Choked from such profane claim, Father burst out in laughter, so loud that he awoke the neighborhood hobos sleeping on the street. Dude pipe the fuck down man. You woke up the hobos. You should never wake up the hobos. Do you know what they do to you when they’re fucking livid? It rhymes with drape. Lyon whispered to Father but to no avail. After a hard minute of pig-screeching-like laughter, Father’s gaping mouth soon changed to a slick grin “Is that so?” he asked quietly for a change. Don’t fucking try to act cool after that. Lyon glared at him, as Father stood there oblivious to why. “Then tell me. How far would you go?” Father’s presence changed completely, he looked at Lyon as if he was a wolf, and Lyon’s a sheep, his eyes filled to the brim with ominous tension that Lyon has never once felt before.

Lyon, sweating profusely, took one step back “What do you mean?” he asked in a polite manner

“I’m asking you; how far would you go to attain power? Saying is one thing. Realizing it is another. Would you train to the brim of death’s door? Would you sacrifice your time and love? Would you steal from the grasp of others? Would you kill needlessly or otherwise? Would you do what you’re told, no questions asked? If the results equate to power that is.” His words pierced Lyon’s like daggers and lances, not that he had ever been pierce by any, but he assumed that’s how it felt. With the boy finally silent, Father looked down, seemingly somewhat disappointed “Well, can’t say I’m surprise. After all you’re still at that age where you believe in fairy tales and junkies. To be honest I’m quite disappointed. But alas, you’re still just a normal boy with facade of grandeur.” Muttered Father as Lyon stared aimlessly “And to think I almost-“

“…Yes.” The moment that one word slipped out, the moon reached its peak and the entire slum was asleep except for those two. His heart beat loudly like thunder, as if it was about to jump out of his chest, his arms were sweaty as he gripped tightly on his rag, but his eyes never once wavered nor dodged Father’s glare. You can do this, Lyon. Come on! He thought to himself. With little courage he had, he slowly lifted his right arm, and lay it across his chest, and at that moment, his heartbeat gradually calm down to the rhythm of the night, as his body dried out and shined under the moonlight, and what stood in front of Father was a resolute child with nothing to lose. “Yes, I will.”

Father, left in awe by a mere nine-year-old, slowly clapped for the boy, with a hint of relieved smile on his face as if he was hoping for this “That’s some great resolve you got there, boy!” His whole tension dropped, as the man started laughing again, and his claps grew faster. “I acknowledged you, Lyon!” he slapped Lyon’s back as if they were old friends “So, wanna make a blood-oath with me?”. asked Father out of the blue yet to Father’s surprise, Lyon wasn’t confused to the whole idea as he already learnt of blood-oath from a spell tome in the church’s library. The book was old, dirty and torn but Lyon somehow, more or less understood the concept.

A blood-oath is an agreement between two individuals where terms will be exchanged and to uphold from both parties, whether the terms being beneficial for one, both or neither is up to the two; breaking or inability to meet the terms of the oath will result in the death of the offender.

“You don’t seem very scared? A jump wouldn’t hurt ya’ know?” asked Father

“Why would I be scared?” Shrugged Lyon “It’s not like you can force me to agree on terms I don’t like. Right?”

“Shrewd boy.” Father complimented Lyon with a light head-tilt

“So, then what’s this mysterious power that you are so kind to willingly grant it to me? Is it a Title?”

“Well answer depends on if you decide to go through with the oath or not.”

“Then what’s the terms?” sighed Lyon

Suddenly for a wisp moment, Father’s cold air returned “It’s simple. If you are to obtain this Title…” So it is a Title. Lyon struggled to hide his dumb grin upon hearing that “…you are not allowed to use it against me.” finished Father

Lyon’s grin immediately dropped, as he crossed his eyebrows and gave out the most oblivious face he could made “What kind of ominous shit was that? You sound like a typical villain.” sniggered Lyon “And beside is that all you want? What happened to all that big talk about whether I can do what I’m told, kill needlessly, and whatnot?” Lyon poorly mimicked Father’s voice

“Well, I don’t want you to die if you are to fail to meet my terms. Like I said before, you’re not the only kid that have came to me and wished for power. If I were to lay harsh terms on all of them, just imagine the number of children’s bodies that would pile up on my doorstep.” Father tried to explain himself

“Well you’re a priest, so I imagine there’s already quite a few.” giggled Lyon

Father lightly smacked Lyon’s head “What the fuck, Lyon?”

“Anyway. Then what can I ask in return?” asked Lyon

“Nothing.” Father bluntly answered

The long pause after Father’s answer was so quiet and awkward that Lyon could have sworn he heard an owl from blocks away “What?” asked Lyon with a monotone face

“Like I said, a lot of people have tried before you and all of them have failed. That means I cannot guarantee the success of this method, and therefore I can not wage my life on this. ”

Lyon scratched his head. Not even the homework, Father gave him was as confusing and troubling as this. “So what you’re saying is to just trust you?” groaned Lyon

“That is correct.”

“Then why the fuck do we even need the blood-oath in the first place?!” Lyon shouted, disregarding the sleeping orphans, clerks, and neighborhood hobos.

“I said that you can trust me. I never said anything about me trusting you.”

“Ominous.” whispered Lyon as he leered at the sketchy old man

“Sorry, Lyon but I’ve seen what power does to people. Once you got it, there’s no telling what you will do next. A new world of possibilities open up for the wielder, they become a wildcard, an unstoppable one at that, and most of the times, malicious intent engulf them whole. So, like I said, I cannot wage my life on bet with a nine-year-old.” explained Father with a discerning look

“So, you’re scared I’m gonna turn on you?” asked Lyon

“It’s a possibility.” answered Father

He didn’t know how to react. The person that he’s trusted most in his entire life said that he doesn’t trust him back. He looked down to the sole of his feet, staring blankly, when he realized how small and frail his shadow was. The sight of it alone dismayed Lyon, fully knowing how weak and incapable he was. So with both hands, he slapped his cheeks from both side “Fair, enough. Let’s do it then.” said Lyon with a determined tone as his cheeks blushed red and swollen

“Are you sure? Last chance, boy.”

He took one step forward “Yeah. I’m sure.” said Lyon without any hesitation or doubt within his eyes

“Yes!” Father screeched and punched the air just like a little kid would when they receive a new toy “It’s been a while since I’ve met someone as determined as you. Now let’s get on with the oath and I will then tell you everything you need to know.” Father then swiftly pulled out a small knife he hid under his robe. The blade was no longer than his palm, yet it was unexpectedly sharp, its handle on the other hand was completely worn out, the red paint has been completely scratched out leaving now only with blood-liked bits, revealing the wooden surface underneath. Then with the tip of the knife, he slouched down and started tracing a circle on the dirt until it was big enough for two people to stand in. After he was done, he started inscribing characters and figures within the ring, the same figures and characters that Lyon has only briefly glanced through from the same spell tome he had read in the library. If I remember correctly, the tome said to inscribe letters in the Old Tongue within the ring. Lyon desperately cranked his head to remember. It was faster than he thought and before long Father was done with inscribing, he then stood back up and carefully took a big step off the circle as to not ruin the scribble. A Magic Ring. Lyon had remembered learning about this off the many sisters, priests and wannabe mages within the church. Just like how knights have swords and shields, mages have limbs to formulate magic rings and mouth to cast and chant all sorts of spells; yet both of these powerhouses seem pale next to a Title Bearer. “I assume you know what this is.” asked Father as he panted profusely, wiping off his sweat and cracking his poor old back. Calm down. You’re only forty-two. whispered Lyon underneath his breath.