The weather was dark, but it was not raining—yet the heavy clouds above promised that a storm would soon arrive. The wind was still, the sky quiet, but the air carried that strange weight before the rain.
Aron bent down, placing his hand gently on the sand. He pressed his fingers into it, examining the texture. It was moist, not overly wet, but soft enough for planting. With careful hands, he dug a small hole, the earth parting beneath his fingers. Opening his palm, a few seeds slipped between them, falling into the bottom of the hole. Slowly, slowly, he covered them again, letting the sand fill in and hide the seeds from the world.
Wood's voice broke the silence.
" You are doing good, Aron. Plant these seeds, and soon we will see grass and trees where once there was nothing."
The land, which had been dead for so long, was now being revived by two boys, under the guidance of their elder. What once looked like barren soil was now stirring with the first breath of life.
"Aron!" Carlos called, his voice sharp with effort. "There's a heavy rock here. Fetch me the pickaxe."
Aron wiped the dirt from his hands and gently handed Carlos the tool. He took one for himself as well, gripping the rough handle, and together they began to pound at the stone. Blow after blow rang out across the valley, echoing against the hills. Sweat dripped down their faces as sparks of grit flew with each strike. The stubborn rock groaned beneath their effort until finally, after long minutes of labor, it broke free from the earth's grip.
Both boys strained, their young muscles tense as they rolled the heavy boulder aside. When it finally toppled into the dirt with a thud, they dropped their tools, chests heaving.
Aron lifted his head toward the sky. The sun was lowering, orange and heavy, casting golden rays across the village. His body trembled from exhaustion, his pickaxe leaning on one shoulder while his other hand wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. The light caught his face, painting him in the glow of a day well fought.
Wood's deep voice called again.
"Come on, boys. Rest now. Here, have some water. Wash your hands and faces, then eat something."
Aron crouched, scooping water with both hands, splashing it across his face. The coolness rushed over him, refreshing after the long labor. Carlos did the same, and together they sat down beside their elder. Bowls of steaming soup and roasted meat were brought forth, the smell drifting through the air, rich and hearty. They ate with hunger, their laughter mixing with the crackle of fire nearby.
But rest was short-lived. Soon, they returned to their work, pounding and digging until the horizon darkened and the first stars appeared. By the time the moon climbed high, the land was cleared, the rocks removed, and the soil ready. All they needed now was rain to bring life back to the fields.
Carlos threw down his pickaxe, groaning.
"Hah, man, I'm tired. My arms are dead. Aron, let's call it a day."
Aron's chest was still rising heavy, but he nodded with a small smile.
"I know, man. Let's call it here."
---
The next morning, the boys sat near the edge of the field, sipping water from clay cups, when a familiar voice rumbled across the air.
"Ha! Boys, good job. The whole land is covered now. All that's left is heavy rain, and then you'll see this place revive into a part of heaven. But for now… grab the axes. Those dead trees must go."
Carlos nearly spat his drink.
"Wait—wait—wait. We have to chop trees now? Mr. Wood, we're literally kids!"
Wood laughed heartily, his deep voice rolling like thunder.
"Haha! Not anymore, you're not. Don't worry. It's not so many. Besides, you'll learn."
Aron stood up, his face calm.
"Carlos, Mr. Wood is right. It's all part of training."
He grabbed an axe, tying his upper shirt around his waist. His young muscles flexed as he lifted the tool, and then with focused strength, he swung it toward the nearest tree. The impact shook the trunk, and he repeated the motion again and again, sweat flying from his brow.
Wood's eyes narrowed as he watched. Aron was changing. Not just physically, but mentally. His spirit was sharpening. His determination hardened with each swing. The elder exhaled a deep breath. The Norms are truly rare. This boy carries something different… something dangerous.
The tree groaned, split, and finally crashed to the ground. With Carlos's help, Aron chopped it into halves, making the wood easier to carry.
But then, in the silence of the field, Aron felt something. His body stiffened, his instincts sharpened. A movement—quick, subtle—rushed toward him. Without thinking, he raised the handle of his axe, blocking a strike.
He turned his head and another attack came, a fist aiming for his face. Aron dropped low, spun with a flip, and landed on his feet, eyes narrowed.
"Mr. Wood," he breathed, "was this… a test?"
Wood smirked. "Indeed. Let me test your strength. Your senses are sharp, boy."
Aron twirled the axe in his hand, setting it down with a soft thud. He smiled faintly.
"Then you'll have to try harder, Master."
Wood chuckled. "Very well. First to touch the neck wins."
Carlos's eyes went wide. "What the—? A farming day just turned into a fighting match!"
The two faced each other. Aron steadied his breathing. Don't drag it too long. He's old… I must end this fast.
In an instant, he moved. His body blurred, his steps vanishing from where he stood. Wood's eyes widened—Aron was gone. Then, in the blink of an eye, Aron reappeared, his hand brushing lightly against Wood's neck.
It was over before Carlos could even blink.
"W-what?!" Carlos shouted. "That was insane! He just vanished!"
Wood stepped back, stunned. His lips curved into a rare smile.
"Hah… I lost. You're fast, Aron. Too fast."
Carlos watched, his jaw nearly dropping. "Damn… Aron isn't the same as before. He's growing way too fast. One day… I might not even be able to keep up with him."
Aron stood calmly, his chest steady. He didn't gloat, didn't boast. He respected the elder. "It was only a test. I didn't want to hurt you."
Carlos ran over, still in shock. "How can you be that fast? Teach me, man!"
Aron chuckled. "Haha, I will… but I'm still just a beginner."
Carlos shook his head in disbelief. "If that's a beginner… then what would a master look like?"
Wood interrupted, placing a hand on Aron's shoulder. "Enough for today. You've done well. Rest now. Tomorrow will be another long day."
The boys sat together as the sun began to fall. Aron leaned back, gazing at the horizon, and spoke softly.
"There was a saying… about a man named Nemesis. He was powerful—stronger than anyone. A good man, happy, full of light. But one day… something changed. He murdered humans, and vanished. No one knows if he died or if he still lives."
Carlos's eyes sparkled. "Cool, man. Nemesis… that's such a badass name."
Aron laughed. "Haha, I know."
Soon Carlos stood, stretching. "Alright, Aron. Time to go. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye," Aron waved.
He walked home, tired but content. Outside, Mr. Wood sat on a chair, waiting.
"Haha, Aron. You're here."
"Yes, Mr. Wood?"
"It was a good test. I didn't know you were that fast."
Aron bowed his head slightly. "It was just a test. I didn't want to harm you."
Wood's eyes were serious now. "Aron… it's time. You should start learning not just from me—but from yourself."
Aron blinked. "Myself?"
"Yes. You are a Norm. Farming will make you as strong as stone, but your true path lies with the sword. Begin learning swordsmanship alongside your labor. And one day, when the time comes, forge a blade worthy of you."
Aron's heart pounded. "Are you sure, Mr. Wood?"
Wood smiled, the lines of his face deepening. "Yes, boy. You carry the hope of humanity. You are the leaf upon the water, the last breath of light. Do not waste it."
Aron nodded firmly. "Then I will. I'll learn swordsmanship… along with farming."
"That's the spirit," Wood said, smiling proudly. "Now, rest. Tomorrow will be a long journey."
Aron bowed his head and get inside in his Room . That night, as the wind whispered against the windows, he lay in his bed, the fire of purpose burning brighter than ever.
The journey had only begun.