Chapter 1. The Donator
"You have committed seven offenses against the Davao Divine Rules this week." an old man with hair as white as snow said, his face red and fists clenched.
"And all of those were by donating to pebbles." He added on.
He wore a suit and tie and had a beard.
A blonde girl with pink eyes suddenly spoke up.
"He broke rule 67 again." She paused for a moment then continued "And 7 times this week." her face puzzled, and her pink eyes dreary.
"Oh… my bad," a young man with black hair as dark as the night replied.
He was handsome—a diamond-shaped face, broad shoulders, toned muscles.
"So sorry." He bowed his head and apologized.
"It seems you don't understand the consequences, Ezertze," the old man said, his green eyes glaring into his soul.
"Who knows? I don't even understand what offenses I committed," Ezertze responded, his face etched in a lie of uncertainty.
"I see. How pitiful of my son—a complete disappointment to our family," the old man said, his voice growing louder and sharper.
"Yeah, so sorry. Guess I'm just different from the rest of our family," Ezertze replied, his blue eyes like the sky, his face growing red—like a dog resisting temptation.
Failure, disappointment, liar, and useless.
Those words weren't just whispers in his mind—they were carved there, like battle scars he could never heal from.
They lived in his shadow, bled into his soul, burned behind his eyes like a permanent red stain he couldn't blink away.
What was he? Someone with little to no magic—a scrub who had money.
But he worked; he learned how to cook, build shelters, fish, even survive in the wild.
He gained skills, yet no one cared, as skills meant nothing to nobles—only magic mattered.
He scored high on quizzes and tests in the noble school for ages under 13.
Yet all that counted for nothing.
When he cooked, he was met with silence around the dinner table, just shrugs.
When he built a table or a small hut in the estate's backyard, no one batted an eye.
When he left the estate to fish, to survive in the wilderness, or even just walk around town—
The only things said were "Okay"—no goodbyes, no nothing.
Almost as if the concept of family was just on paper.
"Ezertze, this behavior, this attitude is completely unacceptable," the old man declared, his voice sharp and sturdy.
"Yeah, I understand, this attitude must be pretty bad." Ezertze responded calmly, but uneasy in Ezertze's bedroom, a room white and silent.
No one visited.
Only one smiled, only one said goodbye, only one visited.
Neha Valatoras.
His dear sister, the person in the world he cared for the most.
She was treated well and praised, as her magic power was incredible.
She didn't care about magic power or others' appraisals, though. All she cared about was her brother's appreciation.
She always gave him a hug when he left and didn't just see him for something, but because she wanted to.
Because she loved him too—her dear brother, her hero.
Ezertze remembered yesterday when she gave him a small gift: two earrings. They were silver like the wind.
Ezertze didn't care too much about earrings, but that didn't make him not love them, not feel grateful.
Those earrings weren't just accessories. They were worth gold to him.
As he started to wear them on both of his ears, he didn't care if people glanced or thought he was weird.
Yet all his other half-brothers and sisters didn't care. Or even paid attention at all. The family wasn't united; it was a park.
People do their own thing, and people follow the rules.
And some break, and what happens after someone breaks the rules many times, many warnings, it leads to one thing: getting kicked out.
Back into the present.
"Dayla, what are your thoughts about him doing this again?" the old man declared.
Their father, Dennis Valatoras, a Duke, who had three wives and six children.
Josefina Dolk, his first wife.
She had blonde hair and a scandalous body, as well as a fake smile—a smile etched in lies.
She acted sweet, yet the only things she cared about were money, her two kids, and her husband.
They had two kids:
The oldest in the family,
Zel Valatoras. He had blonde hair, long and messy, along with green eyes inherited from his father. He was, let's say, unique.
He wore cheap clothes one day, and then fancy another; some days he wore off-brand clothing.
Almost like he didn't care for appearance one bit.
He did the most unethical, stupid things, such as putting about a whole bottle of body wash in the shower.
He also kissed a tree like it was normal and put ice on top of his food.
He didn't care about any of his siblings, and his magic power was average.
He didn't work hard, and the only proficient task he did daily was cleaning.
For some reason, he loved cleaning, or else he just slept in some random place, like on the floor.
But he always made sure that it was clean first.
