Winter never ends here.
Each breath turns into white mist and each step on the snow creaks like a fragile whisper.
Aron had only ever known this frozen silence, deep in the northern forests, far from any sign of civilization.
The family's wooden cabin stood alone among the pines, a warm refuge in a white desert.
His parents, of Finnish and Swedish blood, loved him deeply. Their love often came in the form of work and discipline.
His father was a force of nature. Years of icy lake plunges and burning sauna rituals had forged his body into something beyond human. He could split a tree trunk with his bare hands, lift logs heavier than himself, and shatter stones with a single strike. This was not simple strength. It was mastery of every muscle and every tendon, honed to its peak.
Every morning before the sun rose, his father would wake him. The cold burned Aron's skin but the deep, steady voice always echoed behind him.
"Forward. Stronger."
Training never stopped. Hunting in the snow. Carrying logs across frozen ground. Striking tree after tree until his fists bled.
Slowly, his father began to pass down the secret breathing and muscle-tensing techniques that gave him that unnatural strength.
His mother taught different weapons.
Patience. The art of cooking meat slowly over the fire. How to preserve food for weeks. How to turn wild plants into medicines.
Some nights, when the fire burned low, their voices grew grave.
"Animals are changing, Aron," his father would say, sharpening his knife. "They are faster and stronger. Some can tear a tree apart with one swipe."
His mother's eyes would lower. "If you see one, you run."