I have been told many tales in my life.

My mother had recited a story for me every now and then. She had told me about the world but also had told me that the world was broader than what she could describe.

She had told me one time about the dragon, the first creation of Thin-Ra and the most powerful being in the world. Some people feared that when the dragon decided to take the world, nobody was going to stand before it. And some believed that it was better for the world to be managed by Thin-Ra's first creation, The Dragon. Because, after all, it was Thin-Ra who had chosen the dragon to be our ruler.

When I entered the storyteller's yard, the ground was parched. The children filled the length of the yard in two rows of ten taking the yard fence to fence. But I chose to sit a few feet behind them.

"I think that's fine. The old man's voice is loud enough," Said Heal sitting beside me.

I didn't know how I came here. It was strange how I couldn't refuse the offers this blond girl presented.

Heal looked brighter than to be turned down. Her voice and eyes were so strong for me to reject.

The morning sun was covered with fast-moving clouds. The breeze was more potent than the previous night, and I felt a stinging cold on my skin.

The other kids weren't different. Some covered their noses and breathed through their hands to warm themselves. Some wore two layers of clothes.

The village didn't have many types of clothes, just leather, and wool. Silk was there, but my mother had told me it was rare. And Heal had a silk shirt. Heal's shirt was clear white, smooth, and light, as if it was never from here.

"I want to know your name," said Heal, staring at me with bright, sparkling eyes. "I want to be your friend."

I didn't reply. I was more in deep thought about why I was here, and if I wanted to return, what would the other kids say about me?

"Huh, is that Heal?" a boy said as he turned around. Freckled face and brown hair. The boy had sharp brown eyes and a snotty nose, primarily because of the change of weather, or maybe not.

The boy sniffed, then added, "why are you sitting beside the deaf kid? Come here. We missed you."

Beside the boy sat Neive. She looked back at me, then shifted her stare to Heal as if she was avoiding my gaze. The freckled boy was the same boy who had called her when she was with me at the gates.

I didn't know what was happening, but I guessed that, like what had happened in the past, I wasn't welcome.

"I'm great. The forest is amazing. A few days ago, I saw a big fairy dancing by the purple lake," Heal said. Then looked at me. "You aren't deaf. You can hear us. You just don't like to speak."

I stayed silent, my half-opened eyes as quiet as the night, my waving hair moving slowly with the wind.

Heal wasn't totally wrong. I didn't want to talk because I wasn't able to say most of the words correctly. But I wouldn't have argued with them even if I were able to. I had never thought of being an active talker.

"He isn't just deaf," stood a girl from the group, red-haired. "He is scary looking," she glanced into my half-opened eyes. "Just look at his eyes. They are long and sharp. I heard that he was abandoned by his mother for that."

The girl jabbered, then laughed at the end. Laughed at what? I didn't understand what was funny about that. My mother had never abandoned me. There was a letter in my house that recited her words to my head whenever I touched it, and not even once had the letter said a word of abandoning.

Not funny, I thought, but I never replied.

In fact, I trembled. I had thought that the only one who would bring my mother topic to harass me was the voice within… I never thought other people would have similar thoughts.

What was so funny about me wasn't really something I didn't care for. I cared. People were scary things. I discovered that when I was six. They trashed me even though I would say nothing in return.

But I could put up with those words. My mom had confidence in me, after all. She must have taught me silence just for this, to remain unshaken. Just like what my mother had told me to be, I was a balloon unshaken by storms and a quiet non-rippling lake.

I took a deep breath feeling the slow relief in my heart.

I wasn't a good speaker, that was all.

And my mother had never abandoned me. That was a fact. She had told me that she had left me here for my own good. And if I couldn't believe my mother, I better not believe myself as well.

And something the kids would never know.

My mother hadn't left me empty-handed. She had taught me magic to protect myself. The magic those kids had yet to learn or most likely would never learn.

She had told me before. That those people weren't born to be mages. And even if they were, they wouldn't amount to anything.

But…

I shouldn't be arrogant about that. An arrogant manipulator was a weak one. Manipulation was the art of applying processed mana. Mana was like smoke, smoke that followed my focus and imagination, the two elements that would be affected by my inner concerns. I shouldn't be concerned by hunger or feelings or chitchats from other people.

I stayed silent. I made a choice not to get concerned by them and just ignored them. However, something I hadn't thought would happen was that Heal would defend me.

