Becoming Legend

"and what about Hunter's Guild?" Master Will said. Trying to be vocal as possible in front of his apprentice. People who don't know of him would mistake him as a beggar due to his ragged linen clothing; and a severed hand. Which one time he did. Walking at the market checking for game, and weeds for his treatment. One man gave him enough Pica that would last him and Ned a couple of weeks. Which he gracefully refused. 

Ned sat cross-legged in a rock and positioned himself close to the soothing hymn of the stream—which helped him remembered the teachings his master imparted. Coupled with the chirping of birds, that made a melody in the depts of the forests. "Hunter's Guild Association," he said. "An independent organization, whose sole purpose is to hunt Magical Creatures. Sometimes taking bounties, and other missions that would raise funds."

Master Will lifted an eyebrow and nodded in satisfaction. "What about the basic professions?" Master Will said.

"Warrior, Mages, and Rouges," Ned replied. Kids his age were either playing gumballs or selling trades in the market, especially in the busy island of O'rriadt. But for him, he promised to catch his Master's recognition.

"How about knights?" Master Will said. Crossing his hand behind his back. 

"A branch of a warrior's profession."

"Monks?"

"A branch of Warrior's profession."

"Tamers?"

"A branch of Rouge's profession."

"Elementalist?"

"A Branch of Mage's profession."

"Trapmasters and Archers?"

"Rouge type."

Master Will brushed his beard with enjoyment. "Hmm, basic," he said. And smiled. "Let's make it tough. Explain Weres."

"Weres," Ned said. "Humans that able to turn into beasts. They chose to fight with their bodies in the form of the beasts they were born with."

"Gifted."

Looking confident Ned said. "Gifted, very rare type Mages born with magic, or a descendant of a long line of mages. So far, Gifteds are exclusive only to one element but able to reach Tier 5 grade spells at a very young age."

Master Will nodded. He added. "Explain Claim."

"Claims, are tools imbued with magic that are essential for daily life."

"Ocullus," Master said. His voice was old. Yet, filled with wisdom. 

"Ocullus, a perception type claim that extends the vision of the user. Distance depends on the grade."

"Ottic."

"Perception claim that extends hearing."

"Hmm, hmm," Master Will nodded. Leaves rustled as he paced back and forth. "For a twelve-year-old, your memory is sharp, kid. Summoners!"

"Rare type of mages, able to tap to other dimensions and summon beasts or elementals at the cost of their mana."

"Breakable parts of Warg!"

"Eyes, tails, claws."

"Other Guilds!"

"Exploration, merchant, mercenary, and craftsman's guild."

Master Will stopped his tracks, looked Ned straight into his eyes, pushed back his shoulders, and put his hand—the remaining hand—on his hips. "If you became a knight, and wanted to reawaken. What school would you go?"

"College of Knights, at the Northern Kingdom or Griffith Kingdom's capital Knighton." 

"A knight that uses more of his spells rather than a blade."

"Magic knight."

"Strongest element a mage could cast?"

"Fire magic," Ned said. He narrowed his eyes as if he remembered something out of thin air. "Master, what if a mage chose to fight in the frontline than to stay at the back and cast long-range spells?"

"Ah, good query," Master Will said. "They became Battlemages, but it takes years and years of experience to become a Battlemage. And of course, they must survive the battlefield. Why do some Magical beasts are called 'Unique'?!"

"Average creatures became Unique if they are intelligent enough to make their own spells."

"Dragon Ranks?"

"Newborn, Middling, Emperor, and Ancient." 

"Molting?"

"Molting will determine the rank of a dragon, it depends on how many times a dragon shred a scale. Usually, one Molt is equivalent to a hundred years." 

"How many Molt a Newborn has?"

Still cross-legged, Ned answered with confidence. "Newborn's lived for three hundred years, so it's three Molting maximum."

"Middling?"

"Starts from fourth Molting till ten. A thousand years old dragon, that's what Middlings are."

"And emperor rank?"

"Starts from ten Molting and above," Ned said. 

"Ancients?"

"Uncountable Moltings."

Feeling satisfied, Master Will showered Ned with a smile. 

"Master, how many dragons you hunted?"

"Hunted? None. Encountered? A handful of Newborns. Drakes, I couldn't count," Master Will said. "Kid, listen, if you found a dragon, be it Newborn, Middling, or Emperor - especially Emperor - just leave, don't bother with their sleep. Leave, once they are awake, Empires, and Kingdom will offer everything to appease them. Even Kings will bend in front of dragons. That's how... powerful they are. Luckily for us, Makers made a balance, they made dragons intelligent species. So, negotiations come first if all bets are off. Don't mind Ancients, they exist in myths."

"Dragons, huh," Ned whispered. 

"Anyway, kid. We're done for today if you can answer this," Master Will said. "What are some forbidden classes?"

Ned paused. Gave a half shrug and rocked back and forth. "Necromancer, Witches," he said. "Everything that bends the will of life using magic. Life. Especially Occultist." 

"Good," Master Will spoke. "Remember, your name. Never give your name casually."

Ned looked at the horizon, the depts of the forests. The shades that covered the living. And looked back at Master Will. "Master, how do I know if I met one of them?"

"You wouldn't." 

