The first light of morning spilled across the village, gilding every rooftop and banner in a gentle shine.
For the next moment, drums began to thunder, the streets were already overflowing—faces glowing with joy, hands clapping in rhythm, children weaving between legs with ribbons trailing from their arms.
Across the stone road, Ribbons drifted down from every balconies, petals rained with every gust of wind, and the scent of roasted feasts curled from every corner, mingling with the perfume of fresh flowers.
across the crowded head her red hair view in attention dancing in the breeze as petals drifted down, a few landing gently upon her head.
Emelia's smile bloomed with joy in her lips as strong arms lifted her high above the crowd.
Her father carried her with playful strength, swaying her side to side as if she were weightless. Their red hair shimmered alike under the sunlight, sharing the same vibrant glow. Even their smiles mirrored each other—so alike they could've been twins, if not for the years between them.
"My baby girl is so heavy," he teased, struggle with exaggerated groans.
Behind them, was aveloria — Emelia's mother followed behind, her smile calm yet glowing.
"These two really are the same." she thought with a gentle laugh.
watching father and daughter beam in perfect unison.
Across the wide road, trembled music—horns, gongs, and marching band . Old men clapped in rhythm, mothers lifted children to their shoulders, lovers laughed as ribbons tangled in their hair. the village road becomes the center of of entertainment.
For a brief moment, her parents stood among the crowd, blending in with the laughter and chatter of others. She sat high on her father's shoulders, watching the marching band parade by. Then, amidst the music and joy, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Well… looks like there's still one here who's part of the family."
Aveloria—turned her head at once.
"Brother," a soft smile, as her voice almost drowned by the cheering crowd.
Her face warmed as she stepped forward, embracing him without hesitation.
"How are you, Fred?"
"Ohh, Fred—" Emelia's father called with a grin, glancing up at the little girl perched on his shoulders.
"Emelia, greet your uncle."
Emelia waved her tiny hand eagerly,
"Hello, Uncle Fred!" she said brightly, her smile as warm as the sun overhead.
Fred's eyes softened as he lifted a hand in greeting.
"Ohh, hello Emelia. Good to see you,"
Beside them, Aveloria tilted her head with a curious smile.
"So, how's life as the school principal fred?" she asked over the rumble of drums and laughter around them.
Fred let out a small chuckle.
"Well, as always—it's not too much to handle. There's rarely a problem when it comes to guiding children. So there's no much issue is happening in the school" His smile was calm, almost proud But yet.
"Except, of course, for that troublemaker nephew of mine…" A thought flickered like a secret whisper:
Then, for a brief moment, he noticed something—Fred's cheerful face suddenly shifted, his brows knitting in confusion.
"Wait… where's Zeke?"
' Yeah I almost forgot where is he."
For the next second Aveloria clasped her hands together, smiling as though she'd been waiting to be asked.
"Oh, good you asked, brother. You won't believe it—Zeke actually volunteered to stay home."
Fred blinked. "...Why?"
' Yeah why?'
With a proud little laugh, Aveloria explained,
"He said he wanted to take care of everything in the house. Can you imagine? He insisted on cleaning the rooms, scrubbing the floors, even arranging the shelves before we get back. He told me, He wanted the house to be spotless so I could rest peacefully after all this celebration."
Fred eyes narrowed as his lips curled with disbelief.
"Ahh, truly, what a sweet boy he is. I must be the luckiest mother alive to have a son like him."
Fred stared, his face frozen between disbelief and deadpan suspicion.
Aveloria chuckled dreamily, placing a hand on her cheek. "I wonder what he's doing right now…"
Meanwhile... back at home…
A curved blanket rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
Just as expected. On the wooden bed, Zeke lay sprawled out—mouth wide open, drool tracing a line down his cheek. His sleep was anything but peaceful, snoring all the while like a lazy, content pig.
' Impressive, very impressive.'
The house was completely quiet and peaceful though… until not for long, he appeared.
From the yard, Its feathers caught the sunlight as though it wore golden armor, its eyes gleaming with unholy purpose.
It climbed onto the fence, chest swelling larger with each breath. For a moment, it paused dramatically, as though the whole world awaited its cry. Then—
"KOOK!… KOOOO KAA KOOOOOO!!!"
The sound split the morning like thunder, echoing across the fields, rattling the windows. The chicken tossed its head back, wings flapping like it had just conquered the earth itself.
