The slave boy stood by his master, a silver bowl still filled with spring water that he had been asked to bring.
The master, a fat layered man, leaned back with an angry face as he gazed at a man, that was tall and robust—holding a silver box.
"I will be going!" the man said.
The fat man growled but couldn't say a thing. His body was frozen in place, but his eyes were filled with fury and anguish.
This was his son, his only son that he had raised from infancy, the one who was supposed to inherit his wealth and house.
And yet, the son was greedy. He desired more. He desired power to control the world—a power that only brought ruin.
Sol, as they called the slave boy, was also frozen, but his eyes imperceptibly glowed, making him able to blink. But he didn't.
The moment the man walked out of the tent, he fell to his knees, the precious spring water washing over the lush carpet.
"Stupid boy," the fat man cursed, but he stood. Like a rhino, his body swayed, and he stepped forward with thudding sounds.
Leaving the tent, his men lay unconscious. He walked a far distance to the horses and searched.
He was beyond devastated. His heir, his son, the one he had put all his love into, had just stolen the family heirloom and gone to the land of doom.
What pained him was not the heirloom but his child. Chances were, he would never see him again.
His devastated mind didn't notice an iron spear coming toward him, and his chest was skewered as it protruded through his back.
Sol was horrified. His longer hand pushed himself up. He needed to run. He hated to change to another master. Anyone else would abuse him because of his disfigurement.
But to Sol's surprise, the fat man only became angrier, and his fat face and neck snapped toward the source.
'Master is Gifted!?'Sol thought as the master grabbed the spear and pulled it out while another one was coming.
His body steamed and became red. The fat burned, the ground he stood on shattered as he moved faster than Sol had ever seen anyone do.
Far into the forest, battle sounds came to them before a man—muscular, with a still-fat face—came back. Gashes and injuries littered his body, but they were closing as his body became leaner.
Sol stood fast. In his hand was a towel as he looked down. One hand was longer than the other, and he trembled due to the pressure his master was emitting.
To his shock, a slightly fat hand reached to his chin, and his face was raised. His eyes met with the master's.
"Interesting. Eiros affinity!" the master said.
Sol's heart skipped a beat. What did that mean?
Just now, when he had seen the silver box, he had felt weird and saw things he didn't understand.
"You, my boy, are special."
Sol swallowed hard. The man before him was nothing like his master. This one brimmed with power, and his gaze was firm.
"I will help you gain your destiny, but all I want is for you to get me into the Golden Capital!"
Sol still had no idea what all that was, but he just nodded. He was a slave, and he did what his master asked of him.
"Once we are in the Golden Capital, you are free!"
Sol stepped back, his head shaking. He didn't want to be free. He wanted to be with the master. He quickly fell to his knees, his palms together, shaking his head.
Zavien Ashkarion smiled. "Don't worry. I will show you how to be free!"
***
Broken bodies littered the ground. The metallic stench mixed with bodily fluids was the aroma.
All men dead, all babies drowned in men's blood, women undergoing horrifying acts.
Sol's gaze was stone-like, his eyes forced to dart around, seeing everything. His sisters, his aunts, his grandma, and even his m...!
He snapped awake. 'It returned!' His hand clenched his head and hugged his thighs.
Fear smeared his face, but then his eyes glowed. Objects around his room appeared to be glowing.
The image his eyes now captured pushed away the dream—or, to be precise, the memories of the events that had happened six years ago.
His emotions calmed down, but he was still shaken.
"Another nightmare?" Zavien asked outside the room. Sol came out fast and bowed while nodding.
"It's all right. The more you mold Eiros, the more you can control what you dream about." The man was fatter than before. His huge body was a mountain of flesh, his head buried in his neck—or was it his chest?
"I will wait ten minutes!" Zavien ordered before he walked out, his flesh jiggling despite being hidden behind the long robe he wore.
Sol had few things to do. He only relieved himself, washed his face, and wore the new clothes given to him yesterday.
He met his master at the gate, where they walked in the streets of Iron Roll City.
Standing eight feet tall with a mountain of flesh for a body, Zavien attracted eyes. Especially now that a pale-skinned, black-haired boy walked by his side.
Like master, like slave—the boy had uneven-sized hands. One was normal length, but the other was longer, making him appear disfigured.
Disgusted looks flashed on people faces.
Sol did not care about all that as they reached the Council Building.
"Go. I will wait for you!" Zavien ordered.
Sol bowed and walked hurriedly into the mansion. His robes and Zavien's presence were all he needed to be allowed entry.
Sol looked around the hall and noticed the silver template in the distance. He walked there. A man stopped him before confirming it was the boy sent by Zavien.
He was allowed to reach the Silver Template with the map of the city.
'All I have to do is touch it!' Sol thought. He looked around and became nervous. All eyes were on him, waiting to see what he would get.
'Just touch and forget about them!' Sol consoled himself and walked forward. His longer hand—the right and dominant hand—reached out.
The silver was cold to the touch, and nothing happened. Sol was confused, his hand still on the silver, before he pulled back and weakness washed over him.
He stumbled but held himself. Before him was a flat, circular glass floating in the air.
He stared at it as it floated.
He recalled the past seven days on their way back to Iron Roll when his master had educated him about the world. He had learned about what had truly happened to his clan and the power behind it.
