The sun rose slowly over Dustwall, painting the hills surrounding the city with shades of orange. At the city's borders, small walls stood as a defense against whatever lurked in the forest.
Lian Veyr, seventeen and a half years old, gripped the wooden sword tightly in his hands, his breath condensing in the cool morning air. Across from him, his father, Torren, watched with steady eyes, his posture relaxed yet ready.
"Again, Lian," Torren said, his voice deep but patient. "Keep your feet firm. You're not a farmer scything wheat."
Lian nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. He wasn't the most talented, he knew that. But he wasn't the type to give up easily.
With a shout, he lunged forward, the wooden sword slicing through the air. Torren parried with a fluid motion, spinning Lian around with a light push.
"Too predictable," his father commented, a smile tucked at the corners of his mouth. "A Stone Bull would've gored you by now."
Lian huffed, planting the sword in the ground. "There are no Stone Bulls here, Dad. Just sheep and old men like you."
Torren laughed, a hearty laugh that echoed in the courtyard behind their wooden house. He was a retired guard of the small town of Dustwall.
One of the best guards, they said. It had been a long time since then.
His broad shoulders and the scars on his arm told stories of clashes with wild beasts, creatures that roamed the borderlands long before Lian was born.
"Go fetch the water, you cheeky brat," Torren said, pointing to the well. "And don't get lost in useless thoughts!"
Lian smiled, heading toward the well. Every day, he trained hard to become stronger, like his father.
As he pulled up the bucket, Lian glanced at the forest beyond the walls.
Nothing interesting had ever struck the town, at least not until recently. Something had happened that he'd only heard about from his father.
Something mysterious and rarely seen in Dustwall had appeared a few kilometers from the city's walls, in the forest.
It was a Gate, a portal connecting the world to unknown places.
Within these Gates hid ferocious beasts with superhuman powers. They were simply called monsters, and killing them could make you rich.
Their bodies, tough and strong, were a treasure. From them, all sorts of equipment could be crafted.
However, no one noticed the presence of this Gate until it was too late.
The city's guards typically patrolled Dustwall's borders, slaying the occasional monster that appeared.
Every week, several hunting squads set out to capture and kill these monsters, bringing the spoils back to the city.
Only the best were part of these squads, and Torren, Lian's father, had once been among them.
After Mira's birth, Torren stopped putting himself in danger, focusing more on his family.
Mira was Torren's second child and Lian's little sister. She had always been good at everything, far more than her brother.
In fact, she was the true talent of the family, the one on whom their hopes rested.
Regarding that Gate, Lian had heard several stories…
The members of the squad patrolling the outermost part of the forest had all been killed by monsters called Shadow Wolves.
Their power and attack patterns had caught the patrol squad off guard.
If it had only been monsters, mobilizing more squads might have solved the issue, but that wasn't the only problem.
It was the presence of a strange portal behind those monsters.
A Gate.
An alarm went out from the city of Dustwall, calling for reinforcements.
And so, several days after the request for help, someone arrived.
A mage and some soldiers sent directly from Grimreach, a city near Dustwall, much larger and more prosperous.
They were keeping an eye on the Gate, trying to assess the level of danger and threat it posed.
That was the story Lian knew. Of course, it was Torren who had told him about it; otherwise, he would've known nothing at all.
"Lian!" A shrill voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His sister, Mira, eight years old, popped out from the doorway, her brown hair tousled. "Mom says you're slow as an ox!"
Lian made a face at her, splashing her with a few drops of water. Mira squealed, laughing and running off.
Their mother, Elyse, appeared at the threshold, hands on her hips. "Lian, stop tormenting your sister and bring that water," she said, but her tone was warm.
Elyse was the rock of the family, a skilled weaver who mended the guards' uniforms. She wasn't as strong as Torren, but her beautiful smile brought a sense of carefree warmth.
Lian carried the bucket into the house, setting it on the wooden table before taking a seat.
Then, someone tugged at Lian's sleeve.
"Tell me about the Mages again!" Mira said, her eyes sparkling as she stared at her brother. "The ones who go boom with their hands!"
Lian laughed. "They don't go boom with their hands, Mira. They use mana and say strange words to summon mystical powers."
Mira made a disappointed face. "But that's boring! Why don't they just go boom?"
Torren, entering the room, ruffled his daughter's hair. "Because magic isn't as simple as you think, little one. It's dangerous…"
"…not like your father's sword, of course." He added with a proud smile, placing a hand on his chest.
Lian looked down. Magic. It was every boy in Dustwall's dream, but only a few awakened as Mages, and almost always before they turned eighteen.
Lian had hoped for it years ago, but nothing. No tingling, no strange sensations. Nothing.
Not long ago, he had become a Knight, like his father.
He had trained hard, following Torren's exercises and the Basic Breath Cultivation, a cultivation technique known to every citizen of the Redphoenix Empire. A breathing method that allowed one to absorb spiritual energy from their surroundings.
After years of rigorous training, Lian had become Iron 1, stronger than an average human, but nothing special in the grand scheme of things. Torren, an Iron 4, could lift him with one hand.
"Don't make that face," Torren said, noticing his silence. "Not everyone needs to be a Mage. It's Dustwall's guards who keep the walls standing, not Mages."
Lian nodded, but inside, he felt a weight. His eighteenth birthday was approaching. If he didn't awaken by that day, his hopes of becoming a Mage would vanish forever.
"Lian, come with me today," Torren said, standing up. "The guards are patrolling the border near the Gate. We'll hunt some monsters. It's time you see what it means to protect Dustwall."
Lian's eyes widened. He had never faced a monster before. "But… what if something happens?"
Torren placed a hand on his shoulder. "Trust your father."
Lian swallowed hard, nodding.
"Torren, are you sure about this?" Elyse's voice interrupted the conversation between father and son.
"Don't worry, dear," Torren approached, kissing her on the lips. "I'm strong. With me around, nothing will happen, I promise!"
The four continued talking as freshly baked bread was devoured.
Time passed slowly…
"Okay, I can do this. Maybe, if I manage to kill a monster on my own, I'll feel something… who knows, maybe I'll become a Mage!"
Lian's murmur in front of his bedroom mirror was interrupted by his father's shouts.
"Lian, let's go. Stop admiring yourself in the mirror; you're a handsome boy, you'll surely find a beautiful and kind wife!"
The serious look on Lian's face was replaced by an embarrassed smile.
As Torren said, Lian was a handsome boy. His body had been tempered since childhood, lean but muscular, just like his father's.
His hair was the same color as his mother Elyse's, dark brown, slightly wavy and messy, with a rebellious lock falling over his forehead, giving him a wild yet charming look.
His eyes, however, were blue, like his father Torren's. A spark of determination shone within them, though his limited talent made him feel rather insecure.
"Damned lock, why do you always get in my eyes?" Lian muttered, giving himself one last look in the mirror before leaving the house.
Opening the door and looking at his father, a sigh escaped his lips. Today, he would give his all.
His goal was to kill a monster on his own.
Lian followed his father Torren outside Dustwall's walls, using a secret passage to avoid the main gate.
The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the hills.
The iron sword swung at the boy's side, while leather armor covered his body. The cold wind brushed his face, carrying the scent of damp earth and something darker, a hint of danger lingering in the air.
Torren said nothing during the journey. His current demeanor was far different from his usual playful self; after all, he couldn't afford to make mistakes, or his son's life would be at risk.
Despite the iron armor, heavier and sturdier than the leather one worn by his son, Torren didn't seem affected in the slightest.
He continued walking with his usual ease.
Their destination wasn't the Gate, but a place not too far from it.