My name is Alann Farhice, but my enemies call me Jack(ass), while my friends call me Jack (of all trades). But you can call me just Jack. Or Alann. Either one is fine.

Today is my 18th birthday, and I just got the greatest birthday present I’ve ever received. (well…it’s actually my first birthday present ever, so it wins by default)

Freedom!

Which is just a nice way to say that I just got kicked out of the orphanage.

No, it isn’t because of my tendency to talk to an imaginary audience – everyone gets kicked out when they turn 18.

So, there I was, standing at the pearly gray gates of the orphanage, backpack in hand, not knowing where to go. I had no money so I couldn’t stay at the inn. I also had no family nor friends that could help out the poor young me.

No family? Aha! I know what you are thinking! “An orphan with no family? I know how this will turn out! He is a standard main character of a novel from an unknown background that later turns out to be from a noble bloodline!”

I hate to break it to you. I’ve seen pictures of 8 generations of my paternal ancestors (gods only know why my poor father had those) and all of them look very similar to me – u…nique as frakk. We are undeniably related.

“Ah, but maybe your mother’s side was actually of noble ori…meepshit!” What kind of person do you think would marry someone as useless as my father?

Well…let’s just say that back in the days when the three of us were still together, people often asked me which one of the two was my dad.

Alright, alright. I am exaggerating. She wasn’t that ug… unique looking. She actually looked quite ordinary.

Until she opened her mouth.

Fortunately, I didn’t inherit her deep voice.

Unfortunately, I inherited her buck teeth instead.

Still not letting go of your dreams of greatness? Still not convinced that I am actually just an ordinary commoner? Then let me tell you more about my family circumstances.

All my life, I’ve lived in a quiet, little, argel town. Where streets are filled with googo crap and stray lunars that look closer to undead skeletons than felines.

My mother was a waitress in a famous tavern. Unfortunately, the tavern was famous for being the only tavern in town that served lunar meat pie.

My father was a part-time mana farmer and part-time gambler.

The first 4 hours of his day would be spent in the mana farm, producing mana crystals, until his mana pool was so dry not a single mana drop could be found. The rest of the day he spent gambling with his enemies in the previously mentioned lunar rat pie tavern.

Fortunately, his gambling wasn’t bad – he never lost any money.

Unfortunately, he never won any money either. Even though my mom was the waitress of the bloody tavern and always helped him cheat.

…

Now that I think about it… I might be adopted after all.

Unless two people could be so stupid that their intelligence dropped below zero, so that when they multiplied, two negatives would turn positive and produce a highly intelligent offspring like me.

…

Ahem. Let’s pretend that I didn’t just shoot myself in the foot and instead of setting out to prove my common origins actually made you question them.

As I was saying, I am just an ordinary commoner.

Oh, wait! Actually, I am not an ordinary commoner. I am a very rare existence in this world where everyone can use magic – a non-mage (inherited that from my mother, bless her dead soul).

Which contradictory to the name, doesn’t mean that I am unable to use magic. It only means that I was born with a shitty soul that can’t produce enough mana for me to do more than a few simple spells. (Curse you fate!! Curse you!!)

So yeah. There is that.

I am an ugl… ahem… unique, orphan non-mage commoner. That pretty much sums it up.

As if!

As if these 18 years of suffering could be summed up in a single sentence!

Do you have any idea how it feels like to play catch with other argel kids while being the only one who can’t Accelerate?

Do you know how it feels like to play in the sandbox among elibu, being the only one that can’t Morph a sandcastle?

Do you know how it feels like to be constantly discriminated against, looked down on by people 100 times less intelligent than you because of your own unlucky birth circumstances?

No? Me neither. I can actually Accelerate once or twice. And I’ve never played with elibu kids in the sandbox, that’s just asking to be humiliated. Also, I am smart but not that smart.

Ahem. What were we talking about? Me? Right. Let’s continue.

So, there I was, blocking the entrance to the orphanage thinking what to do next. I stood there for a while, my face twisting from one emotion to another until people started looking at me weird. At that point, finally, after much deliberation, I picked a random direction and took a step.

That step was the beginning of everything. My first step towards greatness. The first step in my rise from obscurity to stand on the top of the entire world. The first step in my journey to one-up the gods and claim back the good fortune I have been denied.

One small step for me, one giant upheaval for the entire land of Halnea.

…

Oh shit…

Literally.

…

After spending some time to wipe the shit I just stepped on from the soles of my boots, I finally managed to leave my favorite orphanage a parting present in the form of a sticky bad smelling lump on the steps in front of the main door.

