"I will miss you, big bro!" a little girl, no older than ten, cried out as her eyes locked onto the back of a teenager.
"I will miss you all," he told her.
An old man, who used a cane to balance himself, then spoke after the teen.
"I can't believe you're already leaving this land at the ripe age of seventeen..."
"I'm old enough to conquer the world," he replied.
A woman, wearing a cloth to hide her face, then spoke to the teen. "Although I am not truly sure that you're ready to venture into the world yet, Torres," she coughed.
"Don't worry, Mother Teresa. I will take care of myself," Torres replied, reassuring his mother that he'd surely be safe.
Then another woman came forward—a younger woman who looked to be about the same age as Torres. Torres looked at her, and then she spoke.
"Ever since your uncle left this village five years ago, you've been eager to leave too… yep." She then helped Teresa by holding her shoulder, trying to keep her balanced.
"Although I'm very eager to go on this adventure, I'm just so worried about Mother's health," Torres said. Teresa then looked at the boy and said, "Don't worry, dear. Your future wife will help me every day."
"Aha..." Torres awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
"Don't worry, Torres, her health has been getting better... yep! As your fiancée, I will help our mother… yep!"
"You aren't my fiancée!" he said, blushing awkwardly.
"Torres, my child, do not worry about my health. I will surely get well." She then coughed again.
"I hope you really do."
After a moment, a voice echoed. "Big bro! Big bro!" A small, young child was running toward Torres, tears gushing from his eyes.
"Y-you're already leaving, big bro?!" He was stuttering so much that even he couldn't understand what he was saying. But Torres still understood.
"Don't cry. I'll come back, you know? It's not like I'm going to die!" he assured the boy.
"There's a big chance you will!"
"Don't jinx it, idiot!" Torres snapped, but still patted his head, reassuring him once again.
"I will come back—not as you see me now, but stronger."
"Promise...?"
"Promise!" he said firmly.
"Of course he'll come back. He already unlocked a soul-bound power."
The old man then broke their conversation and turned to Torres. "The sun is rising. You better start walking or you won't make it to your first destination."
"Yes... yes." Torres then added, "My first destination will be Vondomato!"
After an exchange of goodbyes, Torres walked off to begin his very first adventure. As a Soul Bounder, he was far stronger than a normal human and possessed an ability. These abilities were rare. In Torres' case, he possessed the Soul of Pressure—an ability to control pressure at will. With this ability, he would surely make a name for himself in the world of Soul Bounders.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
"Ple-please... spare my child..." A man clutched his daughter, crying on the wooden floor, begging for mercy from a man. But this man wasn't a normal man. He was a Royal General—one of the five highest-ranked titles in the hierarchy of the Royal Empire.
"Shut up," the general muttered. "You stole bread from my men. That alone is enough to slaughter your entire lineage."
"Please, sir Gandomohailo... I only did it to feed my family. You haven't given us food in two days, and my daughter is very hungry..." he pleaded.
"You dare talk back?!" The general slapped the man across the face.
Ack!
"Sir, I think that's enough. We can't kill a civilian. If word gets out, the Royal Empire will surely punish us," a man dressed in a similar manner to the general spoke up. He wore a white shirt with vertical yellow stripes and black leggings, but his shirt was unbuttoned.
"Vice General Compo. Take his daughter," the general said to the unbuttoned man, a menacing smirk spreading across his face.
"I..." Compo hesitated, but the general's glare made him freeze in fear. "Y-yes..."
"Please—!"
"Duty calls."
Gandomohailo then exited the house with his other six men. He had instructed them to find the traitors believed to be hiding in the village. He had been stationed there for two months under orders to eliminate spies—but instead of doing his job, he lazily abused the people while his men did all the work. Of course, his men hated him. A few even rebelled, but met their ends swiftly.
Though Gandomohailo was not a Soul Bounder, he had the strength and speed of a superhuman, casually killing traitors throughout his life without breaking a sweat.
"Sir! We found another traitor camping six kilometers away from the village! We're not sure if they're tied to the spies, but we believe they are," a soldier reported. The general ordered the sack to be removed from the prisoners' heads.
"I swear, I only saw this man and fed him because he looked hungry!" a middle-aged man hurriedly explained.
"Shut up," Gandomohailo said coldly. "Did I tell you to speak?"
The middle-aged man began sweating and looked down at the ground.
"And you," Gandomohailo turned to the quiet man. "You look young. Brave to infiltrate our land."
"I don't know what's happening right now," said the man—Torres.
"Excuses, eh?" Gandomohailo laughed.
"Although I'm telling the truth about being oblivious to all of this, I'm also telling the truth when I say I am a traitor," Torres said cockily.
"Hah! How interesting."
Without warning, Gandomohailo threw a punch. It was fast. But even with his hands tied behind his back, Torres dodged it with ease.
"Resisting the inevitable," the general muttered.
"Attacking a helpless boy? That's kind of shitty," Torres chuckled, provoking him.
Gandomohailo was clearly irritated, but he refused to show weakness by reacting to the boy's provocation.
"Alright, I'll fight you fair and square," he said. Then, looking at the two men beside him, he gestured for them to cut the ropes from Torres' wrists.
They did as they were told, drawing a knife. But as they moved, both soldiers fell in an instant. They didn't even know what had hit them—but Gandomohailo had seen it clearly. Torres had simply punched them.
"Now this feels fine," Torres laughed.
"How did a man like you even get caught by four measly weaklings?" the general asked.
"I let myself get caught, of course." Cockiness and provocation were Torres' signature weapons.