"The Stars are beautiful tonight," said a young boy lying on the grass, his blue eyes wandering across the vast rocky expanse above him, where countless shimmering points of light hung hundreds of meters overhead.
"Come eat, Adlet!" called his mother from the doorway of their modest farmhouse.
Reluctantly, he took his seat and joined his parents at the table. The vegetable soup was warm but bland, doing little to anchor him in the moment. He ate in silence, movements automatic, attention drifting elsewhere.
"Don't forget school tomorrow," his father said, a hint of concern softening his voice. "Try not to disappear the whole day again."
"Yes, Dad," Adlet replied evenly, spoon pausing briefly before continuing.
He finished the meal without comment, already feeling the pull of everything waiting beyond the walls of the house.
"You still dream of becoming a Protector, I know," his father continued, "but we cannot afford to hire a trainer for you. So at least try to learn as much as you can at school tomorrow. After all, it's only one day a week."
"I don't need a trainer. I'll become a Protector on my own," Adlet said quietly, determination sharpening his voice. He could not let his parents sacrifice for a dream that belonged to him alone.
Ever since he first heard stories of the Protectors years ago, something inside him had shifted. Tales of those who roamed the world, defending humanity from dangerous beasts, had ignited a yearning for adventure that no farm life could satisfy. He had begun adjusting his daily routines, shaping himself in secret for the life he dreamed of.
His mother's eyes widened in alarm.
"Trying to do that alone is madness! You can't imagine how dangerous those creatures are."
Adlet hesitated, then shrugged lightly, forcing an easy tone.
"I know. I'm not doing anything reckless. I just… think too much sometimes."
He took another spoonful of soup, deliberately mundane, as if the subject held no real weight. His father studied him for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh and returned to his meal. His mother followed suit, though her worry lingered in the tightness of her expression.
The conversation drifted to simpler things after that. The rhythm of dinner slowly reasserted itself, calm settling back over the table.
When the meal ended, Adlet went to bed early, determined to rise with the dawn. Outside, the Stars shifted in their slow, silent course, their pale glow marking the quiet passage of time. His thoughts wandered briefly—toward what lay beyond the village—before fatigue finally pulled him under.
Morning arrived with timid rays of starlight spilling through his window. Adlet dressed swiftly, brushing his unruly brown hair into something vaguely acceptable, though his thoughts were already racing. He did not wake for school; he woke to venture into the forest, to observe its creatures, and to train for the day he would become a Protector.
Behind him, the village of Eos lay peaceful—a small cluster of stone and timber homes surrounded by tilled fields and modest gardens. Life here moved at a steady, predictable rhythm, untouched by urgency or fear. The wider world felt distant, almost theoretical, as if danger existed only in stories meant for elsewhere.
Yet to Adlet, that calm felt fragile.
Not comforting—but limiting.
Beyond the fields and the familiar paths, the forest waited in silence. Not as a threat, but as a boundary. And Adlet couldn't help wondering what lay beyond the edges of a life that seemed already decided for everyone else.
By mid-morning, he reached the forest's edge and retrieved his handmade bow and fishing rod from their hiding spot beneath a bush. Each tool was carefully crafted, a product of patience and ingenuity. Every hunt, every catch, was more than survival—it was training, preparation for the creatures he dreamed of confronting.
He moved through the trees with deliberate care, listening to the rustle of leaves, distant birdcalls, and the faint splash of a nearby stream. Each sound became a lesson; every step, a rehearsal in patience and perception.
By noon, hunger led him to a river winding through a gently illuminated clearing, bordered by a sheer rocky wall rising toward the colossal vault above. The Stars shimmered faintly overhead, their reflections dancing on the water and casting crystalline shadows across the mossy ground. He ate quietly, scanning the forest as he imagined the beasts of legend waiting in the depths.
Returning to the village, Adlet cleaned himself before school. His home stood on the outskirts of Eos, while the school sat at the village center near the small marketplace. A few children his age were gathered outside, most lifelong friends to one another.
He lingered apart, as he usually did. Solitude wasn't something he endured; it was simply what he had grown used to.
