The weather was lovely that day, partly cloudy with a little drizzle. Showers came and went, leaving the air fresh — a perfect day for plants and trees. Not too wet, not too dry, just right.
Above, the birds in the sky gently swayed with the wind, their cries echoing faintly. But the silence of nature broke suddenly, the sharp slam of an axe striking wood tearing through the calm. Aron was at it again, cutting logs as part of his daily routine.
Sweat rolled down his forehead as he lifted the axe high, then brought it down with force. Thud. Another log split in two. He stacked the pieces to his left, one after another, rhythm steady, his breaths heavy.
"Man, I'm so tired…" Aron muttered, dropping the axe to the ground. "Let's cook some eggs."
He dusted off his hands and walked to the chicken barn, fetching three eggs. He cracked them open, cooking quickly, then sat down and devoured them in minutes. The taste was simple, yet to him — delicious. After finishing, he wiped his mouth and leaned back with a sigh.
"No work tomorrow… and Carlos isn't coming either. He went out to fetch herbs," Aron thought aloud. "Ah, man, I wish I could've gone with him."
Tired, he dropped his hands on the ground, slipping slightly as he let his body rest. Laying down, his head pressed against the soft grass, his eyes followed the drifting clouds above. His mind grew restless. What should I do?
Then a thought struck him, strong and clear. Yes… let's train.
Aron stood up quickly, brushing the dirt off his clothes. He went inside the house, fetched the old book, and reached for his sword — but stopped.
No… right now it feels too heavy.
Instead, he grabbed a fine piece of wood. With quick cuts and shaping, he crafted a wooden sword for himself. Holding it in his hands, his face lit up with a small smile.
He returned outside to the open ground, sat down cross-legged, and opened the book. Flipping past the earlier pages about blacksmithing, he reached something new. His eyes focused on the bold title written there:
"The Gate to Swordsmanship."
Carefully, Aron began to read.
"The flow, the balance, no intention, and your breathing — along with controlling the inner self and the outer self. Helping your organs to reach blood on every corner of the body. All of these things are required to master swordsmanship."
The page ended. Aron eagerly turned to the next one — but froze.
Nothing.
The page was blank. His eyes widened. "Huh? Where's the rest of the text? This book… I thought there'd be more here. What's wrong with it?"
Frustration twisted his face. But then, before his eyes, letters slowly began to appear on the blank paper.
"Body."
Aron's eyes widened again. More words formed.
"Strengthen your muscles."
And then, just as quickly as they appeared, the words vanished. Gone.
"What the—?!" Aron rubbed his eyes and checked again, but the page remained empty. He scowled. "What's up with this book…"
He took a breath, calming himself. Muscles, huh? Pretty sure they're stronger than before, but… maybe the book needs me to build up more strength first.
At that time, he was free, with no one around. So his eyes fell on a heavy rock nearby. With both hands, he bent his knees and tried to lift it. His arms trembled, his breath strained — but he managed to hoist it up.
Step after step, he carried it around the clearing, each lap draining him further. By the seventh lap, his chest burned, his legs shook, and he finally dropped the rock, collapsing to the ground, face dripping with sweat.
But he wasn't done.
Aron dragged himself to a tree, gripping its trunk. He tried to hang upside down, locking his legs around the branch — but failed, slipping off and crashing into the dirt. Groaning, he stood again, determination burning in his eyes.
The second attempt, another failure. His back ached, but he gritted his teeth. On the third try, he managed to hold, hanging upside down with the world reversed.
The sun above glared down, upside down in his view. His legs screamed in pain. The blood rushed to his head. His vision blurred. And then, with a final cry, his legs gave way. He fell hard, coughing as he rolled on the ground.
Still, he pushed himself up with the help of the tree.
"I won't give up," he muttered through clenched teeth.
Grabbing the heavy rocks again, he strapped them to his back and started running, pushing his body to the limit. His feet pounded the earth as he sprinted across the clearing, sweat pouring, lungs burning. He kept going until the sun dipped low, the sky turning orange.
His pace slowed. His vision dimmed. And finally, his legs gave out. Aron fell forward, the rocks slipping off his back and thudding into the ground beside him.
"Aron!" Carlos's voice shouted. He came running, herbs still in his bag. He knelt beside Aron, checking his breathing.
Wood arrived soon after, eyes narrowing as he examined the scene. He picked up one of the rocks and studied it, then looked at Aron's exhausted body.
"Looks like he was… training," Wood muttered. With a grunt, he lifted Aron up, carried him back to the house, and laid him gently on the bed. "Let him rest."
Elsewhere, in the depths of the forest, a man walked silently, steps careful, his presence hidden. His senses tingled — danger was ahead.
Calmly, without sound, he approached. Dark soldiers emerged, blades drawn. But before they could strike, his twin blue daggers flashed. In an instant, the soldiers fell, lifeless, the air filled with silence once more.
Luxorious stood among the bodies, sneering. "How pathetic." He wiped his blades clean, then disappeared into the shadows.
Meanwhile, Rogard rushed through a hidden passage, his steps echoing as he entered a dark cave. He stopped, catching his breath, before bowing his head.
"Zeiris… they know who we're about to kill next."
Zeiris, towering and calm, turned his head slightly. "Kella Morn?" he asked. "Indeed… after Lockhead, she holds the most power. Don't worry. I know exactly what to do. I have a mission for you."
Rogard frowned. "A mission, you say? This time… I could get caught."
Zeiris's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Don't worry. It's nothing like that."
Rogard hesitated. "We don't even know if Luxorious is there or not."
Zeiris's eyes sharpened, his tone dark. "He isn't the problem. The problem is that Trail… his mind is extraordinary. Too extraordinary. Which makes me want to kill him."
Rogard stepped forward. "If you wish, I can kill him for you."
The air turned cold. Zeiris's aura erupted with fury, and Rogard felt chills race through his spine.
"No one touches my prey unless I say so," Zeiris roared, his killing intent flooding the cave. "I will play with him until the end. Let's see who wins."
The echo of his rage rumbled across the stone walls, shaking the cavern.
No one knew what was to come. A disaster loomed over humanity.
And in the distance, a child — exhausted from training — slept peacefully, unaware of the storm building around him.