In a village still filled with lush, towering trees, a boy ran and leapt from one branch to another with extraordinary agility. His eyes were fixed on a herd of wild boars drinking at the river—careless, completely unaware of his presence.
With a single swift motion, the boy was already in the middle of the herd. A powerful punch from his fist struck the largest boar, sending it flying backward.
The herd panicked and began to flee, but he was already prepared. Two nimble steps, and the next punch brought down another boar. In an instant, out of ten, four wild boars were successfully taken down.
He smiled faintly, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he watched the remaining herd escape. Morning training in the village had once again ended in success.
Carrying the four large wild boars, the boy shouted,
"Grandfather! I brought food for us to eat!"
After placing the boars down in the yard, he sat on the ground, exhausted.
"Heh… you're back already. As usual, you always bring back a lot of game," his grandfather's voice came from the doorway. He stepped outside, smiling as he looked at his grandson.
Grinning widely, the boy lowered his head.
"Hehe… I really like your cooking, Grandpa. Can you make that soy-braised boar again?"
The old man chuckled.
"Of course. But don't forget—you have to help prepare the seasonings too."
That afternoon, sunlight gently filtered through the leaves, casting patterns of light across the yard. The boy stood in front of his grandfather, fists clenched, breathing steady.
"Close your eyes," his grandfather said.
"Clear your mind. Relax your body."
He stopped directly behind his disciple.
"I will attack from your blind spots. Don't hesitate. Evade, then counter."
The boy closed his eyes.
"Alright, Grandpa," he murmured.
Inside his mind, everything became empty—his focus narrowed to the sensation on his skin and the sound of the wind.
Suddenly, an attack came from his left side. He felt the pressure in the air and instinctively dodged to the right. But before he could even catch his breath, his grandfather had already moved in front of him and launched another attack.
The boy caught the movement on his right and dodged again. However, before he could prepare for the next move, his grandfather appeared behind him. The strike came too fast to anticipate and slammed into his face.
He staggered, yet a faint smile appeared on his lips. The training was not over, and he was ready to face the next blow.
They continued training until the sun began to sink toward the evening.
"Alright, that should be enough for today. Your instincts have improved a little, but there are still small openings where you let your guard down," his grandfather said while patting the boy's shoulder.
The boy stood up, brushing dust and sand from his clothes.
"Thank you, Grandpa, for today's training. I'll focus even more tomorrow."
"Good. Now go wash up, then we'll get ready for dinner," his grandfather said, tossing him a towel and clean clothes.
Evening turned into night. The sounds of frogs and crickets became a gentle melody, while stars shone above the quiet village.
They sat together, enjoying warm soy-braised boar. His grandfather brought out a large pot filled with freshly cooked meat.
"As always, your appetite is impressive. Eat as much as you like—there's still plenty left."
The boy smiled broadly, picked up a piece of the meat, and ate eagerly. That night, the peace of the village felt perfect. Though the day's training had been exhausting, his heart remained light and happy.
Night gave way to morning. Sunlight streamed through the wooden house's window, illuminating the boy's face. He quickly got up and neatly made his bed.
After that, he stepped outside. In the yard, his grandfather was calmly watering the plants, morning dew still clinging to the leaves.
"Good morning, Grandpa. Did you sleep well last night?" the boy asked as he stretched his whole body, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun.
His grandfather turned and smiled.
"Yes, I slept well. By the way, could you go to the village center? Buy some herbal plants and a few other tools we need."
The boy nodded, preparing himself for a new day. That morning, the quiet village filled with lush trees seemed to welcome his steps, ready for a new adventure that was about to begin.
On the way, the boy's gaze stretched across trees swaying gently in the wind, while the fresh morning air enveloped the entire village. Each step felt light, as if the village itself was greeting him.
Before long, he arrived at the village center—specifically, a lively yet friendly marketplace. He greeted several merchants he already knew. Some smiled and warmly returned his greetings—they all knew who his grandfather was, a renowned martial arts master in the village.
The boy walked through the market alleys, buying herbs and several tools his grandfather had requested. He chose carefully, making sure everything was sufficient for today's training, occasionally greeting other merchants who smiled back at him.
