing a warm body for the first time in a long while.

'It's cold. What is it that I am holding? Why is it so cold?'

Brom's mind was still hazy. He had just woken up and his palms felt like they were touching ice. The day was indeed cold but his palms felt even colder. He opened his eyes and what he saw chilled his heart. The girl was pale and still. Her whole body was cold. Colder than the chilly air surrounding them. He tried to wake her up. He nudged at her, shook her repeatedly and called out to her but the girl didn't reply or wake up.

It took a long time for Brom to understand what had happened. The girl was dead. It wasn't the first time he had seen a corpse. He had seen beggars die in a similar way when they didn't get any food to eat or were too cold. Brom's heart grew cold. It was now far colder than how it had been before it thawed. He was full of anger and resentment.

It was still early. The slum was dim and most of its occupants were still sleeping. Brom's mind was blank. He placed the corpse of the girl down slowly and looked around. He saw the homeless man who had robbed them sleeping underneath the warm blanket a few meters away. His body trembled uncontrollably, but unlike the previous times, the cause was not the cold but his boiling anger. He picked up a stone lying on the ground and held it firmly in his palm. He took steady steps towards the man and crouched in front of him.

The man was sleeping soundly. He had no idea Brom was right next to him glaring at him with eyes that cried murder. Brom raised the stone up high and brought it down with immense force. The stone felt strong resistance from the man's skull and stopped but he raised it and brought it down again and again. The sleeping man never woke up and his blood splashed around as if a melon that was being smashed squirted its juices everywhere.

Brom learnt that day that life was incredibly cheap. It's worth was less than that of blanket and few bites of food. He looked at his hand that was b.l.o.o.d.y and wounded because the rough points in the stone pierced his palm every time it made contact with the man's skull. It didn't hurt when he was smas.h.i.+ng the stone against the man's face but it hurt a lot now that he let go of the stone.

Brom didn't want to die in the slums like the girl or the other man. He started stealing and fighting. A gang saw him as a promising man and invited him to join them. He didn't have to think twice to make the decision. He joined the gang and his sins grew greater with pa.s.sing time.

He had recently found a reliable backer. His name was Robert. Though he was a sick pervert who beat women for his pleasure, it didn't bother him. What mattered to him was that the man could provide him with whatever he wanted. He followed him around and did all the dirty task for the man and in return he could do what he wanted most of the time without any restraints.

Apparently, a doctor had saved the woman whom Robert had beat to near death just the other day. That wasn't good. The girl was supposed to die in the dark alley without making any waves. If she lived and word spread about what Robert had done to her, his reputation would take a big dive and his life would be turned upside down as well.

He got his partner to investigate the doctor. The results weren't favorable. The doctor was also a wizard of first circle. Wizards and warriors were tough to deal with. Since the man was a only a first circle wizard, it wouldn't be too hard if they took him by surprise. It would have been a lot harder if the opponent was a warrior. They couldn't go overboard though. All they had to do was kidnap the man and threaten him. Maybe break a finger or two to scare him enough to keep his mouth shut. The doctor had built quite a reputation for himself for the past year. They also couldn't let him find out about Robert. While his connections were powerful, the man himself was a wizard, he ought to have connections of his own and a powerful teacher. If Roberts ident.i.ty got exposed, then the whole thing would blow out of proportion. They also couldn't just kill the doctor as killing a citizen and a wizard to boot would make much bigger waves than killing a single slave girl whom no one cared for.

Everything was going according to plan. He had caught the attention of the wizard and his partner had taken to chance to hit him behind his head to knock him out. He had just grabbed the girl when the man who was supposed to be unconscious got up and tackled his partner to the ground. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d even took out a dagger and stabbed his partner repeatedly.

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Vincent stabbed the man over and over again but the man retaliated by striking his face repeatedly with a bare fist. Blow after blow landed on his face but he felt none of it. The only thought in his mind was to finish off the guy he was pinning down as fast as he could. He would have preferred stabbing his heart or throat over his abdomen but the man's hands were in his way.

The man's blows got weaker and weaker until he could no longer keep his hands up and slowly lost his strength. Vincent wanted to finish the man off by stabbing his heart but just as he was about to do so, the other man who called himself big hound rushed at him with a dagger of his own and stabbed at his heart. Vincent moved on the last moment and the dagger dug into his shoulder.

The man pinned Vincent down and tried to drive his dagger deeper. Vincent used his right hand to prevent the man from pus.h.i.+ng his dagger deeper while his left hand made way for the man's shoulder. Mana gathered in his palm and slowly transformed into electrical sparks as his palm made contact with the man. A jolt spread through the man's muscles and his arm spasmed. Vincent took the chance and pushed away the man whose grip had loosened. He pulled the dagger out of his shoulder and threw it aside.

The man on the floor held his right shoulder with his left arm. His shoulder's muscles had contracted and wouldn't loosen. His right arm was as good as useless for the fight right now. The spot where the b.a.s.t.a.r.d touched also had a burn on it and it stung like h.e.l.l. His neck and forearm also felt like thousands of ants were crawling over them. He felt his right arm slowly loosen but he still couldn't control it properly. He wanted to take a rest until his arm recovered but the b.a.s.t.a.r.d wouldn't let him be.

Vincent rushed at the now unarmed man and tried to stab him. His opponent however seemed much more experienced in a knife fight and kept his distance. He wanted to cut off the man's right flank before committing to a big swing but he couldn't move his left arm properly. He was also losing strength as blood continued to pour out of his wound, he needed to end this fast or it wouldn't be good for him.

The man seemed to realize it too as he kept his distance and tried to buy more time. He looked at the young wizard and spoke in a provoking manner with clear intent, "You won't have much strength in a while master Vincent. How about giving up and making it easier on yourself?" It seemed to have worked as the young man rushed at him with a big swing.

The man used his left hand and intercepted the swing. Making such a big move was a fatal mistake when using a weapon with small reach. He grabbed his opponent's wrist and was about to disarm him when a jolt travelled up his arm through his palm. His palm got burnt because of the shock and his left arm lost their strength as well. Both his arms were rendered useless for a short term and engaging in a fight now would be stupid. He ran for the door as fast as his legs could carry him but before he could put any distance, Vincent drove the dagger through his sides and pushed him down.

The man wanted to call for help. His original objectives of not making a scene didn't matter anymore. To him, Robert's reputation wasn't as valuable as his life was. He didn't care if the guards would take him to a cell and lock him up as long as he could live. He had just opened his mouth to cry out when a strong hand choked his throat and a strong electrical shock came from the grip. His throat felt like it was on fire and breathing became difficult.

Vincent let go of the man's throat revealing tiny charred craters on his neck. The shock had caused a strong burn on the man's throat and he was writhing in pain. Vincent hurriedly grabbed the dagger on the man's side and pulled it out. He held the dagger and place it against his opponent's throat. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and sliced.