My mother, ever resourceful, had turned one of my father’s old coats into two smaller ones—one for Emma and one for me. Emma now looked like a nine-year-old, a result of her rapid development thanks to her unique traits. I, on the other hand, appeared every bit the three-year-old I was.
Where did my seniority go? I wondered with a mix of jealousy and amusement. Anyone who saw us would assume Emma was my older sister, which grated on me more than I cared to admit.
As the morning stretched on, a commotion broke out in the village. A shout from one of the scouts echoed through the camp, a mixture of surprise and alarm. My father rushed out of our tent, not even bothering to grab his weapons. Curious, I followed.
In the distance, I could see the visitors who had sparked the excitement: dwarves. A caravan of stout figures with braided beards and heavy carts made its way toward us.
Zotherg had already warned me about them, sending me an image of their approach. His advice had been characteristically blunt: “Destroy them with prejudice.” But I’d urged him to calm down. These dwarves were not invaders—they were guests, invited here by my father.
We needed them.
Winter was fast approaching, and our supplies were woefully insufficient. Elves, being strict vegetarians, struggled in the colder months when plants withered and crops failed. Emma, much to my envy, could eat meat thanks to her unique physiology, but the rest of us weren’t so lucky. We needed grains, preserved goods, and tools to survive.
The dwarves could provide all of that—and more.
Leading the caravan was an old dwarf with a beard so long it nearly brushed the ground. White as freshly fallen snow, it contrasted sharply with his deep green eyes and bulbous nose. His name was Grillo Nrax, and his presence carried the weight of both wisdom and weariness.
I used [Soul Analyze] to examine him.
Name: Grillo Nrax
Level: 400
Traits: Good-Natured
- Grants 25% faster learning for trade skills.
- Bestowed by a god for acts of exceptional kindness.
The "Good-Natured" trait intrigued me. It suggested that even in a world of strife, the gods occasionally rewarded goodness. Grillo’s aura radiated trustworthiness, and I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope.
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Elves and dwarves had a long history of animosity, but not all dwarves celebrated the fall of the Elves. The collapse of Elven kingdoms disrupted trade, and many rare goods, especially self-sustaining Elven enchantments, were lost forever.
Runic enchantments, favored by the dwarves, required periodic recharging from a mage or mana crystal. Elven enchantments, on the other hand, were masterpieces of self-replenishment—practically miracles. Their loss was felt keenly.
Then there were the darker consequences.
When the Elves fell, they didn’t just lose their freedom; they were brutalized. Many were enslaved, some used as experiments by alchemists seeking the secret to immortality. Others were violated and broken, treated as trophies or commodities.
Even among enemies, there was a line. And the dwarves, for all their rivalry with the Elves, resented the barbarity. Grillo’s actions spoke to that shared indignation—he had diverted his caravan, risking his own livelihood to help my people survive another winter.
I watched as Grillo greeted my father with a hearty handshake, their conversation quickly turning tense.
“I’ve done what I can, Ileor,” Grillo said, his voice heavy with regret. “But my coffers are running dry. This will be my last trip. I can’t afford another winter like this.”
My father’s expression tightened. “There must be something we can trade, Grillo. We can’t make it through the winter without your help.”
Grillo shook his head. “You’ve nothing to spare, my friend. I’m sorry, truly.”
I couldn’t stand by any longer. Tugging on my father’s pant leg, I tried to get his attention.
“Juren, not now,” he said distractedly.
Undeterred, I tugged harder. “DAD. DAD. DAAAD!”
He sighed, finally snapping, “WHAT?”
Both he and Grillo looked down as I held up a gold nugget the size of a cat’s head.
Their jaws dropped.
“Wh-where… how?” my father stammered.
I activated [Soul Speak], connecting us in a shared mental dialogue. “Gentlemen, I believe we have much to discuss.”
The nugget had come from Zotherg. The old elemental, always generous, had offered to part with anything I needed. Using a weaving of earth magic, I had called the gold from beneath the mountain’s surface, shaping it with mana into the form I now held.
It wasn’t without cost. The process had drained nearly four thousand mana in an instant, and the technique relied on having an earth elemental to locate the material. It wouldn’t always be an option.
But in this moment, it was enough.
As I explained my abilities, Grillo’s sharp eyes glinted with renewed hope. “With this…” he murmured, turning the nugget over in his hands, “we could not only trade but rebuild. This changes everything.”
My father remained stunned, struggling to process what he’d just witnessed. “Juren… what are you?”
It was a question I’d been avoiding for too long. But with my people’s survival on the line, I could no longer hide.
Revealing my true nature to Grillo felt like a gamble, but his kind heart and clear dedication made me trust him. “I am your son,” I said simply. “And I will ensure our people do not starve.”
Grillo looked at me for a long moment before nodding. “Then let’s talk.”
In that moment, I took a step toward becoming what the prophecy had foretold. A leader. A protector. And perhaps, one day, a savior.
Where did my seniority go? I asked myself. Anyone seeing us now would think I was much younger than her, but I was older. I heard an almost celebratory shout from one of our scouts.