Nathan – POV

  Jakob and Jack arrived at our estate a day before Jack’s birthday. The timing was deliberate, of course. On the very next morning, he would stand before the Slalenese Church to undergo his advancement ceremony, the same rite of passage that awaited every child upon reaching their tenth year.

  It was strange seeing Jack again after so long. He had grown; not just taller, but broader, his frame filling out with the beginnings of muscle earned through relentless training at the knight school. His posture carried a new confidence, though I could still see the nervous boy beneath the surface. When we finally had a moment to ourselves, he eagerly demonstrated the techniques he had learned: footwork drills, sword forms, even a few defensive maneuvers. His movements were sharp, disciplined, and far more refined than when he had left.

  I was impressed, though I tried not to show it too openly. Training was one thing, but the System was another matter entirely. Would it recognize his efforts and grant him the warrior class he so desperately sought? I hoped so. He had worked too hard to be denied.

  The next morning, we greeted him with cheerful shouts of “Happy Birthday!” Mother had gone all out, preparing a breakfast so lavish it could have fed a small garrison. Platters of roasted meats, sausages, and thick cuts of ham dominated the table. It was far too heavy for breakfast in my opinion, but Jack devoured it with the enthusiasm of someone who had spent years eating the bland rations of a training camp.

  After the meal, we set out for town. The church awaited.

  Along the way, we were joined by my familiars...the Hellblazers. Jack already knew them well enough by now, and he greeted each like kin. Our little family, flanked by such formidable figures, must have looked like a parade of power.

  There was Xander, hulking in his full plate of armor; his tower shield strapped to his back like a slab of iron wall. Beside him walked Krizek, his slim, shadowy form radiating quiet menace. And finally, Leshner, flamboyant as ever, twirling his wicked spear with a grin that dared anyone to challenge him.

  The townsfolk, who once sneered at us for our Shaxaian heritage, now parted before us with wary respect. Some even bowed their heads. Fear and admiration replaced the scorn. Even the guards at the gate, who once would have stopped us for inspection, now looked the other way.

  As we neared the church, I gave a mental order to my minions: Do not enter. Their true nature, demons in disguise, would only invite disaster in such a place. They obeyed, posting themselves outside the entrance with Shive. She wanted to come in, of course, but I asked her not to.

  A mischievous thought crossed my mind: would they start smoking or bursting into flames if they stepped onto consecrated ground? My demons scoffed at the idea, claiming the church was no holier than our outhouse. Mother’s glare silenced them quickly.

  Inside, the church was modestly filled. Ten or twelve boys stood with their families, all waiting their turn. The head priest began his speech, a long-winded sermon about duty, faith, and the gods’ supposed benevolence. I tuned it out. Serena did too. We both knew the truth: the church inflated its role in the awakening ceremony to maintain power, prestige, and...most importantly coin.

  The first boy was called forward. He swore an oath to the gods, and the priest performed a series of incantations. At first, nothing happened. Then the boy’s eyes lit up, and he shouted that he had received the warrior class. His family erupted in cheers, rushing to pay the priest his fee.

  A scam, plain and simple.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  But something gnawed at me. How did the priest know the exact moment the System would respond? When Serena and I awakened, there had been no priest, no ritual, no theatrics. Could the church possess an artifact that triggered the System? The thought unsettled me. I made a mental note to investigate further—perhaps by sending my minions to “extract” the truth from one of the high priests. Shive, ever dutiful, promised to remind me.

  The ceremony continued. A blacksmith. A merchant. A brawler. A hunter. The classes varied, and the children accepted them with smiles; whether genuine or forced, I could not tell.

  Then Jack’s name was called.

  He walked forward stiffly, nerves plain on his face. I felt my own stomach tighten. He swore the oath, the priest chanted, and then...relief. Jack’s face broke into a grin. “I’m a warrior!” he shouted.

  The tension drained from me. He had done it. All his training, all his effort; it had paid off.

  After paying the priest his fee, we returned home. I couldn’t help but think: what if I conducted my own awakening ceremonies, charging far less than the church? People would flock to me. The idea made me smile, until Mother caught the expression and quietly reprimanded me. She knew me too well.

  That evening, we held another celebration, this time with my minions included. They ate and laughed with us, blending so seamlessly into the gathering that no one would guess they were demons.

  Then Father stood and made his announcement.

  “In three days’ time, we depart. I have hired an adventurer party to escort us across the eastern continent, and across the seas to the western lands. The journey will take several months. The road will be dangerous, but with the Hellblazers and our hired companions, we will be safe.”

  “Who did you hire?” Mother asked.

  “A party called Crimson Dawn. Five members: a tank, a healer, a mage, a hunter, and a rogue. Well-rounded.”

  I turned to Leshner. “Do you know them?”

  “Yes, Master...err, Nathan. We have worked with them before. Dependable, though… honorable. Sadly so. They are still human, so expect some incompetence.”

  We ignored his jab. By now, we were used to his disdain for mortals.

  “Thanks, Leshner. But remember...don’t call me ‘Master.’ It would look odd for a child to be addressed that way.”

  He bowed. “My apologies, Nathan.”

  That night, after our parents retired, we children stayed awake, eager to catch up with Jack.

  “Did you learn sword fighting?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said proudly. “Sir Rober himself trained me. He taught me many weapons but emphasized the two-handed sword. My stats even reflect it.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Two-Handed Sword Mastery: 24. My highest. Daggers are my lowest at 10.”

  “Impressive,” I admitted.

  “Because of my training, most of my physical stats are above 10. Except for intelligence. That’s at one.”

  Serena smirked. “Figures. Dumb as a rock.”

  That sparked a shouting match between the two of them, loud enough to wake Mother, who stormed in and scolded us all. I, of course, was caught in the crossfire. Siblings...sometimes more trouble than monsters.

  The next day, Father decided to take advantage of our remaining time by running a dungeon with Jack and my minions. He wanted to “boost” Jack, helping him level safely.

  I longed to join, to learn from Jack’s weapon skills, but I reminded myself: I was still only five. My body had not yet caught up to my mind. Frustrating, yes, but patience was my only option.

  I had known for some time that a dungeon lay nearby, but Mother’s watchful eyes had kept me from exploring it. She guarded Serena and I like a hawk.

  My knowledge of dungeons came mostly from stories and fiction. Were they truly the same here? Or something far stranger? I resolved to ask Mother later.

  Soon, we would leave this place behind. The thought filled me with restless excitement. The world stretched wide before us, full of dangers, mysteries, and opportunities.

  For now, though, I watched Jack; a new warrior, brimming with pride; and felt a flicker of hope. Whatever awaited us on the road ahead, we would face it together.