The Master of Uradan

In the middle of the desert, surrounded by nothing but rocks, a man was walking in a random direction. The sun was hitting his head with all its might, forcing the young man to slowly advance one step after another.

Although he was only walking at a snail's pace, he constantly was panting, trying to catch his breath every time he tumbled against the rocks. His clothes made of leather were cut everywhere, and dust was stuck to it, to his hair, to his face.

His mind spun on itself as he kept advancing. The lack of food was making him lose his head. The lack of water was slowly killing him. He kept walking, with the thin hope to find a Green Miracle.

But his strength rapidly decreased. His right foot left the soil, moved forward, and landed on a rock. This unstable rock moved under the weight of the man, and his foot slid to the side, making him lose his balance.

If he had better reflexes, if he wasn't sluggish due to the lack of everything, he could have reacted in time. Unfortunately, he couldn't. He violently crashed on the ground. His head struck a sharp rock and a muffled scream was kept on his throat.

he couldn't rest here. He couldn't die here. He rolled on himself, ignoring the pain he was feeling. He gnashed his teeth, and with a mad expression, he pushed his body and try to stand up. But his strength had already given up on him. Once again, he collapsed.

His body was giving up on him, but his hatred was still there. His plan didn't work, and he was forced to flee under those terrifying beasts. He didn't even know if this warrior, this parasite was dead or not.

Tears left his eyes and landed on the dust, mixing up with the soil.

After the beasts had roared that night, his grandfather had cut off the rope that was tying him up. But Guros didn't care about that in the start. He fully believed his clan could destroy those dracasses.

But his grandfather had taken him and fled toward a direction, at a random direction. It was opposite the place where the clan was gathered, ready to fight those beasts. While his old man was holding his arm and was running at high speed, he was looking behind with a big smile, hoping the beasts would at least kill the warrior.

But it was a mistake. His smile had quickly disappeared, as blood was flowing everywhere. It was a slaughter. The dracasses were killing everywhere, and the screams had echoed in his ears.

At that moment, his grandfather had thrown him on the ground. He didn't even have to look at him as he let him here. He hadn't even uttered a word, he had run back toward the massacre, toward the rest of his families, toward the screams.

"Fuck. It's all because of this Rohan!" His loud scream was nothing more than a raspy whisper.

He had been forced to do that to kill this warrior. No! It was the warrior that had forced him to take this decision! He had played with his emotions. Guros now was sure of him, he had played in the palm of this warrior.

All of those coming from the other side were bloodthirsty bastards, wanting nothing less but to destroy his clan! But he wasn't strong, and now he was here dying all alone.

His clan was probably destroyed at this time. This warrior should even be laughing in the middle of the corpse, taking all the resources his clan had gathered for many years. Maybe he was even mocking Guros for his foolishness.

The young man felt his rage eating away the last forces he could muster. He couldn't even move, he couldn't even think properly.

His cheek with the scar on it was laid on a burning stone. A blurring veil had fallen for a long time on his eyes already. Suddenly, he saw a couple of feet approaching him.

Several people were coming this way, slowly reducing the distance between them. Soon, those people were in front of Guros' face, looking at him.

Guros felt a mighty strength flowing inside his body, chasing away all the pain and numbness from his body. He stood up as if he wasn't on the verge of dying, and looked at the kind people in front of him.

He knew them, of course. Guros looked at the elderly man who looked at him with a severe expression. Beside the old man, there was his wife, as old as him, sighing as she looked at the young man. He could only foolishly smile at this couple.

He slightly turned his eyes and looked at the youngest people in the group. He couldn't even apologize to them, and they only looked at him as if he was an imbecile. But there was also love in their eyes, and that was enough for Guros.

Then he looked at these people. He hadn't seen them for a few years now. The man and the woman tenderly smiled, waiting for him to step and close the distance.

Guros knew it. That the end of his life was here. Without wasting more time, without any more hesitation, he advanced, making the last step of his life. At least, he was reunited with his family.

Rohan was in the middle of the small camp. The gathering would officially begin in a few days, so to occupy his days, he took back his old habit to train.

Now that he didn't need to hide his strength, or at least if there was no one looking, he wasn't fighting with one or two opponents.

Daina charged forward with her spear and thrust to the side. With a small flick from Rohan, her weapon was sent away, and the girl followed behind. Kilem attacked almost at the same time, only to be repelled without any difficulties.

Even if his father was killed by the Blackwolf clan, this rank 1 Beginner Warrior fully knew it was simply the rule of the clans. He would simply become powerful, and with his strength, he would create his own clan.

Following the man, another spear appeared on his left. And then another one on the right. A sword cleaved toward his back, while a spear stabbed from a tricky angle. Even Garrold was among them, and together with tens of opponents, Rohan was feeling pressured.

But with Overload, nothing mattered. It was only a second for the others, but it was much more for him. He controlled his body, his sword cleaved the air with extraordinary precision.

The spears almost grazed his leather armor, the swords almost cut him here and there. But it was only almost. Nothing could touch him, he was like an eel dancing in the small area he could move.

On the contrary, his blade never failed him. Each time the tip touched somebody, it only did so with an extreme delicacy.

On the side, the little Elena was watching this spectacular fight. There was still no trace of emotion on her face, and no one could imagine what she was thinking about.. For not even a second, a faint glint shone in her eyes.