𝙀𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙
𝘼𝙧𝙘 𝟮: 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝘼𝙧𝙘
𝘾𝙝 𝟭𝟳 — 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙
𝟭𝟲 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟮 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘀 𝗔𝗴𝗼
The car moved steadily along the 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗞𝗼𝘁𝗮, its tires rolling over uneven roads as dust lifted softly behind it.
The afternoon sun hung lazily overhead.
Golden.
Warm.
Peaceful.
Fields stretched endlessly beyond the roads, patches of green interrupted by old trees and stone fences.
Farmers worked beneath the sunlight while children chased each other through village paths without a care in the world.
It was ordinary.
The kind of ordinary people rarely appreciated until it disappeared.
Inside the car, however, one pair of eyes remained filled with wonder.
𝗚𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘁.
His small legs swung back and forth above the floorboard.
He pressed his forehead against the window.
Watching everything.
The cows grazing lazily.
The bicycles moving past.
The colorful roadside stalls selling snacks.
Even a stray dog sleeping beneath a tree somehow managed to hold his attention.
For children… the world was always new.
Always interesting.
Always worth looking at.
“𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢… 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨?”
His voice carried innocent curiosity.
His mother glanced back.
The usual warmth returned to her expression.
“𝘛𝘰 𝙄𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙝 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙩, 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘢.”
Garvit blinked.
“𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘵?”
“𝘔𝘮.”
“𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴?”
His father coughed into his fist.
“𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.”
“𝘒𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴?”
“… 𝘕𝘰.”
“𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴?”
Silence.
His parents exchanged brief glances.
His mother smiled.
“𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦.”
Garvit’s eyes immediately sparkled.
“𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺!?”
His father sighed.
“𝘞𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦.”
That answer was enough.
He returned to the window immediately.
Excitement replacing curiosity.
Because in Garvit’s world… forts had adventures.
Adventures had monsters.
And monsters meant heroes.
A few minutes later—
They passed a stone milestone.
𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗵 𝗙𝗼𝗿𝘁 – 𝟱𝟰 𝗞𝗠 𝗔𝘄𝗮𝘆
Garvit leaned even closer.
Trying to see it already.
Trying to imagine what waited ahead.
Was there treasure?
Ancient warriors?
Secret tunnels?
He didn’t know.
But he wanted to find out.
…
Hours passed.
The roads became narrower.
The villages disappeared.
Eventually… the world grew quieter.
The smooth roads transformed into rough stone paths winding through hills.
Tall trees stood on either side.
Ancient.
Silent.
Watching.
The fort finally appeared.
And Garvit stopped moving.
Even his childlike excitement faded slightly.
Because…
𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗵 𝗙𝗼𝗿𝘁 felt different.
Its towering stone walls stood proudly against time.
Broken in places.
Weathered.
Yet somehow… alive.
Even without understanding mana…
Garvit felt it.
Something ancient lingering within those stones.
Something sleeping.
Something waiting.
The air itself felt heavier.
The laughter left his lips.
He instinctively moved closer toward his parents.
The car stopped.
Silence.
Even the engine shutting down sounded loud.
His parents exited first.
Then—
𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝘇𝗲.
Garvit blinked.
They immediately bowed.
Deeply.
Not politely.
Not respectfully.
Reverently.
Confusion spread across his face.
Who were they bowing to?
He climbed out carefully.
Then followed their gaze.
And saw him.
Standing before the fort.
An old man.
Simple robes.
A wooden staff.
Silver hair moving gently with the wind.
Motionless.
Like a statue carved by time itself.
𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿.
The air around him felt strangely calm.
Yet suffocating.
Like standing before a mountain.
His mother lowered her head.
“𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥, 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰.”
For several seconds—
Nothing happened.
Master remained facing the fort.
Then… slowly… he turned.
One glance.
That was all.
Yet Garvit’s small body froze.
Those eyes.
Ancient.
Calm.
Sharp.
They looked through him.
Past him.
Into something deeper.
Master’s gaze narrowed.
Not toward his parents.
Toward Garvit.
𝗟𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗿𝘀.
𝗢𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗮.
𝗣𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗹.
𝗜𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴.
Master turned fully.
And walked.
𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽.
𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽.
𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽.
Each footstep echoed.
Far louder than they should have.
Garvit instinctively hid behind his father’s leg.
Tiny hands gripping tightly.
Master stopped before him.
Looking down.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦?”
His voice remained calm.
But impossible to ignore.
Garvit swallowed.
“𝘎-𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘢…”
Silence.
Master observed him.
Then asked,
“𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?”
Garvit blinked.
The question confused him.
Fight monsters?
