Waking up to a screeching sound wasn't pleasant. It was therefore not unexpected that Kerek fell into the habit of turning his alarm off with a violent smash.

  He hated its high-pitched ringing tone, but not much else could get him out of the dreamland so early in the morning.

  Full of tiredness he lazily opened his eyes to peer out of the window through a hole in the blinds. The morning sky was beautiful.

  The homogenous gray stretched as wide as the eye could see. Its uniformity called to him, the perfect weather for staying inside.

  The fact that the gray sky was all they got around here was beside the point.

  It was the perfect weather for a relaxing morning with a cup of coffee. He however was no leisure amateur to be contend with so little.

  He’d leave the blinds rolled down to ward off any visitors, not that he got many. Then with his privacy secured, he'd open his latest reading.

  A romance novel so sweet that even his barbaric cup of coffee, full of sugar and milk, couldn’t contend. Then he’d lay there until hunger forced his body out of bed. Reading and sipping his sweet nectar.

  If only that was possible.

  He never needed much to be happy, or that’s what he thought. The older he got the harder it became to find enough free time to enjoy himself to the fullest.

  He understood now that being greedy didn’t need to mean lusting after riches or prestige. For a working-class adult like him, it was embodied by a simple craving for free time.

  Time was a luxury many couldn’t afford.

  Kerek slapped his cheeks to stop his thoughts from wandering any further. Instead opting to be slightly more productive, and crawling from under his blankets.

  Those warm fluffy blankets. NO! He had to stay strong.

  He stood up, yawned, and started circulating his mana. It wouldn't make much difference in the short term, but every extra minute would pay dividends in the years to come.

  Feeling more energized he went to open the blinds. They were useless, as again they didn’t get any sunlight around here. Nevertheless, they were firmly incorporated into both his night and morning routine. There wasn’t much he could do about it, except maybe to change his routine.

  Yeah, not happening.

  With the view outside secured, he moved on to making his bed. He was very careful to fold the blanket nicely. When he already put in the effort he wanted it to show.

  Now that he was done with the housework, it was time to start working on himself.

  He went to the bathroom where he started applying his favorite moisturizing cream. They lived in a desert, so it was important to combat the effects of the dry wind. He applied it carefully while dreading the need to make breakfast.

  After much ruminating, he settled on making syrniki. It was a dish similar to pancakes. The main difference was that it contained cottage cheese instead of milk. That made it more protein-heavy.

  When he finished applying his skin care products he headed straight to the pantry. A few minutes later he was already mixing the batter.

  Its simplicity made it one of his favorite meals. Kerek needed to throw multiple ingredients together and then fry the finished mixture.

  It wasn't too unhealthy of a meal, especially when he cut back on sugar. If only he could figure out why his batter always turned out so sticky.

  According to his friend shaping the mixture should be unproblematic, but that wasn't the case for Kerek's substance. His batter turned out shocking similar to glue which while inconvenient, supplied him an ample excuse to eat it.

  He didn't use to be much of a batter eater before. Now it was necessary if he didn't want to be washing his hands every few seconds.

  At moments like these, he missed living with his family. The blessed days when food spawned into the household were long gone.

  Then his selective memory turned less selective and he thought of his 18th birthday.

  It was a day like any other. He woke up well-rested and excited, even school couldn't dampen his good mood.

  When he opened their front door two small explosions sounded, his hair full of confetti. They sang him a happy birthday, both of them were great singers. He couldn't remember much about them, but that detail was burned into his memory.

  Mom put a birthday hat on his head, no matter how much he protested. Dad only giggled at their antics. He stopped fighting back and she fastened the hat on his head.

  Just in time. Dad was coming back from the kitchen carrying an exquisite-looking two-story cake. A candle in the shape of the number 18 on top of it.

  He ran to him excitedly. "Thanks, Dad, thanks Mom, you two are the best," he told them while giving his dad a weird side hug. Anything else wasn't possible with the cake in the way.

  "Blow your candles, darling," said Mom while joining their side hug.

  He was about to blow down his candles when he heard a commotion in front of their house. Their door fell down and soldiers rushed into their house in full tactical gear.

  There could've been a dozen gunmen and then a handful more melee fighters. Those were positively glowing from how fast their mana was circulating.

  He didn't understand what was happening. "Hands where I can see them!" shouted the lead soldier. The command broke through his haze and his hands shot up.

  Their rifle barrels were now pointed at him and his family. His confusion soon morphed into fear when he saw their fingers hovering over the triggers of their weaponry.

  They stood there keeping them all at gunpoint. A moment passed in this unnatural stillness.

  Then without a single word exchanged something changed. He could feel it in how the fighters got ready to draw, in how the soldiers took careful aim.

  His eyes widened in panic. “You can’t just …” he shouted, but the rest of his scream would never be heard. The barking of rifles thundered through the room drowning out all other sounds.

