My name is Zelaive Maffuzel, and I live in the middle of a forest where the sun can't shines and the sky is always wrapped in darkness. Yet our home is different. Even though the clouds above are filled with shadow, our house alone is touched by light it's like there's someone above ass that controlling a light. Our fence is surrounded by vivid green plants, nourished by the light shining down from above.
Ever since I was five years old, I have been fascinated by the green grass and plants illuminated by the sunlight. The only companion I have in my life is my father, known by the name Saint Zaffol. From the moment I became aware of myself until now, I have lived only here, deep within the forest. I am never allowed to go beyond the fence, where the woods are swallowed by darkness.
I am now twelve years old, yet I have never once stepped past our fence. I stay within our home, gathering firewood to keep the flames burning, preparing for my father's return. The sky begins to release falling snow as I chop wood and light the fire inside our house, waiting for him to arrive.
When I finish my work, I sit by our door, watching the snowflakes fall gently into the palm of my hand as I wait for my father. Moments later, he arrives. Even from a distance, I can already see the smile on his face. I run to greet him, smiling, and I see that he is carrying a deer on his back. His face looks pale as he steps into our yard.
I quickly move toward him.
"I've got it, Father," I offer, asking to carry the deer for him.
He places it onto my back, helping me steady myself. But as soon as I lift it, my knees suddenly buckle—I hadn't expected the deer to be so heavy. My father laughs, and in my embarrassment, which I cannot bear, I force myself to keep carrying it all the way to the house. Zelaive struggles under the weight, while his father follows behind him.
At last, I reach our home with the deer still on my back. I look at my father, who is smiling. He places a hand on my head and says,
"Do not be too proud over small victories, and never boast about your achievements."
At that moment, something dawns on Zelaive. He looks again at the deer he carried, then at his own hands. Could I really carry something larger than myself? He realizes that the deer had felt lighter earlier when he was struggling.
Suddenly, Zelaive speaks.
"Papa—"
Before he can continue, Zaffol interrupts,
"You cannot survive life alone. Learn to recognize the strength of those who stand beside you."
Zelaive asks quietly,
"What if I am truly alone?"
Zaffol smiles at his question. He turns toward Zelaive, places a firm hand on his shoulder, and speaks seriously,
"You are never alone. There is always someone watching over you, protecting you, and guiding your every move."
"Is that your God, Father?" Zelaive asks.
"My God?" Zaffol replies.
Zaffol sincerly speak
"That's your God too Zelaive, don't said that again, the King of all, the King above all kings that's my God and your God." Zelaive nodded as if he understood what his father had said.
The night was quiet inside the small house that stood in the middle of a wide yard surrounded by a tall wooden fence. The only sounds that could be heard were the soft wind brushing against the trees and the faint rustling of leaves in the darkness.
Zelaive fell silent after hearing what his father had said. He didn't know how to respond, so he simply lowered his gaze to the floor.
A few moments passed.
Then suddenly—
Grrrkkk…
Zelaive's stomach growled loudly.
He quickly scratched the back of his head as his face turned red with embarrassment.
His father, Zaffol, burst into laughter.
"Looks like you're hungry already," he said with a warm smile. "Come on, let's have dinner."
Zelaive immediately shook his head, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"N-No, I'm not really hungry yet," he replied while his cheeks continued to burn red.
Zaffol simply smiled. He walked over to his son and gently placed a hand on Zelaive's head, ruffling his hair affectionately like he always did.
"Come on," he said. "Let's eat."
The scene shifted to their dining table.
It was simple—a wooden table with two chairs. Above it hung an old oil lamp attached to the ceiling, casting a warm yellow glow that pushed back the darkness of the night.
Outside the window there was almost no light at all. Their house seemed isolated, alone in the quiet wilderness.
Zelaive quietly ate his meal while looking down at his plate. From time to time he glanced at his father.
There was something he had wanted to ask for a long time.
He took a deep breath.
"Father…" he said softly.
Zaffol looked at him. "What is it?"
Zelaive hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Father… when will I be allowed to go outside the fence?"
The air in the room suddenly felt heavier.