"Is it because he looks better than you?" Heal said as she looked at the red-haired girl.

I noticed a light chuckle from Riam, who sat beside the red-haired girl.

"Or is it because he minds his own business?" Heal added.

The kids were silent. The red-haired girl stepped one step back. She tensed for a second, seeming out of words. It appeared that Heal was a loved individual here, a girl whose thoughts gave other people concerns and maybe changed their minds, just like how my mother would change my view of everything just by giving her thoughts.

"It's not like that," the girl said, her voice trembling. "It's because he is deaf."

"Rauz," said Heal. "I will never judge others for things they had no choice for."

Heal looked then at the freckled boy: "what about you, steven? Your face is full of freckles, and your nose is snotty all year long. This boy has the clearest skin of you all. He has mirror-clear eyes and is so pretty. Is that why you are judging him? I want to be his friend. We should all be friends. All of us have flaws, you know," Heal clenched one hand. "Flaws that we had no choice upon."

Heal voice was light but sharp. Her eyes were long and strict but gentle as well. Her hair was cleaner than any of the kids, even though her clothes were ragged and dirty. And when she stated that. When she told the others that statement, I saw her becoming bigger than the rest.

I would never have thought of such things and would never have reached the conclusion of judging. But when she stated it, it made sense to me. I understood not just what Heal said but understood a part of her light character. She expressed brightness in a clumsy way but wisdom like my mother.

But the kids didn't look satisfied. I wasn't surprised by that. My mother had raised me to be above my peers. She had enlightened me with tales and rules and studies that were above my age and slowly opened my head ahead of the others.

Steven opened his mouth to say something, most likely a rejection or a sarcastic comeback by using my inability to speak. But it looked like the time was already up.

The door in front of us was made of old and worn-out wood, dark brown and wet, and slowly was opened with a very long squeak.

All kids quietened and returned to face the door. But before anyone could appear, Neive turned back and muttered as she looked at Heal, "He's Ruth."

Then returned to look like the rest.

Heal didn't reply. Instead, she swayed her ocean-blue eyes to the side, observing me. Her sunny cheeks looked as clear as flour and as fluffy as dough, and I couldn't not be bewildered by her.

"I love your name. It is so pretty."

Heal smiled, and her eyes slowly looked up at the door, leaving me to touch my chest. It was a feeling I had for the first time. I found myself biting my lower lip and aching from my tight chest in a painful and scary way.

Strange feeling.

"Ahem, Ahem," words spread around the yard, and I, like the others, looked at the door.

A cane extended from the house, thick and tall, trembling like the hand holding it. The old man exited the door, arched and feeble. His beard was long and white, his eyebrows thick, covering all of his eyes.

The old man stood beside his door and stared at the kids one by one. Then he stopped as his eyes were fixated on me.

"A new boy?" asked the old man. "It's my first time seeing you here."

"He is Ruth," said Heal. "he will start coming over to listen to your stories."

Heal answered instead of me. And even though a part of me appreciated that, I didn't like how Heal made decisions for me. But again, it was easier for me to stay silent.

The old man hemmed, then his cheeks wrinkled up in a light smile.

"Can't the boy talk?"

"Yea, he's deaf," said Steven, looking back at Heal with sharp eyes. "Though he can hear what we say."

I ignored what was happening and only stared at the old man. The old man pondered my figure. His head tilted from up to down as if he was observing me. Then hemmed and looked at Heal.

"Heal, can you get me the chair?"

"Sure!" Heal said instantly as he stood up.

And in a few seconds, Heal was back with the chair. Wooden, mahogany-like chair. And the old man gently rested on it as Heal returned beside me.

"The old man has a painting of a naked girl in his house," Heal murmured to my ear.

*Dublup*

I heard my beat magnified. But wished Heal didn't listen to it. A naked girl.

Was Heal already familiar with such things… or was she just shamelessly innocent.

I chose to ignore it. I took a deep breath and gently calmed down. And looked at the old man.

The old man swayed in his chair as he looked up into the sky.

"It is 3008 today," the old man said. His voice rattled but loud and clear. "But Kias is way older than 3000 years. For three thousand and eight years, the world was in a lot of chaos. There was no peace or rules. The humans had many clans and sects, and each one of them moved and did as they wanted. The humans weren't on bad terms with each other but weren't on good terms as well. A sealer could kill an elementer, and a scriber could kill a sealer. It wasn't good, but it wasn't a sin as well. But there was something to be certain, for all humans at that time… and that is that all humans hated the demons."

