When I finally got up from Bob — with all the dignity an average ten-year-old can preserve after breakfast — I tucked the book under my arm and headed for the orphanage exit.
I pushed open the old door, and the fresh, clean morning air greeted me outside.
I took a deep breath and enjoyed that moment of peace for a few seconds while watching the village wake up. From the houses all around me, people were already starting their daily routines or heading toward the farm fields.
From the top of the hill where the orphanage stood, I could see almost everything: low houses made of dark wood, some reinforced with rough stone, roofs patched more times than I could count.
Our village wasn't rich or poor.
Well… in my life I had seen the impressive total of **one** village, so I couldn't be sure.
Anyway, I walked along the roads.
Which were really just dirt paths full of both old and new holes.
During the rainy season, the children's favorite activity was jumping into muddy puddles and hoping not to disappear into them.
The older houses leaned slightly to one side and showed a crack or two here and there.
As for the wooden palisade surrounding the village… well, it was still standing, so it was doing its job. More or less. Some planks were new, while others had clearly been worn down by the elements.
I stared at it for a few seconds, thoughtful.
Just a few years ago it had seemed huge and insurmountable, but now… it didn't look nearly as intimidating.
I unconsciously tightened my grip on the book under my arm and once again swore to myself that one day I would leave these walls…
…assuming I awakened, of course.
I'm ambitious, not crazy.
"Oh, Kian!"
I looked up.
Greg was walking by with a hoe over his shoulder. Combined with his build, the pose looked genuinely intimidating to anyone seeing him for the first time.
"Already out and about, huh?"
"Yeah. I finished eating."
"Mm." He adjusted the tool on his shoulder. "Good. Morning air… clears your head."
Mmmm. Well, to be fair, on particularly windy days I did enjoy running against the wind.
Probably related.
Definitely not because I'm weird.
Greg watched me for a moment longer.
"Going to see the old man?"
I frowned.
"…Yeah?"
He gave a half smile. "Tell him I said hi."
"I will."
I resumed walking and, after a few steps, stopped to look into a puddle, studying my reflection.
*Am I really that easy to read?*
Maybe I should start working on my expressions.
A little farther ahead, Mrs. Elma was shaking out a blanket in front of her house, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
I instinctively took half a step back as the dust drifted toward my face.
"Good morning, Kian."
"Good morning."
She looked me up and down, pausing a moment too long on my book. Before she could speak, I said:
"I'm studying."
"Eh." She waved a hand. "Study, study… just remember to run once in a while too."
Highly questionable advice.
Years of careful research had taught me that responding would only lead to a pointless conversation, so I nodded politely and continued down the path.
As I moved toward the lower part of the hill, the houses grew more sparse and nature slowly began reclaiming the land. Scattered trees at first, then more and more until they formed a proper woodland.
Here, hidden from the world, stood the old man's house.
I looked up and saw a thin line of smoke rising from the chimney.
I knocked twice.
"Come in."
Aron was sitting on a wobbly chair with his cane resting at his side.
He was fiddling with an old wooden pipe, tapping it gently against the armrest to empty it. After making sure it was clean, he raised his eyes.
"Hm. It's you."
"Good morning."
"Mm."
More sociable than usual today.
I sat on the stool in front of him.
"How's the leg?" I asked.
He made a slight grimace.
"Worse when it rains. Better when it doesn't."
Aron went back to adjusting the pipe with fingers slightly yellowed from smoke.
"You still reading that thing?" he asked.
I glanced down at the book.
"Yeah. It's very interesting."
"Guess teaching you to read was a good idea then?"
"…Teaching? I had to give you back massages every day for a week, cook your meals, wash your clothes, clean the floor, remove the cobwebs, and after all that the only thing you did was grab a stick, write a couple letters in the dirt, and say: 'By the way, I can't read.'"
One corner of his mouth twitched.
"And look how far you've come thanks to me. You're welcome, brat."
He really was talking more than usual today.
I pushed aside every sarcastic comeback my brain had prepared and leaned forward slightly, changing the subject.
"Old man, did you travel a lot?"
Aron paused, then slowly scratched his beard.
"Enough, yeah."
"What was it like outside?"
He was quiet for a few seconds.
"Big," he finally said. "Much bigger than you imagine."
Then he looked at me more carefully.
"You… close to Awakening?"
I shrugged.
"Don't know."
"Mm. Age fits."
He picked up the pipe again, rolling it between his fingers.
"I'll tell you something."
I straightened immediately.
"If you do awaken…" he said calmly, "don't get arrogant."
I made an automatic face.
"I wouldn't."
Aron looked at me.
I looked at him.
…Okay. Maybe a little. But within reasonable limits.
"When I was young, my companions and I thought we were hot stuff just because we'd cleared a few missions."
Silence.
"You were adventurers?"
"Yeah."
Silence again. Communicating with this old man was really difficult. Especially for someone like me, who wasn't exactly the most sociable person in the village.
"Strong?"
Aron tilted his head.
"That's a hard question."
*What's so hard about a yes-or-no question?*
He slowly stood up, leaning on his cane, and headed for the door.
"Come on. Let's take a walk."
We stopped a few meters from the palisade.
Aron was about to say something when a small green figure burst out of the tall grass — a goblin, short, reaching about to my shoulder. It screeched and charged with a rusty knife in hand.
My heart jumped and I took a step back at the sudden appearance.
If I ran now, maybe—
The old man didn't move. He merely raised one hand slightly.
The goblin was already halfway to us.
Half a second later, smoke slowly flowed from his pipe.
The goblin hesitated for a moment — but it was already too late.
Smoke wrapped completely around its body, tightening like an invisible hand.
**THUD.**
The creature slammed into the ground and stopped moving.
Silence followed.
The wind carried away the last strands of smoke.
Aron lowered his hand and coughed lightly, tapping the pipe twice against his palm.
"…See?" he said.
I nodded slowly. I didn't know the old man was such a show-off.
"For me, that goblin was weak. I don't even remember how many I've killed in my life. But for you, it was strong — you were already looking for a way to run."
He paused briefly.
"So to answer your question… there were definitely people weaker than us."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"But also people much stronger than us."
Oh. So he wasn't showing off. My bad old man!
Aron turned back toward the house.
"Go," he said. "And don't bother me for at least two days."
I smiled at the comment I was definitely going to ignore.
"I'll be back soon."
"Mm."
---
[Far from the village]
Two figures stood on a rocky ridge.
One of them held a circular artifact. Thin lines of light ran across its surface like frantic needles.
The device vibrated slightly.
The man tilted it.
The lines trembled… pulsed once… twice… seven times.
Then stopped.
"Find something?" the woman beside him asked.
"Yeah."
Two glowing dots appeared on the map.
"Two unawakened youths," he said.
The woman leaned closer.
"Estimated age?"
"How exactly is a glowing dot supposed to tell me someone's age?" he muttered.
She ignored him and changed the subject.
"Possible complications?"
He looked back at the artifact.
"Four one-star awakened… and… I think a two-star awakened. Doesn't seem very strong. Maybe sick. Or just old."
He slid a finger across the surface.
"It's rare to find someone at that level in a village this small."
The woman nodded slowly.
"Begin preparations."