In a small village on the outskirts of the capital, the child Romal ran barefoot through the dusty alleys, laughing loudly as he chased a wooden stick as if it were a sword. He did not know the meaning of "chains." He thought the world was as vast as the sea he had not yet seen, and that one day he could stand at its summit, no matter how hard the road.
But behind his laughter, there was a heavy shadow.His father, a former soldier, always looked at him with hard eyes:"It's not enough to be brave. You must be stronger than the world itself… or it will swallow you."
The father was harsh in training, forcing Romal into exercises beyond his small body. And every time he collapsed, he would shout:"You are my son. You have no right to fall!"
Romal would smile despite the pain, stand up, wave his stick as if it were a real sword, and shout:"I'll show you! I'll become the greatest fighter… in my own way!"
That blend of childish stubbornness and a dream that defied fate was what set him apart.But his small heart knew a secret he didn't say aloud:That he didn't just want strength… he wanted to prove he was not his father's shadow, but his own person.
One night, while gazing at the star-filled sky, he whispered to himself:"Even if the world doesn't want me… I'll create my own world with my hands."
The sun was leaning toward the horizon, the sky ablaze with orange, when little Romal collapsed to the ground, panting, his wooden stick buried in the dirt. His hands bled with small scratches, and his knee trembled from exhaustion.
His father, the old soldier, stood over him with a real sword in hand, his eyes as hard as stone.He said sternly:"You rose ten times and fell ten times. But in a real battle… falling once means the end."
Romal lifted his head, his face covered in dust and sweat, but an obstinate smile appeared on his lips."Even if I fall a hundred times… I'll stand a hundred times more!"
His father struck the ground with his sword, sparks flying from the impact, his voice like a whip:"Empty words! You are not an ordinary child. You are my son. If you don't become stronger than this world, it will crush you mercilessly."
Romal felt bitterness choke his throat. He didn't want to be just an extension of his father's name.But he didn't have the courage to say it aloud.All he did was grip his stick again, stand up, his small body swaying as if his legs were about to break.
When his father attacked him again, Romal was neither fast nor strong.But he screamed from the depths of his being:"I'll show you! I'll become something that doesn't resemble you… something greater!"
The father stopped for a moment, looked into his child's eyes, and saw something he hadn't expected:Not obedience. Not fear. But a wild desire to carve his own path.
That night, Romal sat alone on the roof of their small hut, gazing at the scattered stars.He remembered his father's words, remembered the pain in his body, yet he smiled a pure smile that seemed to spring from the depths of his heart."Even if no one acknowledges me… even if my father doesn't understand me… I'll create my world with my hands. I'll become something no one can crush."
As he closed his eyes, his heart was torn between a childlike dream yearning for freedom and deep wounds searching for recognition that never came.
At the edge of the village, the sound of wood clashing with iron filled the fields.Little Romal staggered, clutching his stick, facing his father's blows—the old soldier who knew no mercy.He fell for the eleventh time, panting, his hands bleeding, his knee scraped.
His father shouted:"The weak have no right to dreams! If you don't rise, then remain in the mud forever."
Romal's heart was about to burst, but despite the pain, he gripped his stick and stood up. He smiled a small, stubborn smile and said:"Even if I fall a thousand times… I won't stop. I'll become something you can't crush!"
The father paused for a moment, looked into his child's eyes, and saw in them a fire he couldn't understand—a fire that didn't come from him but from Romal's own desire.
When training ended and the father withdrew, leaving behind a heavy silence, his childhood friend "Kai" appeared.He was carrying a loaf of bread stolen from the bakery, smiling as he held it out to Romal:"You're crazy. Every day he breaks you, and yet you smile. If I were you, I would have run away long ago."
Romal took the bread, ate half of it quickly, then laughed as he lifted the other half toward Kai:"I don't want to run. I want to be free. To create my world in my own way."
They sat together on the roof of the hut, watching the sunset.Kai said:"Free? The world is too big for you to even touch."
Romal answered, staring at the horizon, his eyes shining with stubborn childhood:"Even if it's bigger… I'll stand on its summit. I won't be my father's shadow… I'll be myself."