  The world slowed down to a crawl as his parents fell to the ground like sacks of potatoes. The soldiers continued their fire, the bodies jerked around like dancing marionettes.

  The floor was soon coated with a mixture of human blood and cake.

  Kerek started feeling dizzy, his shaking legs barely supported his weight.

  When the barrage ended he didn't spare a single thought for the soldiers and ran up to his mother. He took her bleeding body in his arms. The soldiers were shouting something in the background, but he paid them no mind.

  A look of surprise was frozen on what was left of her face. One of her eyes and brain matter flowed freely out of the side of her head. Her whole body was red, blood poured out from dozens of holes spread around her whole form.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  This couldn’t be happening. Tears streamed down his face dropping on what was left of her body. He held her remains tightly, but a soldier rushed to him. He grabbed him back. It was so unexpected that he forgot to fight back.

  He was about to start screaming when his mother’s face regenerated at an unbelievable pace. The soldier swore and dragged him with more urgency now. Her eyes rolled back showing whites and she got up. Stretching nonchalantly like she woke up from a long nap while the rest of her flesh knit itself together.

  Nothing was making sense anymore. The breach of their house, his mother's death, and now her apparent resurrection. Then it all clicked in place, this wasn't real, merely a hallucination of his sleeping brain.

  He chuckled to himself while the soldier threw him over his shoulder and ran to the back of the formation, paying him no mind.

  His father flew up behind his wife, armor materializing around his form.

  It was a blend of white and gold covering every inch of his body except for the majestic wings that sprung out of his back. “The marked one is ours meddlers, be gone and we might yet spare you.” They said melodiously and in perfect sync.

  The gunmen opened fire again while the rest drew their weapons and positioned themselves protectively in front of them.

  His mother was no longer standing in the middle of the room. She appeared in front of the soldiers grabbing an axe wielder by his head.

  It was a testimony to his fast instincts that he was mid-swing when she tore it off.

  A fountain of crimson was born where the fighter's neck ended, painting the room red. It was enough to shock some of the soldiers still. His mother took a step back and a sword strike passed a leaf's distance from her slender neck.

  She gave the swordswoman a predatory grin while two more men joined the fight.

  The gunmen did their best to take cover from the bombardment of feathers his flying father attacked them with. To this he reacted with a sad smile: "Scurry little rats, scurry all you want. I forgive you."

  His brain couldn't make sense of anything that was happening. His kidnapper didn't seem to be suffering from the same issue. He didn't stop when he reached the others, instead, he gave them a nod and sprinted for the door.

  The last thing he saw before being carried outside haunted him to this day. His mother was tearing a screaming spearman limb by limb while his dad ordered around the victims of his strikes like they were his personal servants.

  Most had one or two feathers piercing their armor, though few were covered in them from head to toe. All heeded his commands.

  As the door opened Kerek was greeted by the sight of a deserted street. The piercing sound of a siren accompanied by a repeating message beckoning everyone to seek shelter played in the background.

  He wasn't sure what to believe, but now that he had a minute to think it dawned on him that this might be not a nightmare.

  The soldier continued running and the movement made Kerek's body jump up and down enough that his birthday hat fell on the ground. The uncaring soldier trampled it under his boots.

  No longer could he hear any fighting. The only sounds that accompanied the sprint were the emergency announcement and the rhythmic pounding of boots on stone.

  They continued like this for a while. Running past familiar streets. Not a person to be seen.

  His carrier stopped abruptly and threw him on the ground. The unexpected meeting with the floor drove the wind out of his lungs. Doing his best to not panic he tried breathing calmly, but no air came to his lungs.

  His heart was hammering in his chest and his vision was growing dark until the sweet oxygen finally graced him with its presence.

  Shaken to his core, he got into a sitting position by leaning on one of the houses.

  From there he could see the soldier emptying his rifle on his mother. She closed the distance swiftly deflecting the bullets with her bare arms. Kerek averted his eyes to spare himself the gore that was soon to follow.

  When he looked back the battle carried on and he didn't understand how that was possible.

  His mother fought barehanded and without style or reason, a flurry of chaotic strikes.

  On the other hand, the soldier, now wielding a military knife, defended with precision.

  Nevertheless, his movements, even though methodical, were slow compared to hers. The fight should've ended a long time ago. He ducked and weaved with machine precision. Whenever a deadly strike was about to connect his feet slid on the ground like skates.

  The soldier couldn't land a single hit, but neither could she.

  Growing more and more frustrated her eyes roamed the battlefield until they met his. Her face bloomed into a brilliant smile. One that used to be reserved for only the happiest of family occasions.

  She ignored the soldier and instead rushed to him. She got multiple gashes on her for it, but she paid them no mind.

  Kerek's body started floating in the air while most of his eyesight was covered by pillar-looking structures. Oh, belatedly he understood that he wasn't floating, but held in the air by his face.

