Malachi, his expression unreadable, regarded the boy named Eli with a stern gaze. Without a word, he turned on his heel and began to walk away, leaving the boy standing alone amidst the whispers of the recruits.One of the soldiers, unable to resist the opportunity, jeered at the boy, “Come back when you grow hair under there, kid!” His remark elicited laughter from some of the other recruits, a chorus of mockery that echoed across the training ground.But Eli, undeterred by their taunts, sprinted after Malachi, determination etched on his youthful face. He dropped to his knees in a kowtow, bowing deeply in front of the instructor. “Master Malachi, please!” he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. “Both my parents died in the war. I’ve been on the streets for seven months. I need to be strong, to protect someone dear to me. I beg you to teach me.”The recruits, previously amused, now watched in silence, their laughter dying in their throats. The raw honesty in Eli’s words struck a

After the refreshing bath in the lake, Malachi's demeanor shifted from nurturing to demanding. "Now, we run," he announced, his tone leaving no room for debate. The children, still catching their breath from the earlier exercise, exchanged weary glances but dutifully followed as Malachi set off at a steady pace.The run was grueling. Malachi led them over several kilometers of undulating hills, each ascent more challenging than the last. Then, without warning, he veered off towards a mountainous terrain. The children's legs burned with fatigue, their breaths shallow and rapid. The sun, now high in the sky, beat down mercilessly, adding to their exhaustion.Some of the children began to falter, their steps slowing, bodies slumping towards the ground. Voices of protest rose among them, pleading for a respite. Malachi, however, was unyielding. "Keep going," he commanded. "True warriors find strength even in their weakest moments. This training is not for the faint-hearted."His words, t

The city, usually bustling with the everyday clamor of its inhabitants, was blissfully unaware of the new threat lurking within its walls. A group of bandits, cunningly disguised as merchants, made their way through the city gates. The guards, diligent but unsuspecting, waved them through without a second glance. But the keen eyes of the street children, who had learned to notice the unusual in their daily struggle for survival, immediately sensed something amiss.Eli, one of the children who had recently started training under Malachi, narrowed his eyes as he watched the carriage trundle through the streets. “Something’s not right about them,” he muttered to his companions. The group of children, their curiosity piqued, decided to follow the disguised bandits at a safe distance.The carriage, instead of heading towards the bustling market square as one would expect from merchants, stopped at a restaurant near the military barracks. The bandits chose a table outside, ostensibly to enj

As Garrick, driven by a mix of rage and desperation, charged towards Malachi, the air around them seemed to crackle with tension. Malachi, his expression unchanging, calmly assessed his adversary. He knew the bandit leader was no match for him, but he also understood the importance of making a statement.In a fluid, almost effortless motion, Malachi extended his hand, summoning the shadows around him. A bolt of dark energy, pulsating with malevolent power, coalesced in his palm. With a flick of his wrist, he released the Dark Bolt, directing it straight at Garrick.The bolt tore through the air with a hiss, striking Garrick squarely in the chest. The impact was devastating, the dark energy consuming him in an instant. Garrick’s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, a look of shock forever etched on his face.As Garrick fell, a notification flashed.[You have killed a bandit].[You have received 20 soul points]. These acknowledgments of his deed were mere formalities to Malachi, insi

As Malachi stepped into the grand hall of the estate, he was immediately struck by the opulence that surrounded him. The room was a dazzling array of colors and lights, filled with beautiful women in flowing gowns and handsome nobles in their finest attire. Each person there held a tall standing, rulers of their own territories, their power and influence palpable in the air.Surveying the room, Malachi couldn’t help but think that this gathering was much more significant than he had initially anticipated. The small, relatively poor town he had been staying in seemed an unlikely place to draw the attention of such high-ranking nobility. His reputation, it seemed, had spread far and wide, or perhaps these nobles were facing a threat so grave that they were willing to use any means to increase their odds of survival.As he mingled through the crowd, a noble approached him. The man carried himself with an air of authority and grace, his eyes sharp and assessing.“Master Malachi, it’s a