Chapter 6: A Commoner's Trouble (Age 12)
My name is Fay Lorian.
Twelve years old. Crimson eyes. White hair. Commoner.
At least, that's what everyone sees.
To the villagers, I'm a strange boy who breaks more things than he fixes, who trips over his own feet and causes disasters that would make grown men cry. To my parents, I'm a handful that costs them more than ten children combined.
And to myself? I'm just me. Fay.
The one who once ruled as Nirvana, God of All Gods, and now… the clumsy kid next door.
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1. Morning Chaos
Morning always starts the same.
"Fay! Wake up!" Mother's voice pierces the air, sharp as a blade.
I roll over in bed, trying to ignore her. But then—creak. CRASH.
The bedframe splits beneath me, sending me tumbling to the floor with a loud thud. Splinters scatter across the room, and the small wooden house shakes.
Mother bursts in, hands on her hips. "Fay! Not again!"
I sit up sheepishly, rubbing my head. "I didn't do anything! I was just sleeping!"
"That's exactly the problem!"
Father appears behind her, already sighing. "At this rate, we'll run out of furniture by the end of the month."
It's not my fault my power doesn't like being quiet. Even when I'm asleep, it leaks. Beds collapse, walls crack, windows rattle. I try to control it, really, but it's like asking a volcano not to rumble.
Mother shoos me outside. "Go help your father with the animals. And try not to break anything this time!"
I grin. "I'll be careful!"
Famous last words.
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2. The Chicken Incident
Father raises chickens. Harmless creatures, fluffy and stupid. My job is to feed them. Simple, right?
I open the coop. The chickens cluck excitedly, crowding around me. I pour the feed into a trough… and sneeze.
The tiny puff of energy from my sneeze sends the entire coop flying ten feet into the air. Chickens scatter like feathery meteors, squawking as they rain down across the yard.
One lands on Father's head, wings flapping wildly. Another crashes into the laundry line, dragging clothes into the mud.
I stand frozen, bag of feed still in my hands. "…Oops."
Father's face twitches. He takes a deep breath, lifts the chicken off his head, and sets it down gently. "Fay," he says slowly, "how does one boy cause more chaos than an entire army?"
I laugh nervously. "Talent?"
His sigh could flatten mountains.
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3. Villager Reactions
The villagers know me well by now. Some avoid me like the plague, muttering that I'm cursed. Others laugh it off, calling me "the boy who can do anything."
Children my age look at me with a mix of awe and fear. They like me, but they also don't want to be too close when something explodes.
Like today.
We were playing by the river. One of the kids challenged me to skip stones. I picked one up, flicked my wrist carefully, and—whoosh!
The stone shot across the water like an arrow, blasting a straight path through the river, splitting it in two for a brief, impossible moment. Fish flopped helplessly in the sudden gap before the water crashed back together.
The kids stared, mouths open.
"…You're not human," one whispered.
I scratched my head. "Eh, maybe not."
Then they all cheered. "Do it again!"
I blinked. "Wait, what?"
Apparently, the terrifying power of splitting rivers was now the coolest game in the village. Kids dragged me around, begging me to "accidentally" break things for fun.
Adults were less amused.
That night, the village elder visited my parents. I overheard him grumbling through the door: "That boy is dangerous. If we're not careful, one day he'll level the entire village!"
Mother defended me fiercely. "He's still our child!"
Father muttered something about rebuilding costs.
I just sat upstairs, staring at my hands. Dangerous. Cool. Trouble. Miracle. Which was I? Maybe all of them.
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4. A Festival to Remember (continued)
I promised. I swore.
But the festival was just asking for trouble. Bright lanterns, delicate decorations, fragile stalls full of pottery and glass trinkets. Crowds of villagers bumping into each other. Music, dancing, food sizzling on open flames.
A nightmare for someone like me.
Mother had grabbed my shoulders before we left. "Fay. Listen carefully. Don't touch anything. Don't sneeze. Don't trip. Don't even look at anything too hard."
"Got it," I said with my most innocent smile.
Five minutes later, disaster struck.
It started when I tried to help carry a barrel of cider to a stall. I lifted it carefully—too carefully—and ended up squeezing just a little too hard. The barrel cracked open like an eggshell, cider exploding in every direction. Half the crowd got drenched in sticky apple-scented rain.
"FAAAAAY!"
