Screams and voices Liam had forcefully burned in his memory resounded in his ears while he looked into his childhood friend's blue eyes. A hatred he couldn't hope to bottle up washed over his brain while a spot on his right forearm began to itch.
Liam lowered his gaze and scratched his forearm, some restlessness joining the foul feeling that had filled him. The gesture didn't appease the itch, but he knew nothing could.
"You should learn to control that," Adrian sighed, knowing what Liam was doing since his forearm carried the same mark.
"It itches," Liam commented, squeezing his left hand into a fist to stop himself.
"I know it does," Adrian sighed again, "But you can't go around doing that in the Inner Circles. They will hang you or worse if they believe you resent the Dragon King."
"What's worse than dying?" Liam asked, meeting his friend's gaze again, showing genuine confusion as well as pristine resolve.
"They might hang me, too!" Adrian claimed, pointing at his face in all seriousness. "I'm too young and good-looking to die because you can't lie to save your life."
Liam didn't even blink, showing no reaction at the joke, before walking toward an untrod path that would bring him to the village quickly. Adrian was right, but Liam's mind was set.
Yet, Adrian followed with a serious tone and words Liam couldn't ignore. "They'd hang Father, too."
Liam halted his steps. His forearm itched again, the urge to scratch it stronger than earlier, but his mind wandered, helping him suppress that reaction.
Liam's debt toward Adrian's father, Cyrus, the village's blacksmith, was so big that several lifetimes wouldn't be enough to repay it.
However, thinking about the reason behind that immense debt brought Liam's attention back to his itching forearm. The urge to scratch it had become unbearable, but Liam chose to pull up his ragged sleeve instead.
The source of that almost ten-year-old sensation became visible. A burn mark at the center of the inside of Liam's forearm came into contact with the slightly chilly air, worsening the itch even further.
The passage of time had removed the mark's redness, but its precise edges hadn't faded, leaving a detailed, white shape on Liam's clear skin. A stylized dragon rested on his forearm, confirming his survival in the Bloodline Screening mandated by the King himself.
The dragon-shaped burn was also Liam's greatest secret, one that only he, Adrian, and Cyrus knew about.
"I need to become a cultivator to enter the Inner Circles," Liam said, reaffirming his resolve, pulling down his sleeve to cover the burn mark. "If the Guild says that I have no talent, you'll have nothing to worry about."
"You heard what Father said about revenge," Adrian reminded. "It will corrupt you in body and spirit."
"Adrian, they killed my family," Liam stated, his gaze still lowered as the screams and voices from ten years ago echoed in his brain once more. "They killed Father, Mother, and Big Sister while I hid like a coward."
"You were six," Adrian pointed out. "You weren't a coward. You were a kid."
Liam turned a deaf ear to that comment. His mother had been the one to hide him in his old house's secret trapdoor back then. He even recalled promising not to come out no matter what, but the same went for the screams that followed.
"Your mother was right," Adrian insisted, aware of the whole story. "Old Jack had riled up those butchers. They would have killed you instead of performing the Screening."
"The King shouldn't have sent butchers in the first place," Liam scoffed.
"Quiet," Adrian hushed. "You can't speak like this about the Dragon King."
Liam shook his head. He didn't care for Kings. The Outer Circles were so distant from the center of the Dragon Kingdom that they might very well belong to different domains.
Yet, the Bloodline Screening had been a kingdom-wide event involving extensive manpower. Finding the men who had come to Krosstoen's village ten years ago among that crowd would be challenging, impossible even, since Liam only had the voices from his memory as clues.
That was, unless Liam could become a cultivator. Those legendary figures were nothing like mortals. Stories said they could accomplish the impossible, and Liam needed exactly that.
Moreover, rumors had it that cultivators led those who handled the Bloodline Screening, so Liam needed the same strength to hope for any kind of revenge.
"Everyone in the village knows the Heavens have blessed you," Adrian reassured, approaching his friend. "You are as strong as a boar and as nimble as a squirrel. If anyone can become a cultivator, it's you."