Ah yes. I am quite generous, leaving them something to remember me by. Although I doubt they would want a reminder of me. No doubt they will be throwing a party tonight, celebrating finally getting rid of me.

What a waste of a party. If they were going to throw a party, why not throw me a birthday party instead? Perhaps then I would remember them once I get rich and throw a few gold coins their way.

Alas, it is their loss.

With heavy steps, I continued onwards to the nearest park. Where I could sit down on a bench and contemplate the meaning of life.

I jest, no need to contemplate. It has always been my dream to become someone great. Someone who everyone looks up to, a person who everyone is jealous of – a rich bastard.

Don’t get me wrong. Even though my pupils are diamond shaped, it isn’t because I am a stingy, greedy scoundrel whose eyes reflect only the glitter of gold and diamonds. It’s actually an argel racial feature. The diamond shaped pupils, I mean, not being stingy and greedy. That would be silly. We are argel, not goblins.

Even though I do look closer to a goblin than an argel, but I assure you, I am a 100% argel. There is absolutely no goblin blood in me. Not that my ancestors wouldn’t have stooped as low as to mate with goblins, it’s just that producing offspring of mixed blood was impossible. Argel can only reproduce with other argel. Also, goblins are fairy tale creatures that don’t really exist in lands of Halnea.

Speaking of reproduction, I am a simple person. I crave not the harem full of beauties or spending all my funds in a brothel. What I am after is what every other man is after: a nice home, tasty food to eat, nice clothes to wear, beautiful women to… make me sandwiches… basically to live a worry free enjoyable life.

And what does a man need to live a worry free enjoyable life?

That’s right. Money.

And the power to protect that money.

But money is power. Therefore, you need even more money.

In conclusion, the meaning of life is money.

Alas, I am a child hated by the gods.

Seriously, I am not being dramatic. My most memorable feature, other than the head full of bright orange curly hair more orange than a basket filled with oranges, is my never-ending bad luck. It might have something to do with my birth date. I was born on 6^th of June, year 666 A.W.

A date so unlucky that it is a wonder that people didn’t choose to drown all children born on that day. Not that I am complaining. I am very glad that I didn’t end up on the bottom of the river. I would have been even more glad if my mother could hold me in for just one more day…

On my way towards the park, I quickly jumped to the side of the road, barely avoiding a flowerpot aiming for my head. Not feeling safe at all, I quickly set up a Reflection barrier in front of me to block the debris.

My decision turned out to be flawless as the broken porcelain pieces hit the barrier so hard that it shattered almost immediately.

I am an argel, and the spell that most argel are the most familiar with is Acceleration, which is used to change the velocity of things. In other words, make things fly around without having to touch them.

However, unlike most argel, the spell I was the most proficient in was Reflection, which was a spell that created an area of space that would repel objects that enter it. I’m sure you can already guess the reason why.

After the disaster, I looked up to the window to see a startled lady with an honest, apologetic expression on her face. “My gods! Young lad, I am so sorry! Are you alright?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “I am fine. It happens all the time.”

Really. It does.

Luckily I’ve learned to expect bad luck, so I am extremely wary of my surroundings. *cough*paranoid*cough*

What were we talking about? My bad luck?

Enough said. Let’s change the subject.

I finally arrived at a nicer part of town and reached the nearest park. Why did I make my way to a nicer part of town you ask? Of course, if I intended to enjoy the greenery, I would need to go to a neighborhood where parks actually consisted of greenery.

Unfortunately, it seems that in such a fine neighborhood people had too much time to waste and were actually wasting it sitting around in a park. There were no available benches to sit on. Blast it! Just my luck!

With heavy sighs, I found the cleanest patch of grass I could and chose to sit there.

While I was contemplating what path to take in life, my gaze couldn’t help but land on a flock of fat googo jumping around the sidewalk. My eyes lit up, my mouth started to water, my stomach grumbled its agreement.

Just when my mind reached an epiphany, and I started to contemplate how I could catch those googo and roast them, suddenly someone stepped right in front of me and blocked my vision.

It turned to be a stern looking peacekeeper, who asked me “kindly” to get lost. Apparently, he had received a complaint from a worried mother that a pervert was disturbingly eying her child.

You can imagine how shocked I was by the claim. Me? A pervert? My mind was indeed perverse but not that kind of perverse!

Hurt by the ridiculous claim, I argued that there must be some kind of mistake.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the child in question was the one feeding that flock of fat googo with breadcrumbs. I wanted to explain that the one I was eyeing hungrily wasn’t the fat toddler but the fat birds, however, when I saw a few more peacekeepers approaching with even larger muscles (for brains), I swallowed down my words and quickly made my way out of the park.