Chapter 1

INTRO

 

Sazakira was a magical country ruled by strength. All else was cast to the wayside.  The system of governance was battle. The last one standing in the aftermath of the carnage was crowned supreme ruler of those who were left, the weak. Only the strongest would be granted privilege to choose Sazakira's way of life.

 

In an effort to produce stronger and stronger warriors, schools of battle were established.  They were places where the young would be raised in the art of war. Taught to harness their unique skills and abilities, they would need them to defeat their greatest adversaries, each other. This system would crush the weak and elevate the strong.. It was this system that ensured Sazakira dominated any country that challenged its strength.

 

However, Uzario, a school made to temper people into weapons, was unknowingly forging a sword that would destroy this tradition.

 

CHAPTER 1

 

This world is sick. The seemingly worthless existence that is life just drags on. Gestures of kindness and other things that give us humanity are called meaningless. This world only value is strength, and in that, it has lost all value. The pleasantries of life are now nothing but the suffering of others. Everyone has the same goal. To be the strongest there is, no matter the cost. They are willing to use the corpses of others as stepping-stones towards this goal. Friendships are only as deep as their usefulness to each other. Family is nothing more than a means towards an end. Happiness is the shallow enjoyment of besting others. Those without strength are the ones bested, and society gives them no quarter. They are considered refuse, and are tossed out for the dogs of this world to consume. There is no true meaning to this world. There is no life in this world. There is no hope in this world. I swear I will change that.

 

“Get your muddy a*s up Hiro, I’m not done beating the s**t out of you!” A silver haired boy with an athletic build and sharp eyes yelled out.

 

Only flat wet brown earth was visible, with the exception of a mound of slush that resembled a human corpse. It stirred and the mud-covered boy barely planted his feet before his lungs almost burst from a foot crushing in his stomach. The wet ground molded around the crumbling figure as it struggled for air. However, there would be no respite for him as the threads of his shirt ripped around the collar. A hand was pulling the limp boy up, and then a glowing yellow fist descended on him. The air vibrated under the impact, a wave of force crushed the target to the ground. Shockwaves shook the nearby trees, and scarred the birds into flight.

 

A woman with scarlet hair and suns for eyes, who wore a single katana across her back, and a lattice getup to match her hair spoke from outside the combat ring. “Kazuto, you might kill him if you keep that up.”

 

Kazuto released the boy who now had a fist mark imprinted on his face. “You have a problem with that Ares?”

 

She sneered. “Of course not. By all means, continue.”

 

            He readied another fist but was interrupted by a ripped and bald teacher with a face that showed he had seen death and dealt it. His name was Samakina. He had entered the ring to stop the fight.

 

“Leave that worthless b*****d alone Kazuto. You did well enough already. Remaining undefeated as expected of the top of the class. Of course going up against that…” He indicated the boy on the ground. “…It was to be expected.”

 

The annoying squeal of the girls in the crowd shouted their opinions on the matter.

 

“You’re the best Kazuto!”

 

“I love you Kazuto!”

 

“As expected of the best in our class!”

 

“You should have killed that loser!”

 

“You’re the strongest Kazuto!”

 

The previously thought unconscious boy rose to his feet. The brown mud now mixed with patches of red clay streaming from his mouth. One would sooner think the boy an earth spirit then a human if not for the surprisingly steady voice leaving the badly beaten body.

 

“None of you understand what it means to be strong, and thus none of you can achieve real strength.”

 

A light wind blew long scarlet hair as Ares, the phoenix, spoke again. “Why do you always have to speak so cryptically you worthless weakling? You have no right to talk when you have not even awakened a power in yourself, and you are not even capable of beating a single person here! What would you, the weakest of all of us, possibly know of strength?”

 

“Spoken words have no effect on the deaf.”

 

She sighed. “Do you not know how to speak normally Hiro?”

 

Samakina cut in. “Class is over for the day, everyone get ready for the senior class’s squadron ceremony, you are all expected to attend. And Hiro, go get yourself cleaned up, you look like s**t.”

 

It was well into the afternoon already, and the sun had began its slow decent down the skyline. The junior class started back to their dorms to prepair for the coming ceremony.

 

Sloshing mud broke the otherwise peaceful silence as Hiro walked alone to his dorm. His stride and steady legs never betrayed that he had just lost a fight. Unfortunately, it was a long walk across the open expanse between the combat rings to the northwest and the male dorms to the east.

 

The boys’ dorms were actually split into two separate buildings, the “Greater” and the “Lesser”. The residents of the buildings were divided as such. The stronger half of the students lived in “Greater”, and the weaker half lived in “Lesser”. Even among the individual buildings, there were still many more sub categories of rooms appropriated based on how strong students where. The stronger the student, the better accommodations he would receive. Hiro had a single room just big enough for a bed and a desk. Since he had no space for a dresser, a few outfits were lain out folded on the floor by his bed. His room was more of a closet then a place to live. Every other student had at least a kitchen and a bathroom. However, things like this did not bother the inhabitant of the room. He simply grabbed a change of cloths, and walked across the hall outside his room, and entered the public showers.

 

Blood and grime colored the floor as it streaked down his body. Water washed it away, revealing a relatively tan boy with shaggy brown hair. His body was toned and lightly scared, but still attractive. The clear liquid put warmth back into his cheeks as his body relaxed more. Not all of the flowing water was from the showerhead.

 

“This world is sick.”

Author's Note

Be as critical or os nice as you want. I would love to know the good and the bad here.

Reviews

[Albert Teague]

oh poor Hiro, love this by the way, very captivating and intriguing surprised no one commented on this yet