I hate the world I live in.
A world that doesn't care about the people living in it.
A world where you can't go a day without some life-threatening event happening around you.
Out of the twelve nations and kingdoms this world has, two are in constant civil war—each for different yet oddly similar reasons. Six of the nations are at war with one another, pouring all their resources into ensuring they are the victors. The final four, despite avoiding everyone else's conflicts, still have to fight off the horrendous monsters that prey on us.
I hate the queen of all monsters, who keeps pumping out her spawn by the hundreds. Wave after wave of creatures roaming the land and threatening life without discrimination. Air, ground, water—no place is safe.
I hate magic.
…
No. I wouldn't say I hate magic. I think it's cool—being able to command the elements. What kid wouldn't want to shoot a fireball out of his hand and wipe out a whole swarm of monsters with one cast?
I don't hate magic. What I hate are the people who can use it. Not because they can and I can't.
No. I hate mages, wizards, witches, sorcerers—whatever they want to call themselves—because they're a bunch of arrogant, secretive sect members who don't care about us.
If you aren't a "chosen by mana," you don't deserve human rights. That's how they see it. We're cattle to be watched over, harvested for labor they don't want to do. We're guinea pigs to test spells on. We're meat shields when danger comes.
… I guess… for people like me… there are still the Body Strengthening techniques—a set of skills anyone can learn, though few can master—that let you harden your skin or modify internal organs.
I hate that kids as young as four learn to carry and use a dagger just to survive.
I know because I was one of those kids.
"Grey! You're spacing out again," an old man called out to me, extending a hand to help me stand.
Once my vision focused, I saw the old man with horse ears and a tail—Trudeia. Despite his age, his hair still held some brown.
I realized I was sitting on the cold metallic floor, my raincoat shielding me from the harsh rain that had started a few hours ago.
"Sorry… I got a bit sleepy once the storm started," I said, reaching for Trudeia's hand and standing up with his help.
"Seriously, this boat has way too many hideouts for you to slack off!" he complained, rubbing the back of his neck—though the beer can in his other hand made the complaint a bit weak.
"Eyein' this nasty one, brat?"
"Nah. I was just thinking how lucky I am to have so many places to sneak into." I smirked.
Trudeia huffed and took a long sip. "So many places to sneak off and sleep, and you choose the one spot that doesn't even have a roof!?"
"All the bosses know this boat like the back of their hand. Gotta get creative with my hiding spots."
"Anyway, what were you even doing here? You weren't sleeping. You just had that creepy unfocused stare."
"I was just thinking… my birthday is in a week or two."
"A week or two? Not even an exact day?"
"I don't know the exact day, so I just celebrate around that time."
"Geez. I heard Reptilias were awful parents, but not that awful." He sighed, leaning against the wall.
Reptilia—that was the name for those with features of geckos, crocodiles, and similar creatures.
"I may have scales over most of my body, but I'm no Reptilia."
"If it has scales, it's a Reptilia!"
"It could be a Nagmia, or another race with scales, you know?"
"If you were a Nagmia, you wouldn't be here. Those snakes would rather die than spend time with other races."
As Trudeia scoffed and drank, I glanced at my own hand.
Dark, opaque green and grayish scales coated the back of my arm, part of my palm, and most of my body.
My tail could be that of a Nagmia—it's thin—but it's too short for a snake-type trait.
If you only looked at the scales, people would think I was a Sauria. But the four gray horns on my head—two pointing forward along my face and two pointing straight up—complicate that.
Because of circumstances I was too young to understand or remember, my birth was classified as an anomaly. I didn't fit any race, so my documents labeled me Reptilia. So I guess Trudeia isn't wrong calling me that since it's on my identification.
I only remember being told my parents were dead when I was found as a baby.
At least I was lucky enough to be dropped at an orphanage. Even if they kicked me out when I was ten.
I spent five years after that making do with whatever I had, until I landed this job four months ago.
A commercial ship delivering packages across the sea—from country to country, city to city. I load crates into containers and keep watch for intruders. A guard and a laborer.
The boat I'm on now is transporting supplies—food to weapons—for an allied nation at war. From the kingdom of Agagra'ra to the nation of Lichtrey.
"Well, make sure to send an invitation for that birthday party."
Trudeia.
This old man is my senior. He's been at this job far longer and taught me most of what I know.
He doesn't like talking about family. All I know is he has a granddaughter he regrets drifting away from.
Other than that, he's a nice old man.
"Say, Grey. Will you finally drink some donkey's piss on your birthday?" he asked, smugly lifting his beer can.
"Don't call it that! It's gross."
"Room temperature—" he paused, then finished the can. "Nah, this shit was hot as hell from sitting near the engines. Hot, cheap commercial beer. What else would it be but donkey's piss?"
Trudeia cackled like he'd said the funniest thing in the world.
"I'm not drinking it. But you can drink all you want—donkey's piss for a donkey's mouth, after all."
"You brat! I'm not a donkey! I'll have you know I wa—"
"You were a famous racer and a stud back in your youth, I know. But there's gotta be a lie in there somewhere."
"Of course there is. It's the 'was.' I still am both!"
"Now you're lying to my face. A famous Equinara racer? You wouldn't be here if that were true."
"No other Equinara was built like me back in the day. I was the top horse!"
…
After a long, silent second, we both burst out laughing.
But—
"Trudeia, c'mere! We've got an intruder!"
A voice called out loudly.
"Going!"
"Man, where the hell are you, geezer?"
"Drinkin' a good ol' nasty!"
"Stop drinking and get your ass to the discipline room!"
"Let's go, Grey."
"Sure."
I followed the old man, whose expression had turned sour—and I knew exactly why.
When we reached the discipline room, the intruder lay on the cold metallic floor.
A boy—no older than ten. Probably an Equinara due to his horse ears and tail that were on a horrible state. Face bloodied. Lying in a pool of his own blood. Barely breathing.
"This donkey was stealing fruits and snacks from a crate," one of the men in the corner said.
I focused on the kid's face. Some of his teeth were missing. Some were on the floor.
"Why're you reporting to me like I'm the boss?" Trudeia snapped.
"It'd be better if you decided what to do with him instead of letting those crazy bastards decide." He pointed at four men surrounding the boy.
They were laughing, holding the kid's hand down. One of them had a knife ready to cut off his fingers.
"We're passing a sea monster's nest, right? Let's just throw him overboard. Either he drowns or he becomes monster food."
Aside from the men's laughter and the kid's groans, I heard Trudeia's long, annoyed sigh.
He walked over and began arguing with them.
"Grey, right?" The man in the corner approached me. "What do you think?"
"The kid? I don't really care. Not my first time seeing someone get beaten up on a ship. Or on land," I said, wary of him since we'd never talked before.
"The other times we beat up grown adults—crackheads. Not little kids," he muttered.
"I guess you're right."
"Damn, I heard Reptilia people were emotionless. Didn't think it was true," another man chimed in.
"I wouldn't know. Reptilians aren't common in Agagra'ra. Even less in Yslari."
We were interrupted by a sudden, massive rumbling that shook the entire boat.
Everyone started yelling questions.
But the shouting stopped quickly—these men had worked the seas far longer than I had.
"It's a sea monster!"
"Everyone, to your positions!"
"What about the kid?"
"Grey, tie him up so he doesn't escape and stay with him while we take care of the sea monsters!" Trudeia ordered.
I nodded as they all rushed out, some already grabbing weapons.