Nathan – POV

  The first signs of trouble came from one of the merchants’ bodyguards. He stiffened suddenly, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword as his eyes narrowed toward the glade ahead.

  “I sense mana,” he muttered, his voice low but urgent. “A lot of it. In the trees, just beyond the clearing.”

  He alerted the rest of the guards, and word quickly spread down the caravan line.

  I blinked, confused. He sensed mana? I hadn’t felt anything. My own mana sense was decent; or so I thought; but clearly, his was sharper.

  Father, already stringing his bow with practiced ease, caught my expression. “Don’t look so surprised, Nathan. His mana sense is superior to yours.”

  That stung a little. “Mana sense can detect… beings?” I asked, incredulous.

  Father chuckled, not unkindly. “At higher ranks, yes. A skilled user can feel the subtle disturbances in the flow of mana around them. Every creature; human, beast, or monster; has a unique mana signature. With enough training, you can separate those signatures from the ambient mana of the environment.”

  I stared at him, awestruck. So, it’s like sonar… or radar. But instead of sound waves, it’s mana. The idea fascinated me. I made a mental note: I needed to talk to that bodyguard later.

  Father’s tone hardened. “Nathan, Serena...listen carefully. Do not reveal your powers unless you are in immediate danger. Understood?”

  We both nodded. He turned to Jack. “Guard them. Stay inside the caravan with your shield and sword ready. If anything gets through, you hold the line.”

  Jack saluted sharply.

  So, we hunkered down inside the wagon with Mother. Jack stood like a wall at the entrance, shield raised, sword angled. Behind him, Shive waited silently. She hadn’t drawn her blades, but her hands hovered near the hilts. She looked so small standing there, a girl not much older than me, yet ready to cut down on anyone who came through that door. The sight was almost comical, if not for the tension pressing down on us.

  I sent a mental command to my minions: Protect Father. Watch over us.

  At first, there was silence. Then...

  A blast.

  Shouts.

  The clash of steel on steel.

  The battle had begun.

  I reached out mentally. Status?

  “All clear,” Krizek replied almost lazily. “The ambushers are weak. Hardly worth the effort.”

  He even complained that he hadn’t been able to kill anyone. Typical demon bloodlust. I grimaced.

  Moments later, Leshner signaled me: Safe.

  We stepped outside. Mother tried to shield my eyes, but I slipped past her.

  What I saw froze me in place.

  The glade was littered with bodies. Men and women sprawled in the grass, blood soaking into the soil. Some still clutched rusted weapons. Others had died with empty hands, faces twisted in terror.

  Xander’s voice was calm, clinical. “Weak. Level eighteen to twenty, at best. They never stood a chance against the merchants’ guards.”

  The fighting hadn’t even reached our end of the caravan.

  I swallowed hard. These weren’t hardened raiders. They were poorly dressed, malnourished, their ribs visible beneath ragged shirts. Farmers, most likely. Desperate people driven to banditry by poverty or injustice.

  The sight unsettled me. Anger and pity warred inside me. Part of me despised them for choosing this path. Another part pitied them for being forced into it. If I were starving, would I have done the same? I didn’t know.

  Mother reached me, gently covering my eyes. Too late. But I appreciated the gesture.

  We were about to turn back when a commotion erupted.

  A large adventurer had seized a little girl by the hair, dangling her off the ground like a trophy. She kicked and screamed, her small fists beating uselessly against his arm.

  Rage flared in me. Secure the girl, I ordered my minions.

  Before the adventurer could react, Leshner slammed into him with a kick that sent him flying several meters. Krizek caught the crying child, shielding her with surprising gentleness.

  The reaction was immediate. The merchants’ guards drew their blades against my minions. Our hired adventurers drew theirs in turn, forming a tense standoff.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “Why did you kick me?!” the adventurer roared, staggering to his feet.

  “You mistreated the girl,” Xander said coldly. “We were ordered to rescue her.”

  “By who?” another guard demanded.

  “By me,” I said, stepping forward.

  They stared at me, surprised that a boy would speak so boldly.

  “You little whelp,” the adventurer snarled. “I’ll gut you...”

  He stopped when Leshner leveled a spear at his face.

  “Insult the boy again,” Leshner growled, “and I’ll ram this spear through your skull.”

  “Enough!” a merchant barked. “What’s going on here?”

  “The boy interfered,” the adventurer spat. “That girl was with the bandits. She’s mine by right of spoils.”

  The merchant turned to the girl. “Is this true?”

  She cowered behind Xander, pointing to the corpses. “My ma and pa… they were with them.”

  The merchant frowned. “Then she is my spoil. Why interfere, boy?”

  “She’s just a child,” I said firmly.

  “It is his right,” the merchant insisted.

  I clenched my fists. I was seconds away from ordering my demons to slaughter them all when Father stepped in.

