Night—

Father was already snoring. Mother was preparing Nina for bed. She peeked out of the house and called out to the youngest practicing the wooden pole. 

“Bass, you should finish up and rest. Training too much is also bad for you.”

“Yes, mom… I’ll finish… in a minute.” he answered in between thrusts.

Then she directed her attention to me, “Arc, you better sleep, or you will wake up tied again.”

“Hahaha, yes, Moth—mom.” Mom went back inside and I continued watching over Bass.

Bass is the child next to me. He was less talkative than Nina and he rarely even speaks around his family, much less our neighbors. 

He also had long hair that he refused to cut that goes over his eyes. I could only imagine how that impeded his vision. All of this created an identity that was perceived as mysterious.

But that didn’t mean he had a lot of friends. 

He was seen as a kind of outcast. But they didn’t even do it out of spite as Bass simply preferred being alone. Always practicing instead of playing. In the past, I didn’t understand him either. But, right now, I saw my little brother for who he was, honest.

Steam was coming off his body because of the high temperature that was gradually rising with every strike. He was dedicated to perfecting his craft. He moved his spear without deceit, only thrusting forwards as directly as possibly. 

I almost found it cool.

I could not help but smile watching him, and when I did. He frowned.

“What?” he asked me, annoyed.

“Nothing, I just found how hard you’re working to be cute.”

He immediately showed a disgusted look on his face, “Ugh, what’s gotten to you? Are you sure the poison’s not affecting you in the head, older brother?”

Uwaaa, look at this kid, “How rude, can’t an older brother tell his younger brother how he finds him adorable?”

“I’m not Nina, you know? I’m not cute.” he protested and went back to thrusting his pole, “Stop bothering me with that creepy smile.”

“He’s so prickly. Is he already in that rebellious phase? But he isn’t even a teenager. They grow up so fast.”

Fwu!

The end of the pole appeared in front of me, inches away from my face, “Brother, I am very close to clocking you on the head and dragging you back inside. Leave, brother. Go and rest, already.” Bass turned around to return to practice.

But, I smiled and made one last statement, “You can certainly try.” 

He stopped walking. He froze on the spot as he slowly turned around and as his bangs parted from his face, he glared back at me, “What do you mean by that? You couldn’t even beat me when you weren’t injured. Did you older brother really think he can beat me just because you lived to see the sun after getting injured by the Bakunalis?”

In our family, the power hierarchy was very simple. From strongest to weakest: Ninaberus, Mom, Dad, and then… Bass. That’s right, I am the weakest among us. I could overpower him with sheer brute force, but that’s it.

Ninaberus is the General from hell. No one, not even a Dragon could fight against their Mothers. Dad was amongst the strongest of the Hunters. No, he’s as strong as the Leader so he might just be the strongest. Lastly, Bass was oddly obsessed with practicing martial arts so he’s much more refined than me. 

“I never remembered you having such a sharp tongue. It hurts more than the Bakunalis poison. It really hurts, you know?” I joked as I got up and started looking around. Bass followed my slow movements as I walked around. 

He shook his head and blinked many times, “Got something in your eyes? Want me to look?”

“No… whatever, what are you doing? Walking around like that?”

“Trying to find a—oh, this one’s good enough.” In my hand was a wooden stick, worn and weathered. It was the same stick that Ninaberus used to conquer the tenth layer of hell—presumably, of course.

“Okay, with these legendary weapons in my hands. Why not have a quick spar with this older brother of yours?”

Bass looked around. Even lifted the bangs hiding his eyes to get a second look at me before smiling, “Are you serious?”

‘Would you look at this cocky little sh—stop it Arc, you’re too old to be angry at a boy.’ I took a deep breath and smiled, “Of course, why, afraid that this injured brother of yours would mop your face on the floor?”

The last I saw from his forehead before he hid it behind his bangs was his brows furrowing.“No, but, don’t complain if I beat you. Okay? No telling Mom.”

I shrugged my shoulders as a sign of acceptance.

“Ygnet Rules?” he asked as he counted his steps away from me.

“Of course. But only a race to 10 points. I can’t move well.” I answered.

Ygnet Rules, was the rule of Sparring. It was established by the God of Combat Ygnet. It was a point system.

Ten points for the head, neck, and right chest.

Five points for the torso and shoulders.

Three points for the arms.

The legs were only counted if it was a serious competition. 

Every time someone scores a point we would reset their position. This would be repeated until there is a winner.

Five steps away, we looked at each other. I couldn’t quite see his eyes from behind his bangs. But he could see my smile.

He gritted his teeth, “Don’t cry if you lose, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s begin on three.”

He only got angrier.

“One.” Bass counted first.

“Two.”

“Three—Hap!”

He yelled as he thrusted forward aimed at my head. I tried stepping back, but the pole’s direction suddenly changed towards my shoulder, “Got you!”

‘Not bad.’ it was a perfect misdirect.

He was better than most ten year olds who have no master.

But all I had to do was pivot my left leg and spin, letting his pole pass.

“What?”

He cried out in shock as he stumbled when his pole did not meet any kind of resistance he fell on the ground. 

One step, two step, tok…

“A hit on the head. Ten points for me. So I believe that’s my win.”

“Wha–what? Yo-you got lucky! I just tripped! Yeah, that’s right. I tripped! One more time!” He scrambled to find reason. But 

“Yeah, sure.” As a good older brother, I accepted, “But, what if you lose again? I can’t have you saying you tripped. So, why not add a bet so you take it seriously? If I win again, you have to call me older brother with respect now.”

“Deal!”

In the house, my own younger brother didn’t think much of me because I was the weakest. I think it was when a Vagabond wandered into our Village who told a story about only the strong needs to be respected. 

Ever since then, he had grown cockier when I lost to him half a year ago. He stopped calling me older brother, ‘Well, he called me older brother when I was dying. But I can’t have him only calling me that when I’m dying. Can I?’

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

“One.” 

‘Hmm, maybe I’ll regain my status in the house.’ so, I made a decision, “Two.”

‘Yeah, it’s best to correct his attitude now .’

“Three!”

So, the second bout begin.

Then the third. 

The fourth.

The fifth

Sir

Lord

Your Highness

Your Majesty

I won time and time again. Earning title as I did.

“So… what do you call me now?”

“Master….” he whispered as he was on all fours on the ground. In disbelief of what he had just experienced.

“I can’t hear you.” I teased, ‘Hehehe, that’s my real power… that took me decades to have. Yeah, I don’t feel good about this. I should stop before he starts cryin—’

Sniffle*

“Ma…Master… You’re maih, Master… wahhh!” He started sobbing and crying.

“Eh? O-oh no.” I only wanted to teach him a lesson to correct his attitude, but, it seems like I took things too far, “Okay, okay, that’s enough. Come here. Don’t cry. You’re strong, you’re strong.”

The older brother has made his younger brother cry. 

“Just why are you guys so noisy? It’s already so la—what is happening here?”

I looked up and by the door… was Mom looking at the sight of the younger brother on his knees while his brother was smiling smugly.

“This is not what it looks like….” 

I started fearing for my life.