Situated in a void filled with nothing were two blurry beings. The two sat on nothing, staring at the other, using a mysterious force to stay in place. 

"Let me tell you, my story." 

One of the beings spoke, yet did not open his mouth, rather the words floated through the empty space, reaching the other instantaneously. 

"I know it quite well, there's really no need." 

It was the same for the other being, his words did not come from mouth, rather from the mind directly to the other. 

"No, here, no one can bother us. So, I can take all the time I need. Here, at the end of everything. 

Through the blur, one could roughly make out their worldly features through the thick layer of fog surrounding them. And on one of the being's faces was a light look of curiosity. They had witnessed his story throughout the millennia yet had never heard it directly through his point of view. They had never known how he saw it, saw the entirety of his existence. 

"Let me start from when I was nothing more than a lowly being, striving to survive, hungry for revenge." 

The bright sun shone down on the polished manor this beautiful morning. Trees of a multitude of species peered into the interior of its territory, climbing over the high tower wall. Along them, vines nurturing young flower buds grasped onto the stone walls and crawled along them down to the hard cobbled floor. 

Under the protection of the great wall was an estate situated in the center. Around it was a training center on the west wing while on the east wing, there was a luxurious garden harboring many different beautiful trees with small, delicate flowers under them. 

Sunlight peered through the large windows, illuminating the manner inside. Rising from the East, it initially warmed the large master bedroom, where a young boy slept. At the end of the bedroom, he slept on a distinguished bed filled with the pelts of many different animals. Each was soft, fluffy, and warm, deepening his sleep and lighting the dark marks under his eyes. Lying down, spread out along the bed, his long, dirty gold hair scattered itself on the soft pillow he was lying on. Throughout the morning, he continuously slept, soft breaths departing from his lips every four seconds. While at the other end of the room, a gold-handled door slowly crept open as someone walked in. 

Dressed in a maid's attire, her long bangs partitioned to the side, a brunette-headed woman walked in elegantly, stepping on the design-filled carpet softly. With a straight, serious face, she looked around the room momentarily before walking toward the boy. Arriving next to him, a dark look flashed onto her face before she controlled herself. Then, she skillfully pulled her hands up and approached him as though she were going to gently shake him awake. Instead, with a light smile on her face, she grabbed onto his silk shirt and threw him off the bed. 

With a heavy thud, the boy immediately awoke before looking towards the perpetrator of his sudden pain. A smile crept onto her face, and disgust flowed through her light brown eyes as she spoke to him with a deep undertone. 

"Ozias, you know you can't be sleeping now; you have much to do." 

Ozias looked at her with a clear despise as she continued. 

"Well? What are you waiting for!?" 

Suddenly, one of her legs shot straight into his stomach, pushing him back several feet. 

"Guahh!!" 

With a strained gasp, he wrapped his hands around his stomach, saliva slowly falling from his mouth, attempting to breathe. Seconds later, the pain alleviated, and his closed throat opened, allowing him to breathe once again. Although he was full of rage after being assaulted, he stayed on the ground and looked up. Her deep brown eyes shone with a hint of satisfaction as she smiled. 

"Alright, I expect you to finish your duties." 

Moments later, she walked out of the room with a cheer in her step, leaving the pain-filled Ozias. 

The boy grasped onto the bed, using it to lift himself up with a stagger. He did not think much of the aggression, for in the past four months he had been here, this had been the norm. At first, it was light banter, but with time, it eventually became induced violence. Ozias initially looked past it, hoping it was only out of love. But he soon understood just how despicable these people were. He had only wanted to get used to this new environment and make friends in the manor. Maybe hanging out, doing tasks together, or going into the city and eating out. In the end, though, it became the opposite of what he hoped. Ozias knew why they did it though; they mostly did it to alleviate their pathetic lives working under someone. But in a small crevice of their soul, it was done because of the jealousy and hate they held. Ozias understood this and felt pity for them; all he wanted were companions with whom he could share his struggles. 

With a small limp, he walked towards the door and stepped out. There, he found himself in a wide hallway with multiple rooms along it. After every couple of steps, a handcrafted window was placed, holding bright sunlight that pierced through it. On the floor, a red rug with various patterns lay along the hallway, giving it the aesthetic of a royal kingdom. 

Without a second look, Ozias walked to the left, down the hallway, where he found himself on a large flight of stairs, leading to the first floor. He continued down the stairs before walking to a small room behind them. There, a small door creaked open, leading to a cramped living space. 

For most of the time he had been in the manor, he spent his nights here. In the last two months though, something had changed—something that sent small chills down Ozias's back. 

In the corner of the room was a small pile of tattered clothes. The young boy walked to it before digging through the pile and pulling out a servant's outfit. It was wrinkled and old, but it would work. 

Slowly and steadily, Ozias pulled his current clothes off. He did it slowly in hopes he could avoid irritating the monstrous marks littered throughout his body. However, he was unsuccessful as small jolts of pain arose in him. 

With his shirt off, one could see his pathetic state. Dark purple bruises battered his being as several bones were visible from malnutrition. 

The boy then proceeded to put on his servant's outfit before a bang resounded through the room, pushing the door open. It was a young butler who had kicked it open with no sense of respect. The butler stared at the boy with the same gaze the housekeeper had held. Ozias noticed it yet did nothing as the young man spoke down to him. 

"Go sweep the training grounds." 

Despite his hateful gaze, he did not harass Ozias, which was a surprise to him. 