Liam didn't answer but lifted his gaze, peeking past his shoulder to watch Adrian stop behind him.
"Just be careful," Adrian requested, "And don't try anything complicated. You know you are too dumb for those."
Adrian smiled, but Liam's dark mood endured. He knew he couldn't just forget about what had happened to his family. Liam hadn't allowed himself to. Yet, he could make a promise.
"If anything happens to me," Liam uttered, "I'll make sure not to involve Cyrus and you."
The mountain had been a poor teacher of human interactions, so Liam could only speak through genuine honesty, which now was too blinding for his childhood friend.
"Don't say these things," Adrian said, ruffling Liam's black hair, only for his hand to get stuck in its many knots. "Go have fun becoming an oh-mighty cultivator while I pay off Father's debt to the Church of the Man."
Before Liam could laugh and help his friend break free of his messy hair, sounds of footsteps reached his ears, chaotic and distressed, but familiar nonetheless. The noise claimed his gaze to its source, and Adrian followed suit, looking in the same direction.
An old man with disheveled white hair and an unkempt long grey beard stepped out of the trees Liam was looking at, his robe more dirt and mud than fabric.
The man's walking pace was odd, mixing stomps with unstable light steps. He always seemed on the verge of stumbling, but never did. He also constantly mumbled something incomprehensible, the few actual words he spoke making no sense.
The old man's eyes were half-closed and unfocused, seemingly in a drunken haze, but they gained a scary sharpness when they fell on Liam. Still, Liam simply nodded at him before breaking free and resuming walking down the mountain.
Instead, Adrian went completely unnoticed, so he made sure to shout something that would earn him a reaction.
"Hey, Crazy Uncle, aren't you watching the Guild's caravan?" Adrian teased.
"Ah!" The old man suddenly raised his voice while continuing on his way. "I have no business with those children! When I was in the Dragon Palace, such lowly cultivators weren't even worthy of pouring me wine!"
"Whatever you say, Crazy Uncle," Adrian laughed, watching the old man disappear behind more trees before hurrying after Liam.
"I never understood why you haven't kicked him out," Adrian commented. "You barely let me climb the mountain."
"He doesn't disturb anyone," Liam said. "Even the animals are fine with him."
Liam remembered that as if it were yesterday. The old man had appeared on Krosstoen's mountain barely two years after the Bloodline Screening and Liam's decision to guard that place from anyone who threatened to disturb its peace.
Yet, after weeks of watching the old man in secret, Liam had deemed him harmless, leading to that non-interactive cohabitation.
The trees grew scarce as the two boys kept walking. The mountain ended in a flatter scenery featuring sparse small houses made of wood, mud, and bundles of straw. Krosstoen's village was up ahead, close enough for Liam to hear the chattering of a crowd.
Liam noticed that Adrian was about to say something, but darted ahead, his restlessness having reached the critical point as he crossed the village's border, leaving his friend far behind.
The chatter was already telling, and diving deeper into the village confirmed Liam's guess. Every small house he crossed was empty, and reaching the muddy, central square showed their inhabitants, as well as the well-kept caravan they had gathered around.
Horses were a luxury Krosstoen's village couldn't afford, and the caravan had two of those, highlighting how foreign it was in that environment. The wooden emblem with an open scroll at its top even confirmed that point.
The envoy from the Recruiters Guild had arrived, and Liam could already spot the few kids from the village in an orderly line behind the caravan, eager to see if the Heavens had blessed them with the talent to become cultivators.
Nevertheless, someone among the crowd spotted Liam, too, and the chattering turned into quiet whispering. People even moved aside at his arrival, creating a path to the back of the caravan.
That reaction wasn't new for Liam. He was somewhat famous in the village, both for what had happened to his family and for his successful protection of the mountain.
That fame even affected the boy in the head of the line, who stepped aside seeing Liam, leaving his spot to him. The caravan's curtains opened at that exact moment, and the bald, beardless, slightly chubby man who peeked out witnessed the scene.
"You must be the Liam everyone has been whispering about," The man announced. "Well, come on in."