If you wanna read ahead of my stories, you can check out the advanced chapters on my subcribestar, at the same username - 0Jordinio0
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It might sound odd to some, it sure was surreal to Caelan later. But, he grew up around gangsters and drug lords. And he was well liked by them. Treated almost, like a younger brother.
He was exposed to them from a very young age. Many of them, who grew up with his cousins, and had connections to his family. Multiple nights a week, his home, would have such people as guests. He was far too young to realise the implications of such a thing. He just liked them, they always treated him well.
They'd slip him sweets, or the odd pound or fiver. And, they always indulged him, one of his earliest memories, was of beating eight of them back to back in Soul Calibur on his Dreamcast, when he was four.
They taught him many things, most not appropriate for children, but useful nonetheless. He was taught basic boxing combinations, soft spots to aim for in a street fight, even where to stab someone and to make it hurt, but not have the target bleed out quickly and die, just a friendly warning stab they'd called it. He was taught poker and blackjack, and even how betting worked.
Again, not the best thing to teach a four year old, and skewed much of his perception when he'd later go into primary school and ended up as something of a little bully, without actually realising he was bullying others.
As it was though, even when he'd meet them in passing on the street as he got older, they'd stop to talk to him, check in on him, ask how things were going, even making sure he nobody was giving him trouble, promising if anyone was, they'd make sure to deal with it for him.
But Caelan always waved that off, smile on his face. They'd taught him to be strong after all, he could stand up for himself, he was proud to boast to them. Smile ever widening as they laughed and praised him.
And as a rule, Caelan rarely cried, because only weaklings cried. Unless they were using their tears to manipulate, but that was a whole other bunch of bullshit. But...
The life they all lived, it was a dangerous life. One by one, they disappear, he doesn't see them like he usually does. It starts at first that he can remember, when he is eight years old.
His cousin bursts into his grandparents house, wild eyed, terrified, panting for breath and lips running a mile a minute. One of the ones who used to play Soul Calibur with him, the one who taught him the basics of boxing, who even always peaked his head in his bedroom before he left to say bye to him, someone who always had a kind smile for him. He'd run afoul of another gang helping a friend. He was beaten down, rolled up in a carpet and stuffed in a van. He was dragged up the highland area. He was hung from a tree and burned alive. And the video tape of it, was sent to his cousin and others.
He's bundled into his bedroom at his grandparents, while his family present watch it downstairs. They want names and faces. He listens quietly though, and he hears it, that familiar voice, screaming in agony, begging and pleading for mercy that he never receives. He learns later, that it was through a simple grudge over drugs. Always drugs. He decides, he hates drugs.
That night, for the first time he can consciously remember. Caelan cries himself to sleep. Something precious was taken from him. Not just that mans kindness and smile.
That pitch black pit within him grows deeper, and something inside of him grows colder.
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"Lili can't believe you did that."
Caelan looked at the short girl walking beside him, or well to be more exact. A little ways in front of him. His eyes lingered on her surprisingly bodacious bubbly ass as she skipped ahead. It was a damn shame he couldn't feel a thing at all when he felt that lovely ass up in front of Soma.
"Did what?" he asked, with a cocky smirk. Even if, in reality, he wasn't feeling all too cocky at the moment.
'Divine wine, huh?' he thought. It really was no joke. For all the abrasive show he'd put on in front of Lili and Soma after he drank it, that was all it was in the end, a show. Even now, his body felt pleasantly warm and at the same time, horribly numb. He hated it, it was like walking with pins and needles through his entire body. His legs felt like absolute jelly, as if they could give out beneath him at any moment. It reminded him of the gas in the air he had to get a few times in the hospital, or well entonox was the real name of it, but most around his area just called it gas in the air.
He hated that feeling, that feeling of total lack of feeling in his body and little control. As if someone else was in the driving seat and he was a mere passenger. Like a drug.
He supposed that was what happened what when one chugged an entire jug of a gods divine wine in seconds, just to prove a point. 'It tasted pretty good too.' he mused despite his words to Soma. It went down so pleasantly and smoothly, and tasted of honey.
"All of it," Lili giggled, turning to face him, arms clasped behind her she walked still, a massive blinding smile of utmost joy and relief upon on her face, "You attacked a full familia for Lili, and stole what you did to Zanis? Lili will remember it fondly until the day she dies."
If she ever died that was. There were ways to go about immortality in this world he knew. And he would never let go of what was his.
"And Lili can't believe you just chugged an entire jug of the Soma wine, and grabbed Lili's ass in front of Soma while insulting him to his face," she giggled, "Lili would think this was a fever dream, but I've already pinched myself multiple times to make sure it is not a dream."
"It would be a shit dream to be honest," Caelan snorted, "The only thing worth dreaming about in this entire situation is your sexy ass."
Her cheeks burned, yet her smile widened and she stopped in her tracks, waiting for him to walk right up to her before pressing herself into his front, soft breasts squashing against his lower stomach as she looked up at him, "You really are the enemy of all women Caelan," Lili beamed up at him, "And it is you know."
"What is?" he raised a brow.
"You told Soma that Lili and her ass belong to you," she said, the pallum girl pushed up onto her tip toes, extending her arms up as far as they could go to grasp his cheek, and guiding his face down, "Lili is all yours." Lili said simply, before pressing her lips to his and then pulling back with a cheeky grin.
Now if only he could feel it. His body was quickly returning to normal, but even so, it would take a while before the numbness left.
He grinned back, tossing his arm over her shoulder and pulling her into his side, "Told you so," Caelan grinned cockily, "You know what, how about we put off going on that date for today, and instead, we pay a visit to the guild and then back home? It'll just be me and you until Hestia finishes at the shop."
He'd love to check in on his new business, but the less he was out in public like he was now, the better.