On Zelaive's face was a mixture of sadness and longing. All his life, he had only lived inside the yard. He had never seen the world beyond the fence. He had no friends. He had never met another person besides his father.
Zaffol noticed the sadness in his son's eyes.
For a moment, he remained silent.
Then he spoke in a low, serious voice.
"When you become strong enough," he said. "When you can protect yourself… and others."
Zaffol's expression had grown serious, as if the words carried a deeper meaning.
Zelaive noticed it.
He clenched his fists.
"I'll become stronger, Father," he said with determination. "I won't let anyone look down on me anymore."
Zaffol didn't answer. He simply nodded quietly.
After dinner, Zelaive quickly stood up.
"I'll clean up," he said.
He hurriedly washed his plate and organized the table. After finishing, he ran up the wooden stairs toward his room on the second floor.
From downstairs, Zaffol silently watched his son climb the stairs.
There were words he could only say inside his mind.
You still don't understand, Zelaive…
Strength alone is not enough to survive in this world.
---
Meanwhile, Zelaive reached the second floor.
He was about to enter his room when he noticed something strange.
The door to his father's room was slightly open.
He stopped.
Curiosity slowly filled his mind.
In his entire life, he had never stepped inside his father's room.
He remembered the two rules in their house.
First: Never leave the fence without permission.
Second: Never enter Zaffol's room.
Zelaive swallowed nervously.
Father might get angry…
But the more he stared at the slightly open door, the stronger his curiosity became.
I'll just take a quick look…
Slowly, he stepped closer.
One step.
Then another.
And before he even realized it—
he was already inside the room.
The room was dark.
Only a faint light from the lamp outside reached the inside.
The air smelled of old wood and dust.
But before Zelaive could look around—
he saw something.
His eyes widened in shock.
Standing in the center of the room was a massive figure.
It was twice the size of his father.
Its head nearly touched the ceiling, forcing it to remain hunched over. Its arms were long, and shadows seemed to move strangely around its body.
Zelaive had never seen another person besides his father before.
But even so—
he knew this was not normal.
Suddenly—
BANG.
A drawer on top of a cabinet opened by itself.
A large old book fell to the floor.
The enormous creature slowly turned its gaze toward Zelaive.
Then it spoke in a deep, cold voice.
"Do you want… to become stronger?"
Zelaive froze.
"Do you want to surpass… your father?"
Fear filled his chest.
But beneath that fear was something else.
A burning desire.
The desire to become strong.
"…Yes," Zelaive answered quietly, but with determination.
The creature smiled.
It was a smile no child should ever see.
"Everything you need is inside that book," the creature said while looking at the fallen book.
"The power that will raise you above all beings…"
"even your father."
Those words were like poison sinking deep into Zelaive's mind.
As he stared at the book—
he didn't realize that the creature had already grabbed his hand.
Its grip was cold.
Terribly cold.
Slowly, the creature guided his hand toward the book.
Before he could stop himself—
he opened it.
Inside the pages were strange words he could not understand.
But suddenly his mouth began to move.
As if someone else was controlling it.
He started reciting the words.
Words he didn't know.
Words he should never have spoken.
---
BANG!!!
The door suddenly burst open.
The powerful kick struck the massive creature.
A furious voice echoed through the room.
"YOU DEMON!"
Zaffol stood at the doorway, his eyes burning with rage.
"STAY AWAY FROM MY SON!"
In an instant, a glowing sword appeared in his hand.
Brilliant light filled the room.
He didn't hesitate.
With one powerful swing of his sword—
the blade struck the creature.
And in a single moment—
it vanished.
Like smoke erased by the wind.
Zaffol immediately ran toward Zelaive.
"Zelaive!"
He grabbed his son's shoulders.
But when he saw his son's face—
his blood turned cold.
The light in Zelaive's eyes was gone.
His body was lifeless.
Like a puppet whose soul had disappeared.
Slowly, Zaffol fell to his knees while holding his son's body.
The boy who only wanted to become stronger—
was now nothing more than a corpse in his father's arms.
And for the first time in many years—
the fearless warrior Zaffol lowered his head in silence beneath the quiet night.