Ned stared at the man. Lift a hand. Lit a spell. And fire danced on his palm. "Occultist," he said. So this is what Master Will meant. The feeling of one's life being sucked into empty space. Ned thought. He was prepared. But, something was amiss. Something's amiss that made the Occultist cried in anger. Or bewilderment. I can feel his presence. Ominous. And deadly. But, nothing happening in me. 

Dark aura. An aura brimming of death crept off the man's being. And revealed itself in front of Ned. Black, murky aura enveloped Ned. Forcing to enter Ned's body. The aura struggled as the man did the same. "No!" He cried. "No! No! No! No! No! No!" 

"Of course," Ned whispered. Staring at the man who kept on struggling to imbue his wicked magic to Ned. "I'm Ned Strat. And that is not a lie," he said. But that wasn't my real name. He smiled. 

The man stood and called off his spell. The dark aura dissolved. He jerked. Twisted his head together with his legs. He paced back and forth inside his cell. He looked at Ned. Looked down, or look away. He kept on pacing as he touched his throat, and rubbed his lips. He stopped and aligned with Ned. 

He gripped the iron bars, and the sound of bandages was tearing apart. He stared Ned intensely and blink rarely. "Who… are you, kid!" He cried. And banged his head against the iron bars. The noise of iron clanking, and bones cracking echoed in the cage. "Who are you!" He banged. "Who are you!" And banged. "Who are you!" And banged. "I know! Shut up!" Blood stripped off some of his bandages. Half of his face revealed. Scars coiled around his face, running down to his neck. He let go of the bars. He stood in the middle. And cracked his fingers. 

Ned canceled his magic. The fire dimmed faintly until nothing was left but a pair of hands. He checked the dishes. An empty bowl of ramen. An air of casserole—which pushed his energy to a hundred percent. "How was it?" Ned said. Commenting on puppet girl with an empty plate of Phadthai. 

Puppet girl looked amazed. By the food, or with Ned. "It was... soul stuffing," she said. Her voice was now soft, still mechanical, but soft - cute to be precise. "Mister, they call you Ned? Can I call you, Ned? I'm sorry... Can I call you... Big brother Ned?" 

"No," Ned replied. 

The puppet's wooden chest that emits light. Could be her Core. Ned thought. Her chest went from a bright yellow to a faint white. Showed how sad she became upon hearing Ned's answer. She walked back to her coffin but stopped by Ned. 

"Unless you tell me your real name," Ned said. 

The puppet's core went from white light to bright yellow, and white light again. She lowered her shoulder as she stared Ned with sadness. "My creator didn't give me name," she said. 

"Your creator? Where are they?"

"I call him Father," the puppet said. "I don't know where Father is."

Ned pondered for seconds before he spoke with delight to puppet girl. "From now on... you tell others that you are... Anita." 

Anita's core went from faint light to yellow, and green, and lastly blue. Her face was booked with a smile. A wide smile. "Anita, I like it, mister. Hello. I am Anita. Can I call you big brother Ned?"

"Of course, Anita. Are you happy?"

"Yes! Yes, big brother Ned! Big Brother. Big Brother do I look pretty?" Anita said. Stood gracefully, bowed, and turned around. 

"Of course you are," replied Ned. 

"Thank you big brother Ned!"

"Pretty!" The Occultist threw an air. "You're still a puppet! That's what you are!"

"I hate you!" Anita cried. Turning her head away from the Occultist. 

"And you, what's your name?" Ned asked. Looking at the occultist with disdain. 

"You'll die upon learning my name, kid." He stared at Ned and stopped cracking his knuckles. 

"Try me, didn't you just tried killing me?" 

The Occultist looked straight at Ned. Sensing that the latter couldn't be swayed. He bent and crossed his legs. "You're special kid, I gave you that. I'm sorry I while ago. I couldn't contain my excitement. It's just... a lot of voices are telling me to kill you," he said. Adjusted his bandages and stopped the bleeding. "I'm Echo, and thank you for the foo - Shut up! He gave us food! Not this one!"

A puppet girl and a hobo. Ned sighed at the latter. "Again," Ned said. "What's your name."

"Learning my name will bestow consequences upon you, Ned. Are you sure?" Echo said. Looked at Ned - not even bothered. "Well, okay. I'm Ri'iarii. They gave me a name... Echo. So just call me Echo."

"What worse could happen to me? I'm surrounded by a killer. An innocent girl. And a giant," Ned said. 

Echo smirked, while Anita danced. The wind and the light, burst when the door creaked open. A lady then came walking. Shells hung her wrist accompanied by a blade.  A piece of cloth covered her chest the same as how it covered her waist. She gasped as she stared at Ned, Anita, and Echo. She pulled the blade off her waist and light reflected onto its edges. A cutlass - thick, heavy, rather a short blade. "Captain!" She bellowed. 

Anita's core went from white, yellow, blue... Then red. Her face twitched. Her smile turned vicious. Her dance turned cutting. She closed her wooden knuckles, punched the iron bars. A boom resounded and she blurred. She was gone. The barrels went flying. The wind went whistling. And the lady's head was near chopping.

The lady dropped on her butt. Her eyes dilated. Her mouth salivated. She was afraid, she couldn't move. "Cap... Captain," she muttered. 

Anita appeared in front of her. Ready to twists or chop her neck. As she always does. To kill. She lifted an arm filled with rainbows of energy. She thrusts and fared. "Die bit -"