I was listening deeply to the old man. The old man's tale was a history lesson. A lesson my mother never talked about.

The old man said that before digging into the tale, he had to give us data. He started with who lived on Kias.

Two types of people, regardless of race.

Spiritual and non-spiritual.

"Spirituals are people who have the ability to give a deal. Those people are the ones giving the benefit, but for a price. Those could be the guardians Thin-Ra left in Kias to regulate the world, like the water guardian Flora. Or can be a normal fairy to provide light for the price of a place to sleep," the old man said. "A deal or a contract is witnessed by The Devil, the guardian of fates."

The old man had described a contract as a deal that could not be broken. If a fairy provided the light but wasn't provided a place to sleep. The person would lose something in return. Contracts were deeply associated with the soul, and only spiritual beings were able to offer them. Some might die if they break a contract. Some might lose someone special. Some might lose a part or a limb.

"There are weapons that only choose people relying on that, like the weapons some monsters create. After all, some souls are reincarnated into stones and metals."

The world was big but summarized into people that gave deals and people that accepted. But the world was more complicated than that. The non-spiritual people, even though they couldn't make soul contracts with each other, of them were born with dark or light abilities like the demons, elemental magic like the human mages, or free mana manipulation like me.

"If I was to enlist the races and their differences, it would be a long, long story. It's the start of a new year, and all of you here have no idea of the world. I'm just giving you the pits you need to know your world. The rest can be up to you."

The old man categorized the people into three types. Humans were the most populated, demons were less populated, and monsters were the most.

"Monsters is a broad term. Some are good, and some are bad. A monster can be an animal who lived past the 1000 years mark or a spirit or a fairy. But, for sure, a strong monster is an old one. Monsters attain abilities when they pass the hundred thousand years mark and attain wisdom when they pass the million years mark. Some monsters were even trusted for prophecies in this world. Prophecies that most likely could come true. If the monster would share a single feature, it is that they have a core instead of a heart. Still, a heart is turned into a core only when a monster passes a few million years of age. I've never seen a core before. No one actually had heard of one who had seen it in my life span. But records for their existence are there, myths of eating them to attain powers are also there… but killing a monster who had passed a hundred thousand years is already hard… five million is something only a selected few may be able to achieve."

Monsters can become spiritual or non-spiritual. Humans and demons were non-spiritual species.

"Thin-Ra's first creation, The Dragon, is a monster, but for religious beliefs, we categorize her on a different scale. We call her The Holy Dragon. And The Jennie, Thin-Ra's second creation, would also be categorized as a monster, but we call him the holy Jennie."

The Dragon was Thin-Ra's first creation. The Jennie was Thin-Ra's second creation. And after that, Thin-Ra created Kias and its peoples and their fates.

The old man stopped swaying and looked at the children, including me.

"When is your listening ceremony? Is it near?" the old man asked.

And Neive raised her hand, "we still don't know."

"I see," the old man nodded. "In your listening ceremony, the elders will make a play in cooperation with the Libraman. And will educate you more about Thin-Ra-Siin."

I heard Siin a few times before when my mother prayed for my well-being. She sometimes referred to the god with only Thin-Ra, and sometimes with Thin-Ra-Siin. And she had taught me the reason. Siin meant 'the one and only' in the old human language, and with time people started using it as an honorific to Thin-Ra.

The one and only Thin-Ra… Thin-Ra-Siin.

The old man stopped talking. He munched as if he was rehydrating his mouth, then said.

"The world is wide, kids. Guardians are never seen, but they are there. Thin-Ra said that. Thin-Ra gave much evidence of his existence. Like the great bridge he had placed between the human and middle continents. No mortal can create such a bridge, but, Thin-Ra created it for us."

The old man smiled and added: "Thin-Ra once said, I'm closer to you than your own blood. And that's true. Thin-Ra's gentle voice would always sound in your head when you achieve a milestone. And will always tell you what you need to know when you pass by one of the bricks Thin-Ra had distributed. But the world is wide and broad, and I can't tell you everything about everything. My tale has yet to begin. However, Before I start, I want to ask you, have you understood everything. Do you have any questions?"

One of the boys raised his hand.

"Can we use magic?" the boy asked.

"Magic is a term for using mana. All humans can use mana. In fact, humans are the most benefited from it. But to different extents."

The old man explained.

Humans used mana as a power and a life force. Every human had 100 mana pores, but not anyone had all the hundred points opened. In fact, there are no such known humans with all of them open.

Those pores' job was to output mana in most humans. Most humans absorbed mana through breathing, and the human system processed it, and the pores were able to re-use it as an output force.

"Mana is toxic by nature. That's why the ability of a human to process it is proportional to their life span."

The old man said that all humans have an affinity to mana, but to different degrees. The old man himself was hundred and twenty years old, and he doubted he would live past hundred and fifty. But a mage can live two hundred years and die with less apparent aging symptoms.

"A class S mage can live up to three or four hundred years, but a mage lord is said to be immortal. But they are not to be seen."

Then the old man returned to the topic.

Some humans could process the mana to an element of four: fire, water, earth, or wind.

Ordinary humans, or like what the nobles called commoners, were able to use only one element. Nobles were able to use two elements, and the Royal and some nobles have also been known to be able to use three elements.

My mother had told me before about the types of mages. And had told me that I wasn't like the elemental type. A rare type. A kind that had never been mastered before and was the hardest to master.

"Manipulators," said the old man as he pulled his wood cane and pointed it at the sky. "Manipulators are the other type of mages. I call them the quiet mages."

The old man gave a good explanation of them. He pointed at the sky and told the kids that a manipulator needed to have a creative imagination. A manipulator was a mage who absorbed mana like the others, but their process would be one step quicker. A manipulator only purified mana to use it as it was, mana. Formless and featureless mana.

"A good manipulator is one who can identify the shapes of the clouds well and easily. One with great imagination and great composure. Their path is hard and painful. They are usually taught since their childhood because if not, it would be nearly impossible to adapt to such a harsh lifestyle when they are mature."

The old man wasn't wrong in how he identified an excellent manipulator but wasn't correct as well. I was good at figuring out similarities between clouds and shapes. But I wasn't born like this.

I spent most of my first eight years of life blindfolded. My mother had always told me things and tales to imagine. She had nourished my imagination since my youngest years of life. Until I started seeing vague details of my surrounding without using my eyes… That was at seven when my mom finally removed my blindfold forever.

I already knew what a manipulator needed.

Imagination: the ability to visualize what a person thinks.

Focus: the ability to purify the visualized image and enhance its quality and reality.

Isolation: the ability to enhance the previous two factors. The percentage of which a manipulator can dive into their own visualization and imagination.

"Finding a manipulator is rare. Finding a manipulator who is talented in all three aspects has been seen throughout history only once. I recall his name was Vantage, later known as the lord of illusion."

After the old man completed the lesson on magic. He asked, "any other questions?"

"Me me!" a girl raised her hand, her hair was purple, and she smiled a warm smile.

"Celi, you can talk."

Celi, or as she had told me, Riam, stood. She flashed a smirk at me and then looked at the old man.

"What about witches?"

"Ha ha ha, those are considered now a myth," the old man laughed. "But the information on them was rich and many. Witches and wizards are told to be an ancient family of humans who were able to make a contract with the guardian of Fate. The spirit the Thin-Ra-Siin instructed to regulate fates and life. The guardian of Fate is also the one regulating the souls after death. And the witching family was the only family who was able to see and meet this guardian. Thus they had made a contract with it. Their contract made them able to make many more contracts than a normal mage, share contracts, and do many things like applying multiple skills at once… but you know, it's most likely a myth."

The old man explained that the contract with the guardian of Fate made the witches and wizards abnormally invincible. The myths said they weren't immortal but were easily able to live thousands of years. They were humans but had a different approach to magic, magic called the charted system.

The old man offered to be questioned again. Some asked about the demons, but the old man told them he didn't know as much about them.

"They are less populated than the humans, have different power and different rules to them. But I believe their rules are similar to the input and output system we live with."

Then no one asked a question…

And after some silence, the old man talked again.

"Amazing, right?" the old man chuckled as he looked at the sky. "Three thousand years ago, it would be normal if such a gathering in a quiet and peaceful place would turn into a blood bath."

The kids cleared their throats when they heard the old man's topic sentence.

"Now let me tell you about the greatest war in history. The war against the hybrids."