Like Mama and Papa?
He looked upward.
His mother smiled gently.
His father nodded.
That reassurance was enough.
Garvit looked back toward Master.
Then nodded.
Of course he wanted to.
Because monsters were bad.
Heroes fought monsters.
Mama and Papa fought monsters.
Therefore—
He wanted to become a hero too.
Children often viewed the world through simple truths.
Master studied him.
Then turned.
“𝘍𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦.”
…
Inside Indargarh Fort—
The air changed.
Cool.
Ancient.
Quiet.
Stone corridors stretched endlessly.
Torches flickered against weathered walls.
Each step echoed.
Garvit walked between his parents.
Looking everywhere.
There were old carvings etched into pillars.
Symbols he couldn’t understand.
Figures holding weapons.
Battles frozen in stone.
“𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢…”
“𝘏𝘮?”
“𝘞𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘦𝘴?”
His mother hesitated.
“… 𝘠𝘦𝘴.”
He smiled.
Then hurried forward.
Master led them deeper.
Eventually—
The corridors opened.
A large chamber appeared.
At its center stood a table.
Simple.
Wooden.
Upon it rested weapons.
A sword.
Daggers.
Spears.
A bow.
Arrows.
Garvit stared.
Master stepped aside.
“𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯, 𝘬𝘪𝘥.”
Silence.
His father froze.
Then stepped forward nervously.
“𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳… 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮—”
Master’s gaze shifted.
Instantly.
Cold.
“𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.”
The atmosphere tightened.
“𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.”
Those words echoed.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
“𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙚.”
Garvit’s father fell silent.
Slowly stepping back.
Master looked toward Garvit.
“𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦.”
The boy walked forward.
Small footsteps.
Soft echoes.
He looked over the table. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Each weapon seemed fascinating.
Different.
Dangerous.
Amazing.
He didn’t understand what they represented.
Their burden.
Their cost.
Their consequences.
To him… they were simply tools heroes used.
His gaze shifted.
Spear.
Too long.
Bow.
Too strange.
Daggers.
Too small.
Then—
His eyes landed on the sword.
Shining.
Magnificent.
Exactly like the heroes in stories.
He reached out.
Both hands gripping the handle.
And lifted.
Too heavy.
The blade trembled.
Almost slipping.
But Garvit held on.
Determined.
Turning around.
He smiled brightly toward his mother.
A smile so pure.
So innocent.
Completely unaware.
His mother’s heart shattered.
Because she understood.
That smile would not survive unchanged.
Not after training.
Not after blood.
Not after death.
Not after reality.
Yet… she smiled back.
Because she couldn’t stop this.
Not anymore.
Master observed silently.
The sword trembling in tiny hands.
A child choosing a future he couldn’t understand.
The beginning of a path.
One filled with monsters.
Responsibility.
Sacrifice.
And choices.
Choices no child should ever have to make.
Master finally spoke.
“𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.”
His staff struck the floor.
The sound echoed throughout the chamber.
“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴.”
Garvit tightened his grip around the sword.
Excitement returning.
He looked upward.
“𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢?”
Master stared at him.
Long enough for silence to settle.
Then answered.
“… 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.”
Garvit smiled immediately.
Completely missing the weight behind those words.
His parents didn’t.
Because strength… always demanded something in return.
And children rarely understood what they were agreeing to lose.
𝟳 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟲 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝘩𝘀 𝗔𝗴𝗼.
𝗔𝗹𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝟲 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗛𝗼𝗸𝗸𝗮𝗶𝗱𝗼 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁.
𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱.
𝗧𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗻.
And Garvit… 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱.
The cheerful child who had once lifted a sword with both trembling hands still existed somewhere deep inside him.
But the world around him had taught him lessons no child should have learned.
That monsters didn’t wait.
That hesitation killed.
That talent meant nothing without discipline.
That tears had no place on a battlefield.
And most importantly—
Heroes bled.
𝗘𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗠𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀 – 𝗧𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗚𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘀
𝗖𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴!
𝗖𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴!
Wood struck wood.
The sound echoed throughout the vast training grounds.
Dust rose beneath hurried footsteps.
Sweat dripped onto packed earth.
Two boys stood facing each other.
One wore confidence.
The other wore determination.
Garvit and Ayato.
Both holding wooden swords.
Ayato tightened his grip.
“𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦!”
Garvit raised his practice sword.
His expression barely changed.
“… 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰.”
Ayato charged.
Fast.
Faster than before.
His strikes came in succession.
Left.
Right.
Overhead.
He had improved.
Weeks of training.
Months of bruises.
Years of effort.
All condensed into those movements.
