"More! Tell me more!" I eagerly told my father as I hopped towards him like a rabbit begging for snacks.
Every person has that one story they heard in their childhood days that had stuck with them even after becoming an adult. I, Eurus Rieju, have not one but a whole catalogue of stories from a single source.
I like the stories my father would tell me everyday. "They were outlaws, alright? That means they don't live by the rules! But you know what else that means? Rules also don't apply to your actions towards them!" Father is always ecstatic to tell me stories of his adventures. "At that moment, even though I was outnumbered. That doesn't change the fact that they were just humans, like me. They could be as strong as a dragon, but still as fragile as a rooster. So I went swinging and swinging!" I'd always look forward to a chance to know more about his adventures from the start to finish.
For an adolescent brimming with imagination. It was the most entertaining stories I've heard in my eight years of life.
We all have role models growing up. It may be an idol you see in the newspaper, or the town's hero who saved you when you were young, or even a king you've never met but heard so much about. Mine is my father.
He used to venture the world in his younger days. Exploring caves that replays parts of your life, trekking mountains that reach the heavens, and fighting beasts of unimaginable strength and sizes. His stories sparked my desire to have my own adventure.
"And that's how your mother found me. Soaked in my own blood, bleeding at the side of the road." He laughed, even when his story had become graphic.
The way he told his stories were none like the books I've read, with great detail and a genuine smile and excitement—it almost feels like you were there.
I kept begging him to take me on an adventure, but he would always refuse "You're too young for that, and I can't handle those kinds of adventures anymore.", He'd reason. Despite his refusal, I never stopped asking him about it. That exchange went on until I reached the age of nine.
We were playing catch outside. It's a game where two individuals throw a ball to each other, not letting the ball fall to the ground. It's a fun game, father would throw it far and I try to keep up and catch it. A good exercise, he says. My throw on the other hand, would always be low and short. So I need to get closer first before I throw the ball. That day, after catching his throw that felt a bit farther than usual, I turned to realize that that was indeed true. Because of the wind that was blowing towards my direction, the ball had flown farther than my father had wanted it to. I didn't complain about it. In fact, it got me curious. What if I could do the same, let the ball ride the wind so I can throw it as far as father could. That way, I don't need to get closer for my throw. Of course that's impossible, after all, the wind was blowing in my direction. It would make my throw shorter instead. But my nine year old mind didn't think of that. I imagined the wind carrying the ball forward towards my father and threw it as hard as I could. My father couldn't believe what he had seen. The ball dropped right exactly where he is, thrown from a distance he never thought possible for me.
I joyfully hopped towards him, "Did you see that, father? I threw that! me! I did it like you did, the wind carried it to you.". While I was overjoyed by my achievement, he, on the other hand, wore a somber expression in silence.
The next day, he woke me early to meet a friend of his called Mr. Elliott, a scientist who is an expert in many aspects of knowledge. He always wore glasses despite not having poor eyesight. I think it's dumb. And the fact that paired with his long hair, it only makes him more feminine that I believed he was a lady at first. One of his expertise is of the mystical power we call Talon.
"Talons are a natural endowment for each person that exists. These abilities vary in many, but quantifiable ways." Those were the words of Mr. Elliott.
The vocabulary of a child prevented me from understanding the words that he just said.
He sighed. "That means you're the only one who has that kind of ability, and once you uhm." He hesitated for a bit. "Die… someone else will inherit that ability at birth even if you're not related by blood."
Talon users are called Raptors. Derived from how birds who have a Talon are called Raptors, or birds of prey. They believed that like birds, some humans are born to be strong, leaders, or hunters. Those who are born to be strong are gifted with the power of a Talon.
One aspect of a Talon is that it's consistently inconsistent. If a Raptor dies and a new born comes a second after, it won't be certain that the baby will inherit the Talon. We don't know the patterns of which or how a Talon will be inherited, and when it manifests.
Talons are, in a way, also weird. The abilities it gives are centered around a single idea. Like mine which centers around the control of the wind. I can control the wind, but not produce them. I've guessed that there may be a Talon who allows its user to produce wind. But Mr. Elliott simply laughed it off when I asked him.
From then on, I started training my new found ability. My throws went farther and farther, even to the point that my father actually had to run to keep up with it. Just when I thought I'm becoming better than him—throwing the ball as far and as high as I can with the goal of not allowing my father to catch it. Doing that, it was about to go into the forest nearby. My father had told me to stay away from it because it was a dangerous place so I was in panic as I watched it go further and further. Then as it was about to cross the tree lines, my father crouched down and leaped high into the air, landing at the highest branch of a tall tree and leaping from there to catch the ball. I was in awe. I've never seen my father do something like that. I asked if he was a Raptor as well, but he denied it. "It's pure strength, son." He spoke proudly with a cocky smile on his face—his fingers tightened around the ball.