But for just abrief moment, glorious reign lasted only a second.
SMACK!
A pillow shot out from the window like a deadly projectile, nailing the chicken square in the chest. Feathers burst into the air as the once-proud herald of dawn toppled dramatically off the fence... Geez looks like someone has anger issue...
Zeke's jaw cracked wide in a dramatic yawn as he shuffled down the stairs, his arms stretching so far he nearly smacked the wall. His voice echoed through the house, blending with the creak of the steps.
"Uuuaaahhh… what a lovely day…" he muttered, his eyes half-shut, hair sticking in all directions. Another yawn slipped out as he scratched his head lazily.
"Good gracious School is suspended..."
He paused with a grin.
"Until next month though?"
He chuckled to himself, shoulders relaxing as he dragged his feet toward the bathroom.
"Well, isn't this a jackpot phenomenon! It's kind a rare."
His grin widened, a playful laugh escaping him as if he had just won a secret lottery.
But.... the truth was no joke.
Four days ago, after the Golden Continent Academy held its wrecking parade in the village, the chief received an urgent message delivered straight from the higher authorities. The declaration was firm: all schools suspended, all transactions halted, and every road to nearby cities or villages cut off until the end of the month.
The reason? None was given. The message merely warned: the villages must settle down, and no unnecessary issues must arise. And so, like it or not, their village too was caught in the silence of that decree.
"Damn!"
Zeke cupped his hands under the water and splashed it onto his face, shaking off the sleep. When he raised his head, the mirror showed him a disaster—his hair sticking out in every direction like a bird's nest...
He groaned at his own reflection, then grabbed his toothbrush.
"But the reason's pretty obvious though…" he muttered between strokes, foam clinging to his lips.
"A war's actually happening." He thought staring at his own reflection with a serious gaze.
His eyes narrowed, thoughts wandering as the brush scraped back and forth.
" It's a pretty hot issue today... And it's not just the Golden Continent, but also across the Silver continent has been affected." He muttered in his mind as he grabbed a glass of water pouring straight to his mouth.
"From what I heard... A battle's already raging down at the southern boundary."
He spat, rinsed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then he added "but Yeah... Still..."
"No danger signal's been raised yet... And if one does come, it'll take two days before it even reaches our village. By then, everyone will already be evacuated…"
' yet his still happy about it despite the danger?'
For the next moment zeke stepped outside, stretching lazily as the morning Sun touches his skin. From the far-off village, echoes of music and laughter carried—festivities, as if war was nothing but a rumor.
He stared at the horizon a dry chuckle slipping from his lips.
"There's a war happening… yet they still celebrate," he muttered, before sighing deeply.
Well, yeah… technically, he did volunteer to take care of the house—what a responsible young man, right?
At least, that's what everyone thought.
Truth was, it was all part of his master plan. Two reasons—simple, brilliant, and slightly evil.
First, simple. peace and quiet. Staying home alone meant no noise, no chores from mom every five minutes, and best of all—freedom to be the lazy king he was born to be even just for today.
'What a lazy brat!'
Second was even simpler, he just didn't want to see those faces again. You know, the ones that made his blood pressure rise every time they opened their mouths...
' And hot headed as well '
For bit moment —he close his eyes, he let the wind comb through his hair.
"How long has it been now?"
And then—
The festival sounds dissolved, the day sky blinked out, the ground beneath him was gone. He was no longer standing at his door but lying in a field of endless grass. A place too quiet, too still, as if the world itself had forgotten to breathe.
A memory? No… it wasn't just a dream.
He could still recall that bizarre moment—the one that twisted his fate and left a mark he'd never forget.
He was wandering.
The earth stretched endlessly beneath his feet, but it was barren. No voices, no footsteps beside him, no gods to speak with, no mortals to guide. He walked through oceans where no fish swam, through forests that whispered only to themselves, through cities long abandoned, their stones crumbling into dust.
Alone. Always alone.
He remembered sitting on mountains, watching sunsets fall behind empty horizons. He remembered asking himself if eternity meant this—to witness everything, yet share it with no one.
That was his curse when the God he once served vanished. His purpose stolen. His existence hollow. Just wandering a world that no longer spoke back to him.
It was a loneliness deeper than death.
And then—one day—he collapsed. The endless walk ended. The void claimed him.
But unlike before, this time, something pulled him out.
