"Kain, get up already!" Delia’s voice rang through the small house just as the morning sun pushed through the cracks in the wooden walls.

  Kain rolled out of bed, grabbing the wooden training sword by the door. Today was supposed to be a rest day, but in Muja Village, even rest meant chores or training. He stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air. The fields stretched endlessly, and in the distance, the old statues of fallen heroes stood watch, weathered by time.

  Kain paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the statues. They stood half-buried in the grass, ancient and broken, their names barely visible on the stone bases. As a child, he had thought they were gods, but now he knew better.

  The villagers said that centuries ago this place had been a battlefield—a last stand for the warriors who refused to kneel before the enemy. Those heroes had died here, their blood soaking into the land. That was why the village was often called Fallen Warriors Village.

  Kain often wondered what those warriors had been fighting for. Did they know their names would be forgotten; their statues left to crumble? Would he end up the same way—another forgotten soul? He shook the thought away and made his way toward the village training ground.

  "You're late," a voice called. Master Garet, the village’s only real warrior, appeared holding a wooden sword. "Let’s see if you've gotten any better," Garet said, grinning.

  Kain took a stance, knees bent, sword angled low. Garet moved first, lunging with surprising speed for a man his age. Kain sidestepped, letting the blow pass by, then countered with a quick flick aimed at Garet’s side.

  Their swords clashed—a sharp, cracking sound that echoed across the square. Dust rose around their feet as they shifted, circling each other.

  Garet swung high. Kain ducked, pivoted, and swept the sword low at Garet’s legs. The older man grunted as he jumped back just in time..

  "Good," Garet said. "Again!"

  They clashed several more times, Kain pressing forward with sharp footwork and clean strikes. He wasn’t just strong—he was fast, almost reading Garet’s movements before they came.

  Garet shifted into a guarding stance, bracing for the next blow. Kain narrowed his eyes. Now was the time. He stepped in quickly and slammed his blade down in a short, focused strike aimed at Garet’s guard—the technique he’d been practicing for weeks. The impact broke through, knocking Garet’s defense wide open. Without pause, Kain followed with a clean strike to his side.

  With a final twist, Kain slipped behind Garet, tapping the back of his knee with the wooden sword. Garet stumbled, and the sword fell from his hands.

  Garet shook his wrist, muttering under his breath. "Too strong for your own good," the old man grumbled, thinking to himself. He rubbed his wrist and nodded toward Kain.

  "That break skill of yours... it's getting more amazing every time."

  "You've got talent, but raw strength isn’t everything."

  He picked up the sword and pointed it at Kain’s chest. "Do you know how cultivation works?"

  Kain shook his head despite already knowing.

  Garet smirked. "Simple. First, you train your body. Build a foundation. That’s what we do with swords, spears, fists—whatever we can." He tapped his forehead lightly. "Then, when your body is strong enough, you awaken your inner energy—your core essence. It’s like a hidden river inside you. Once you touch it, you can start channeling real power."

  But remember,' he added, leaning in, 'strength without control will destroy you faster than any enemy. Real warriors don't just swing harder; they move smarter."

  "You're just eighteen, Kain," he added, resting the wooden sword on his shoulder. "Still green, but already walking a warrior's path. Don't let your fire burn out too fast."

  Kain listened carefully. He had heard stories of cultivators who could tear mountains apart. But standing here, sweating in the dirt, it felt very far away.

  A few other kids had gathered nearby, drawn by the noise. They watched with wide eyes as Kain and Garet trained.

  "Did you see that move?" one boy whispered.

  "Kain’s amazing," another said, grinning.

  Some clapped and cheered. Others just watched silently, their faces a mix of admiration and envy. One boy, Ryn, folded his arms and scowled. "Just lucky," he muttered, yet even he couldn’t hide the hint of respect in his voice.

  To many of the younger ones, Kain wasn’t just a fellow villager. He was already something more—a figure to look up to. Most villagers knew Kain was different.

  From the window of the village council house, Elder Long watched the scene quietly. His wrinkled hands rested on the sill, and a thin smile crossed his face.

  "Faster, sharper, stronger," Elder Long murmured. "Born for greater things." He turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the house.

  Garet gave Kain a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Not bad," he said, "but don’t get cocky. A few lucky moves don't make a master."

  "I know," Kain said, smiling.