"Lili is completely okay with that!" the older pallum girl grinned wrapping her arm around his waist and pressing into his side, "Though why the guild?"
Why indeed?
"Well, with all the money we got off of Zanis, there's a couple monster magic stones I can afford to get right away now that I was holding off on." Caelan replied.
And he wasn't joking. After all, the two magic stones he specifically bought, were the magic stones of a Blue Dragon. A near level five tier normal monster, which had an ability called Aurora Breath, which had several different stat debuffing effects on a target. It cost a full six hundred thousand.
And the second? The magic stone of the Amphisbaena. The monster rex of the 27th floor of the dungeon. Far bigger and stronger than the Goliath, and with two absurdly potent abilities. The first, being that of a flame breath of bright burning blue flames. The second though, was what he was really after in the end. The ability to release a crimson mist that diffused and negated magic itself.
And that cost a full five million.
Thank Hestia for Zanis!
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When he is nine years old, Caelan learns a great many things. Fresh off of an agonizing kidney stone, his ninth birthday marks a turn in his life. And it starts, with a girl.
Not in the way most would think though. It's a simple lesson he learns, equality doesn't exist. He's known the girl for years, a tomboy through and through. It's a simple thing, during gym class they're split into groups of three, him, a friend of his, and the girl. It's a beep test, a team version. He goes first, scoring one of the highest in the class overall by time the class ends, but it's when the girl has her turn, he notices her legs. Her thighs were bigger than the other girls, yet she wasn't fat. And toned, and looked strong. He thought they looked nice, and he pointed them out to his friend.
Said girl overheard however, and thought he was making fun of her. She went to the teacher crying. He was given two weeks of detention. Two weeks where, beyond eating, his 'play time' breaks and lunch breaks, would be spent alone, in a hallway, sitting on a bench. He doesn't understand why he's punished so harshly over just some simple tears over some words. However, if it works for her, why not him? He forces himself to cry, has to punch himself in the face a few times to get it working, sniffles and snivelling just like the girl. The teacher does not care, in fact, the teacher is disgusted with him, she tells him boys shouldn't cry over such little things. His detention increases to three weeks.
He seethes for three weeks straight, the first thing he does when the girl wants to hang out with him outside of school, is call her a fat ugly cow and tell her to piss off. That friendship is cut, and so his burgeoning attraction. Looking at her just makes him angry.
Surprisingly, Caelan is quite popular. Not the most popular in his class, but he's part of the 'cool group', the group in the class people would generally think as the top of the hierarchy. He honestly doesn't know how it happened. Quite frankly, he was the odd one out, the rest were all from well off families, some of the highest scorers in the class when it came to school work, and full of talent. Caelan wasn't that smart, and he wasn't talented at all. He was however full of piss and vinegar.
He was one of the lowest scorers in the class originally, and absolutely atrocious at football and more. However, one thing he did have in spades, was the grit needed to work hard. He didn't like being part of the dumb group of the class, so he decided he wouldn't be anymore. He worked hard, and within months, was one of the top scorers of the class, was the top scorer when it came to math. He loved football, and like many, dreamed of going professional, he wanted to play for Celtic.
So every day, he put in the work. For hours each day he'd go out and run drills, practicing with a ball. He'd go until he was sweating, exhausted and sore. But smiling, because he saw results. One of the boys in his class, would in the future go on to become a pro, already had eyes on him even at that young age. Caelan saw his improvement clear as day when he could hang with him on the pitch alongside others who had been playing for young football teams since they were toddlers.
He learned hard work never betrays you. And learns the satisfaction of making something of himself, of earning his own money. At nine and a half, he starts a Milk Run. It's tough, and gruelling, working from midnight to early morning, carrying heavy crates of milk, dropped off alone in foreign places that seemed so far from home. More than once he was chased by opportunists that cared little for a childs safety and simply wanted the crate full of milk. The drunks are the worst.
Yet he perseveres, he grows bolder and stronger, better and smarter. He's nine and eleven months, and riding high atop the world. His grandfather is a well known tiler, and has many connections. He has tiled the bathrooms and more for even those that worked for football teams, politicians, and in the end, even a couple players for the Celtic team itself. He does a few free jobs, makes more connections. And suddenly, scouts are coming out to see him play, more formality than anything, there's a few slots free, his grandfather has all but secured him a position in the Celtic younger team. The youngsters trained up in an elevator system by the best trainers the team have to offer. Suddenly, his dream is in sight, and all his hard work and effort has paid off.
He's ten when the bus slams into him a mere two months later, shattering his dreams and leg alike. Yes, your hard work will never betray you he'd come to learn, but his dreams just might.
It's a rainy day, he's tossed on a hoodie over his newly bought celtic strip, silver and dark green, he loves it. He bought it with his own money, a source of pride for him. He wants a game, so he heads down town, off to Game Centre. His bike chain breaks on the way down, and he has to just leave his bike. He'll get it on the way back he tells himself and continues on. The slim road right in front of the Game Centre shop is where it happens, a bus swings around the corner, rushing before a light can switch from green to red, he steps out, and is hit. The crack of his leg resounds, just like the shattering of his dreams.
He flies, ten feet in the air, before hitting the ground in agony, all the bones in his left leg are shattered, and another bus is coming right behind the one that hit him. He rolls back onto the crossing island despite the pain. In the ensuing chaos, his new Celtic strip is torn and ruined, his wallet goes missing amongst the crowd who stagger around as he awaits an ambulance, and all the money he'd saved during his time on the milk run, over five hundred pounds. And his leg? It will take an entire year to heal fully, and he never runs the same way again. The slots are taken, and his dream is dead.
There is a pit of darkness deep within him that hollows out, a deep dark falling chasm that bristles as something inside of him grows hungrier.