𝗖𝗹𝗔𝗡𝗚!
Garvit blocked.
One-handed.
Calm.
𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗚!
Another strike.
Blocked again.
Ayato gritted his teeth.
“𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯!”
He pivoted.
Attacking from Garvit’s blind spot.
Garvit stepped aside.
The wooden sword missed by inches.
Before Ayato recovered—
Tap.
The tip of Garvit’s sword rested against Ayato’s neck.
Silence.
“… 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥.”
Ayato stared.
Then looked down.
“… 𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯?”
Garvit lowered his weapon.
“𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.”
Ayato collapsed backward.
Groaning dramatically.
“𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨!”
Nearby trainees laughed.
One whispered,
“𝘞𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴?”
“𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.”
Ayato pointed accusingly.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢!”
Garvit blinked.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰.”
“𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛’𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘕𝘛!”
The training grounds erupted with laughter.
Even some instructors smiled.
Garvit tilted his head.
Genuinely confused.
“… 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘥𝘶𝘦𝘭.”
Ayato stared.
Then sighed heavily.
“… 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦.”
Garvit looked down at the wooden sword in his hand.
Its weight felt familiar.
Natural.
And yet—
Not right.
He rolled his shoulder.
“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦.”
Ayato sat upright immediately.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵!?”
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵!?”
Garvit pointed toward his shoulder.
“𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.”
Ayato frowned.
“𝘚𝘰?”
Garvit looked toward the practice field.
Several trainees used different weapons.
Spears.
Axes.
Bows.
Daggers.
He watched them.
Thinking.
“… 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴.”
Silence.
Ayato blinked.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?”
Garvit spoke calmly.
“𝘚𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘵.”
His gaze lowered.
“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘦.”
Memories surfaced.
Training exercises.
Simulated monster encounters.
The instructors pretending to be creatures far stronger than children.
Every single time—
The sword forced him close.
Too close.
Monsters were bigger.
Stronger.
More durable.
Their reach was terrifying.
His instincts always screamed the same thing.
Move.
Adapt.
Strike before they reach you.
Ayato scratched his cheek.
Then suddenly snapped his fingers.
“Then try bows!”
Garvit paused.
Thinking carefully.
Bows.
Distance.
Precision.
Control.
“… 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩.”
A small nod followed.
“𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘺.”
Ayato grinned.
“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰!”
Garvit turned away.
“𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴.”
“𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”
A green magic circle appeared beneath him.
Complex runes rotated.
Mana surged.
𝗪𝗵𝗼𝗼𝘀𝗵—
He vanished.
Ayato stared at the empty space.
The grin slowly faded.
“… 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨?”
He looked at the wooden sword beside him.
Then toward the sky.
“… 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺.”
No one answered.
𝗠𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 – 𝗕𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮
Light faded.
The magic circle disappeared.
Garvit stood inside his home.
Same hallway.
Same familiar scent.
Same normal life.
The contrast always felt strange.
One moment—
Magic.
Training.
Combat.
Ancient teachings.
The next—
Shoes near the entrance.
Family photographs. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Television sounds.
Normality.
His mother called from another room.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬?”
“𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩.”
“𝘞𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴!”
“… 𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺.”
Even future monster hunters couldn’t escape mothers.
Garvit changed clothes.
Folded his training uniform neatly.
Placed his practice notes on his desk.
Then picked up his school bag.
He moved through the house quietly.
“𝘔𝘰𝘮.”
“𝘏𝘮?”
“𝘐’𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨.”
“𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥!”
His father looked away from the newspaper.
“𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬.”
“… 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵.”
His father narrowed his eyes.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘺.”
“… 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.”
“𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”
“…”
His father sighed.
“𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰.”
Garvit slipped on his shoes.
Opened the door.
Then paused.
“… 𝘋𝘢𝘥.”
“𝘏𝘮?”
“… 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩?”
The newspaper lowered.
His father studied him.
For a few seconds.
Then smiled softly.
“𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.”
Garvit waited.
“𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦.”
Silence followed.
Then—
“𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦.”
“… 𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺.”
The door closed.
School ended hours later.
Students flooded outside.
Laughing.
Complaining.
Arguing about homework.
Dreaming about futures.
Garvit walked quietly among them.
Ordinary.
Unnoticeable.
If someone looked closely—
They’d never guess.
This boy trained to fight monsters.
Beside him walked someone completely opposite.
𝗝𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻 𝗦𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗮.
Endless energy.
Endless conversations.
Endless enthusiasm.
They sipped cheap juice from plastic cups.
“𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘵.”
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?”
Jatin’s eyes sparkled.
Garvit immediately knew.