"How can I be as strong as you?" I eagerly asked him. I was met with no reply so I called out again. "Father?"
"Oh, uhm… Just exercise. Like what we're doing."
"But I want to be able to jump high like you do!"
By now, I've only learned to push the wind in a specific direction so it would propel an object further.
"You can do it."
"How?"
He tossed the ball lightly. "You use the wind to propel the ball to go higher, right?"
I nodded.
"What if you do it to yourself as you jump? Like, you become the ball"
I imagined it the moment he described it—I was speechless. I was like a scientist who discovered a new species in his lab, or in this case, I was the assistant who discovered it with the scientist. I was smiling from ear to ear. I immediately wanted to try it. I backed off, making some distance from my father so he wouldn't get blown away. I jumped and used the wind to propel me upward. But because I have only been doing it to propel a ball in the direction I threw it, which is always forward—I swept myself forward instead. I was face first when I was falling. Luckily, my father was quick to catch me. Fear crawled all over my skin, but more than that, I was ecstatic. Although it had failed, it did help me jump higher even though it had more forward push than upward. That alone made it clear that it was possible.
My father was worried at first, but when he saw the smile on my face, he started laughing. "Maybe start with controlling the direction of the wind."
From then on, I practiced everyday. I was able to control the direction of the wind more accurately. I quickly realized that the strength of the wind I use when throwing a ball wasn't enough to propel something of my weight as high as I wanted, so I trained that too. In just half a year, I managed to be able to jump over three meters off the ground. I found landing to be the hardest part, so I only jumped over a wall where my friend, Harley and I always play. It is a part of what's left of the old town hall.
I was showing him my progress. I managed to jump over the wall and land on top.
"How are you going to get down there?" He said.
I hadn't actually thought about that before I decided to jump. I'd usually only do it when my father or uncle Chris(Harley's father) is here.
"I know! Maybe do the same but while you're falling." He added.
"But wouldn't that just push me back up?"
"Just do it." He insisted.
I did as he told me. I imagined it would simply push me upward, or rather, higher. But when I jumped down and did as I normally do when I jumped up, it didn't propel me upward and simply slowed down my fall. I realized that the reason why the wind was propelling me upward was because I was pushing myself upward, but when I'm falling, it simply slows me down.
"You did it!"
"HAHA, how's that?"
I was a cocky brat, bragging to a friend who just helped me out.
"Yeah yeah, that's cool, but can you do this?!" He lunged at me, grabbing my arm and shoulder then sweeping my feet off the ground and pushing me backward that caused me to fall flat. The ground in the area had been taken over by nature, cushioning my fall. It gave me the idea to push him using the wind to get him off me. It was a playful fight between kids, but it made me realize one thing—I'm not good at fighting.
Once the sun had sunk low, casting the world in warm, waning light. We decided that it's time to head home. I immediately went off to my father in the kitchen, begging him to teach me how to fight. He greeted me with a smile but it quickly faded once he heard my request.
"Why do you want to learn how to fight?" He spoke in a serious tone.
I paid no attention to it at first and gave him a reply filled with enthusiasm, "Cause Harley is good at fighting and I want to beat him!" My eyes filled with innocence.
He let out a sigh, one filled with disappointment. "That's the reason?"
"Yeah!"
"Then no, I won't teach you." He said before going back to preparing dinner.
"But father! Please." I insisted.
He abruptly went quiet and stopped what he was doing. He looked me right in the eyes and crouched down to touch my shoulders. With a serious look, and voice filled with worry, with every word coming from deep within his chest, "Son, you don't learn how to fight just to beat up others. You don't become stronger just to prove that you're better than them. That's not what strength is used for." He spoke with sincerity.
I didn't understand what he meant at first. For me, I just wanted to get stronger so I could beat Harley in our "Playful fight", that's it, just a game. So being denied for that reason made it feel unfair. I simply moaned in sorrow and sat by the dinner table, waiting for the food to be finished.
The table was quiet after that. The chewing and sipping of the food felt more noticeable. The utensils hitting the plate whenever I scoop up some rice was unusually louder. The dinner went off like that. As the silence continued, a loud knocking suddenly came to our door, and someone called my name in a panic. It was Harley's voice. I opened the door and he immediately entered and closed the door.
"The village is getting attacked!" He shouted.
I held his arms and noticed how much he was trembling, his voice too.
My father immediately came to comfort him, and asked him what happened.
"When I came home, my father was fighting some monsters outside our home. He shouted at me to call for you uncle." Despite his voice trembling, he managed to not stutter.
