"Come on kid, is that the best you can do?" my guardian sneered before me, prowling around my wasted body lying on the ground. His chest was bare of clothing and his face empty of compassion.
I gasped for breathe, rubbing the spot in my chest were he had strike me with his enourmous and powerful fist. As I made my way through waves of pain, I acquired a sitting position not before contracting with the injury. I coughed several times before standing up and face him once again.
He flashed me a grin, a mixture of surprise and pride. "Good, now let's see what you can do."
I gave him a defiant stare, my limp body ached and wailed. Galden was the village blacksmith and by far the best warrior. He left the battle zone when his sight started to get worst and decided to spend his life with the well-known metal and fire. In one of his multiple trips to the heart of the Fourth Kingdom, he had found me strayed from my family.
I had been adopted earlier by a family of merchants, every night I got brutally beaten up and forced to work for them. With meager food and scanty clothing, they sent me to work and when times were rough I was forced to steal. I grew up in the streets where I learn to look after myself and defend from any aggressor lurking in the shadows. Finally, I gathered enough courage to leave them and escape from their clutches.
Galden caught me in the middle of my theft. He spoke to me softly and made me repent from my crime, after that conversation I hastily returned the money bag to the old man. He offered me a job in his blacksmith shop and I accepted.
I sprinted to him, my shoulder collided with his abdomen. I had tackled him and his massive body fell on the ground, heaving a great wall of dust. I scrambled to my feet but was soon thrown off-balance when his leg swept my feet. I crashed on the ground and quickly rolled away as I sensed his fist coming down on me.
"Your reflexes are much better," he nodded. "How about your strength?" He dash to me, his fist quickly closing the distance between him and my face.
My palm closed around his fist and hold it in midair, avoiding it colliding with my face, the consequences would be dire. My free hand took his another one of his upcoming fist, I tried to hold ground as much as I could to prevent him from pushing me down. My feet were buried and rooted deep on the ground to remain in position.
"That's it?" he laugh, throwing his head back.
I frowned at his mirth and insult to my efforts. Something inside me burn, a desire to beat him down even if that mean hurting myself in the process. With fury and rage, I draw in a breathe, a warm sensation cruising my body. The powerful orb above us help fueled the desire and the power bursting inside me. Gandel was watching me with an inquisitive look, then he understood.
From my hands, a red light was fired, an explosion occurred and both of us were thrown away from each other. I landed on my back, smelling burning clothe. From behind the smoky wall I saw Gandel coming to me, in his ashen face appeared a worried smile.
I patted the small flicker of flame from my shirt and smiled sheepishly at him, "I wanted to tell you..."
"I know," he answered placing a hand on my shoulder. "When did it started?"
"Couple of nights ago, when I turned sixteen," I replied, drumming my fingers together.
"I also have something to tell you," Gandal sighed, "something about your past. It was not coincidence what brought us together."