Zel Valatoras was reminded and scolded thousands of times and sometimes forced to do things.
But no one really punished him too hard. He followed the rules, and if not, he just did whatever.
At nineteen and still in the academy, he was a well-mannered bird of some sort. He knew things and appeared properly in public, but when not, he was let loose and free.
In some ways, he was the closest sibling to Ezertze in terms of similarities, yet also the complete opposite.
They both did whatever they wanted—one followed the rules and cared about them, the other didn't care.
Then there was
Dayla Valatoras.
In the present, she is standing there along with her father, her teeth clenched, and arms crossed.
Her white hair and pink eyes blended well, and her white dress made her stand out.
It made people point her out in a crowd.
She was actually really kind and didn't treat Ezertze like he was a stain saying hellos, goodbyes, until Ezertze, around 11, started his so-called terrible habit of donating and giving gifts of pebbles.
She also gave gifts to people, even Ezertze, and her friends.
But not too many pebbles.
The rules mattered more to her, as her glare latched onto Ezertze like a snake.
Yet she stayed quiet, just watching it unfold, gently tilting her head left and right, not wanting to get involved.
She had the small look of disappointment in her eyes.
"I see…" He paused, then continued, "Well, it's fine, not a big deal." Their father said calmly, as he looked at Dayla with kind eyes and a gentle smile.
But when he turned around to Ezertze:
"La lo zay te glai." Ezertze blurted out.
A language none of them spoke. Ezertze spoke out a language he learned on the streets from some foreign people from Detcado.
Detca.
What Ezertze said in Detca translated to their native language, Lespina.
"He is such a fake."
"Excuse me, what did you just say?" he asked, as his fist clenched once more, and his voice became crisper and louder.
"Just said that was my fault," Ezertze replied casually, trying not to react and to stay calm.
But after five seconds of dead silence in the room,
Ezertze couldn't hold it in anymore, and his laughs burst out, as his face lit up.
"Clearly a lie," his father declared loudly.
He still had no clue what Ezertze even said, but he knew it wasn't what he just told him it was.
Ezertze's face slowly turned back to a normal tone, and laughs came to a close.
As his father stood up tall, his expression became serious.
"Ezertze, you really are only one thing," his father stated.
"Trash. No, I mean Pyrite—only blessed with golden looks, but worth nothing," he added.
"At least I got that one compliment," Ezertze responded with a smile. He had lost all care a while back for anyone in his family other than Neha, maybe Zel and Dayla.
"I play the part pretty well, don't you think?" Ezertze added.
"This isn't a game. You donated to the poor—a grave sin," he yelled angrily.
"Should I be ashamed of that, or this dumb religion?" he answered casually.
"That is another offense. I cannot allow this unethical behavior." His father burst out as his muscles tightened.
Unethical?
At this point?
I'm completely convinced this continent is brainwashed.
And my father? He is long washed.
This family is an absolute joke.
I still have to stay in this family for Neha, though.
Ezertze thought.
Then he remembered what his so-called crimes were.
He had given to the poor and pebbles many times before—sometimes quietly slipping coins into outstretched hands at the central market in Lasglo, the capital they lived in.
Other times, sharing food and a jacket with ragged children huddled, itching for any warmth near the city gates.
Or building a small hut, and giving water and food to an old pebble left on the streets who was withering away—like a rose fast and painfully.
Each time, the risk of punishment loomed, but he couldn't stop.
How could he, when they were people just like him, only born into different circumstances?
He was addicted to donating; his heart couldn't refuse.
His emotions didn't matter, thinking didn't matter. Almost like his brain was turned off.
Donating was like gambling to him.
It takes all the senses away, and some people can't stop, or even drinking alcohol for that matter.
He remembered the time he was caught helping a pebble begging desperately and calling out his name, as he had once helped him before, and his father's cold glare that followed.
The sharp words from Prestine when she accused him of embarrassing the family.
The whispered threats from his father about the "code" and its unbreakable rules.
The only reason he was still alive, still part of the family, was Neha's incredible magical abilities, along with the fact a noble getting disowned would spread all around the kingdom and even degrade their family.
They didn't go through any trouble.
