After making the Warrior's Oath, Rick collapsed into unconsciousness. He had lost too much blood, every drop draining what little strength remained in his frail body. Summoning the will to speak those words had consumed everything he had left—it was a miracle he had even survived long enough to finish the oath. Perhaps it was desperation to live, or perhaps fate itself had chosen not to let his flame be extinguished.
For an eleven-year-old child to endure such a wound was unthinkable. No one could have survived it. And yet, Rick's existence defied reason.
Seeing the boy fall lifeless into the dirt, Ragnarok shifted from his colossal dragon form into a human shape. He knelt, lifting Rick gently into his hands. The sight startled him—so small, so fragile. "I knew he would be small," Ragnarok thought, "but not this small…"
For the first time in centuries, the ancient being felt something strange—an unfamiliar weight in his chest. Holding this human child stirred emotions he had long forgotten.
"You will not understand now," Ragnarok murmured softly, "but in time, you will. One day you will grasp what it means to be human. And when that day comes, perhaps you will find the answer you seek. Your journey will not be easy, Rick Van Vleck. Pain and hardship will mark your path. But I believe… you will overcome them. Become strong, strong enough to stand against me when the time comes. I will wait for that day."
With a wave of his hand, Ragnarok whispered an incantation. Soft light enveloped Rick, knitting closed the torn flesh, sealing the wound that should have ended his life. The boy's breathing steadied, though faint, as if clinging stubbornly to existence.
Before he departed, Ragnarok placed a ring and a sealed letter beside Rick's unconscious form. He gave one last glance, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Live, child," he said. Then, without another word, he vanished into the shadows.
Some time later, Rick stirred from unconsciousness. His eyes fluttered open, and he sat up abruptly, surprised to feel no pain. His wounds were gone. His body—once broken—was now completely healed.
He blinked in disbelief before the memory of Ragnarok's presence returned to him. "It must have been him…" Rick thought.
Beside him lay a sealed letter and a small, curious ring. Both had been left by Ragnarok. Hesitant but curious, Rick picked up the letter and unfolded it.
The words inside read:
"I see you're awake. I wanted to tell you about the ring in your hand—that is why you're reading this letter. That ring is no ordinary trinket. It is an artifact, one of a kind. This ring is connected to me through mana. When you pour your mana into it, the ring will create a path to me. With it, you can find me in the future… when it is time for our fight."
Rick stared at the ring, his hand trembling slightly. The words felt heavy, far beyond what an eleven-year-old should bear. A treasure like this… more valuable than an entire nation. If what the letter claimed was true, the ring could teleport him across the world without restriction—linking directly to Ragnarok himself.
The boy's heart pounded. For a long moment, he simply sat there, stunned. Then, slowly, he slipped the ring onto his finger.
Gathering himself, Rick began to search the area. The ground around him still bore the scattered belongings of the hunter who had pursued him. Amid the mess, Rick discovered a sack. Inside it gleamed fifty gold coins.
Shock struck him harder than any wound. "Fifty gold…? To kill me?"
It didn't make sense. He was just a child. Weak. Unable to even wield mana. Who would spend such wealth on his death?
But as he stood there trembling, the truth sank into him like a blade: it had to be his own family. No one else would pay such a fortune to kill a "useless" child. No one else would hate him enough to see him erased from existence.
His chest tightened, but his eyes hardened. Rick clenched his fists then began to walk into the jungle with a sharp, angry motion.
If they truly wished him dead, then he would live. He would live to spite them.
As Rick walked through the quiet forest, his thoughts began to wander. Strangely, they did not dwell on his family—the betrayal, the bounty, the hatred. Instead, his mind returned to Ragnarok.
He replayed every moment in his head: the dragon's piercing gaze, the weight of his words, the strange sense of familiarity he had felt. I can't believe I actually spoke with him… with Ragnarok, the legend himself. And more than that… I made a Warrior's Oath with him.
By all rights, he should have been terrified. Yet, when he remembered Ragnarok's presence, he realized he hadn't felt fear at all. Instead, there had been something else. A strange comfort. Almost… recognition.
"What was it he said?" Rick muttered to himself. 'I saw a powerful person in you.' The words echoed in his mind. They carried both promise and weight, but Rick couldn't understand why.
"I don't know why I answered him," Rick admitted to the trees around him. "I don't know why I swore that oath. But one thing is certain—I have to get stronger. Strong enough to face him one day. Maybe then I'll find the answer to his question… maybe then I'll understand what he saw in me."
