A beautiful path covered in trees, the ground sweetly layered with fallen leaves, shifted gently as a cold breeze passed. An old man walked on that path, his footsteps slow, his breath a little heavy. He coughed into his hand. His clothes were worn-out, stitched many times, and the weight of years could be seen in every movement he made.
But still, he kept walking. He was heading toward his village.
When he reached his small wooden house, he pushed the door open with a tired hand. The hinges creaked the way they always did.
Balrad let out a sigh as he stepped inside.
Balrad: "How am I gonna find a new person who can make these swords? Tell me, Sai… how?"
His son, Sai, stood near the table, looking troubled.
Sai: "I'm sorry, father… but it's not my dream to sit here and carve swords. I want to use them as well…"
Balrad stared at him, disappointment settling on his face like dust.
Balrad: "Then go. Do whatever you want to. But remember, son… I didn't teach you anything bad. So don't do anything that hurts me."
Sai lowered his eyes.
Sai: "Alright. I'll place flowers on mother's grave one last time before leaving this village."
He turned toward the door, then looked back once more.
"And… father… thank you."
The door closed behind him. And just like that, Balrad's world became a little quieter.
He stood alone, the silence filling the room.
Balrad: "Now where am I gonna find a blacksmith at this time of month…?"
He shook his head.
"Well, whatever. We'll see tomorrow. For now, let's head to the city and sell these swords."
He loaded the swords on his small cart and made his way toward the city. His horse trotted slowly, used to the routine. When he reached the busy streets, he unloaded the swords and set up his usual small stall. Business was good enough—people knew Balrad's craftsmanship.
Then he spotted someone familiar.
Baro: "Look who's here! My friend Balrad! How come you reached the city, brother?"
Balrad: "You idiot, I come every three days to sell swords." He waved a hand.
"Forget that. I need a man capable of blacksmithing. If you find someone, send him to my house."
Baro: "Blacksmith, huh? Okay, I'll try."
He grabbed a sack and handed it to him.
"Here, take this. Potatoes. A gift from me. And say hello to Sai—haven't seen him for many days. Where is he?"
The question stabbed Balrad a little.
Balrad: "He's gone. City of training. That kid wanted to learn swordsmanship. I couldn't just trap him inside the house. If he wants to do it, then do it. I taught him the basic principles of life… now it's on him."
Baro: "Wow, man… that's really good. If I had a son, I would be so proud."
He stood up straighter.
"Alright, brother, I have a lot of work. See you next time!"
Balrad watched the cart roll away. A hollow feeling settled in his chest.
He had no one now.
He was alone in that big old house.
He worked hard—always did—but when his son was around, he had interest. Purpose. Now the work felt heavier, slower, emptier.
That day ended, and Balrad slept early, trying to prepare himself for the next one.
The next morning came with gentle sunlight slipping through the leaves, and a soft wind brushing over the fields. Balrad watered his small garden, then headed to his workshop. He hammered swords again and again, shaping them, sharpening them, cooling them, heating them, repeating the same routine hundreds of times.
But today… something felt off. His eyes blurred. His breath struggled.
He stopped working and stepped outside, wiping sweat from his forehead. Days went like this—work, rest, sell, repeat.
Meanwhile…
Lyoth walked across the land where he was once destroyed by Norm.
The ground was black now—burned, corrupted. The corruptors of the land had been slain, and nothing remained but silent ash.
Lyoth placed a hand on the black sand. Once, this desert had been a place he played as a human. Once, his people lived and smiled here.
But not anymore.
Behind him, a giant dragon rumbled, its massive wings shifting like storm clouds. The beast followed Lyoth loyally.
Lyoth crouched, scooping sand with his fingers. He remembered where his son's corpse had fallen. The wind blew softly, and the sand slipped through his hand like time itself.
He clenched his fist.
In his mind, everything returned to that day.
Lyoth: "A hell it was for us. We had won… but Norm took it away forever. He killed all thousand of us."
The Black Reaper behind him hissed, his tongue long like a snake.
Black Reaper: "I sensed it long ago. I too lost everything. But I made them grieve until their bones splashed into the abyss. I destroyed their generations. I sent them to hell forever..."
Lyoth stood straight.
"We have nothing left here."
He climbed onto the Reaper's back.
"Let's go."
The beast ascended, and the skies darkened once more.
Back in the peaceful village…
Balrad wiped sweat from his face. His arms trembled from all the hammering. He grabbed a glass and drank water in long gulps. Then he stepped outside again.
The sun was beautiful today—orange and gentle. The fields around him glowed green. The wind howled softly, brushing against his skin, calming him a little.
Balrad sat on the wooden bench outside his house. His eyes were tired. The weight of years, loneliness, and memories pressed onto him.
He wasn't crying on the outside…
But inside, he felt like a breaking stone.
His chest felt heavy.
His heart ached.
His thoughts drifted to Sai again and again.
He wiped a tear away before it could fall.
A cloud passed above him slowly. He inhaled deeply. Balrad was a man of respect, a man of dignity, and a man who tried his best to be a good father.
He stood up and headed for the barn. His horse neighed softly as he approached. Balrad picked some food and water, placing them gently before the animal. He patted its neck with a tired smile.
Then—
Behind him—A strange noise.
Balrad froze.
He slowly picked up a nearby pickaxe, gripping it tightly.
He stepped carefully, turning around the haystack, ready for anything.
What he saw made him go completely still.
A kid, fully covered in mud.
bulky. Weak. Dirty.
Eating something disgusting from the ground, like he hadn't eaten in days.
Balrad's eyes widened in shock.
The kid turned toward him slowly...