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"Hmh!"

With but a grunt and a flex of his body, the tiresome Argonaut unleashed from both palms a powerful blast of volatile darkness; releasing with a form similar to a fiery explosion, only inhibiting the darkness of the shadows he wielded masterfully. The two, separately released blasts of matter-destroying darkness reached to each edge of the field--the reach of these attacks easily consuming both beasts.

Settling his animosity that spiked in that moment of casting, Avdima relaxed his arms as he returned his eyes to Fai--feeling an itchy, cold sensation that was no different from his instincts yelling at him as that look in the confident, unwavering irises of the otherworlder revealed something to him.

"Huh--?!"

A complete surprise even to the all-powerful Argonaut; the blasts of flesh-decaying, deathly magic did not so much as hinder the summoned beasts in their hungering path as they continued to charge at him indifferently.

That\'s your first mistake, Avdima. Humbaba and Cath Palug aren\'t just some brutish beasts; they\'re legendary creatures that challenged those of divinity, beings imprinted as legendary heroes in history. A dull, half-assed blast like that doesn\'t even suffice as breakfast for the likes of them! Fai thought.

Above their heads, the daunting, black orb of Avdima\'s creation still stood like the antithesis of the Sun itself.

Pressed with little time to react with the beasts being brought so close to him he could feel their hot, gluttonous breath pelt against him, Avdima raised his arms, manifesting shields of reinforced, durable darkness at each of his sides.

While Humbaba, with its gaping maw, amplified by terrifying fangs, went in for a bite against the shield in its path, Cath Palug raised its large paw, swinging it with strength and ferocity backed by its muscular arm hidden by its thick hide of fur.

The claws, each the length of broadswords, with even greater sharpness, swiped cleanly against the sable barrer--effortlessly cutting through its magical protecting as the visceral weapons met against Avdima\'s arm.

"Gh…!"

The fabric of his sleeve, the skin of his arm, and the flesh protected underneath--it was all paper mache to the great, white beast\'s paw as clear claw marks from the swipe were left bloodily engraved in the Argonaut\'s right arm.

If there was any reprieve in this moment of lapse, it was that Humbaba\'s fangs, coated in hungering fluids, were halted by the shield, piercing through it quite easily but its harrowing head being stopped as its blackened mane flowed in the resulting wind.

Being subjected to the sharpness of Cath Palug\'s claws didn\'t stop Avdima as he was quick to respond, releasing his hold of the barriers as he twisted his body, putting his weight into a punch strengthened by rotation and magical energy as it crashed against the nightmarish face of Humababa, sending the beast tumbling like a loose weed.

Before the white-furred feline of an elephant\'s size could bring its paw down for another strike, Avdima flipped himself, unleashing a spinning kick to Cath Palug\'s chin--knocking the creature away as well as he bought himself some space with a huff, landing back on his feet.

"Forget about me?"

As the voice registered to Avdima\'s ears, the fist was already pressed deep against his gut, backed by the flaming essence of the man\'s mana.

That\'s right--this man isn\'t a traditional summoner by any means! At his core, he\'s a fighter--these creatures aren\'t familiars or servants, but comrades in which he fights with! Avdima thought.

It was the first time a clean, solid hit was gifted from Fai to Avdima, and it was an overwhelming first impression the callused, trained fist of the chinese warrior gave.

Spit left the lips of the Argonaut as the dreadful impact of the blow settled into his body, being doubled up by the unique force which Fai utilized. As Fai pressed his foot to the soil below, digging his shoulder into full-completion of the punch, he sent the deathly-pale man flying back like a pebble to a lake.

When was it, Avdima thought, that it all became so boring?

"Your hair has gotten so long, Avy."

"Yeah."

Sitting on the steps of his home, he sat still as the woman behind him brushed his hair, gently bringing the tool through his locks to straighten them out--to no avail as the moment his hair was out of her grasp, it returned to its curly, spiky state.

It was a narrow street; the width of which was filled only with cracked, uncared for cobblestone and the discarded trash of others. The smell that hung in the air of the unsavory sector was just that; putrid and repulsive, but soon enough any resident became indifferent to the stench.

I was born with horrible luck. A life in the dreadful slums of the capital--"born here, die here", is the saying around here. I never realized what that meant until I got a bit older. It\'s simply; those of us born with the misfortune of being in the slums are looked down upon by others are nothing more than rodents--so they do everything in their power to keep us here, Avdima thought.

All he did was stare blankly at the exposed gutters across the thin street, running across it was the repugnant, vile liquid of the slum\'s gathered waste. The source of the abhorrent smell that lingered throughout the discarded sector.

It was an environment nobody wished to exist in, but it wasn\'t much of a choice for any. Still, he found himself wanting nothing more than to escape its hold.

"Sister."

"Yeah, Avy?"

"I want to learn magic."

We weren\'t exactly overflowing with riches, I knew this--yet my selfish, childish self still asked this of my sister--knowing what kind of person she was.

Selfless and caring; she did anything she could to make me happy, every action she took was as if she actively tried to work against the gnawing environment of the slums on me. I took advantage of that kindness.

I figured that if I could learn a bit of magic, I could take us out of that wretched slum.

I didn\'t know how at the time, but she managed to scrounge up the coin needed by the next week, hiring an instructor to teach me, some sewer rat, the basics of magecraft.

Standing in the tattered, bare minimum kitchen of his home, Avdima looked up at the visitor who entered--a man dressed in garments so lavish he looked like royalty to his sheltered eyes; the intricate, layered verdant designs that ran across the comfortable looking fabric of his robes.

It was his first time seeing one, a certified mage; never did someone with a silver to their name dare enter the slums, yet coin called for it this time around.

"So, you\'re the lad, are you?"

The mage looked down at the short, thin boy with skin so pale and arms thin that he looked malnourished. Though, the certified, paid mage possessed a burly build himself, running his fingers decorated with rings along the length of his ginger beard.

"...Yeah…"

Avdima spoke quietly, nodding his head as he felt his chest tighten in the presence of a man like this. The dreary, hollow eyes belonging to the boy weren\'t uncommon in the boundaries of the slums; it was almost a defining feature those of higher privilege used to discern if one was from the bowels of filth and stagnancy.

The ginger-haired mage instructor recognized it, at least, he affiliated those eyes with those he saw watch him as he walked through the slums that day.

It was the usual, boundless, dreamful vigor that was natural to children, or rather--the absence of it. Whisked away by the holds of their birth; the suffocating stagnation of the slum winds and the vice-grip of its walls. Those were the eyes of a child that realized their dreams had no merit which to hold onto in an unequal world that bestowed equal misfortune to those born in that sector. It was a simple reality he had to accept as a child; he was simply birthed into this world below others.

Pathetic, that was the single thought that came to the man\'s mind when looking down at the child with such messy, dirty hair and empty eyes.

I knew just looking at him--the man was a complete waste of a human. Still, his expertise in the theory of magic wasn\'t diminished.

...To this day, I regret it. I regret not tearing him apart; limb from limb--if there was one wish of mine that could be granted...I\'d wish to have the opportunity to do it. It\'s these thoughts that make me itch, an itch that makes me want to destroy.