Notes – link
Chapter 1 – link
Chapter 2 – link

And get stronger he did. He quickly made the trip to Kerning City and spoke with the Dark Lord. His luck made him a likely thief, but it was his desire for revenge that the Dark Lord found great promise in. After his becoming a thief, something which would have required at least a day’s celebration before, he quickly headed over to Heneseys. The Dark Lord had told him to go there to begin to hone his skills. After following the Dark Lord’s directions, he came to a small city in the middle of the plains in southern Victoria. There he went to the market, and bought a throwing glove, as shown in a guide he’d received from the Dark Lord, and some quality stars. His sacrificed none of his acquired wealth on his equipment. He knew this was the key to his rapid training and progression.
For days on end, he spent all the energy he had in the plains, taking out anything he could. He increased the distance he could throw, the accuracy, but more than anything, the deadliness of his stars. His skill with luck let him be miles ahead of those with experience equal to his, and as before, others noticed. Unlike before, however, he cared none for the social opportunities it provided. He was a loner, and people felt that, and did not try to pursue a friendship with him. As his skills progressed he began to try out more advanced, heavier throwing gloves. He found they greatly increased the momentum behind the stars, but they were much too bulky for his liking, and he quickly returned to his old glove. Eventually he began to try two stars at once, as he had seen better thieves than him do. At first it was sloppy and inaccurate, almost worse than throwing one, but he persevered. His thirst for revenge fueled his practice, and he quickly mastered the two-star art as he had any other skill.
His training was going well, better than anyone would have guessed. However, one day while resting in Heneseys, a man with a spear tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, stars on the edge of his glove.
“Are you Derrin, son of Terel, the merchant in Lith Harbor?”
“Yes, but how do you…”
“Prepare to die you filthy traitor!”
The spearman stabbed forward. Almost reflexively, Derrin dove right. The spear stabbed inches away from his feet. He swiftly stood up, and hopped back.
“Lucky little brat…” the man mumbled as he reared back for a second stab. Before he could even bring his spear forward, two, and then four stars laid lodged in his chest. He fell to the ground.
“The weak… spot in my armor…” he gasped before passing out. The boy stood in triumph over the man. Suddenly an emblem on the man’s sleeve stood out. Under it read “Hand of Bilio.” These were the people who had killed his family. Memories came rushing back, and Derrin stood in a daze. A firm hand on his shoulder and something sharp poking into his back brought him out of it, “Don’t move.”

If you liked it, PLEASE press the button. Also, please rate it if you could (1-10). This one was done a little quicker than the others, so it’s not quite as polished I feel.