With that silent vow, Rick continued walking until he reached the place where he had discarded his belongings. To his irritation, several monsters had gathered, feasting on the meat he had collected from hunting.
Anger flared within him. "That's mine," Rick snapped, stepping forward. "Keep your filthy claws off my things."
The beasts snarled, their eyes glowing as they turned on him. But instead of retreating, Rick braced himself. The monsters lunged, and Rick moved instinctively. His body flowed with speed and precision he hadn't thought possible. In moments, the creatures lay defeated at his feet.
Rick stared down at them, panting lightly, stunned by his own strength. I shouldn't have been able to handle them this easily…
Then it struck him—he remembered a conversation he once overheard between his father and the knight-captain. They hadn't been speaking about Rick… but about his brother's training.
The memory returned to Rick as clearly as if he were standing there once again, hidden in the shadows of the training yard.
"My lord," a voice had said—it was Knight Captain Leon, his tone laced with worry. "This training is too harsh for the young master. At this rate, his body will break."
Rick remembered the reply well, spoken with cold certainty by his father.
"Leon, do you know how I became the youngest in the history of our kingdom to achieve the level of Awakening?"
The knight hesitated. "I… I do not, my lord."
"It was desperation," his father said firmly. "Desperation to grow strong so that I could protect. That desperation placed me face-to-face with death countless times. It is through near-death struggle that one's senses sharpen, that one's will is tempered. Strength comes from walking on the edge of the abyss. That is what I am forging into my son. I will not throw him recklessly into death, but he must endure this training. Only then will he awaken."
Rick remembered how those words had pierced him. At the time, he had not understood. But now, after facing monsters and feeling his body move with a clarity he had never known, the truth struck him: his father's words were right. His senses had sharpened. His body had grown stronger.
"That's why I was able to kill those monsters," Rick whispered to himself. "Even if I can't gather mana as quickly as other children… I can train my body. I can sharpen my instincts. I can become strong."
A spark lit within him, brighter than before. Determination, fierce and unyielding.
With renewed resolve, Rick packed his belongings and set out toward the nearest town. He would not run any longer. He would take the first step into the wider world, applying to the Adventurer's Guild.
On the other side deep within the Duke's sprawling estate, tension filled a dimly lit chamber. Two figures sat across from each other, cloaked in secrecy. They were the ones who had given the order for Rick's death.
It had been weeks since they last heard from the hired hunter, and unease gnawed at them both.
"Any news?" one of them asked sharply as another figure entered the room.
The reply came curt. "No."
"Damn it!" the first man snarled, slamming his fist on the table. "Just what the hell are they doing? Can't even kill a child! I'm certain they ran away with the money. That's why I told you not to give it to them in advance!"
The other man's voice was calmer, though no less dangerous. "It was necessary to offer payment upfront. Without it, they would not have accepted the request."
"And now look," the first hissed. "They've taken the money and vanished!"
"I'm not so sure about that," the second countered. "The Guild is greedy, the master of that guild is a man who once killed his own brother and sold the organs for coin. Do you really think someone like him would abandon a job this easy? Not when the target is just a boy."
The first man leaned back, scowling. "Unless he realized who the brat is… the son of a Duke. What if he grew scared?"
The other shook his head. "No. Not with the evidence we provided to guarantee their safety. I don't believe fear would stop him."
"Then why the hell is he taking this long?!" one of the cloaked men shouted, slamming his hand against the table in fury. His voice cracked with impatience.
"Calm yourself," the other replied coolly. "We'll wait a little longer. Remember, we gave the hunter a tracking device—he should know the brat's location. If they haven't returned by now, it means either they're still pursuing him… or something unexpected happened."
The angry one spat, "So you're telling me a child—one who can't even gather mana, who isn't even half our size—managed to kill them?"
"I never said that," the calm one countered. "But clearly, someone must have helped him. Still, it doesn't matter. That boy will die sooner or later. If not today, then tomorrow. We simply have to wait… patiently."
The first man grumbled but relented. "Fine. We'll give it a few more days."
The room fell silent again, heavy with malice and greed.
Far away, Rick's path led him beyond the suffocating shadows of conspiracy. A week later, weary but unbroken, he reached the border town of Emu, a frontier settlement of his kingdom. Its gates loomed tall, its streets buzzing with the clamor of adventurers, merchants, and mercenaries.
For Rick, it was more than just a town—it was the threshold of a new life. Here, he would take his first steps as an adventurer.
And thus, his true journey began.