  At that moment, Jo Good ambled into view, dragging along his old bow—the one he always carried around, though it was clear he had no real intention of training. He plopped himself onto a nearby barrel, waving lazily.

  "You planning to stay for another round?" Jo shouted, grinning.

  Kain shook his head. "Not today."

  "Running away?" Jo teased.

  "Mother asked me to pick up bread from the market," Kain replied.

  Jo winked. “You mean Mira asked you.”

  Though older than Kain by a year, Jo had always been the less serious of the two, more prankster than prodigy.

  Kain looked back to Garet. "I'll be back later," he said.

  "Good. Don’t forget—a real warrior trains even on rest days," Garet called after him.

  "Master Garet," Kain replied simply.

  Kain waved lazily as he headed toward the market street, dust clinging to his boots.

  The market buzzed with life. Merchants shouted over each other, stalls filled with fruits, breads, and simple trinkets lining the sides. The air smelled of fresh bread and dust.

  As he passed the baker's stall, Mira, the baker’s daughter, spotted him. She quickly ducked behind the rack, cheeks flushed red. Kain, oblivious, kept walking toward the store.

  He bought the loaf Delia had asked for, exchanging a few coins. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mira peeking from behind a rack of hanging pastries, pretending to rearrange them. Kain sighed inwardly. He had known for years that Mira liked him—ever since they were little. She was kind, cheerful, and brave in her own way.

  In another life, maybe he would have stayed, lived a quiet life, and responded to her feelings. But not this one. He couldn't stay. The pull beyond the village walls was growing stronger every day. He would leave soon, and the last thing he wanted was to give hope where there would be none. Kain casually looked away, pretending not to notice.

  Just then, Mira popped her head out fully, clutching her hands to her chest. "Wow," she whispered to herself, unaware that her voice was just loud enough to carry. "My heart beats so fast when I see him..."

  Kain quickened his steps, pretending not to hear. Jo Good, waiting by the next stall, had witnessed the whole thing and couldn’t resist.

  Jo rubbed his chin seriously, imitating an old wise man. "Kain, my boy," Jo said with a fake deep voice, "when a lady’s heart flutters for you, it’s the heavens giving you a sign. You must not be blind to the signs of fate."

  Kain gave him a sideways glance. "Since when do you even know what love is? Have you ever actually fallen in love — with a person, not food?"

  Jo burst into laughter, slapping Kain on the back. "Fair enough!" he said. "Come on, let’s go grab something delicious. My stomach’s been singing battle songs since morning."

  They made their way to a small restaurant at the edge of the market. It was a modest place with creaky wooden tables and the smell of fried meat hanging in the air.

  As they stepped inside, the owner, Old Man Borin, glanced up from behind the counter. His eyes narrowed instantly at the sight of Jo. Kain could almost see the man counting how many meals Jo still owed. But when Borin noticed Kain standing beside him, he held his tongue, only muttering under his breath.

  They picked a table in the corner, and Jo immediately started scanning the menu nailed to the wall—a list he never intended to pay for.

  After ordering two bowls of steaming beef stew, Kain leaned back in his chair. "You know," he said casually, "I’ve already reached the Foundation of Breath."

  Jo nearly choked on his drink. "You serious?"

  Kain nodded. " I can feel Vital and Void energy flowing now, even if it's just at the surface."

  Jo leaned closer; eyes wide. "That’s insane! I thought just getting there was the dream. Why’re you still pushing?"

  "If we stay here," Kain said quietly, "we'll never reach Pulse Awakening. The energy in the village is too thin. To advance further, you need better environments—stronger flows of Vital and Void. Meditation here can only take you so far."

  Jo slumped back in his chair, whistling low. "I always thought... if I could just reach Foundation, that'd be enough. Maybe open a shop, marry a nice girl, have fat kids running around." He looked at Kain with a small, bittersweet smile, half proud, half sad. "But you... you’re aiming way higher, huh?"

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Kain shrugged lightly. "It’s not about being better. It’s just... there’s something calling me out there."

  Kain took a sip of stew and added, "Besides… the higher you climb, the longer you live. Foundation gives you a few extra decades. Pulse Awakening? Maybe two centuries.

  Jo blinked. "Wait, for real?"

  Kain nodded. "It’s not just about strength. It’s time. Time to master more, to see more… maybe even to fix what others couldn't."