Kai laughed and shook his head:"Then when you become the greatest fighter… don't forget me."
Romal gripped his stick as if it were a real sword, raising it toward the orange sky:"I won't forget. I'll make the world remember us together."
And deep inside, his father's harshness mixed with his friend's dream, planting a different seed in his heart:Not just the desire for strength… but to truly be free, and to carve a place that resembled no one.
The years passed, and Romal grew older, but his dreams remained the same: freedom, strength, and creating his world with his own hands.And Kai remained by his side; together they stole food, trained with wooden sticks, and dreamed of the day they would leave their small village.
But one night, everything changed.The village was under siege by a group of mercenaries who attacked the warehouses.Children ran through the dark streets, and houses burned in flames.The sky poured heavily that night, and the marshes around the village turned into seas of mud.
Romal, still a boy then, no older than thirteen, was running in the darkness behind his closest friend, Kail, who was two years older.
"Hurry, Romal! They're getting closer!"Kail shouted, his ragged breaths mixing with the thunder in the sky.
There was no escape. Behind them, strange men in iron masks chased them mercilessly. The sound of their heavy footsteps in the mud was like the pounding of death drums.
The two reached a rickety wooden bridge stretching over a raging river.Kail suddenly stopped, grabbing Romal's arm:
"Listen to me… you have to escape now. If we stay together, we'll die together."
Romal's eyes trembled as he shook his head violently:
"No! I won't leave you! We're always together!"
Kail smiled, a small smile filled with farewell more than hope:
"You know, Romal… you have something no one else has… your heart. Don't ever let them break it."
Then he pushed him hard forward, Romal's feet stumbling over the planks until he reached the other side.Before Romal could return, Kail drew a rusty sword from his tattered scabbard and stood against the masked men.
The sound that followed remained engraved in Romal's memory:The clash of swords piercing flesh.Kail's final scream, cut short halfway.And the smell of hot blood mixing with the rain of the sky.
Kail's body fell before Romal's eyes, slowly, as if time itself had frozen.His friend's outstretched hand still pointed toward him, as if pushing him to run one last time.
Romal screamed with a voice shattered to the core:
"Kaaaaaaaail!!!!"
But the rain covered everything… and the roar of the river swallowed his scream.Only that deadly void in his chest remained.
Romal stood frozen on the other side of the bridge, his eyes widening at Kail's body lying in the mud and rain.At first, he didn't understand… he didn't believe.Everything was happening so fast, but inside him, time had stopped.
The sounds of the masked men faded in the background, as if his ears had shut to everything except his trembling heartbeat.Every breath he took was heavy as rocks, as if his chest refused to live another moment after his friend's departure.
"Why?… Why did you leave me?"He muttered, stepping toward the bridge, but the rotten wood creaked beneath him and almost collapsed.He knew returning meant death, and yet… part of his soul begged to follow him.
He knelt, pounding the wet planks with his fist:
"You said we'd never part… Kail!!"
Lightning split the sky at that moment, revealing the masked men as they walked away calmly, leaving the child's corpse bloodied, with no care.They had achieved what they wanted.
Hours passed…And Romal was still standing there.The rain hadn't stopped, and the mud covered half his body, yet he didn't move.
When dawn came, an old woman from the village found him, staring unblinking at the body.He was silent, paralyzed, his eyes red from crying until no tears were left.
Romal was forcibly dragged away from the river.But something inside him never left.He remained standing there, at the bridge, at the last words he had heard:
"You have a heart no one else has… don't let them break it."
And from that day on, his heart was never the same.He swore inside, as he buried his only friend with his trembling hands, that he would face this cold world to the end.
The Promise's Mark
Romal grew different afterward.He didn't laugh like other children.He no longer believed in easy promises.He became silent, content with long stares instead of words, as if every word in his mouth had burned away that night with Kail's scream.
But… deep inside, he still carried that promise.Even as he stands today in the dueling arena, every strike he delivers, every cold glance in his eyes, is a reflection of that night.He is not only fighting his opponents…He is fighting the fate that stole his friend.