The night after the tragedy, the Silent Vale seemed to lose its breath. No voices, no children's laughter—only the faint sobs of a young widow mourning beside her husband's body.
Ains lay on a thin mat, eyes wide, staring at the bamboo ceiling. The image of blood soaking the earth, the pale face of the fallen farmer, haunted him. His small heart pounded as if it knew the danger had not passed.
"Tomorrow they'll come again… tomorrow there will be more blood."
Fear pressed on his chest. Yet worse than fear was the shadow of his parents. What if tomorrow, it's them?
He gripped the mat tightly. "No! I can't let that happen. I must grow stronger—even just enough to protect them."
Before dawn, he ran to the river. The mist was thick, the air biting cold, but he didn't care. He waded into the shallows, bracing himself against the current. He fell, struck rocks, soaked to the bone—but always rose again, eyes burning.
He copied the crane—one leg on a slippery stone, arms spread like wings. The wind shook him, nearly toppling him, but he endured.
He slithered like a snake, leapt like a squirrel, kicked, fell, rose again. Fear drove him, and his body grew—more flexible, more balanced, his strikes harder. Yet the scarred bandit leader's eyes still haunted him. "My training… still so far, far away."
By dusk he returned home, bruised and muddy. His mother smiled gently, "Where have you been, Ains?"
"Playing by the river," he lied. His father patted his shoulder. "Be careful. The river is strong. But I believe you are strong too."
The words pierced his heart. He looked at their faces—tired, warm, irreplaceable—and trembled. "What if they're chosen next? What can I do? I can't even face one of them…"
That night he sat outside beneath the pale moon, eyes wet.
"Nature has always taught me how to live," he whispered. "But how do I fight men who only know how to kill? Does nature hold that answer too?"
A tear fell to the earth. Yet within his grief, a spark was born. He was weak, he was afraid—but his resolve sharpened.
"I will find my path. I will find a way, whatever it takes. Before they take Father and Mother from me."
The forest hummed with night insects. The Silent Vale slept. But within a five-year-old boy's chest, a storm had just begun.