The waves created a certain sound—a blissful blessing. It shimmered in the air. Dark clouds took the sky from the sun, casting it into night, yet the world remained beautiful. Swans glided with their nests, hunting silently for fish.
The sound of the waves continued to rattle through the air. The water flowed endlessly. The clouds began to talk in thunder, and soon, the rain came.
A lone bird soared through the gray sky, heading toward the beautiful Norm's Valley. It landed softly atop the castle of a well-respected being.
The rain grew heavier—drop by drop, it fell like a divine gift. Its sound echoed into the homes of the people. Children ran out to play, laughing, their feet splashing in the puddles. The scent of wet earth filled the valley with nostalgia.
A young boy stood in the rain. He saw a butterfly dancing between droplets. That boy was Aron. Soaked entirely, he wore a coat, aware of the cold that would surely catch him otherwise.
His father had promised to teach him swordsmanship that day. But with the rain now pouring, Aron let the thought fade.
Behind him, Agarth approached.
Agarth: "Aron, what are you doing?"
Thunder cracked above them as he spoke.
Aron: "Just… looking at a bug."
Agarth sighed, a hint of disappointment in his eyes.
Agarth: "I'm sorry. The rain interrupted our session. But maybe… it's not yet time to teach you swordsmanship."
As Agarth said this, a thought haunted him—one he couldn't shake. One day, this boy would become the most powerful man in the world. Rain or not, he would learn it all… by himself.
Even though a human learns from others, it is their surroundings that shape them. Choices—inescapable. Pain and sacrifice—necessary. These are the makings of a true warrior.
Agarth placed a firm hand on Aron's shoulder. The gesture made the boy nervous.
Agarth: "Aron, my son. There will be choices ahead—ones you cannot change. You have a good heart, and being the eldest makes you responsible. Even after I'm gone, or your mother, people will count on you. I will too. Remember this… you have no regrets. You were born free, and you choose who you become. Be who you want to be. Live your life. And don't ever look back."
Aron stood silent, shocked by his father's words. Agarth hugged him tightly, resting a hand gently on his son's head.
Agarth: "I love you."
That moment made Aron proud—proud to be his son. A father… is something every child wants to become.
Then, Agarth turned and walked off to speak with his soldiers, attending to some sudden issue. He waved goodbye.
Aron wandered toward the pond and stared at his reflection. Raindrops rippled across the surface.
Aron: "What is my destiny? What if I can't become who everyone wants me to be? I have no regrets… what does that even mean?"
Suddenly, a strange shadow appeared before him—like living smoke—and it spoke in a voice that echoed deep inside his soul.
Shadow Figure: "Behold, the successor. Do not awaken your power. You cannot die now. Let the blade control it for you…"
And just like that, it vanished—never to return.
Aron was left shaken. A successor? Power? Awaken? Questions swirled in his mind. From that day on, the dreams stopped. Sleep came easily. But the questions remained.
The rain continued to fall, heavy and relentless, blurring dawn into night. And finally, as night arrived… it stopped.
The next morning, Aron awoke and went looking for his mother. He found her standing at the window, staring into the distance. The wind howled like a sea storm.
He followed her gaze. Outside, camps surrounded a fire. Knights drank tea. But then… he noticed something.
His father was hugging a stranger.
A knight sat on one knee, face hidden under his hood. But before Aron could step closer, his mother pulled him away from the window, tears in her eyes. She hugged him tightly and kissed his head.
Milda: "You are a strong child, Aron…" she whispered, her voice shaking.
Aron: "Mom, what's happening? Why are you crying?"
Aron gently wiped her tears. He placed his hand on her cheek and hugged her tightly.
Aron: "I'm here, Mom. You can cry on my shoulders."