In the sky, an eagle with two horns almost as huge as a dragon flew in a circular motion, red round eyes scanning through the surroundings as if in search of something in particular.
On the eagle was a man in his twenties, staring at a small compound before pulling the two horns of the eagle, commanding it to proceed with its scrutinising in a closer direction.
As the man controlled the eagle with its horns, it got to a point where the eagle's wings remained stiff, unable to flap. "Old Jegas, keep moving!" He howled, as he tried commanding the eagle to move but it didn't.
Before the man could try another method to control the eagle, another eagle of the same kind came forth and on it rode a man dressed in black outfits. The eagle then settled beside the first eagle. "Malcolm, we should inform master that the barrier is tighter than what we expected."
Malcom stared at the compound which occupied five houses, the one in the front was their target, however, it seemed that they could not even come to a tad nearer.
"If these Jagas can not do better, let's see what we can do about it." He uttered, raising one of his hands from the horn of the eagle before pointing it ahead of him.
The man dressed in black immediately stopped him, "We have been warned to not use our ability, Malcolm. We have only been told to spy, not wreak havoc. We should just go back and relay the information about the new barrier created."
"I did not come a long way to this shattered environment to go back with no attempt, Ren."
"I will be returning. It's your choice to do whatsoever," Ren uttered before commanding his own eagle which turned backwards and flapped its huge wings away.
In the first house, a woman and her husband silently opened the door of a room. They both stared at a white-haired boy sleeping in his bed. Beside his bedpost were heavy books written on martial arts. A small green pendant lay on top of the book titled, "The Legend of Arnold."
"What do you think we should do about him, dear?"
A sigh came before a deeper voice boomed across the small room from the woman's husband. "We should keep pushing him to work harder. With time, he might get stronger."
"It's still under probability." The woman in her earlier forties stood beside the bedpost, her hands folded as they both stared at the boy tucked in his bed.
The boy's white hair covered his forehead which was soaked in sweat as if he was having a silent nightmare, unknown to the onlookers.
"His younger brother is far better than he is. Max has completely mastered the first mage level, however, Turner finds it hard to even raise a sword. With countless teachers and training, every effort slipped down the drain. It's as if..."
She took a pause and then sighed, "I am worried. Sometimes, he gets into deep thought and is unaware of his surroundings. You know about his bullies, Henry and you know about the incessant rise in suicide nowadays. I can't fathom how much he is going through."
"I will talk to Mr Sam to know what he can do about it."
"You know he won't accept him. Only the ones who have mastered the first mage level are allowed entry in any academy and martial arts is necessary to get to that level but he... it's as if his body is numb and no matter how he practices, his body can't adjust to it, or just can't move the way it has memorised."
"Let's call it a day, Vivian," Henry uttered, dropping his arm on Vivian's shoulder and they both headed to the door. After a last glance, they exited the room.
"I will try giving him all my energy this time around. It might foster his—"
"Nonsense, Vivian. Do you think it's advisable to die for him?"
"But he is my son," Vivian argued. She stopped on her track and faced her husband, "You should know that my sons' welfare comes before anything."
"Turner is your son, and so is Hunter, you should not risk your life just because of one and lose both. Vivian, with time I believe he will develop on his own."
A tear dropped from Vivian's eyes and slipped down her cheek only to dissolve in her blue gown which had a rectangular collar at the back signifying her status as a mage in the meteor level. "Henry, the demons are increasing rapidly. Humans with great martial skills have been killed and dumped like dead rats, mages who have acquired great skills have disappeared into God-knows-where and the—"
"I know that—"
"You should be reminded that someone with no abilities has no say when it comes to things like this. Turner...is very weak...at least he needs something to boost his courage."
There was another sigh from the older man, Henry. He had been trying to wonder how on earth he was going to convince his wife that her son might be just an ordinary human. Just because she was a mage didn't mean there was a high possibility that her son would become so.
Humans were referred to as burdens by mages in the city. Only humans with great martial skills thrive, however, in most cases, martial arts were proven to be useless in the face of battles that require magic.
How could ordinary swords be used against someone with swords that have edges that were coated with fire? Even a little proximity will let the attacker burn into ashes, however, it only depends on how high the level of the mage is.
In a world where vices took permanent home, the weak ones were prone to death and the stronger ones were the only ones that strived.
Many years ago the world was not very peaceful but to compare it with the world now, one would compare those times to heavenly periods.
Meanwhile, the young man who was tucked in his bed a few minutes ago immediately jolted up, eyes fully awake as he stared at the wall across him. A cloud of sweat increasingly covered his forehead and then he muttered, "It was just a dream."
Although his words sounded more like a question if considered as such, there was no one to answer. He took a breath and then stretched his hand, to drink from the cup that was on the table beside his bed. When he drank he furrowed his brows, recalling an event that had occurred in his dream.
He recalled the name that kept pestering him as it occurred too frequently. "Gabriel...and then... Arnold. Arnold bloodline." He shook his head, closing his eyes for the images to appear palpable in his vision.
He moved his legs to the floor to take a look at the huge book he was reading before he fell asleep. Wearing his pendant, he opened the book titled, "Legend Of Arnold" and to the place that stated that the last child of Alan Arnold was Gabriel who was the first bastard of the Arnold family.
"Shit! Nothing more about Gabriel. Asides from… he lost his mother and then he died really—" he paused as his eyes balanced on a date.
"The year 1723. February 2nd," he muttered when he recalled the dates that he had seen in his dream too.
"What...what is special about this date, huh?"
Reading more he paused when he figured out something, "The day when Gabriel lost his mother."
Hissing and flipping to another page, he said, "He was useless. His mother had no name but why would her death be recorded here in this book?"
He shook his head again, remembering a few words in his dream. "Three centuries? Arnold Bloodline? Reincarnation? Magical prowess? Headless woman?"
He tried putting all the chunks of ideas together until something struck him hard like a thunderbolt. He immediately rummaged his hands through the bedsheet and picked his phone.
"What's today's date?" he asked himself. "2023. February 2nd?"