Here we go again.
“𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸,” Jatin began dramatically, “𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴—𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨-𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴?”
Garvit blinked.
“… 𝘕𝘰.”
Jatin stopped walking.
“… 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘪𝘵?”
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?”
“‘𝘕𝘰’!?”
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺?”
Jatin pointed accusingly.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘺!”
“… 𝘞𝘩𝘺?”
His enthusiasm instantly returned.
“𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦!”
He started gesturing wildly.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮!”
Garvit stared.
“… 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴.”
“𝘌𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺!”
“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴?”
Jatin froze.
“… 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘳.”
Garvit took another sip of juice.
“… 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵?”
“𝘊𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵!”
Garvit sighed.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭.”
“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭!”
People walking nearby glanced at them.
One student whispered,
“𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯?”
“𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺.”
“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥.”
Jatin ignored everyone.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦?”
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?”
“𝘋𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦-𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰!”
Garvit remained silent.
Jatin continued.
“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵.”
“𝘌𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺.”
“𝘍𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦.”
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.”
“𝘜𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘶𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦.”
“𝘏𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯.”
“𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴!”
Garvit blinked.
“… 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴?”
Jatin nodded seriously.
“𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵.”
“… 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵.”
“𝘐𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴.”
They continued walking.
Jatin suddenly changed topics.
Completely.
Without warning.
“𝘈𝘭𝘴𝘰, 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳?”
Garvit didn’t even hesitate.
“𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯.”
Jatin gasped.
“𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒!?”
“𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴.”
“Eight𝘦een 𝘯𝘰𝘸!”
He looked genuinely delighted.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯!”
Garvit kept walking silently.
Listening.
Half listening.
Half thinking.
Because despite Jatin’s nonsense… something stayed in his mind.
Daggers.
Fast.
Flexible.
Thrown.
Retrieved.
Close-range.
Long-range.
His fingers tightened slightly around his empty juice cup.
He remembered the sword.
Heavy.
Reliable.
Demanding proximity.
He remembered the bow.
Distance.
Preparation.
Stillness.
He remembered monsters.
Large.
Unpredictable.
Violent.
Maybe… maybe the answer wasn’t choosing one extreme.
Not a sword.
Not a bow.
But something in between.
Something that allowed distance.
Yet adapted instantly.
Something that matched instinct rather than expectation.
He glanced sideways.
Jatin was now passionately explaining why moonwalking increased combat efficiency.
“… 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺—”
“𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱.”
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.”
“𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵.”
“𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵.”
“…”
Garvit looked ahead.
A faint smile almost appeared.
Almost.
Because despite all the training… despite Master’s lessons… despite the burden waiting in the future…
Moments like these still existed.
Walking home.
Drinking cheap juice.
Listening to ridiculous conversations.
Being children.
Maybe… that wasn’t weakness.
Maybe it was something worth protecting.
His thoughts drifted back toward the weapons laid upon that ancient table years ago.
The sword he’d chosen with innocent eyes.
The choice of childhood.
A choice made without understanding blood.
Or sacrifice.
Or death.
If Master asked him again today…
Would he still choose the sword?
He didn’t know.
Maybe not.
Because people changed.
Children grew.
Dreams evolved.
Heroes adapted.
He looked toward Jatin.
Still talking.
Still energetic.
Still convinced daggers could solve every problem in existence.
Garvit finally spoke.
“… 𝘑𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯.”
“𝘏𝘮?”
“… 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴?”
Silence.
Then—
Jatin’s eyes widened.
The plastic cup fell from his hand.
“… 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?”
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘮𝘦.”
His expression transformed instantly.
Pure excitement.
“𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘛 𝘛𝘖 𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘕 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘋𝘈𝘎𝘎𝘌𝘙𝘚!?”
People turned toward them.
“𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨?”
“𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 𝘉𝘌𝘌𝘕 𝘝𝘈𝘓𝘐𝘋𝘈𝘛𝘌𝘋!”
He pointed dramatically at the heavens.
“𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘓𝘋 𝘍𝘐𝘕𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚 𝘔𝘠 𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘐𝘜𝘚!”
Garvit stared.
“… 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.”
“𝘛𝘖𝘖 𝘓𝘈𝘛𝘌!”
Jatin immediately launched into another explanation.
“𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴—”
Garvit sighed quietly.
But this time… he listened.
Really listened.
Because something inside him whispered.
Not swords.
Not bows.
But something in between.
Something fast.
Something precise.
Something deadly.
Maybe…
The weapon he needed…
Wasn’t something big.
But something closer.
𝗦𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗽𝗲𝗿.
𝗙𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿.
𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲.