Question, How does one qualify as the strongest?
Is it power? Is it skill ? Is it experience?
Or is it simply the way one chooses to live
An old man sat beside a wooden window, a cup of tea resting in his hand. His beard reached his neck, his eyes calm yet distant as he looked upon the quiet world outside. The world hardly knew him. Stories had passed from mouth to mouth, distorted by time, speaking of a figure who appeared when calamity struck and vanished when peace returned. They called him the Honoured One. Few had seen him. Fewer still knew his name.
Only one mark remained as proof that he had once existed.
On the bark of the World Tree that maintained order in the world, there was a single sword scar. Carved deep into its surface was one name.
Meridith.
He had saved the world more times than anyone could count. Darkness had risen and fallen at his hand. Wars had ended because he willed them to. Yet no monument bore his face, and no kingdom claimed his loyalty. He had walked unseen, shaped history without stepping into its light, and stood at a peak no other had ever reached.
And still, something was missing.
He could not remember the last time he had smiled. Nor the last time he had wept. Emotions had long become distant echoes. Living as the strongest, there was nothing he could not obtain and nothing he could not achieve. He had tried, once, to live as an ordinary man among others, but what he saw was greed, crime, betrayal and hollow words of loyalty spoken by those who practiced none of it. He wondered how ordinary people endured such contradictions. How could one preach peace while nurturing violence. How could one claim benevolence while harboring cruelty.
A single leaf fell from the World Tree and drifted to the ground outside, soon buried beneath dust and sand.
What is the purpose of a leaf
Is it born only to serve the tree and die unnoticed
He poured himself another cup of tea and remembered a saying once spoken by an old monk of Shaolin.
People live to attain moksha.
If so, do the dead attain it upon dyingAnd if death grants release, what then is the use of living
Meridith closed his eyes.
He had done everything this world required of him. He had slain the darkness. He had maintained the balance on behalf of the World Tree for longer than anyone knew. Peace existed because nothing remained capable of challenging him. Those who led the world now did so because he had removed all obstacles.
Yet even after standing at the summit, he had not found what he sought.
There was no longer a reason for him to remain.
With quiet resolve, he rose from his chair and walked toward the World Tree one final time. The land was calm. The air was still. When he reached it, he placed a hand upon its ancient bark.
The tree, in response, granted him a wish. So long as it lay within its bounds, it would fulfill it.
Meridith thought for a long time.
Then he asked for the power to glimpse the future.
The request was strange, but the tree complied. It gathered its strength and granted him the ability.
He stepped away, turned toward the horizon, and used the power for the first time. The future unfolded before him in fragments. The world would not fall into visible peril for another thousand years.
He exhaled softly.
Then he began to chant.
One by one, he broke his magic circuits. Each fracture tore through him as though bone were splintering within flesh, yet he did not hesitate. He gathered all the mana he possessed and forced it to flow through his body like blood. Before him lay a pre drawn magic circle.
Far away, the World Tree sensed what he was doing.
Its roots tore through the earth, racing toward him. The ground trembled. Forests split as the roots surged forward in fury.
Meridith laughed quietly.
Just before the roots could reach him, he completed the chant.
His body began to disintegrate, breaking apart into particles like ash carried by the wind.
The World Tree roared in anger.
For the first time in its existence, it had witnessed a human break through the laws and deceive it. The spell Meridith had cast shattered the shackles of mortality. The tree had always believed that once his duty was fulfilled, it would gradually withdraw his mana and allow him to fade into old age. It had assumed he would remain bound by the instructions it had given.
But Meridith had stepped beyond that boundary.
He who once stood at the peak under its watch had now entered a domain the tree itself ruled. Unrestricted, unbound. If he ever chose a direction, the balance of the world would tilt entirely toward him.
In alarm, the World Tree shed its leaves, sending them across realms as messages to the gods. If they encountered Meridith, they were to capture and kill him at once.
Darkness surrounded him.
What is this place? Where am I? Was I not meant to reincarnate?
There was no light, no sound, no sensation. Only consciousness remained.
He understood then that he stood in the void between life and death.
So I succeeded.
Without a body, without senses, he contemplated.
Should I reincarnate? Or should I remain here and rest?
The questions from earlier returned to him.
"What is life? What defines strength? What is love? What is pain? What are emotions?....."
Time passed without measure.
Then he made a decision.
He would be born again.
A single choice, made in silence, in a place where no one could witness it.
A choice that would one day alter the course of another world.