  Jo leaned back, the weight of that idea settling in. “Live longer, huh?” He scratched his head. “Not going lie, having a few more decades to figure life out doesn’t sound bad.”

  They ate in silence for a moment. Jo finally set his bowl down. "I’m staying here for now," Jo said. "There’s something I have to take care of."

  Kain didn’t press. He believed everyone had their own reasons, their own dreams. "Alright," Kain said, "but don’t get too comfortable. I’ll come back one day and drag you out myself if you get fat."

  Jo laughed, and together they finished their meal.

  The sun was starting to dip toward the horizon as they stepped back onto the busy street. Kain clapped Jo on the shoulder, grinning. "I’ll see you tomorrow," he said.

  Jo waved him off casually. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't forget to bring that serious face of yours. I'll need it when I beat you in a match."

  Kain laughed and turned toward the dirt path leading home, the sun dipping low behind the fields. The faint sounds of the market faded behind him.

  As Jo watched Kain’s figure grow smaller down the road, his smile slowly faded. He lowered his voice, whispering to the empty air, "Sorry, bro... I can't drag you into risky things. Not you." He stood there for a moment longer, watching, then disappeared down a side alley, blending into the growing dusk.

  Kain kicked a small stone along the path as he walked, the warm bread tucked under one arm. The small house came into view—their home for as long as he could remember. The windows glowed faintly from the inside, and the smell of stew hung in the air.

  Pushing the door open, Kain stepped inside. Delia turned from the hearth, her hair tied back with a worn ribbon, a warm smile already tugging at her lips. "You're back," she said, wiping her hands on her apron.

  Kain hesitated for a heartbeat, then set the bread on the table. "Mother... I need to talk to you."

  Delia paused, studying him with a knowing look. She sat down and motioned for him to do the same. Kain sat, trying to find the right words. "I want to leave the village," he said. "It's time."

  Delia didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she smiled—a soft, teasing smile—and said, "What about the promise you made when you were five? You said you’d stay with me forever, remember?"

  Kain scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I was five," he muttered.

  Delia laughed, a sound full of both joy and sadness. "I always knew this day would come," she said, her voice gentler now. "But a mother still likes to pretend she has more time."

  Kain stayed silent, sensing more behind her words. Delia's smile dimmed slightly as she reached across the table, taking his hand. "Just... don’t leave me without a word like your father did," she said quietly. "He went into the Gaman Forest, chasing a ferocious beast, and never came back."

  Kain’s heart ached, seeing the shadow pass through her eyes. Without a word, he stood and stepped around the table, pulling her into a tight hug. "No matter where I go," he said against her hair, "I’ll always love you. Always."

  Delia hugged him back fiercely for a long moment before finally letting go, blinking quickly as if brushing away tears.

  Later that evening, Delia insisted on preparing a meal for him, even though he protested weakly. "Mother, I just ate at the restaurant with Jo," he said, rubbing his stomach.

  "Then you’ll eat again," Delia said firmly, ladling extra stew into his bowl. Seeing the love and care in her every movement as she served him, Kain couldn’t refuse. He forced himself to eat, each bite heavier than the last, but he didn't complain. He knew this moment would become a memory he'd treasure later.

  After the meal, they tidied up quietly, the familiar rhythm of life comforting in its simplicity. When night fell, they both retired to their small rooms.

  Kain lay on his narrow bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the wooden ceiling. Through the small window, he could see the stars glimmering in the dark sky. Each one seemed like a distant light calling to him, whispering promises of a world bigger than the fields and hills he had always known. Beyond the village, beyond the hills... something was waiting for him. He could feel it.

  The next morning, Kain woke to the familiar voice of his mother calling from the kitchen. "Up, sleepyhead! The sun won't wait for you!"

  Kain groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Today was the day—the day he would finally leave the village behind. As he dressed, Delia stepped into his room, a faint smile on her face but sadness lingering in her eyes.

  "Before you go," she said, adjusting his cloak, "Elder Long asked to see you."

  Kain nodded. "I'll head over." But first, he thought, I should find Jo. Something about their farewell yesterday still gnawed at him.

  He quickly made his way toward Jo's house at the edge of the village. The door was shut tight. Windows too. Strange. Jo usually kept the door half-open, even when he wasn’t home. And he was almost always nearby—tinkering with something or napping outside. Kain knocked lightly. No answer.