He thought of Zel, who kept to himself but never stopped cleaning the manor's floors—an odd act of rebellion or obedience, he wasn't sure.
Dayla's piercing eyes, a mix of anger and disappointment every time she found out he'd broken yet another rule.
And most of all, Neha's warm smile, the only light in the darkness of his life.
I should probably derail this conversation back to a positive way and stop playing around.
He didn't want to get in serious trouble or hear the disgruntling signs turn into words of harm.
"I'm sorry, truly, and I promise I won't commit any more offenses." Ezertze gently bowed his head and put his right hand to his heart.
"There aren't any more excuses this time. In the past year, you have broken twenty," his father declared.
"Yes, and over time the number has decreased each month," Ezertze replied calmly, yet his hands started trembling, as this time it felt different from the rest of the lectures.
A calm before a storm.
His heart beat, and as the clock ticked, it sped up.
Thump. Thump.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick…
Thump, thump, thump…
He practically couldn't feel his chest at all.
"We're a noble family of the Kingdom of LaGressoalo, believers in Davao, The God of Life, and the code of Davao."
His father continued,
"And yet, you repeatedly break the code and commit offenses."
"No… it's just…" Ezertze said, trembling, his breaths louder and faster.
"I can't tolerate this nonsense from you anymore. You're not a Valatoras, nor my son. You're a Pyrite." He paused for a second then continued, "You're disowned." His muscles eased up, and his green eyes closed a tiny bit.
Like a burden had been lifted from him.
"What…" Ezertze interrupted, his voice hollow and desperate, like someone who had seen a ghost.
His father took a breath, then continued.
"You're no longer part of this family. Go on the streets where you belong with your buddies."
"No…" Ezertze stated before continuing, "You can't be serious."
Ezertze gasped, sinking to the floor as the waves in his eyes finally stilled.
"Servants, take him out of here. He no longer has the name Valatoras or any belongings purchased in this name," his father ordered.
"He can keep whatever he has on, as a small gift or donation, before he loses everything because of it," he added.
"Please… please… I'm sorry." Ezertze wailed as the servants started dragging him out.
There, in the room with them, one of his siblings was there—Dayla—as she couldn't smile or cry, she just stood there disappointed.
She was silent the whole time, the whole conversation.
Suddenly, Dayla stepped forward, breaking the heavy silence.
Ezertze stopped, and the waves in his eyes began to fall once more, yet little did he know they were to become silent once again.
"Ezertze… why? You broke the code already, got punished, yet you continued. You deserve this," Dayla said.
As the room became silent, only tears came from Ezertze's eyes.
Why did he break the code? One reason.
He loved donating. He loved giving to the poor, the homeless, sharing his wealth with others.
Yet this was somehow an offense.
Rule 67:
"Donations or gifts to people who are considered pebbles are strictly forbidden."
A rule people followed blindly, like it wasn't a sin itself.
He tried to wiggle out of the servants' hold. He screamed, yet he couldn't break free.
As he passed his living room, he saw all his other siblings except Zel, who had moved out and now lived in the dorms of Shia Academy.
There Ezertze saw his least favorite siblings.
A boy with white hair like his father's. He had a little smirk and even blew a kiss in Ezertze's direction.
A sight that made him want to puke.
He was a little smaller and two years younger but more powerful.
He only wore fancy clothes, ate fancy food, and cared for people who were strong or fancy.
To his side was his sister, Prestine Valatoras—a girl the same age as Ezertze, with white hair and elegant clothes.
She had fake tears, and her blue eyes were like Ezertze's, but a darker version.
She just gently smirked at the end of her facade as Ezertze was being taken away.
Their mother, Sheryl Flage, was also there, standing still and confident, her expression unfazed, as if Ezertze's life was a void.
Her blue eyes and white hair looked almost identical to Prestine's.
It made people wonder who she was, as she looked well below her age of thirty-eight.
She wore a black dress and red shoes.
He also saw Josefina Dolk, with her blonde hair. She stood there angry, almost furious at Ezertze.
As she just tilted her head left and right, while glaring a dagger into Ezertze's soul.
And then next to her on the red wall was a picture of a woman with black hair that shattered the night.
A warm smile that made people's hearts melt.
Rosalina Lailay—his and Neha's mother. A woman who was in the middle class who died for those she loved.