Sol blinked many times. Just staring at the glass before him made his thoughts shift and his mental state improve.
The constant fear, the wariness, the nervousness, and uncertainty were reducing. His emotions were calming, his confidence was increasing.
A thought came to him that scared him, but it stayed.
It lingered in him, and the more the thought stayed, the happier he felt.
He almost smiled at the thought.
'I can avenge them!'
A lamb watching his family slaughtered would have no thought of vengeance.
But if the lamb grew fangs, he would entertain thoughts of retaliation.
Sol closed his eyes. His master had told him how to use the Eiros Glass before him.
He made it disappear and bowed to the people in the hall as they nodded at him with slight smiles.
Sol came out. His eyes landed on his master, his pace hurried, and he bowed to him, a smile plastered on his face.
'He has not changed. He is still loyal, even though his eyes have regained color and the fierceness of a mage.'
"Good. Let's take you to the Magic School!"
---
Sol stared at the book before him. It was heavy but had only forty pages with an iron cover.
On the front cover, his real name was written.
He quickly looked away. He hated the name. He despised it, and he turned the book aside.
Sol wore the magic uniform: black trousers with boots, a thin white shirt, and then a thick black robe over it. He had a bag where his pen and book could be kept.
He stood before the class. Well, it was a large field inside a confinement called school. He walked inside the classroom, and the sound became muted from outside.
Over thirty students sat on rough stone seats. Sol found one and sat down. His book was on his lap, but he had placed fabric to cover his name.
Thanks to the flowing nature of the robe, his disfigured hands were hidden. His eyes avoided their gaze because he feared offending nobles among them.
"Congratulations!" A man wearing the same uniform as them smiled as he came in. "Welcome to Eiros class—a class that will last one month before you become true Molders!"
The students' attention focused. Some opened their books and began to write. Sol too opened his book. The paper was reflective, and his Eiros Glass appeared inside.
The man started with history and the different types of paths that existed.
As his pen touched the page, insight enveloped him. With the reflection of the Eiros Glass, he could write whatever he wanted at any moment he noticed.
He looked at others, and their hands moved randomly while strange symbols formed and settled on the page.
He too looked down at his book. He now had 500 words available—more like he could put down using this method.
Sol waved the pen, and different symbols rolled onto the page. His stamina began to reduce, which made him control what to write and what not to.
He chose what he thought were the most important things, such as the name of the first king, some important people, the heroes, and the different wars that had happened.
Sol stopped writing and just listened. He had just used 400 words just now, almost covering half the page too.
He stared at the words. The alphabet was alien but also familiar. They were personal to him, and no one could read them unless they had the relevant spell.
Each of them now wrote with unique words that, if any of them got the chance, could develop a unique Eiros language that could spread across the world.
Sol had learned from his master that some Molders had such dreams, but they had to crawl their way into the Royal Court and publish numerous academic findings to spread their words.
"That is the boring stuff. But the most important is... what are we, and what can we do, and what is the difference between us and the others"
Sol regretted wasting 400 words on the history for a moment, thinking the explanation would be long, but then he smiled.
"We are the blessed children of the world. Eiros—an energy that our world refined after it was destroyed—has chosen us to wield."
All that long explanation was just a single word in his book, but a heavy one.
"Mages, weavers, sorcerers, spell casters, conductors—but here we call ourselves Molders!"
Another word on the page, which meant he still had eighty words to go. But at that moment, Sol recognized something: the teacher chose his words carefully, and whatever he said came slowly to them.
"Great, some of you see it now," the teacher who had never introduced himself said as he noticed Sol.
"What is your name, boy?"
Sol panicked as he looked around him. No one was behind him as the teacher's gaze was on him.
"S... Sol!" he said.
"Hello, Sol. You gain ten Ei!"
Ei was a point of Eiros that had been captured. Immediately, ten dots appeared on Sol's page. The fatigue Sol was feeling went away. Now he had 580 words.
"Thank you. Thank you!" Sol said repeatedly.
"I will take them back if your next writing is composed of too many words."
Sol was confused at first before he nodded.
"Each sentence must be one word in your book with your unique language," the teacher said to the class.
It turned out Sol was the only one who got one word per sentence on the new topic. Sol felt nervous. Had he outdone some nobles or people in power? He sneakily looked around.
Some were frowning, but the rest were focused.
He too focused. With new stamina, each sentence came as one word until the topic ended.
"Good. This class is good." The teacher then began to walk around. "Don't write this. The Eiros Glass has many auxiliary uses, one of which is possessing some tools and objects. A prime example is the book before you."
He stood before a student and pointed at the numerous sentences of the first topic. "This is novice writing. A thousand words can be squeezed into one word of your unique writing." He looked at the class and added, "The more words you can squeeze, the better you can use the book, and also it will grow with you."
He slid his hand into his bag and pulled out his book—the same as theirs but with a copper cover.
"I have twenty years of life experience here. Still forty pages, still the same book, and as you see, the color of the cover has changed. This doesn't indicate high grade—no, it indicates the path I took."
He placed it back. "Your experience in life denotes the shift in cover change. But as of now, iron shows two things!"
"Your starting point is Iron Roll City, and also a Spell of Iron Defense!"