Father opened the kitchen and when he came back, he was carrying a machete in his hand. He told us to stay inside and lock the door. He went outside to help others. I wanted to help as well, but I couldn't leave Harley.
"Are you okay?"
He looked me in the eyes and I noticed that he was crying, it seemed that he had been holding it back before he got here.
"Eurus, father was… he was bleeding."
I held him by the shoulders. "Was he injured? Is he alone?"
"No… he was fighting the monsters, but he had blood on him so he might have been injured." He held onto my shirt tightly. "He's going to be okay, right?"
"Don't worry, father is going to help him. Together, they're unstoppable!"
Just as when I managed to calm him down a little, a loud bang came from behind our house. I realized that I had not locked the door leading towards the back, someone or something must have come in. We tried going upstairs, but whatever it was, quickly found us before we even reached the stairs.
It was a beast that looked like a dog-kangaroo hybrid with hairless skin and sharp claws. A sigbin, it's called. It walks on its hind legs and sucks the blood of its prey using its long fangs. They're weaker than normal beasts and have no particular contribution to an ecosystem which causes the other beasts to kill them aimlessly, that's why they tend to live nearby a small town where they couldn't be threatened by other beasts and can freely hunt humans. They lack physical strength but compensate with their sharp claws and quick movements.
Despite his fear, Harley was the one who stepped in front, ready to fight. He told me to go, but I couldn't get myself to leave him behind. I stood beside him, steeling my resolve to fight back. It would be the first time we fought a beast.
We never imagined the difference in power between a child and a beast. Sigbins are known to be the weakest, but we were ignorant of why they're still considered beasts.
There was only a single Sigbin, we believed that we could handle it since there's two of us. As we both took a stance, the sigbin vanished before our very eyes. The thing that was just in front of us, vanished into thin air and reappeared right in our faces. It wound up its arm before swinging its claws at us followed by a strong wind. I flinched. When I opened my eyes, I was stunned in fear. The tip of its claw was an inch away from my eye, more than that, father was standing right beside the beast. He was the one who stopped its attack. He held the beast's arms tightly, gripping it harder that the beast squealed in pain. For some reason, I saw the same fear Harley had in the face of the sigbin.
Father didn't say anything. He dragged the beast slowly, out the door it came in. It tried to pull itself away, but father's hand didn't budge an inch. Father closed the door, but before it fully closed—I was able to catch a glimpse of the beast trying to cut its own arm with its other claws.
The noise outside stopped after a while. We were left not knowing what happened, but too scared to check. There was a knock at the front and Uncle's voice called out to Harley. He immediately went to open the door. Despite being covered in blood, Harley didn't hesitate to hug his father.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Uncle smiled at me. "Don't worry, this blood is not mine. Your father is okay too."
My father stepped forward, also giving me a warm hug.
The commotion is over. They looked tired but didn't seem to be injured. I saw them as heroes who saved the village. I felt proud that I had such a strong…father. That feeling made me think back about my father's words. It dawned on me what he meant.
When Harley immediately stepped up to protect me despite being afraid. The weakness I felt the moment I realized the difference in strength the beast and I had. When my father came to protect us. At that moment, it wasn't about whether I'm stronger than Harley. It wasn't a playful fight. It was life and death. It was about being strong enough to protect myself, to protect… my friend.
"Father." I muttered. "Please teach me how to fight." I spoke louder. "I want to be strong enough to protect my friends, my family!" I shouted with resolve, with determination.
Father finally smiled. "Sure son, I'll teach you."
From then on, our play time was spent on training. Unlike my mother and I, my father is not a Raptor. But in no way he was weak. He's an expert in hand to hand combat and even weapons such as a sword, bow, staff, and a machete which became my main weapon in killing beasts. Because my father could only teach me in those fields, I tried to incorporate my Talon with these fighting styles. A staff can help guide where I want the wind to go, the wind could be an extension of a machete and sword, cutting through even thick logs. A strong gust of wind can also feel like a punch. With this wide arsenal, I was able to keep up with my father. He also helped me by giving me ideas on how to use my power.
It wasn't just me who got stronger. Harley took his training more seriously, but he went off to a prestigious school to further improve himself. It was a school only for Raptors, but I didn't join in. I believed that I could learn more from my father.
I didn't forget my dream of going on an adventure, but I also stopped begging my father to go on an adventure with me. Training was enough.
Just a year after my training, my father decided that I'm strong enough to fight against a beast. It just happened that the beast he was referring to was a Sigbin. I was happy before I realized what I was fighting. I froze in fear in front of the beast. I keep remembering what happened that day. It was only for a moment, but that feeling of weakness traumatized me. I feared that the same thing might happen. I looked at the Sigbin, waiting for the moment he vanished into thin air, but the Sigbin wouldn't move. That's when I realized that Father's presence alone was enough to scare the Sigbin. It knew it couldn't run—it had realized what we wanted, but it was too afraid to make the first move. Its expression made me think back of that day again, but after the moment of fear—When my father was dragging the beast away, when its expression was filled with terror.