Her caring and compassionate heart distinguished her from the rest.
But yet, when Ezertze's eyes landed on that picture,
Tears were the only thing that came out. His resistance, his expression—all became sorrow after looking.
But he snapped out of it after hearing repeated screams from Neha—his sister, the sister who shared the same mother and father.
"Please… let him go… just please," she screamed as their father held her back.
"Sorry, but you should forget this pebble," he calmly said.
"No… no, Ezertze, you can't take him away from me," Neha pleaded.
"Let me… go, please." Ezertze screamed, his eyes flickering like light bulbs.
The servants pulled harder as the entrance to the building drew closer.
"No… why… I only donated."
"You shouldn't speak, you Twinkle-no-Eye," Prestine added.
"Please… no brother, just let us go." She shouted as her eyes welled with tears, and her body gave out.
Then Dennis Valatoras swung his hand and gently hit the back of Neha's head, knocking her out.
She was one year younger than Ezertze, but her heart was the same.
Yet she was locked from giving her heart to everyone.
And the only one she gave her full heart to wasn't just an act, it was her true self.
Her brother, someone she didn't have to be a superstar around, but a sister.
And now that brother will be taken away. The chains are tightened.
And finally, he gave in from the sight of his sister being knocked out.
This was real, and he couldn't do anything.
He was being taken away from the person he cared most for and put into the streets.
His arms fell back, and the glow in his eyes darkened.
"Neha, I'm sorry, and you guys—you should rethink your life," he yelled out before being pushed outside the door by the servants.
His fists clenched with might as he tried to fight back, but the merchant's force around his wrists cut into his skin, stopping every desperate movement.
There they dragged him. His body became bruised and bloody.
As his nice clothes became stained.
After a short while, they left him on the streets. He was specifically left on a street full of trash and bugs that smelled the whole place.
He was left with nothing other than his clothes.
There, in the streets, he encountered someone classified as a pebble. Their clothes had holes in them, dirt and bruises all over them.
When the man saw Ezertze, it was like his lifeless body became a spark.
He slowly stood up, and then he pulled something out of his pocket, a metal, sharp weapon.
Ezertze recognized what it was.
A knife.
He pulled out a knife and charged at Ezertze.
"Oh… hell no." Ezertze's face turned pale, his fingers started to shake.
"Frick… why just… why now of all time? I can't give him anything…"
"Just when I thought my day couldn't get worse."
He tried to run, but to no avail.
There, the man stabbed his right cheek and pushed him against a wall, pinning him there.
"Give me your clothes and all your money, or you'll die," the man demanded.
"Guess I have no choice… I got disowned, so money can't solve that. I don't have any," Ezertze said reluctantly.
"I'll check your pockets in your clothes to see if you're lying. If not, then you'll be free to go. And don't you dare report this, or I will hunt you down," the man warned.
Did he not notice my earrings? I couldn't lose them, or everyone would be taken, including my heart.
I couldn't fight back.
Wasn't I stupid? I wouldn't last a single day.
"Okay, take what you need."
Just please, just please don't notice the earrings.
He could only wish. After each piece of clothing was stripped from his muscular body, his breaths became thinner, and the fear grew larger.
After stripping him down and taking his polished clothes—now etched in dirt—the man left and told him to go.
His breath finally returned to normal as the fear vanished.
Why did I have to encounter a stupid criminal pebble?
The pebbles that demand and use violence to get what they want.
I have donated to them in the past, as that or beating them was the only way for them not to harm you without stealing.
Yet, with all my luck, I encountered one here.
When I don't have any money to give, and the only thing valuable left were my clothes…
And silver earrings, that somehow didn't seen, and then robbed.
Now here I am, stripped naked, with nothing but skin and bone.
How the hell am I going to survive in this state?
It seemed like all hope was lost, as a pebble with no power, no nothing, couldn't get a job and couldn't even hunt due to lack of power.
And now Ezertze was here; no last name, no riches.
The wind blew as if the gods sent it his way.
Suddenly, a voice spoke inside his head.
[You have gained the Donation System.]
[Start donating and receiving donations to gain Donation Points.]
"Donation… what?" he muttered.
"What the hell is that?"