The boy was on his way home through the lush forest when his eyes caught a figure moving among the trees to his right. A girl—looking confused and terrified—approached him with hurried steps.
"Help… please help me!" Her voice was choked with ragged breathing. Her eyes were wide with fear.
"They… they're chasing me!"
The boy stopped and quickly stepped toward her, supporting her body so she wouldn't collapse onto the ground.
"What happened? What's going on? And who's chasing you?"
The girl panted heavily, her eyes filled with terror. As the boy checked her condition, a sudden cracking sound came from behind them. From the forest, a group of men in black robes emerged, their shadows dancing among the trees swaying in the wind.
The boy turned around, looking at them calmly.
"Hand over the girl, or we'll kill you!" one of the men shouted, his voice heavy and threatening.
The boy glanced back at the girl. He observed her labored breathing, her trembling hands clutching the shopping bag, and her pale face filled with fear. The girl nodded, silently confirming his unspoken question.
The boy smiled faintly, remaining confident.
"Can you hold my shopping bag for a moment? This won't take long."
The girl gripped the bag tightly and stepped back slightly, while leaves rustled beneath Taron's footsteps as he planted his feet on the ground. The morning wind seemed to carry tension through the air—the battle was about to begin.
"They use magic and swords…" the girl said, her voice trembling with anxiety.
"Are you also a swordsman or a magic user?"
The boy looked at his own clenched fist, then smiled faintly—calm and confident.
"I don't need either of them," he said casually.
"I only use my hands and my feet."
The gentle wind in the forest suddenly grew stronger, as if the air itself were adjusting to his presence. He stood in the middle of the group of black-robed men, took a deep breath, and bent his knees into a firm stance—calm, yet filled with energy ready to be released.
One of the men dashed forward, his gleaming sword reflecting the sunlight. The boy instinctively dodged to the right, his body spinning lightly as leaves on the ground scattered with the movement of his feet.
A second attack came from another direction. He felt pressure in the air behind him and leapt aside once more, his body dancing between the shadows of the trees.
Without delay, the two men attacked at the same time. The boy leaned forward, rolled through the air, and landed softly. In an instant, he turned his head, placing each movement carefully to counter his opponents.
With a single swift punch, one of the black-robed men was sent flying deep into the forest. Branches snapped and leaves exploded into the air. Shocked, the remaining men retreated for a moment—but only briefly.
Three more men emerged from the shadows of the trees, attempting to surround him. The boy smiled faintly, his expression calm yet full of confidence. In one smooth motion, he twisted his body, evaded their attacks, and unleashed a rapid flurry of punches. All three were thrown to the ground, rolling and crashing into nearby trees, unable to keep up with the speed and power of his bare hands.
The girl held her breath, her eyes widening. The boy's movements were almost impossible to follow. Every punch and kick was not merely an evasion—he positioned his body with precision, forcing his opponents back step by step.
Dust filled the air, branches snapped, and sunlight streaming through the gaps between the trees made the scene feel like a fast-paced dance between man and shadow. One by one, his enemies fell before him.
"Damn it! How can you lose to someone without a sword or magic?!" one of the black-robed men shouted.
The boy smiled slightly, his eyes filled with determination.
"If you rely only on swords and magic," he said calmly, "you'll never defeat me."
The man staggered, unable to believe it. The boy shifted his stance slightly, observing every movement of his opponents, ready for the next attack.
The three remaining men slowly rose to their feet, breathing heavily, their eyes burning with hatred as they stared at him. They began to move more strategically, trying to attack from different directions and pressure his movements.
But every attempt was futile. The boy moved swiftly, dancing between the shadows of the trees, dodging attacks while delivering precise punches and kicks. His expression remained calm, the small smile never leaving his face.
Suddenly, from behind, one of the black-robed men pulled his hood forward, raised his hand, and began chanting a spell. The air around them twisted and trembled, and then a massive fireball formed in his palm—burning brightly, emitting a piercing red light.
"Watch out! They're using magic!" the girl shouted, her voice filled with panic.
The boy glanced briefly toward the mage, seeing fireballs gathering and flying toward him. His eyes narrowed, his body tensed, and with extraordinary reflexes, he began to move.