  He frowned, remembering the odd look Jo had given him when they parted yesterday—half regret, half... something heavier. "Something’s up," Kain muttered. He decided not to force the issue. If Jo wanted to hide something, he had his reasons. Kain respected that. For now, he turned toward the training ground.

  It was still early. The training ground was empty, save for the soft crunch of dry leaves blowing across the grass. Kain walked toward the center, stretching lazily—until he noticed someone standing nearby, arms folded.

  Ryn. The boy was leaning against the fence, but there was nothing casual about his posture. He looked like he'd been waiting. Sensing faint hostility coming from him, Kain sighed inwardly. "What now?"

  Ryn straightened up and barked across the empty field. "I won't beat around the bush," he said, his voice loud and sharp. "If you can defeat me—Mira's yours. If not...you're not fated for her."

  Kain blinked, staring at Ryn as if the boy had just sprouted a second head. He almost laughed. He had no interest in Mira beyond simple fondness—and this idiot thought he was standing between her and destiny?

  Kain thought to himself: I'm already at the Foundation of Breath. If I punched seriously, I'd cripple him. But...what's the point? He remained silent, just looking at Ryn calmly.

  Seeing Kain not replying, Ryn’s face twisted into a scowl. "What? Afraid?"

  Kain exhaled slowly and decided to end this nonsense properly. "Alright," he said, walking closer. "But I have a condition."

  Ryn squinted suspiciously.

  "First, let’s clear up the misunderstanding," Kain said calmly. "You should never wager a girl's heart in a fight. And second—if I win, I want you to promise something."

  Ryn crossed his arms. "What?"

  "If you want to court Mira," Kain said, "you’ll have to reach the Foundation of Breath first."

  Ryn blinked. "Wait, what? Foundation of Breath? Are you serious?"

  Kain simply smiled silently. It clicked in Ryn’s head—slowly—that Kain wasn't interested in Mira at all. Realization, shame, and frustration flashed across his face, but pride kept him from backing down now—especially as a few nearby kids began gathering at the edge of the field, whispering excitedly. Even Master Garet wandered over, arms behind his back, watching with mild amusement.

  "Fine!" Ryn barked. "Let’s do this!"

  Kain raised his wooden sword lightly and shouted, "Get into battle stance!" Ryn awkwardly mirrored him, feet wide apart, grip too stiff.

  Kain moved first, striking low—but he held back the real force behind his attacks. Ryn tried to block, clumsily swinging his wooden sword too wide. Kain shifted easily, tapping Ryn’s side with the sword before retreating. "You’re wide open," Kain said casually. "Keep your center tight."

  Ryn growled and charged recklessly. Kain sidestepped, spun the sword once in his fingers, and clipped Ryn’s ankle, sending him stumbling forward. Again and again, Kain struck, but every blow was light, more instructional than punishing. To an outsider, it barely looked like a real fight. It was more like a teacher showing a stubborn student how badly he needed to improve.

  Finally, breathing hard, Ryn dropped to one knee, panting. He looked up at Kain—really looked—and something shifted in his eyes. This wasn’t just strength. During the exchanges, Kain had corrected his stance, adjusted his balance, guided his reactions—all without saying a word. Even as he deflected each strike, Kain subtly corrected Ryn’s form. Fighting while teaching—it was something only true masters could do.

  Kain lowered his sword and offered a hand. Ryn didn’t take it. Instead, he stood up slowly, wiping dust from his clothes. "Hmph," Ryn said coolly. "Until next time."

  Kain smiled but said nothing. Nearby, the kids whispered loudly.

  "Did he just pretend he didn’t lose?"

  "What a shameless guy!"

  "Yeah! He got schooled and still acts tough!"

  Even Garet chuckled under his breath and nodded slightly. "This is how a leader acts," Garet thought. "Strength without arrogance."

  After the match ended, Kain took a moment to bid farewell to the nearby villagers who had gathered. The children chased after him, asking when he'd come back. Some of the older men clapped him on the back, offering simple but heartfelt wishes for his journey.

  Master Garet approached last, giving Kain a firm handshake. "Remember," Garet said gruffly, "your strength is more than just muscle. Don't forget who you are."

  "I won't," Kain said, bowing his head respectfully.

  With that, he made his way toward Elder Long’s house, heart steady despite the weight of the coming departure.

