In the endless horizon of Phantagrande
Skydom, countless crews of Skyfarers roam the
sky, each with their own hopes and dreams. Among
the strongest of them are The Eternals, a crew of
10 legendary warriors, a master of each of their
own weapon. It i...
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The weak will always be a prey to the strong. That's how I saw the world. That's what I believed in. In a world where the only landmass was habitable for humanoids are chunks of floating islands scattered throughout what we call a 'skydom', or a cluster of islands within a dome-like invisible barrier, running away wasn't really an option. Resistance was futile. This world was a mass of negative adjectives. It was unyieldingly cruel, utterly merciless, and eternally harsh. It simply didn't favor weaklings, especially those who couldn't fend for themselves. There is a clear difference between knowing how to wield magic or sword to use them in a real fight, and those who doesn't. The strong was entitled to everything, and the weak were forced to hide and survive beneath their shadows, scraping leftovers just to stay alive. That was what I know. A simple reality in which living was choosing to either be the oppressor or the oppressed. And so, I chose to simply persist.
I was a weakling. In this rural village atop a nameless island of the skydom's outskirts, I was but an 'outcast' of society, or maybe the term 'trash' would fit me better. A man of no importance nor skills. Perhaps due to my dreadful lifestyle, I did manage to pick up a few skills; a few trades of my own. It was amazing to see what you could get with only a sleight of hand, but that was all. That's the best of what I could come up with, to cope with this life. Even after reaching adulthood, the only thing I know of was taking apples from stalls without being seen, or snatching breads when the shopkeeper was looking the other way, or my personal favorite of all, lurking within a pile of garbage. I never understood how those privileged scums could waste so much food just because they were 'full' and 'content'. For such luxury to be easily thrown away was sickening, yet a blessing to my belly.
Usually, I could stave off starvation. But lately, the days were being more unforgiving. I didn't know since when, but guards have been showing up everywhere. Stealing apples was already hard as it is, and stalking food stalls was now near to impossible due to constant observation from those damned watchmen. There was less food being thrown in the dumpster too. It was hardly believable that people are starting to be modest, I know better. But what I was sure of is that they didn't frequent eating outside anymore. A storm seemed to be brewing in the horizon too, just my luck. My sole saving grace today was an unattended bread shop at the market place. The shopkeeper was away for a short while, but long enough for me to sneak in and snatch a couple of bread. I had to make do with these for today, and I had to find a safe haven farther away from the village to take shelter.
The guards drove me off to the edge of the village, way further than usual. In the midst of bone-piercing cold, I swung my steps forward aimlessly. Before I knew it, the sight of lonely, fenceless rows of abandoned house on a straight dirt road greeted my sight. Footsteps echoed from my completely worn out boots as I visited each of the seemingly empty houses. For the past few months, more and more people moved out of the village, leaving most of their belongings behind. They wouldn't care if I take some for myself, or just simply made shelter there. Yet for some reason, there were guards posted here. They've even put up a watch tower! Was it really that worth it, keeping a bum from entering abandoned properties? Damn these people got too much time and money on their hands.
