They were close now — just a few steps away from the entrance gate of Wingman City. The dirt path under their feet turned to rough stone as they walked steadily forward, the massive walls of the city looming tall and wide. After a long journey of silence and survival, they had finally reached the edge of something new.
Ray, who had been Aron's guide, stopped walking. He turned to Aron with a heavy look in his eyes.
Ray: "It's time, Aron. I have to go back to my place."
Aron: "Why? Why are you going?"
Ray: "I need to collect some precious things. Don't worry—no one will hurt you here. Just stay away from bad people, Aron. And listen to me… This city holds great teachings of swordsmanship. Learn from the blade, and from the books too. Become a stronger version of yourself. And find new friends."
Aron's eyes filled with tears. Without saying another word, he hugged Ray tightly, burying his face in his shoulder. Ray's soft hair brushed against his skin — it felt like a farewell too sudden.
Ray: "Here, this is a gift from me."
Ray handed him a small white stone — glowing slightly, like it held a secret light within.
Ray: "Use it when you are in trouble, okay?"
Before Aron could speak again, Ray stepped back and vanished into the distance, leaving the boy standing alone under the shadow of the city walls.
Aron took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. He turned and began walking towards the city. The gates opened with a loud creak, and a new world appeared before him.
The city was huge — carts were being pulled by donkeys and bulky men, filled with goods, spices, metal, and weapons. The air smelled of heat and dust. People shouted, bargained, and laughed. It overwhelmed Aron. He hadn't had this much human interaction in a long time.
Then a sharp voice struck behind him.
"Hey, kid!"
A man, surrounded by two others, approached him with a crooked smile.
Stranger 1: "What are you doing here, little man? And… what's that sword? It's so beautiful."
One of them leaned in and whispered into the other's ear.
Stranger 2 (whispering): "Get the sword, boss. It could sell for a fortune."
They all laughed, surrounding Aron like wolves around prey.
But just as they reached for him, an arrow struck the ground right between them.
Voice: "You won't lay a hand on this child."
They froze.
From the shadows, an old man stepped forward. His presence alone made the group feel cold, like death had just brushed their shoulders. His face was hidden beneath a hood, and his steps were slow but confident.
The men backed away immediately, startled by the aura he carried.
The old man approached Aron. He knelt slightly and spoke gently.
Old Man: "Young boy… will you come with me? These are bad men. They would've taken your things."
Aron nodded quietly.
The man helped him onto a black horse waiting nearby, and together they rode through the city streets.
The city was stunning. Old stone buildings mixed with newer ones, wide roads filled with life, children playing with wooden swords, and people selling fruits, fabrics, and scrolls. In the distance, a massive castle towered over everything — a monument of power and history, said to be built by King Zack himself.
The horse rumbled as it moved, hooves echoing against the stone. Suddenly, someone stepped forward and stopped them.
Hans: "Yo, old man! You kidnapping a kid?"
Before the sentence finished, the old man threw a punch. Hans dropped like a stone.
Old Man (scoffing): "That's not how you talk to your father, idiot."
He continued riding, ignoring the stares.
The ride lasted a little longer until finally, they reached an old house on the edge of the city. The horse stopped.
Both Aron and the man dismounted. The house looked dusty and wooden, its windows creaking in the wind. The old man looked at Aron with a kind smile.
Old Man: "Come on, son."
They entered. Inside, the air smelled of old wood and silence. Every step made the floor creak. Aron saw no one at first, but he could feel the presence of others.
Two children sat in the back room — around Aron's age.
The old man walked into the kitchen and returned with an apple.
Old Man: "Here, kid. I know you're alone, right?"
Aron: (Nods) "Yes."
They sat down at a wooden table, plates empty, but the kindness filling the room was enough.
After a few minutes, the man cleared his throat.
Old Man: "My name is Badrock. I help children like you… the ones who are lost."
He looked directly at Aron now.
Badrock: "I'll ask you some questions, okay? First… Who are you?"
Aron: (chewing) "My name is Aron." (He coughed and choked slightly on the food.)
Badrock: "And where do you live?"
Aron: "Norm Kingdom."
Badrock froze. His eyes widened.
Badrock: "Norm Kingdom…?"
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
Badrock: "Can you tell me your father's or mother's name?"
Aron: "Agarth Norm… and Hilda Heins."
Badrock leaned back and chuckled.
Badrock: "I knew it. Just look at you — those eyes, that presence. You carry the blood. You are a descendant, no doubt."
Then he pointed to the sword strapped to Aron's back.
Badrock: "Who gave you that sword?"
Aron paused. Should he speak the truth? Then he answered.
Aron: "This sword chose me. It protects me… until I am strong enough to conquer it. Until then, it is my guardian."
Badrock nodded slowly, his eyes filled with admiration.
Badrock: "Indeed, child. You hold strong blood… but that sword — it needs repair, refining. I am a swordsmith. I will help you."
He stood up and smiled.
Badrock: "Now, tell me — would you stay here? Join the other children? Make them your friends… and your strength."
Aron: (quietly) "Yes. I think it will be good."
They walked deeper into the house. There was a small wooden ladder leading up to the loft. They climbed it, and there, sitting on a rug, were two more children — a boy and a girl.
Badrock: "Here they are. Your new friends. Meet Lilith and Lily — they're siblings."
The boy looked curious. The girl gave Aron a soft smile.
And in that dusty house, with the creaking wood and old furniture, Aron felt something new.
Maybe… just maybe, this was the beginning of a peaceful chapter — where swords weren't just for survival… but for growth, friendship, and becoming who he was meant to be.