Among the group stood Florian—the wealthy merchant's son, already training under a Protector. He spoke loudly, confidence radiating from every gesture, privilege worn as naturally as a second skin. Adlet felt irritation stir in his chest… followed by a quieter, more uncomfortable truth.
Envy.
The classroom smelled of chalk and worn wood. Their teacher, a man in his fifties, pinned a large map of EFU to the board.
"This is the Kingdom of EFU. Who can tell me where our village lies?"
Florian stood and pointed confidently. "The village of Eos, west of the central region surrounding Tray, the capital."
"Excellent. Show us the other regions," the teacher prompted.
Florian traced the map. "Tray is the capital in the center. To the east lies the Dryad Forest, southeast the Neraid Sea, southwest the Horus Desert, and north: Nest, where the royal Astrea family resides."
"These are the main regions of the kingdom," the teacher said with a nod. "Each is ruled by noble families who protect their people from the beasts dwelling within. Beyond these borders lie the dangerous zones. Few dare enter them. The creatures there are unlike anything you can imagine—strong, cunning, capable of destroying humanity itself without the Protectors. These zones are far from here, sometimes hundreds or thousands of kilometers away, yet their shadows reach even the smallest villages. Forests that feel alive, deserts that swallow travelers, seas hiding monstrous silhouettes—these places lure and terrify. The Protectors are the shield of the world, standing against dangers ordinary people cannot face."
A shiver ran through Adlet. The threats felt distant, yet terrifyingly real. He imagined the beasts lurking beyond the village, his heart racing at the thought of adventure. Protectors were not merely heroes of stories—they were humanity's final line of defense. Fists clenched beneath his desk, determination burned in his chest.
A poorly contained snicker bubbled up from Florian's desk.
"Look at him," he whispered loudly to his friends. "Already imagining himself as a Protector."
Mocking grins spread. Adlet kept his spine straight, stare fixed forward.
Let them laugh.
One day, they would choke on those laughs.
The bell rang.
Adlet was the first to move, slipping out with practiced ease while voices and footsteps surged behind him. He cut through the crowd heading toward the village square, intent on leaving before anyone thought to stop him. The marketplace lay just beyond — familiar, open, and close to the road leading out of Eos.
He was almost there.
Almost free.
Then Florian's voice cut through the crowd — loudly, and very deliberately:
"My father said they spotted tracks in the western woods this morning. Giant ones. Something tore a deer apart. Blood everywhere."
A few children stopped in their tracks.
"No way…"
"That close to the village?"
Florian nodded with exaggerated seriousness — while smirking.
"They think a monster might be roaming there. A real one."
Then he locked eyes with Adlet.
"Well… if someone wants to be a Protector so badly, he should be brave enough to go check, right?"
Mocking laughter spread around him.
"Yeah, Adlet. You go!"
"Show us how fearless you are!"
Heat rose in Adlet's face. His fists curled.
"If something dangerous is near Eos," he replied steadily, "then someone has to make sure it doesn't get closer."
More laughter.
Adlet stopped walking.
His heart pounded — not with fear.
Challenge accepted.
He didn't waste a second. He turned and headed straight for home.
Adlet pushed the door open and stepped inside, moving faster than usual. His father was bent over the worktable, repairing a worn tool, but he glanced up as soon as he noticed his son's expression.
"You're back," he said simply. Then he paused. "You look restless."
Adlet stopped near the doorway, still breathing a little faster than normal.
"I'm fine," he replied. "I just… don't want to waste the rest of the day."
His father straightened slightly, studying him for a moment longer. There was no alarm in his eyes—only the quiet familiarity of someone who knew his child well.
"Going back to the forest?" he asked.
Adlet nodded. "Yeah. I need to train."
A brief silence followed. Then his father returned to his work with a small nod.
"Don't stay out too late."
"I won't," Adlet answered.
He was already turning back toward the door.
There was a long pause. His father studied him — the stubborn posture, the fire in his eyes.
Stopping him wouldn't work. It never did.
Finally, he exhaled and stepped aside.
"Stay alert. And be home before the Stars shift."
Adlet nodded, a confident smirk tugging at his lips.
"I will."