  Elder Long’s home stood at the far edge of the village, shaded by the same ancient trees that had witnessed the village’s bloodiest days. The elder, a wise and venerable man whom Kain had always deeply respected, waited outside, seated calmly on a worn bench.

  He was among the few warriors who had survived the Fallen Warriors calamity—a battle that had broken the village but never broken his spirit. Though Elder Long could no longer gather inner energy, his Core damaged beyond repair, there were few in the region who dared doubt his knowledge or his will.

  Rumors had long said that, if not for the injuries he suffered back then, he would have easily reached beyond Pulse Awakening. Yet Elder Long did not allow bitterness to consume him. He often roamed outside the village borders, gathering news, scraps of cultivation knowledge, maps, and wisdom. His quiet strength and steady guidance had kept the village healthy even when it was too weak to stand on its own.

  Kain arrived before the old man, bowing respectfully. Elder Long lifted his gaze and nodded approvingly. "Kain," Elder Long said with a small smile, "whether you want it or not, fate is unwilling to let you live a normal life."

  Kain smiled back, his eyes calm. "Elder, you flatter me."

  In truth, Kain’s wisdom was in no way inferior to anyone within the village. He had always kept his mind sharp, reading every old book Elder Long had given him, questioning the world beyond the hills. Still, he knew the man before him had something more—something important—to pass on.

  "Elder, thank you for everything you've taught me since I was a child. You already know I'm leaving...and I believe you called me because there's something important you wish to discuss."

  Elder Long chuckled lightly. "Perceptive, as always. Is there anything left that could truly surprise you? Let’s head inside to have a talk."

  Kain only smiled in return and followed.

  Inside the house, Elder Long’s wife greeted Kain when she saw him.

  The elder leaned back, his gaze wandering toward the far hills.

  "Kain," he said, "the outside world is cruel to any adventurer. You’ll need strength to survive—that much you already understand." He paused, tapping the end of his cane softly against the ground. "But strength alone is not enough. You’ll need people. Allies. Companions. Because no matter how talented you are, there are storms out there that one man alone cannot weather."

  Kain knew where this conversation was heading. After all, Jo Good was Elder Long’s grandson. Although Jo often masked it behind mischief and jokes, Kain knew he had wounds visible only to those who truly looked. Still, Kain wasn’t arrogant enough to believe he could face everything alone. He nodded slightly.

  Elder Long smiled sadly. "Kain…take my grandson with you." The words were simple, but there was weight behind them. "You know," Elder Long continued, "after he lost his parents during the calamity, the closest one to him was not me…it was you." His smile grew a touch bitter. "I should have been there for him. His grandmother and I…we tried, but we are old, and the boy needed someone stronger, someone closer to his heart."

  He looked Kain directly in the eye. "I want him to become a great man. And that chance increases if he follows you."

  Kain stayed silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Elder…I may be willing to bring him," he said honestly, "but whether Jo will accept—that's another matter." He paused. "And right now, I don’t even know where he is. His house was locked this morning, and to be honest, I think he might have left the village already. Probably toward the nearby forest."

  At this, Elder Long’s face changed. "What?" he said sharply. "Why would he—?"

  Before Kain could answer, a loud slam shook the house. The door burst open, and a breathless villager stumbled inside, gripping the doorframe for support. "Elder!" he gasped. "We found your grandson's trail…he left for Gaman Forest last night!"

  Elder Long and his wife stiffened, alarm flashing in their eyes. Kain, however, remained calm. He had already suspected as much ever since Jo's strange behavior during their farewell.

  Seeing the worry on the elder’s face, Kain stepped forward. "Elder," he said firmly, "don't worry."

  The old man looked at him, doubt flickering across his expression. "Even if you are at Foundation of Breath," Elder Long said, voice low, "it's no simple thing to walk into Gaman Forest. No one knows how fierce the wild beasts deeper inside are."

  Kain met his gaze without flinching. "I've already considered that," he said. "When I decided to leave the village, I knew…the world outside is cruel." He straightened, the fire in his eyes unmistakable. " If I can't conquer a simple forest, I’ve no right dreaming of surviving the world beyond these hills."

  For a long moment, Elder Long studied him. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Alright," he said quietly. "I trust you."

  Elder Long's wife watched Kain with soft eyes. She said nothing—but in her heart, she realized how rare it was to have a friend like Kain. Someone who would risk his life without hesitation simply to bring back a friend. Not many would do the same.