There was a time in Tay's life when he hadn't been a part of the Damned Fry. It wasn't his childhood, even if that might also be true. This was a time that he could still remember clearly, and fondly.

It was a three-month period. Tay had denounced Harow and the others, running away to escape a life he never wanted. He hadn't realized how dangerous it was, and later, he didn't understand why he was allowed to leave without repercussions. But he didn't look back.

He didn't leave without reason, however. Even if it was still out of a foolish fear. He had been growing an attachment to a small group of criminals who sometimes did jobs for the gang. He had worked with them off and on, running security mainly, though how effective he was with his minimal training and 13-year-old body was…questionable.

Their ring leader, Othern, was someone Tay had quickly grown to respect. Though maybe that wasn't a particularly high achievement considering who had been his company as of late.

To Tay, they represented a future he desired; The possibility to change what his name stood for. Being in the gang meant that people were bound to know you. Maybe that was fine for some who were aiming higher than Tay—those in power held little Interest in the world of crime. No one was stupid enough to bother them.

But Tay wasn't trying to become someone. All he wanted was to work an honest job, and make due. The gang wouldn't allow that. His name had become a part of the fear they spread. Tay would have liked to simply quit, leaving that world behind. That wasn't a possibility for him.

No one would even entertain the idea of employing him for almost anything. Even the slightest possibility that he was connected to the Damned Fey was enough to turn everyone away.

So, Tay had to ease himself out gradually. And he still needed to make money. He had to eat, after all. The second best option, or rather the second best option he could think of, was to have people forget him. Sure, he would have liked to do it in a more respectable way, but he could see no better option.

It started out good. They ran the odd small job—stealing food, cloths and shoes to end up reselling them. Tay wished it had stayed that way.

The last day Tay ever saw his friends was on Alpiyon, the day of festival. Once a year, the city would hold a grand event in celebration of its creation. Aside from being a relatively joyous day, it was a figurative banquet for lowlifes.

Orthern had told Tay and the others that they got hired to steal from a notorious merchant. The customer gave them all the Information they would need.

Most of the guards would be with the merchant and his family for the day, and many of the servants would have the day off. It was the perfect time for crime.

The house—or mansion, was filled with valuables like paintings, suits of armor and weapons. They were tasked with stealing a specific piece by a rather well known painter.

It would have been so easy if it had gone as planned. But what they were told was a lie. The merchant hadn't left, and rather had laid a trap for the group.

What happened after was chaos. Hounds were released, screaming and yelling came from all around the estate. But what put the nail in the coffin for Tay was when Othern stood in his way.

Around him had to have been almost all of the merchant's men, and his entire team.

Apparently the merchant had a grudge against Tay personally. Something about stealing a family heirloom.

Tay could do nothing else but run. And so he did. Not many could outmatch his ability to do so. All throughout Finick's Bay's dark places, he ran, chased by man and beast. Eventually he could think of nothing else but to returwhere he had hopped to never go again.

If the betrayal of his team wasn't enough to make him sick, then the grin that spread across the Oltian's face was.

It didn't take long for the back streets and dark alleys to be quiet once again. The merchant left the city several days later, and Othern’s body was found washed up on the rocky shore a day after that.

Tay knew then that he could never fade into obscurity as he had hopped. If he wanted a life any different then What seemed to be his destiny, he could no longer look down to the rabble, but up to a brighter place.

“Again.” Lithra demanded for what Tay fervently believed to be the hundredth time that day. Hr grunted, but slowly got into position again.

He lunged forward, his glowing hot sword slicing one of the many tentacles of the level 2 Fey. Orby flew over his head, sending a beam of fire spewing at the monster's mouth through the small opening Tay had provided.

The Monster had begun to use it's appendages as a sort of shield about an hour ago. It adapted Slowly, but Tay had been forced to give it plenty of time.

Tay danced around the monster, receiving several cuts from the wild lashing of it. But he did not relent. He knew what would happen If he did. Lithra Rose had one hell of a back hand.

He had managed to get close to the Fey, closing in to where the tentacles struggled to use their full force against him.

He Bagan hacking into its flesh, goblets of flesh and blood splattered the ground and himself. He had almost killed the creature when Lithra called for him to retreat yet again.

He quickly jumped back, reacting much faster than he had the first several times. As he left the monster's range, he could see the other side of it.

It's flesh had been melted away, it's bones were blackened where they showed through the drooping globs of what used to be organic matter.

Orby came to hover just above Tay's head like every other time. He was once again in awe of the small spirit's lethality. Tay had quickly come to the realization that his familiar was most likely stronger than himself.

More times than he could count, Obry had single handedly saved Tay's life. Lithra Rose on the other hand had done almost nothing but repeat the words “Again,” and “Back.”

When she approached him, and later when they went into the tower, Tay had hoped to learn something from an older and more experienced adventurer. That wasn't the case. The only thing he had learned was how to almost kill a level 3 Fey, and what a level 3 adventurer could do with the flat of their hands.

“That's enough, Mr. Mallor. You've proven yourself acceptably. You can expect a letter from the Association with a notice of your exemption, along with a letter of invitation from the Red cross guild. Although you will have to wait 3 days for the latter as the Association does not allow for spontaneous recruitment in this specific situation.”

She gave one last indiscernible look at Orby, one of many things she had repeatedly done that day. She activated a spell as mana coalesced around her. One moment she was covered in a closed of power, and the next she was gone.

“Ass…” Tay grumbled as he faced the half-dead monster slowly regrowing itself. After killing it, it would be a long none-magical descent down the tower.

Tay groaned in pain as he left the portal. His senses were flooded with sounds and smells Far different from the sorrowful echoes and damp musk Of the tower.

He shoved his way past those he could, and relented to those a little too big for his tired self to deal with. His sword was gripped loosely in a back hand grip, far away from his nose. Although with the smell coming from his armor, he doubted that it did much for him.

The actual organic matter from monster's in the tower turned to dust when whatever it was from died. But the smell it left was nightmarish.

At that moment, Tay wanted nothing more then to fall to the ground and sleep, the cobblestone ground be damned. But of course, no rest for the wicked.

“Well hello there, Tay.” Shouted an overly cheery man in heavy looking light grey armor. He carried a heavy looking sword that Tay expected to be able to crush him with its sheer weight.

Alexander stood a hand or so higher than Tay on a good day, but after what he had just dealt with, it was more like 4 hands.

The half Oltian put a massive arm around him, almost picking his feet off the ground. “I've got a wonderful idea for us.” Tay sighed as he could already feel another tiring day ahead of him.