Rain dripped from the noses of grass and leaves. The moon shone brightly in the night sky, stars glittered, and in the dance of shadows stood a boy who had just turned seventeen.
Mike sat on a stone, watching the beautiful stars. To avoid getting wet from the rain, he rested beneath a tree. The wind shook its branches, scattering leaves into the night air. Time passed, and when Mike finally opened his eyes again, it was day.
"Damn, I must have fallen asleep…" he muttered. With a groan, he jumped up from the stone and got himself ready.
He wore a tattered leather armor—or rather, half of one. His leather chest plate was scratched all over, with a gaping hole in the middle. His leather trousers were torn and barely held together. He had no helmet. Under the stone lay his dull one-handed sword, scarred from many battles—mostly against beasts. He picked it up, strapped it to his side, tightened the grip, and set off toward the great city of King City, the only human city that remained.
The wars had taken everything else.
Mike was a halfling—half angel, half demon. Such a thing was rare, since demons and angels had always hated each other. Who would ever father a child with a demon? Mike had brown hair, no wings, no horns, but he shone faintly with light. Yet his eyes glowed red. And people only ever saw his demon side.
Back before the wars, when Mike lived in Vlascity, he was bullied and despised by both children and adults. Eventually, they had enough of him and threw him out of the city. Their last words to him were: "Go to King City. There you will learn more."
And so Mike had traveled ever since, on his way to King City.
"Lucky again that demons and dragons are satisfied with four cities… who knows how long that will last. What do you think?" Mike asked a rabbit he had just picked up. But the rabbit clearly wanted to be put down quickly, so he let it go.
Mike found himself beside a river. The water flowed toward a cliff and plunged down in a great waterfall. He stepped closer, looked over the edge, then lifted his gaze far ahead—and saw it.
King City.
Even from a distance it looked enormous.
"Whoa… that's huge…" Mike gasped. He could hardly believe he would soon stand before such a city. Vlascity had been big, but never this big. This was King City.
Suddenly, he spotted a griffin soaring through the sky. In its claws it carried a letter, a chain glinting around its neck. The griffin looked directly at Mike, then dived down in a swift descent, landing before his feet.
"Woah!" Mike stumbled back in shock. But as he stepped back, the griffin advanced, closing the gap. Now Mike could clearly see the letter in its beak. Carefully, he took it.
The letter read:
Dear Mike,
Angel. Demon.
We hope you are not hostile. As a sign of goodwill, we gift you this griffin. It was found as a baby about two weeks ago and was enchanted to grow quickly. Despite its size, it is still a youngling. Give it a name.
We do not know what you seek, but we have heard the stories spreading across the land. The Halfling of Death… the man who cut off a head and arms in two seconds. The Halfling of Swords… said to wield blades so skillfully he could make them fly.
Halfling Mike, please accept our gift, give this griffin a name, and leave our people in peace.
—The King and the humans
Mike didn't know how to react. He simply crumpled the letter and tossed it off the cliff. The paper drifted into the water below and sank.
The griffin tilted its head slightly, as if trying to understand.
"Well then… what should I call you?" Mike wondered aloud.
The griffin stepped closer, settled in front of him, and fell silent as though awaiting his command. Its face was brown, but its wings and body were white.
"Hm…" Mike stretched out his hand and stroked its white feathers. The griffin allowed it without complaint.
"Alright. Let's see if you like this name… White?"
The griffin rose to its feet and shook itself. Mike took it as a yes and nodded.
"Let's give it a try, shall we?"
Mike stepped closer than ever before, swung a leg onto the griffin's back, and when he realized the creature did nothing to resist, he climbed on fully. He pointed toward the kingdom, and the griffin took flight.
Mike clung to its feathers tightly.
"Whoa… I need to get some proper gear for griffins… woaahh…"
And only minutes later, Mike stood before the gates of King City.
Before the gates stood twelve knights, clad in heavy iron armor and armed with swords. They shouted and charged forward.
"Stop!"
Mike exhaled deeply when he saw the knights halt.
"I am not hostile! Here—take my sword!"
Mike threw his blade at the feet of one knight, who picked it up and passed it along.
"I want to speak with the King."
The gates opened, and Mike was allowed to pass. He dismounted White and walked across the bridge. Soldiers surrounded both him and the griffin—behind, before, everywhere.