"I'm sorry? I thought that was what you did. 

Before he could finish, the butler stomped towards Ozias but stopped because of the feminine voice that came from out of view. 

"Come now; their arrival is near!" 

Both Ozias and the butler knew this voice. Hearing it, Ozias twitched slightly; simultaneously, the butler quickly left, slamming the door in the process. 

"Get it done. You don't want to know what I'd do if you didn't." 

It was the countess of the empire, considered her honor in the manor. She and the Count controlled a large portion of the territory that they oversaw, meaning they were essentially the gods ruling over this land. 

For minutes, the boy attempted to calm himself; nevertheless, his palpitations did not stop; instead, they worsened. His vision shook as sweat formed on his head. But his duties took priority over his health, physical or mental. So, the boy walked out anyway with the expectation of finishing quickly. 

He traveled from the manor stationed at the center of the estate to the west wing, arriving at the training center. It consisted of multiple training dummies and fighting mats scattered around a large weapon shed. It took most of the estate's total territory because of how instrumental strength is in the empire. And although the count and countess acted as though they were incredible, they were tiny in the grand scheme of this world and the empire. The only reason they still had the tag of count was because of their ancestors, who died millennia ago. 

Ozias's job here was to broom every single one of the ten training pads that spanned twenty feet by twenty feet. 

Looking at them, large amounts of dust and dirt lay on top of every mat from multiple uses. Even worse was that two hundred feet away, two young boys were sparring while a broad-shouldered man watched them. Ozias also knew who they were. They were the young master's or the countess's children. The two of them were twins, each having jet-black hair and dark brown eyes. They were nine years old, the same age as Ozias. In this large manor, they were the only young children, which made the bullying from them even worse. 

They darted back and forth on one of the training pads, fighting with wooden swords. Each step they took seemed deliberate, as though they were practicing certain motions. 

He stared at them for a moment, admiring their fighting style. He'd love to watch for hours to absorb all that he could; nevertheless, he did not have that time. What he had to do now was finish his tasks, and there was no room for interruptions. He hurriedly swept one training platform after the other, increasingly getting closer to the two training young masters with time. Just as Ozias noticed them, the young masters eventually noticed Ozias, disdain filling their eyes the moment they did. 

One of the twins looking at Ozias had an idea. He slowly crept towards him after getting permission from their instructor. He closed the distance before swinging his wooden sword down on Ozias. Luckily, Ozias noticed this deliberate act of hate and dodged the young master's nefarious attack; unfortunately, he fell in the process and covered himself in dust due to it. 

Ozias coughed as dust scattered through the air, irritating the young boy's eyes. 

"Don't dodge you cowardly bastard! Face me!" 

He tried to use the guise of a dual to hide his malicious intent. Of course, this was not a dual; it was a one-sided beating. Hell, Ozias did not even receive a sword to properly fight back! 

Knowing this, he still decided to face him. It would be worse to run because then they would have an actual reason to beat him. At least under this guise, he could properly defend himself. 

Ozias stood up while the young master rubbed his eyes. Although he wanted to attack now, it could be seen as cowardly, so instead he assured his opponent. 

"Do you wish to dual, young master?" 

Although he would rather not have a fight with him, this was the only way to get out of this; he had learned it the hard way. The young master stepped away from the cloud of dust before responding with absolute confidence. 

"Yes! Let us dual." 

Anticipation mixed with joy could be heard in the young master's voice while preparing. On the other training platform, both the second young master and the training instructor noticed the commotion the two had caused. 

Ozias positioned himself on one side of the platform while the young master went to the other. 

With near-silent steps, the instructor walked over to the two of them before speaking to the young master. 

"If you two are dueling, then I shall judge!" 

The instructor smiled as he folded his arms, keeping a keen eye on Ozias. 

He was most definitely making sure nothing happened to the young master because it would be his head if anything horrible were to occur. 

From the end of the platform, Ozias prepared himself by gripping the broom like a sword. Although it was different, he could still use it similarly by holding the long pole up like a sword, at least as the head of the broom pointed down towards the ground. 

Ozias gripped the broom hard and looked up at the young master as his heart pumped fast. 

From the middle end of the platform, the instructor yelled. 

"Begin!" 

The young master sprinted forward as Ozias stepped forward and stomped his feet onto the ground. Then, just as before, the young master pulled his sword high into the air before pulling it down. And just as before, Ozias dodged it. However, this time, as though it had been instilled hard into his body, Ozias pulled his sword up before angling it slightly, using the young master's own force to propel his sword down to the ground, hitting nothing but dirt. Feeling the unbreakable shell of the ground, the young master's hands shook as pain traveled from his fingers up to his arm. Seizing the opportunity, MC positioned himself as memories flooded his head. He had been taught since the age of seven the way of the sword. His now-deceased father was the one who would constantly train him. Every early day, while the morning dew was still forming and as the sun rose to greet them in front of their small home, he would train with him and teach him. Thinking of it now, a feeling of sorrow and hate filled his heart. Since the moment he had arrived here, he had kept this feeling dug deep into his soul. Now though, instead of holding onto this feeling, he directed it to his wooden broom, sliding to the side and preparing to attack! 

Seeing this, the instructor saw this as a great opportunity to train the young master. The broad-shouldered man yelled, alerting the young master. 

"Block it! He's preparing!!" 

He jumped slightly from the loud voice, gathering himself, despite transferring from his heart to his sword! 

'To think! This swine!!'