Jericho, the Chaos Magician

Ascent 1:

"I'm going to become stronger, no matter how long it takes", Jericho said to himself.
"Once I master these little spells, I'll go out and find some more tomes. There has to be more than this", he spoke aloud.
The "little spells" in question were a small collection of luck and fortune charms that gave an unnoticeable advantage to Jericho above the rest of the non-mages in this world. Hiding from the women in the village, including High Mage Brea, who would almost certainly detect any new magic in the land. But it was something that needed to be done a while ago, and something that was inevitable.
Just as he would begin learning this new magic and knowledge of it, the clock tower would strike 8 times to signify the start of a new day. Hastily, Jericho hid every trace of lower magic and evidence of his practice to resume his role in Hestem Village. He armed himself with a spear and shield, donned his standard issue armor and joined the ranks of the regiment. With his newfound skill, Jericho thought he could finally win his sparring match with Damien Draconi, a first class knight with a fourth-class intellect. Damien made up for his lack of intelligence with a monstrous 7'2" stature and 300 pound build, all lean muscle. His shaved head beamed in the sunlight and cast a divine glow across the crown of his head. His dirt stained beard moved with the wind like a maiden's freshly washed hair, billowing its foul smell into the air. Everyone applauded his efforts to become the best knight in all of the land, protector of the High Mage and leader of the first Crusades.

Jericho thought he looked like an orc who gained the ability to speak, but what did anyone care about what Jericho thought? After all the boy was still a boy, barely up to Damien's abdomen and a third his weight. Even still, Crusades or not, that freak was going down.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall", Jericho mumbled under his breath.

"You ready for our rematch, little one? Maybe you've come to gawk at me just like the rest of these weaklings", Damien laughed out loud. The men in the regiment broke out into hysterical laughter, despite having been collectively insulted not even ten seconds prior.

"Maybe I am, Damien! Scared you'll lose, piss-ant? I've got a new skill that none of you had the balls to try and obtain. Come at me with all you've got, orc" Jericho replied.

In Hesten Village, "orc" was similar to modern day "shit-for-brains".

Damien charged out of the gate with his mighty battle axe; its dull metal catching the sun behind him and blocking it out entirely, like the void had swallowed the sun and was coming for Jericho next.

Before anyone knew what had happened, a bright light blinded Damien and the rest of the regiment. The light created was so intense that several men were burned through their armor, like the Sun that had once enshrined Damien had turned on him and his adoring followers. Jericho had used a spell called "Flashbang", although only half the spell was learned. It was a defensive spell that could be used offensively, and its magical output was no higher than the ambient energy of the village. High Mage Brea would never have realized what had happened in the village that day. Jericho only learned half of the spell on purpose; so he could blind his opponents while still keeping the mages at arms length. If they managed to find out about his abilities, they would surely execute him in a most cruel manner; legs split apart by chains made of lead and suspended ten feet in the air. The accused would die in a matter of weeks by either lead poisoning, dehydration, starvation, or self mutilation. That was the price to pay for practicing magic as a man in Hesten Village.

"I AM JERICHO!!! I CAST THIS SPELL OPENLY TO SAY THAT I RENOUNCE 'High Mage Brea' AND HER TYRANNICAL RULE!!!" Jericho shouted at the top of his lungs. The men had just regained their sight, and all eyes were on Jericho. The ones who could move crowded around him and began to beat him into the ground with everything they had. No method of injury was too grandiose as long as they kept him alive. A fist landed straight on his nose, shattering the brittle cartilage and made Jericho collapse to the floor in tears. The men of the regiment took turns using him as a punching bag, kicking in his head and throwing him right into Damien's lap.

"Piss-ant, huh? Is that all you THINK OF ME?!?! JERICHO!!!" Damien shouted as he took his battle axe, dull as he was, and raised it over his head. Two knights surrounded the battered body of the boy, soaked in blood and eager for vengeance. They held his head down to the floor, scrubbing his broken nose into the dirt floor and pinning him down so he couldn't move, even if he wasn't beaten within an inch of his life.

"Magic practiced by man is a sin punishable by death, but since you renounce High Mage Brea, I guess she wouldn't mind if I took justice into my own hands by REMOVING YOURS!!!" The axe held above Damien's head came down with a gust of wind followed by a mist of blood. The axe hit the floor, caught in its blade was Jericho's left hand, now separated from the rest of his body. The boy let out a blood curdling scream, heard all around the village. Soon, people from all around the area swarmed the sparring grounds to see what made such an inhuman noise, and an entire crowd gathered around the battered and bloodied body of Jericho, the boy who denounced the savior of Hesten Village.