They Called Me FIVE

LANCE

My heart pounded. The rush of adrenaline never died down. I'm panting and sweating. I wasn't sure what's going on anymore. What was that?

It feels that was me at the same time not me. Like someone possessed me to kill that creature in one merciless blow. I cringed.

"Good job son! I know you could do it." Dad beamed. He took a towel from one of the cabinet shelves and wiped the green slimy blood that sprinkled my cheek, my hair, and at my morning clothes. This shabby SpongeBob nightwear..

"It seems there will be no difficulty training you after all. You were able to single handedly blow the flesh out of that Red Beast."

I looked up at him and frown. "Red beast?"

He nods. "You know there are three races living in the magical realm right? Faeries, Gifted People and Beasts. In each race, classifications exist. Like humans in this realm have classifications based on places where they came from, Americans, Asians, Europeans. Faeries and Beasts have them too." Dad took another bath towel and wrap my head around it.

"The Faeries, as far as I know, there are 13 races of them. Used to be twelve but with the addition of mortal slave, the Auf, it makes the race thirteen. The Beasts, on the other hand, only have four races. The Gray Beasts, the Red Beasts, the White Beasts and the Black."

"That's some nice classification of colors huh," I said. He chuckled.

"Yeah, but believe me there are ten times scarier than what you faced." I looked at the pile of ashes dirtying the wooden floor of my bedroom.

"You said that thing was a Red Beast right? Is there a ranking among them? I mean like – whose skin color deemed the most powerful?" I conjured. Dad's eyes apprehend me.

"Actually there is. At least, according to the warnings and testimonies of the Rankers. Black Beasts are the most powerful. Like the lion in the jungle, Black Beast are the kings. Next in hierarchy are the white, then the gray, last are the red."

"Rankers? Do they have to fight these Beasts? Is that what they do? Not prosecute thieves or act as guards for the royal families?" Dad handed me a fresh change of clothes and ushered me out of the room.

"Some of them yes. Though as far as I know, the Rank Elders never permit a Ranker to act as guards except social gatherings. Rankers have other things to do, you see. Like staking out Faeries. I'm sure you have realized by now, these creatures are the most cunning, spiteful beings who seek to destroy the Gifted People and all of the magical realm. They harbor grudge from the banishment the Deities impose on them after the Great War three thousand years ago."

"Wait hold on," I recognize this tale. Magnus kind of shared a bit of his knowledge about his own world and its brief history. Like what Dad is doing now. "Magnus said one of the Deities shouldered the punishment that should have been given to the Faeries."

Dad cocked his head to the side and looked down at me with eyes mildly concerned.

"Yeah, but the other Deities were cunning. The actual truth is, the Deity didn't voluntarily shoulder the punishment for the Faeries, she was forced to be held responsible for it. The Faeries thought they got away with it. But they didn't. The Deities banish them from their home country. Into the Dark wilderness of the Forbidden land. The reason why the Faeries are so bent on destroying the Gifted People is that they seek to reclaim the homeland that was once theirs."

Dad and I rescind the stairs, both of his hands on my shoulder blades.

"Oh, I see. I guess that makes sense." He looked at me sharply.

"Which part exactly?"

"The reclaiming of the land part. Now I see why you kept on saying Faeries are cunning. But I couldn't blame them."

Dad's face became unreadable. He maneuvered me to a corner, a cross cut from the dissarrayed living room – or at least from what's left of it. We go straight to the wooden door painted with liqueur beside the kitchen.

"You could say that because you haven't seen the horrors of what they can do. I'm sure Magnus have seen them too. That's why he's determined to kill me. And I'm also determined to die in his hands." He told me.

I grab the collar of his plain white collar shirt and yank him closer to me.

"What do you mean by that Dad?" He forced his eyes shut.

"I'm sorry. You just don't know son. Magnus is right. Once a slave will always be a slave for Faeries. They won't release me and my comrades just cause of a flimsy reason like killing a human to get his identity. There must be a reason behind it. And as much as I hate to admit it…"

Dad hesitated. He glanced at my forearm then shakes his head.

"Look, let's just train alright? That Red Beast I had you fight was a product of experiment from my good friend. He's also an experiment maniac back in our realm. I don't know how he was able to keep a sample DNA from the Red Beast but his mutation is our best shot in training you. We are not familiar with blessings or what kind of power is flowing in your veins but we'll do our best."

Dad stared at me, eyes gleaming in determination. A serious expression I couldn't say no. When I stepped inside the white tiled bathroom, free from any cobwebs and soots, he positions himself at the door, leaning against the sidewalls.

"Lance, son."

"Yeah?" I swung my clothes and towel to the metal pipe hanging above me, adjacent to the curtain of bathtub reeking detergent.

"If I ever act weird or strange or say something that you feel will never come out from my own lips…" there was a slight pause. His face is covered with dread.

"I want you to kill me." If it wasn't for the shower head I gripped on my right hand I would have slipped into the empty bathtub and hit my head.

What did he just say?