As the boy stood frozen, still processing what he just heard, the god Theos looked down at him with an arrogant grin and said with pride,
"Don't worry, my child. I know this is a huge responsibility—but you are worthy of it. After all, you were chosen by me."
The boy squinted suspiciously.
"How can I be sure you're not a demon trying to trick me? I've never heard of the 'Order of Destruction'."
The god chuckled at the boy's reaction and replied,
"Fear not, child. I assure you—I am no demon. I'm the very god who once slew Azmodious, the mighty Demon of Hellflame.
As for why you've never heard of my Order... after the Great Holy War ended, my powers were no longer needed, so I disappeared."
The boy's eyes widened in shock.
"S-So... are you saying there's going to be another holy war against the demons?"
His tone was filled with worry.
Theos, completely nonchalant, answered,
"Probably not."
The boy snapped,
"THEN WHY DID YOU COME BACK IF YOU ORIGINALLY LEFT BECAUSE YOUR POWER WASN'T NEEDED?!"
Still casual, Theos shrugged.
"Mostly because I was bored. I wanted to see how much the civilization I once saved has developed. It was... curiosity, really."
The boy blinked, then frowned.
"Then you've definitely got the wrong guy. All I do is stay in this village and clean dungeons with my old man."
The god smiled warmly.
"You underestimate yourself, my child. You are destined for far greater things. You're no frog in a well. Join my Order—as its first new member—and discover your true path."
The boy hesitated… then smirked.
"Only on one condition."
Theos raised an intrigued brow.
"And what condition would that be, my child? Ask, and I shall oblige if it lies within my power."
The boy wasted no time.
"I don't want to go bald like my gramps. I want a full head of hair. Forever."
Theos burst into hearty laughter.
"Of course, my child. I promise—until the day you die, you shall carry a glorious mane worthy of legends!"
Grinning, the boy nodded.
"Then I accept your offer. Take good care of me, alright?"
The god stretched out his enormous hand, beaming with joy.
"Then let us make a pact. Place your hand in mine, and let destiny be sealed!"
As the boy touched the god's hand, a blinding light erupted across the plains. The air buzzed with divine energy. When the light faded, he awoke—back in his bed, sweating and breathless.
He looked down at his left hand. There, glowing faintly on the back of his palm, was a crimson symbol: a dragon wrapped around a sword and shield. Inside the shield, two mirrored horses faced each other, and at the sword's hilt rested a dragon's skull, etched in intricate red accents.
Still staring at the mark, he heard the door slam open.
"Come on, boy! Let's have breakfast—I made your favorite: fish sandwich!"
His grandfather's voice boomed through the room.
The boy groaned and muttered to himself,
"Maybe I should run away… this old man's going to kill me with his inedible fish sandwiches."
He trudged to the kitchen, where his grandpa was already munching happily.
Sitting beside him, the boy took a bite, made a face, then turned serious.
"Pops, I was chosen. By the Order of War."
His grandfather paused mid-bite, staring blankly.
"Boy, if you don't want to work today, just say so. Don't go making up stuff like that. There's no such thing as an 'Order of War,' far as I know."
"I'm telling the truth! Look!"
The boy held out his marked hand.
The old man grabbed it, squinting, then immediately began violently rubbing it like he was scrubbing rust off a sword.
"Ow, ow, ow! Damn, old man! Don't you trust me? It's real! As real as your balding head!"
SMACK!
A punch landed squarely on his head.
The grandpa huffed, crossing his arms.
"Hmph. Guess it is real. So... what now? You planning to travel the world or something?"
His voice trembled slightly as he stared at the floor.
The boy scratched his head.
"I don't know. The god didn't say anything about that yet. I figured he'd show up again in my dreams or something."
But Theos never came again.
Days passed, and the boy continued his usual routine. But he started noticing strange things.
Each time he entered the dungeon, the mark on his hand glowed, and he grew stronger—not just physically, but mentally too. His instincts sharpened, and even the old man noticed he was improving.
Then one day, it happened.
A group of Holy Knights arrived in the village, their banners flying high. Townsfolk gathered in the square, murmuring anxiously.
A tall paladin stepped forward and shouted,
"CITIZENS OF NORTHERN WOODS! WE COME ON BEHALF OF THE HOLY CHURCH.
WE SEEK A BOY WITH A MARK ON HIS LEFT HAND—BLACK HAIR, AGE UNKNOWN. IF YOU MATCH THIS DESCRIPTION, COME FORWARD. WE WILL REMAIN HERE FOR TWO DAYS."