Marked Ones: Advent of the Demon Prince

Joval grew up as a poor farmer's kid. He was a middle child among five. His mother and father could not afford to pay for so many mouths to feed, so him and his oldest sibling who were the only two boys of the family, were sent to the local town to find work.

On the way to town though, they were set upon by a group of marauders. They gave up their possessions as requested and did not fight back when they were captured.

As a form of entertainment, the leader of the group liked to capture travelers and force them to fight. He would let the victor live and leave. Him and his brother were thrown into a pit that had been dug into the ground. Around the outside the boss and all the bandits sat, watched, and jeered at them both.

Two swords were thrown into the ring with them. One behind Joval, and one behind his brother. Forever the honorable and noble of the two, his foolish brother threw the weapon down and swore he would never harm family.

Joval did not share that sentiment. While his brother was giving a rousing speech about the importance of family and that he would rather die than be forced to kill his little brother, Joval grabbed the sword he was given and drove it through his brother's heart.

The bandits booed at the outcome since there was no fight that actually happened. Instead, the leader kept Joval around, then threw in another villager with him. Joval won that fight too. Then one after another, Joval fought and killed and fought again. It wasn't even for survival anymore, no he just enjoyed it.

Eventually the boss got bored and decided he wanted to fight Joval himself. He felt like he had a point to prove or something, but unfortunately for him, Joval was stronger. All those fights developed his skills, his cunning, and his bloodlust. The boss had no chance against him and as a result, lost his life.

This was how Joval came to be the leader of this group, and in the years since he had grown the group considerably and acted as a pseudo-mercenary company for people willing to pay what it takes to get a job done dirty.

No one had put up much of a fight since he took over the reins, which was why he was so confused that his men were running around yelling about intruders.

Joval grabbed his weapons and equipped them as quickly as he could and threw his leather armor over his clothes. He stepped out of his tent to see his men fighting against four attackers. His jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he saw that the two gates in their walls were blocked by a giant block of ice and mound of dirt.

"So, this is it innit? The big'un. Heh, bout time we got some real action, been feelin' a lil' rusty." He chuckled evilly while approaching the fight.

He had nearly fifty men under his command and even though most of them had no Compatibilities, numbers could still overwhelm even the best fighters. He wondered for a moment what would be the best way to motivate his men. After all, proper motivation could go a long way in a battle…

"Oi!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. The fighting continued, but he knew everyone had heard him. "The four lucky sods that bring me those guys' heads get a thousand gold pieces each."

Those of his men that were not actively engaged in combat began to shout and cheer as they simultaneously charged forward. The four attackers appeared to be a woman without any weapons, a woman with a big sword, an elf with a sword and shield, and some other large man with an axe that he seemed to be swinging around as if it were nothing.

With every powerful swing the big guy took, several of Joval's men were sent scattering across the ground. The man simply laughed and pushed off attacker after attacker.

The woman using her fists seemed to be using speed and agility to dodge most of his men and counter attacking their blind spots. Joval cursed under his breath as he realized all four of them were people with Arts and they were decently high rank too.

As he was pondering what to do, he felt a chill behind him. He did not have any Compatibilities, but he had developed quite the reliable sixth sense for predicting danger from all the fights he had fought in. That was how he was able to narrowly duck underneath a strike that had been aimed at the back of his neck.

"Lucky dodge."

The voice came from a boy, no more than fourteen. He was wearing light leather armor that only covered the vitals and had a machete in his hand. He had these freaky eyes that were a different color too.

Joval gripped his axe tighter. The chill he felt was still there. He knew the kid had some kind of Compatibility with Arts or magic; he could just feel it. However, he could also tell that the boy was not much stronger than he was, so he had a decent chance at winning. Despite that, something about the boy's eyes and expression left a chill running down his spine.

"You are one freaky kid." He muttered.

The boy said nothing in response and simply swung again at him. Joval was able to block the strike with the hilt of his battle axe causing sparks to fly around him. This boy was no joke, he was prepared to kill despite being so young. This realization brought a sick smile to Joval's face. His blood was pumping, adrenaline was rushing.

For the first time in a long time he was able to fight and feel excitement. The possibility of death felt real, but was not certain.

"Hey kid. You might just be the most fun I've had in a while. Try to keep up won't you?"

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A/N: Interested in Discord?

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