While dodging the fireballs, he attacked the men in front of him. One punch shot forward, blasting an opponent to the side and into a tree, branches shattering on impact. In the same instant, he spun, deflected another attack, and with a swift kick, sent another man crashing to the ground.
The fireballs kept coming, their red light illuminating the forest, scorching leaves and heating the air. Yet the boy moved with perfect precision, every step and motion like a dance between the flames. Dust swirled, leaves spun through the air, and the shadows of the trees added to the dramatic scene.
The girl held her breath, her eyes wide. The boy's body was almost like a shadow—too fast for ordinary human eyes to follow. Every punch and kick was not just evasion, but a calculated response, countering both physical attacks and magic at the same time.
In the blink of an eye, all the black-robed men were sent flying back—some staggering, others collapsing to the ground. The boy stood in the middle of the forest, his breathing calm, his small smile still in place. As the fireballs faded, his silhouette remained, like a legendary figure who had just silenced his enemies.
"Well then, looks like you're the only one left. Come on over, big mouth," the boy said casually as he began shadowboxing. His body moved swiftly, twisting and striking the air with smooth rhythm, dust and small leaves lifting with every motion.
The last remaining man stared at him with wide eyes. Fear was clearly etched across his face as he watched the boy's moving shadow on the ground. Without saying another word, he turned and ran, fleeing to join the others who had already retreated.
The boy smiled faintly and did not chase after them. He looked around the forest, now quiet once more. His breathing remained steady, a calm aura surrounding him.
Then he walked toward the girl. She was sitting with her back against a tree, still breathing heavily, her hair slightly disheveled—but her eyes now shone with admiration.
"Are you alright?" the boy asked, his voice gentle yet concerned.
"Yes… I'm fine. Thank you for helping me," the girl replied. Her voice trembled slightly, but there was clear relief in it.
The boy checked her condition briefly, then lowered himself and offered his hand. The girl hesitated for a moment before taking it, and with his help, she stood up.
"My house isn't far from here. Would you like to come with me?" he offered with a small, reassuring smile.
The girl nodded and began walking along the narrow path toward the boy's home. A gentle breeze blew through the forest, leaves swaying softly as sunlight filtered through the gaps between the trees, creating a peaceful atmosphere after the tension of the recent battle.
The boy walked beside her, calm as ever, though his eyes remained alert. He knew this was only the beginning, and that the world beyond the village held far greater challenges.
"My name is Lyanna Halvaria," the girl said softly, lowering her head slightly. Her tone was polite, though traces of tension still lingered from what had happened.
"Lyanna… Halvaria?" the boy repeated quietly, as if committing it to memory. "That's a nice name."
"I'm Taron Vale. Nice to meet you," he said, offering a small smile.
Lyanna returned a faint smile, though some unease still remained on her face.
"Thank you… I—I need to return to my school, but… I don't know where to go after being chased like that."
Taron nodded, his gaze steady and reassuring.
"Don't worry. You're safe now. My house isn't far. We can rest there for a while."
The forest felt calmer as they walked together, accompanied only by the sound of their footsteps and the wind whispering through the trees.
When they arrived, Taron saw his grandfather preparing something over the stove, the aroma of cooking spreading throughout the wooden yard.
"Grandpa… I'm home," Taron called out as he guided Lyanna inside.
The old man turned around, his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise when he saw the girl.
"Taron, who is this young lady?"
Lyanna bowed politely.
"I'm… Lyanna Halvaria. Thank you for taking me in."
The grandfather observed her briefly, then nodded slowly.
"Very well. Before we talk further, Taron, bring three plates. We have a guest. And put the groceries on the table inside."
"Yes, Grandpa," Taron replied with a smile. He set down the shopping bag, took the plates, and prepared a seat for Lyanna.
The three of them sat around a simple wooden table. A pot of pork soup from yesterday's hunt still steamed warmly. Its comforting aroma helped ease the remaining tension in Lyanna's body.
Lyanna held her bowl carefully and looked at Taron and his grandfather with admiration.
"This soup… it's really delicious."
Taron smiled faintly.
