Marro flipped another dusty page of the history book, trying to ignore how the musty smell was probably mold.
> "Long ago, there were four kingdoms that despised each other and were in constant war. That is, until an ethereal calamity-class dragon awoke. People had no choice but to band together and defeat it for the sake of humanity. After 184 restless years, they finally defeated the dragon. The people then looked at the past 184 years and reflected, and the four kingdoms signed a peace treaty."
The kid sighed. Apparently, centuries of bloodshed could be summed up as: "We fought for no reason, then got along for even less reason."
Marro's family was poor. And not the "oh no, no dessert tonight" kind of poor—the "we'd sell the table if it wasn't holding up the roof" kind of poor. But that didn't stop him. From a young age, he'd learned a valuable life skill:
STEAL! STEAL! STEAL!
He wasn't exactly evil about it. He'd run simple tricks, swipe from the rich, and hand most of the loot to his parents… or other poor folks. Basically, a bargain-bin Robin Hood.
Now, this world had everything—magic, sword skills, martial arts, and even flashy "innate sword abilities" that made people scream "Whoa!" in tournaments. Marro wanted in. He'd spend hours with his friend Kieran after school (yes, he went to school—stolen tuition money counts, right?), talking about what kind of badass hero he'd be.
There were four main ways to fight:
1. Magic
2. Fighting Styles
3. Innate Sword Abilities
4. Inherential Skills (basically… whatever nonsense you were born with)
Obviously, every kid wanted magic. The problem? You had to be born with magical affinity. And to become a proper fighter, you needed insane skill, training, and tuition fees that made nobles laugh while peasants cried.
When Marro turned thirteen—the age when magic affinity shows—he marched into the guild like a kid walking into his surprise birthday party. The appraiser (a magician subclass) took one look at the results and announced:
> "Drumroll, please… ONE! PERCENT! AFFINITY!"
Marro's jaw dropped. One percent. For… sand magic.
The worst. Possible. Magic type.
No flashy fireballs. No lightning bolts. No freezing enemies in dramatic anime fashion. Just… gritty inconvenience.
His dreams crumbled right there. Becoming a fighter was too expensive, innate sword abilities had a one-in-100,000 chance, and inherential skills were rarer than free lunches.
Marro went home and sulked. He didn't even have the energy to steal anything that day.
The next morning, a ruckus outside yanked Marro out of bed like a cat being thrown into a river. Apparently, Princess Lily—the youngest and first in line, though her older sisters were "unfit to rule"—had gone missing.
Marro… didn't care. Not at all. He had bigger problems, like scrounging enough coins for bread without getting caught.
Turning a corner of the market, plotting his next snack heist, BAM! He literally ran into someone. They both tumbled to the ground.
Looking up, he realized it was… the princess. Princess Lily herself.
She glared at him, brushing off dust. "Pervert," she said flatly.
"I—uh… I swear, I'm not a pervert! You just… fell in front of me!" Marro protested.
"Oh, of course," Lily said, deadpan, "because everyone knows princesses trip into commoners' laps all the time."
Before Marro could respond, a loud shout echoed from the street:
"There they are! Stop them!"
Guards. Everywhere. And Marro had just been accused of being a pervert by the princess.
Lily's expression didn't waver. She grabbed his arm. "Run!"
"Wait, what?" Marro sputtered.
"No time to argue!" she snapped.
Marro groaned but had no choice. He sprinted after her, weaving through stalls, knocking over baskets of fruit, and nearly face-planting into a stack of bread.
Suddenly, a familiar voice shouted:
"Marro! Over here!"
It was Kieran, leaping down from a rooftop like he'd been expecting exactly this kind of disaster. Calm, sarcastic, and completely unbothered, he grabbed Marro by the collar.
"Really, Marro? You manage to get yourself chased by royal guards before breakfast?" Kieran asked dryly.
"I… it's complicated!" Marro stammered, nearly tripping over a stray pig.
From behind Kieran appeared a girl Marro didn't recognize—long black hair, confident grin, and an aura that screamed don't mess with me.
Kieran glanced at Marro and whispered, "Lucky for you, I brought backup."
"Backup?" Marro blinked.
"This is Seris, my childhood friend," Kieran explained. "We trained together in magic before you even knew me. She moved away to get stronger… and she just arrived in the city. She sent me a magical letter—apparently there's a strange disturbance here."
Seris smirked at Marro. "Looks like you two needed saving."
Marro froze. "I… I don't even know who you are!"