  “We’ll buy her,” he said calmly. “Five gold.”

  The adventurer sneered. “Ten...for the injuries I sustained.”

  “Deal.” Father didn’t hesitate.

  Jakob handed over the coins. The adventurer pocketed them, grumbling.

  Mother swept forward, gathering the girl into her arms. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Christine,” she whispered, tears streaking her face.

  “Alright, Christine. You’re with us now. Shive will help you clean up and get some food.”

  “What about my parents?” she asked, voice breaking.

  “We’ll bury them,” Mother promised, glancing at me.

  “Xander, Krizek, Leshner...bury the bodies. Treat them with respect,” I ordered.

  Jennie stepped forward. “We’ll help.”

  Everyone seemed to understand. These weren’t hardened criminals. They were desperate men and women who had chosen the wrong path. Still, the outcome was the same.

  It took an hour to bury the dead. Christine said her goodbyes, sobbing quietly, and the caravan moved on.

  Once she was cleaned up, Christine looked like any other village girl...cute, shy, her eyes still red from crying. Mother, Serena, and Shive fussed over her endlessly.

  “By the way,” Mother said brightly, “this is my son, Nathan. Nathan, meet Christine.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hello, Nathan,” she replied, blushing.

  “Let’s get along,” I told her.

  “Yes. Thank you for saving me.”

  “It wasn’t me, it was my min...my companions.”

  “But you gave the order. Thank you… and for burying my parents.”

  I hesitated, then asked gently, “Why did your parents resort to banditry?”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “The lord of our village kicked us out when we couldn’t pay the taxes. We weren’t evil. My parents were good people. We were just starving… and homeless.”

  Mother hugged her tightly. “It’s alright, Christine. No one here is judging you. You’re safe now.”

  Her story echoed in my mind. How many others across Hevdonia were suffering the same fate? The poor crushed beneath the weight of greedy lords, while nobles grew fat on their misery.

  Typical. I hated it. Earth had its injustices too, but at least in some places, this kind of cruelty wasn’t tolerated. Here, it seemed normal.

  That’s why I had to grow stronger. Strong enough to protect my family from this broken world.

  I still wasn’t sure which path I would ultimately take, but one thing had become clear: I needed power. Not just strength in battle, but influence, wealth, and status. Without those, we would always be vulnerable...just another family swept aside by the cruelty of this land.

  According to my parents, the gold stored in our pocket dimension was enough to rival the fortunes of nobles across any kingdom. That thought lingered in my mind. A noble. Perhaps that was the best option. Nobility meant wealth, recognition, and protection under the law. But it also meant politics, enemies, and responsibilities that could crush the unprepared.

  Still, with careful planning and the loyalty of my minions, I believed we could thrive. The real question was: how does one become a noble?

  I turned to Mother for answers.

  “You want us to be nobles?” she asked, her eyes widening slightly.

  “Yes, Mother,” I replied firmly. “I believe it’s our best option. We can’t just hide in some backwater town or village. Maybe we’d find peace for a while, but eventually someone would come to take it away. Bandits, corrupt lords, jealous rivals...someone always comes.”

  Mother’s expression softened, though her voice carried a note of caution. “I understand what you mean, Nathan. But being nobles has its own set of problems. You’ll be stepping into a world where power struggles are constant, and trust is rare.”

  “I know,” I admitted. “But it’s the only viable path for us… for me. After seeing the injustice done to Christine and her people, I can’t just stand by. If we had authority, if we were the ones in charge, we could make a difference. We could protect people instead of watching them be crushed by greedy lords.”

  Mother’s eyes glistened with pride. She pulled me into her arms, hugging me tightly, smothering me against her chest with what she teasingly called her ‘weapons.’ “Oh, my boy,” she murmured, “you’re such a good boy.”

  I let her hold me, but inside, my thoughts were darker. Mother, if you only knew what I am truly capable of. If you saw the things I’ve done, the orders I’ve given, the blood on my hands… would you still call me good? Or would you look at me with fear?

  I didn’t want to find out. It was safer for her to believe in the image of me she cherished...the dutiful son, the boy who wanted to help people. That illusion protected her, and in a way, it protected me too.

  But deep down, I knew the truth. I wasn’t driven purely by kindness. I wanted power because without it, we were prey. I wanted wealth because it bought safety, influence, and freedom. And I wanted status because only those who stood at the top could change the rules of this twisted game.

  The world was cruel. Christine’s story was just one of countless tragedies unfolding across Hevdonia. Families starved while nobles feasted. Villages were abandoned, their people forced into banditry or slavery. And no one cared...because the poor had no voice, no shield, no champion.

  If becoming a noble was the only way to carve out a place where my family could live without fear, then I would seize that path. I would play their game, bend their rules, and if necessary, break them.

  For my family’s sake, I would become strong enough to stand above this broken world.