"Grandpa always says, good food for the stomach and hard training for the body. Combine the two, and you'll always feel better."
The old man merely smiled, pride shining in his eyes as he looked at Taron. Lyanna felt herself relax. For the first time since being chased by the black-robed men, she felt truly safe.
As morning passed into midday, there was no training scheduled. The grandfather told Taron to take Lyanna out for a walk through the forest. It seemed her condition had improved.
They visited a clear river where sunlight sparkled on the water, then crossed wide grasslands filled with countless blooming flowers stretching as far as the eye could see, like a living carpet of colors. Lyanna and Taron laughed as they played, tossing flowers at each other, running freely, even challenging each other to short races.
When they finally grew tired, they sat beneath a massive tree with a thick trunk and wide canopy. A gentle breeze blew, rustling the leaves and softly brushing their hair.
"Maybe in a place this peaceful…" Lyanna said with a light smile as she gazed up at the blue sky, "I wouldn't want to leave. It's beautiful here. I really like this place."
Taron smiled quietly, watching the flowers sway in the wind before glancing at her.
"Yeah. You're right. This place is… special."
Lyanna let out a soft sigh, her smile fading slightly.
"It's a shame… I can't stay here for long. I have to return to the city to continue my studies."
"Well, every meeting comes with a farewell," Taron said casually. "You can always come back during school breaks."
Lyanna turned to him, hesitating before asking softly,
"Um… do you go to school?"
Taron shook his head.
"There's no school in this village. We're taught by our parents—farming, raising livestock, and how to survive. I learn directly from my grandfather. Not just martial arts, but many other things too," he said confidently, without a trace of insecurity.
Lyanna fell silent for a moment, then asked curiously,
"Then… do you learn mathematics, science, geology, physics, biolo—"
"Wait, wait," Taron interrupted with a small laugh. "I don't understand what you're talking about. What is mathematics? And the other things you mentioned… we've never learned any of that."
Lyanna froze. She looked at Taron with a mixture of shock, confusion, and admiration.
While they were still resting, the sound of footsteps approached from the bushes. A boy about Taron's age emerged, pushing aside branches, his face filled with curiosity.
"Oi, Taron! What are you doing here al—" he stopped abruptly.
His gaze shifted to Lyanna. His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with suspicion.
"…Huh?"
He stepped closer, leaning forward with a mischievous grin.
"By the way, who's this pretty girl?" he said quickly. "Don't tell me you're dating?"
Without waiting for an answer, he sighed dramatically and pounded his own chest.
"Man, that hurts. I'm jealous."
Lyanna's face instantly turned red. She reflexively looked away, trying to hide her embarrassment.
Meanwhile, Taron looked completely confused. He turned to the boy with a slight frown.
"Dating?.. What does that mean?"
The boy stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed deeply.
"…Never mind."
Lyanna quickly stepped forward, trying to ease the situation.
"I-it's not like that," she said hurriedly. "We're not dating."
She took a breath before continuing.
"My name is Lyanna. I got lost in this village while running away from kidnappers."
The lighthearted atmosphere shifted slightly.
"I'm fine now," Lyanna added softly. "Taron came when I couldn't run anymore."
The tension faded once again.
"Good thing you showed up, Taron. If you hadn't, I might've been the one to save Lyanna! Hahaha!" the boy joked, breaking the silence.
The air grew lighter.
"By the way," he added proudly, puffing out his chest, "I'm Piko. Taron's friend. You know, I beat him all the time."
Taron stared at him blankly.
"When?"
Piko paused.
"…In my dreams."
Lyanna covered her mouth and giggled.
They continued chatting and joking, and before Lyanna realized it, the day was already nearing evening.
"It's getting late. I should head home," Piko said, glancing at the sun sinking beyond the trees. "My parents might be looking for me."
They eventually parted ways, each returning to their own homes.
When Taron and Lyanna reached his house, they noticed a horse-drawn carriage parked outside. It looked luxurious, surrounded by several people. A sense of unease crept into Taron's chest.
"Grandpa? There are a lot of people here. Where are you?" Taron shouted as he ran inside.
He stopped abruptly at the doorway.
There, his grandfather stood calmly, facing a man dressed in noble attire.