I took another deep breath. I had calmed down, calmer than before. I just had to be strong enough that the enemy would be afraid of me instead of the other way around.
I had watched my father fight Sigbins before when they attacked our village again. Their attacks are pretty straight forward. A rush slashing attack using their claws is their go-to most of the time. They seem to only use their fangs for sucking blood and not as a weapon. As I lunged forward, the Sigbin saw it as a sign that he was allowed to move as well. The Sigbin was faster than me, but I knew that. The moment he moved, I manipulated the wind to blast from the side right in front of me. The gust of wind hit the Sigbin as it got close, it went off balance and I took the opportunity to strike it right in the temple.
I've gotten a lot stronger in over a year, but I've never realized how much. It took only one punch to make the Sigbin fall to the ground. My training paid off, but it wasn't enough.
As I got stronger, I began to crave for more. Right then and there, after taking down the Sigbin, I looked at my father and begged him once more. "I'm ready. Please take me on an adventure!" I peaked at his reaction and saw that same somber expression he wore the day my Talon manifested. I thought he was going to say the same excuse.
He sighed. "Fine. I guess you're old enough."
I was speechless and overjoyed. I even shouted, "You hear that?! I'm going on an adventure!" to the unconscious Sigbin lying on the ground.
Later we went to what he called, "Father and Son Adventure!".
"Watch me defeat these foul beasts!" I shouted right as we entered the forest. Waving my machete around.
My continued improvement made me underestimate the wilderness. Defying the first lesson my father ever taught me, "Do not underestimate your opponents.". I found myself in a position where a stone knife was inches away from me. My father had prevented an attack from a humanoid beast by grabbing hold of its arm and launching it towards a tree. I was able to keep my knees from giving out, but it was obvious that I was scared.
Just when I was thinking that I've become strong, life comes around and sucker punches you right in the gut. Being in the same situation as I was before, I realized right there that there isn't an end to being strong.
The beasts in the forest we ventured were smart and cunning. Some use weapons made of stones, bones and sticks. They also hunt in packs, and even form a symbiotic relationship for efficient hunting like the long necked bird Spearbill and the horned mammal Dreadhorn that we came across at a small lake right after entering the forest.
My father had done most of the work in this particular adventure. His strength gave me a sense of security which made me think that everything will be fine as long as I'm with him. But that thought quickly vanished after being faced to face with a giant flying beast with an eye bigger than my entirety, I realized that I could as easily die as those rabbits we hunted for breakfast. I looked back at my father to see the same terrified look I had. It didn't attack us. My father, though scared, was brimming with joy at the sight of what he called, "The King of the Sky.". The gust of wind that it made when it flew away made me realize that even with the power to control the wind, I'm still hopeless in the face of the one who governs the sky.
Our father and son adventures continued as the years passed by. Most of the time, we returned home safe and sound with just a bit of scratches here and then. Some days were fruitful, some days were not so much. And one day, we came home with my father grunting excessively. He tried hiding it from me and said it was nothing. Even getting mad when I kept bugging him about it. He turned out fine after a good night's rest, is the facade he wanted me to believe. I noticed in our following adventures his recurring grunts that seemed random. Sometimes it would be in the middle of a struggle which was normal, but he had not been hit and even when he was, it was in a different part of his body—He held his abdomen instead of his shoulder. The weirdest times were when he looked in pain even when we were just resting at home.
He continued the facade that he was fine when he's in front of other people, but I know about his restless nights that he tries to hide. His groaning kept getting louder and louder each night. He doesn't even notice anymore when I've entered his room.
I hurried to ask Mr. Elliott for help but I was told by his neighbors that he had left a month ago and hadn't returned.
The day came when my father couldn't hide it anymore. His illness or whatever it was, has gotten worse. He laid in bed motionless most of the time, as even a single movement can cause him an overwhelming pain. I took care of his every need. I learned to cook and do house chores with the help of our neighbors. They were also kind enough to visit him from time to time and deliver fruits for us to eat.
One night as I was feeding my father an apple. He sat up and held my hand. I begged him not to move, but he simply looked me in the eyes and smiled.
"Son He uttered with his weak voice. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this before. But I'm proud of you. You've been the best thing that ever happened in my life."
It's the words every son wishes to hear from their father. But why! Why does it feel like I didn't want to hear him say it?
"I love you."
For the first time since I grew past being a baby, I cried while being held by my father.
And so, the story of my father had come to a conclusion.