I froze, dripping, surrounded by angry cider-soaked villagers. "Uh… free samples?"
They didn't find it funny.
I thought that was the end of it, but no. While trying to "redeem" myself, I joined the ring of kids playing tug-of-war. A harmless game. Except, when I tugged, I didn't even realize I was pulling. The other team—including three grown farmers—flew through the air, rope and all, crashing into a haystack twenty feet away.
The crowd went silent. Then someone shouted, "He did it again!"
And then came the fireworks.
Literally.
One of the festival fireworks tipped over after the haystack crash, shooting sparks into the crowd. Without thinking, I raised my hand to stop it. My "small" barrier spell ended up trapping all the fireworks inside an invisible dome. They went off at once, a giant booming explosion of color that lit up the entire sky.
The villagers gasped. Then cheered.
"It's a miracle!"
"Fay blessed the festival!"
"What a child of the heavens!"
I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my head. "Yeah, uh… I meant to do that."
Mother buried her face in her hands. Father looked like he aged ten years in one night.
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5. Night Wanderings
That night, long after the festival ended, I couldn't sleep. The moonlight was too bright, the world too quiet. I slipped out of bed and wandered the village streets, listening to the wind rustle through the trees.
It wasn't the first time I snuck out at night. My parents hated it, of course, but I always felt… restless. Like something was calling me.
Tonight, I wandered toward the old shrine at the edge of the village. Hardly anyone visited it anymore—it was small, forgotten, dedicated to no particular god. The wood was cracked, moss creeping over the roof.
I sat on the steps, staring at the stars. "Sometimes," I whispered, "I wonder if anyone up there still remembers me."
The air grew still. For a moment, I swore I felt eyes watching me. Not human eyes. Vast, distant, divine.
I shivered, hugging my knees. "No… They wouldn't bother with me now. I'm just Fay. Just a kid."
The feeling faded. The night grew quiet again. But a part of me knew—something had noticed.
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6. Rumors and Whispers
By the time I turned twelve, the villagers had two kinds of rumors about me.
Some said I was cursed. Born with unnatural power, destined to bring ruin. The older folk whispered warnings, telling their children not to get too close.
Others said I was blessed. A miracle child chosen by the heavens. A gift to protect the village. Parents nudged their kids toward me, hoping some of my "luck" would rub off.
The truth? Neither. Both. I didn't care much. I just wanted to live my life, eat good food, laugh with friends, and maybe not destroy the house every week.
Still… the whispers never stopped. And late at night, when I stared at my hands, I wondered. Was it really possible to live like this forever? To hide what I was?
Because sometimes, when I slipped, when power spilled out of me, it felt like the whole world trembled. Like the gods themselves were holding their breath.
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7. The River Game (Again)
One afternoon, the kids dragged me back to the river.
"Do the rock trick again, Fay!"
"Yeah! Split the water!"
I sighed, but smiled. "Fine, fine. Just once."
I picked up a stone, focused carefully this time, and flicked it. It skipped neatly across the water, no disasters. The kids groaned in disappointment.
"Boring!"
"You can do better than that!"
I chuckled. "Alright. Watch closely."
This time, I didn't throw the rock—I flicked it upward. It soared into the sky, glowing faintly crimson. A second later, it fell back down… and instead of splashing, it hovered above the river, spinning like a tiny moon.
The water bent toward it, forming a whirlpool that danced around the rock. The kids gasped and clapped, shouting with delight.
But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something.
A figure. Across the river. Tall, cloaked in mist, watching me.
I blinked. Gone.
"Fay? What's wrong?" one of the kids asked.
I forced a smile. "Nothing. Just the sun in my eyes."
But my heart pounded. Whoever—whatever—that was, it wasn't human.
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8. Home Again
That evening, as the sun set, I returned home. Mother fussed over me, Father lectured me about "responsibility" and "restraint." I listened, nodded, apologized, laughed. Same as always.
But when I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts raced.
I'm Fay Lorian. Twelve years old. Crimson-eyed, white-haired commoner. A boy who breaks things, who makes people laugh, who causes endless trouble.
But I'm also Nirvana. The strongest god. The one who chose this life.
And lately… I can't shake the feeling that my quiet little village days are running out.
Still, until that day comes…
I'll keep being Fay. The clumsy, chaotic, unstoppable commoner.
Because life is fun this way.
End of Chapter 6