  He could only be thankful that cultivation made his body sturdy enough to handle it.

  The demon turned him around showing her hostage to the soldier who stopped a few meters away.

  "Meddler, surrender yourself and I'll grant you a painless death. Your charge is captured and I feel how low your mana reserves have grown," she half-sang smugly.

  No reply came. He didn't know what the soldier was thinking behind his helmet. Kerek could barely see with the fingers covering most of his vision. Not to mention the T-shaped visor hid his protector's face well.

  Then it all happened at once. He slid from the demon's grasp and a hooded individual stepped out of his shadow to catch his falling body. As he was again being carried away he saw a single woman approaching the demon.

  Her skin was light pink and two cute horns grew out of her forehead. Before he could see more they turned the corner.

  It was only later that he found out that the demon outbreaks happened all over the city, stretching personnel thin. The ones that descended on his parents were a particularly strong pair. Those facts sentenced the first squad to a hopeless battle without backup.

  Many died. From his birthday visitors, only the ones mind-controlled by his father survived. The nameless soldier not being one of them.

  To contend with his mother for even a short while he burned his body as a mana source. Only a pile of ashes was left inside his armor.

  His mastery of friction might've been high for a gunman, but not enough to contend with such a beast without the extra oomph.

  Of the people who had the luck to be born in Korgadar. Most didn't spend their free time being thankful.

  Kerek did, half a dozen people fell so he could live and that was a debt he could never pay back.

  The smell of burnt food brought him back to reality. He grimaced throwing the first round of syrniks into the trash. His pyjama was soaked with sweat and he did his best to take deep breaths. In and out, in and out.

  For the first time in his life, his horrible habit of frying in pajamas was good for something. It wasn't his formal outfit that got drenched with sweat.

  He turned off the stove, stripped naked, and took a long warm shower. When he felt calm enough he got out. Then he continued frying in underwear, not wanting to risk dirtying his outfit for Ekklesia. Luck saved it once and he wouldn't risk it the second time.

  At last, he finished. So, with the help of a generous portion of homemade jam, two of the most misshapen syrniks were sentenced to a series of hungry chomps. The rest he put away for dinner.

  Done with eating he put on his freshest guard uniform. It wouldn’t do to arrive looking like a vagabond.

  Dressed up, his skin smooth and unblemished, Kerek was almost ready to leave.

  With his clothes on it was time to move on to jewelry.

  Kerek picked up his favorite pair of earrings. As always he first admired their sublime craftsmanship before putting them on.

  Sadly their tear shape has lately been matching his mood more often than he would’ve liked.

  To think that the date of his next free day was more uncertain than ever filled him with sadness. Neither were the occasional panic attacks helping his mood.

  He missed the times when his days were full of either binge-reading or sleeping.

  His free time decreased steeply since he joined the guards two years ago and while he couldn’t be happier with his job, the lack of reading time was ungodly. The recent increased monster activity served to only deepen the issue.

  Overtime for everyone, yay.

  The Tree of Harmony was doing everything it could to bolster their defenses, It wasn’t always enough. Everyone stationed at the wall had to come to terms with that uncomfortable fact.

  Their guardian was powerful, not omnipotent.

  Its wooden constructs fought in melee and the communication earrings were a logistical boon. Even so, the guards had to pull their weight.

  Their central figure, the bond that held their city-state united in purpose. The main reason why their community thrived in the desolate monster-infested land. That's who the Tree was.

  Not to forget that the sharing of thoughts and ideas it facilitated was a blessing no one else could replicate. Without It, they could never govern the city the way they did.

  It was thanks to its spell that they could exchange opinions, air their worries, and debate issues with such efficiency. Governing the city through gatherings would not be feasible otherwise.

  Yet, they couldn’t stay forever dependent on their guardian.

  He, the same as every other citizen, was glad for the unending support it offered them. However, deep down he felt that their selfishness was too much. The strain on the Tree couldn’t be small.

  It helped with their defense, with their knowledge, and its role in politics was indispensable.

  Now angry at how they've been overworking the Tree for decades he hastily put his earrings on. Artfully combining his crimson skin tone with the gray of his accessories. The pleasant feeling of looking good lifted his mood somewhat.

  Afraid of wasting any more time he put on his combat shoes and picked up his pistol.

  His eyes were feeling quite moist, so he dried them with a tissue. When finished he noticed that his uniform was not completely dry either. It was late, so he ignored it and left the house.

  He tried to forget about his previous reminiscing and instead focused on the event he was visiting.

  It took a few years for people to get used to the concept of Ekklesia, at least that’s what his teacher told him. For Kerek and other members of his generation, it was a natural fact of life.

  There they could cultivate in a mana-high environment, find out about the newest technologies, and influence the city’s future. What was there to not like?