Mike whispered to White, "The rumors aren't even true… funny, isn't it?" He paused, then added, "Doesn't mean I couldn't make them true if I wanted to."
Now they entered King City itself. The city was built on three levels:
Level 1 – merchants and common folk.
Level 2 – warriors, knight training, and barracks.
Level 3 – the palace, where the King and his family lived. Tournaments were usually held there.
A knight approached Mike and spoke in a threatening voice:
"Well, halfling. The King surely has no use for weapons. But he does have something for you to do. Only then may you speak with him."
Mike stood still and nodded. Yet inside he thought:
Tsk… that bastard still has the arrogance to demand something from me? First he whines: 'please don't attack us, halfling'… pathetic.
The knight continued:
"These are the King's words, so accept them. These are hard times for mankind. Therefore, Mike, you will brighten the mood here by joining the King's tournament.
The eight strongest warriors will fight. Split into two groups:
2 vs 2
2 vs 2
The winners will then face each other in a free-for-all. That is your task. And the first rule: no weapons. Break it, and every knight here will cut you down. The tournament begins today. Follow me.**
"Understood?" the knight beside Mike asked.
Mike nodded.
As they walked through the city, Mike could see the stark difference between Level 1 and Level 3. In the commoner's quarter, filth lay everywhere, bloodstains half-scrubbed from the stones. Children in torn and dirty clothes played in the streets. Despite it all, they laughed.
Five children noticed Mike. They waved to him. Mike raised his hand and waved back, before turning away and speaking softly to White:
"Now I'll do it willingly. These people deserve to be stronger… don't you think?"
White nodded and followed step by step.
Finally, they reached Level 3. Here, everything gleamed—porcelain, gold, rare jewels. At the grand staircase of the palace, two royal elites appeared, fully armored, fully armed. Suddenly they stepped aside, and the King himself descended between them, heavily guarded.
Mike felt anger rise within him at the sight: the King adorned in golden trousers, golden chains, and a golden crown. But Mike forced himself to stay calm—he was not here as an enemy.
"Good. Halfling. Step into the palace. As for you all—leave."
The King pointed at the knights behind Mike, and they stepped away.
Mike stepped inside and stared at the golden entrance to the palace courtyard. It was a wide square where children were playing. But unlike the poor children he had seen earlier, these wore spotless, expensive white garments. Still, they laughed with the same joy.
Then they stopped playing and turned to a woman standing nearby. Mike hadn't noticed her at first. She had beautiful white hair and brown eyes. The moment he looked at her, he felt a strange sensation in his chest, and his face turned red. She seemed to be about his age.
Suddenly one of the children cried out:
"Big sister, big sister! Is that the man you're supposed to marry?"
She stayed calm, her gaze composed as she looked at Mike. Then she broke eye contact and turned to the child.
"No, silly, he's…" She stopped, sighed in annoyance, and finished,
"…he comes later."
Mike had no more time to watch. With one last glance at the courtyard and the beautiful woman, he was led into the throne room.
The King sat down and clapped once. It was a signal. The knights left the room, leaving only Mike, White, and the King behind.
The King spoke:
"You will soon receive clothing. Put it on and go to the arena. Do not cause trouble."
Mike only nodded and said nothing. Servants brought in white garments. He changed into them; they were loose and comfortable—good for fighting.
Then it began. Mike was taken from the throne room and into the arena. It was only a few buildings away, four doors down the hall. Inside, he already saw his opponents.
But what caught his eyes more was her—the beautiful woman again. She seemed to be the King's daughter.
"I wonder what her name is…" he thought.
White waited outside the arena, chewing on a long fish. Mike's gaze finally shifted back to his opponents.
The first team was made up of two slender young men. They wore the same white outfits as him, but didn't look very threatening.
The second team, however, looked much more dangerous: two warriors, one missing his left eye, the other missing his right arm. Both were broad, muscular, and bald.
"Those will be tougher, huh?"
Mike was startled by a voice at his side. He hadn't even noticed the boy approaching.
"Hello. Giel, that's me."
The boy raised his hand. He looked like he hadn't eaten in two weeks and had never trained a day in his life—clearly the weakest here. And of all people, he was in Mike's team.
Mike rolled his eyes.
"Mike…" he introduced himself.
But when he looked back to the opposite team, all hope dropped to zero.
There was only one man. But he was so broad, so massive, that he looked as though he could kill Giel just by bumping into him.
"I… I'm screwed…"