Two days passed with no word.
By the third day, worry spread through Elvendor. Then, the village bell rang loudly, announcing the arrival of a guild carriage carrying an unusual cargo—wrapped bundles of severed bodies.
Leon stood among the gathered villagers, his breath catching the moment he saw the carriage. His eyes locked onto a broken oak staff lying beside one of the shrouds.
He recognized it instantly.
"Esta…" he whispered.
A guild representative stepped forward to address the uneasy crowd."They were attacked by a goblin group larger than usual. Sablewood Forest… is no longer safe."
Leon felt his world collapse.
Tears streamed down his face, yet his gaze remained fixed on the shattered staff, now clenched tightly in his trembling hands.
The world is too vast and beautiful to abandon, his sister's voice echoed in his mind.
"I won't let goblins or any monsters ruin that beauty ever again," Leon vowed silently.
That day, beneath a gray and sorrowful sky, Leon Draveda swore to become an adventurer—not only to protect the weak, but to honor his sister's legacy and ensure no one else would suffer the same loss.
Two years passed.
Leon was now twelve years old. His blond hair had grown slightly longer, and he wore the elegant blue-and-white uniform of the academy he was about to enter. His crimson eyes—distinctive of the Draveda bloodline—held a quiet intensity.
He had arrived at Adventura School, the most prestigious academy for aspiring adventurers across the continent of Althea. The academy stood majestically atop a hill, its towering spires piercing the sky.
This place would become Leon Draveda's new home—a young boy carrying wounds far deeper than his age suggested.
Within the academy's walls, Leon felt isolated. His sister's voice haunted him endlessly—her laughter, her passion, and the tragedy that took her away returned to him every night.
He joined the academy for one reason alone:to grow strong enough to slay every monster that threatened this world.
But a problem soon became apparent.
The academy's primary focus was magic.
Students competed fiercely to display their magical talents, yet Leon consistently struggled to control his mana. Every attempt reminded him of Esta—the gifted mage he could never surpass—which caused hesitation and self-doubt to grip him relentlessly.
Until one day.
An instructor approached Leon and introduced him to the Knight Class, a discipline focused on sword techniques and devastating strikes.
"Leon," the instructor said firmly, "you have difficulty controlling your mana. Have you ever considered this class? If you're willing, I'll recommend you to the knight instructor."
He handed Leon a wooden sword.
"Take this. This afternoon, report to the knight training hall."
Suddenly, Leon remembered a moment before Esta left.
When magic is not enough, she had said, remember—your sword is an extension of your will to survive.
Leon accepted the wooden sword. Its touch was cold, yet strangely familiar—nothing like the magic staff he had once held.
"Very well. I'll try," Leon said firmly, bowing respectfully."Thank you, Instructor."
That afternoon, Leon arrived at the knight training hall. Loud impacts echoed throughout the arena as students swung their wooden swords with fierce determination, practicing for duels.
Suddenly, Leon's attention was drawn by loud laughter.
A boy with messy brown hair and a wide grin approached him casually, holding his sword with an almost careless posture.
"I heard you're the new kid," he said cheerfully."I'm Ryven Greyheart, the academy's prodigy!"
He swung his sword aimlessly."Relax—I just want to see if you can cut something other than air!"
Leon remained silent, staring at Ryven with cold eyes. But Ryven seemed unfazed, continuing to joke, tease, and demonstrate techniques that looked more like dancing than combat.
Yet beneath his carefree demeanor lay exceptional talent. His swings appeared sloppy, but each strike was precise and powerful.
As training continued, Ryven began to notice Leon's potential.
"Hey, you're not bad," Ryven laughed."Though your face looks like an angry goblin."
Leon couldn't deny it—Ryven was truly gifted. He was Leon's complete opposite: cheerful, spontaneous, and unburdened.
And that made Leon feel strangely envious.
That night, after exhausting training, Leon sat alone in his dormitory, staring out the window. In the silence, the image of Esta's death returned once more—surrounded by goblins, screaming, her smile fading away.
But within that darkness, a faint light emerged.
A memory of Esta holding a wooden sword just like his, teaching him basic stances while he stumbled clumsily as a child.
"Magic… or the sword?" Leon whispered."Would I disappoint her if I chose this path?"
The next day, the instructor announced a student duel.
All eyes turned to Leon and Ryven, chosen as the first pair.
"Ready, gloomy goblin?" Ryven teased with a grin.
Leon nodded.
Without warning, Leon lunged forward. His movement was swift and powerful, his sword slicing horizontally. Ryven twisted aside effortlessly, dodging the strike with ease.
"Fast—but too stiff," Ryven commented as he countered with a lightning-fast vertical slash, sending Leon flying backward.
Leon gasped for breath, rolling away and quickly regaining his stance.
This isn't an ordinary duel, Leon thought.Ryven moves like the wind—flexible and unpredictable.
Leon charged again, unleashing reckless attacks—straight thrusts, rising slashes, each strike fueled by raw strength.
Ryven responded calmly.
His sword moved like leaves dancing in the wind, deflecting every blow with precision and minimal effort.
Within moments, Ryven maneuvered behind Leon, forcing him toward the edge of the arena.
"At this rate," Ryven said lightly, "you'll exhaust yourself before you even make me serious."
Leon growled in frustration. Every attack felt like striking a shadow.
As Leon stepped forward once more, Esta's image flashed through his mind—cornered by goblins, her staff shattered, fear in her eyes.
The pain stabbed his heart, breaking his focus.
In that instant, Ryven seized the opening.
With a swift step, he moved to Leon's side and struck Leon's arm.
Wood clashed loudly.
Leon's sword flew from his grip, skidding several meters away.
The arena fell silent.
Then came thunderous cheers from the surrounding students.
"Enough!" the instructor's voice echoed through the hall.
"The victor is Ryven Greyheart."
Applause filled the arena.
Ryven approached Leon and extended his hand.
"You've got talent, Leon," he said sincerely."But you need to learn how to enjoy the fight. A sword isn't just a weapon—it's an art."
Leon stared at the offered hand before accepting it.
Deep down, he knew this duel was about more than swords—it was about confronting himself.
Ryven laughed and patted Leon's shoulder."I can't wait for our next duel. Maybe then, you'll make me go all out."
Leon gave a faint smile.
And for the first time in a long while, something new stirred within his heart—a quiet determination slowly replacing his pain.