The light came.
Two silhouettes descended, overwhelming in presence, radiant and terrifying. And when the light swallowed him whole—Zeke awoke again.
At first, he thought he'd been granted another chance. Another body. Another life. His heart trembled with hope.
Then he looked down.
"…Wait… why… why are my hands so damn tiny?!"
His stubby little baby fingers twitched uselessly in front of his face. No scars, no strength, no power. Just soft and chubby.
The two silhouettes leaned closer, gazing down at him with unreadable eyes. To them, he was just an innocent child.
To Zeke, he was the lonely wanderer—reborn into the most ridiculous, powerless form imaginable.
The two silhouettes leaned closer, their glow swallowing everything. Zeke, trapped in the body of a helpless infant, tried to shout his defiance—
but what came out was…
"Waaaahhh!"
A high-pitched baby cry echoed across the void.
Then—His pride shattered instantly.
"Gehh! Nope! Nah-uh! That time was REALLY horrifying!"
The memory cracked apart.
Zeke's eyes snapped open—back in the present, standing at his doorway with the festival's distant music still echoing in the wind. His shoulders shook as he rubbed his face, trying to shake the image away, as if trying to scrub away the memory of his humiliating rebirth.
"Alright, alright… let's just fast forward, shall we?" he muttered to himself. "You already know I was once the God's assistant, yadda yadda, big deal… But what about my new life? Oh, buddy. Let me tell you. That's where the tragedy begins."
He took a deep breath and started narrating his life like he was mocking it.
"Alright, alright… let's just fast forward, shall we?" he muttered to himself. "You already know I was once the God's assistant, yadda yadda, big deal… But what about my new life? Oh, buddy. Let me tell you. That's where the tragedy begins."
From the very start, in the age of five, people knew I wasn't… normal. Not in the "child prodigy destined for greatness" way—more in the "someone call a priest, this kid just spoke in ancient tongues" kind of way, seriously I'm not possessed ok.
At young age other kids were out there playing tag and scraping their knees, while me... I was sitting under a tree, staring at the clouds, asking deep nonsense like, "Do you think the world remembers when the gods died?"
My parents laughed the first time, you know, that awkward "our kid's totally fine, right?" laugh. By the tenth time, they were already whispering about calling a healer—or maybe an exorcist.
Then came Emelia—my little sister, three years younger than me. Finally, I thought, someone I could guide, but it doesn't look like it though. Instead, what actually happened was… I became a rascal coach.
Yeah, picture this: a eight-year-old me, crouched in the corner of the training yard with a creepy grin plastered on my face, laughing like some evil mastermind. Meanwhile, my adorable little sister was punching the air with her tiny fists, copying my moves.
"Good, Emelia! Now left jab! Right hook! HAHAHAHA!"
To any bystander, I probably looked like a demon plotting world domination with his toddler minion. But the truth? I was just… happy. For the first time, I wasn't alone.
Her little giggles between punches were like fuel for me. And even if she stumbled and fell flat on her face, I laughed not because she failed, but because I was proud she was trying.
…Still, I'll admit my "evil coach face" made the maids whisper about me at night. "Young Master Zeke looks possessed when he plays with the young miss…"
In my school life, The Principal's Office almost like my resting spot.
Of course, school didn't make my life easier. One day, five kids thought it would be smart to gang up on me. Bad move. My old combat reflexes kicked in, and before I knew it, they were all on the floor crying.
Cue me sitting in the principal's office. My mom? Mortified. My dad? Whispering "that's my boy" under his breath.
The principal just sighed and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Dione… your son is either going to be a genius or a warlord. Possibly both."
'no wonder you don't have friends lol.'
Other "Adventures"
Solved a math equation the teacher couldn't.
The result? Detention—for "mockery."
Apparently, being right is now a disciplinary offense.
And got banned from P.E. class for "excessive combat enthusiasm... "
' just admit you broke the dodge ball."
So yeah, that's my second life. The weird kid. The "rascal" older brother. The fighter who terrifies principals and teachers alike.
And honestly? Between baby hands, my demon-laugh training sessions, and family drama… I don't know if I got reborn to live again or just to mess with everyone else...
***
Return where zeke stood still for a moment, the wind brushing against his face. After finishing his long self-narration, he let out a deep sigh—like an actor closing the final line of a grand monologue.
"Well, I almost forgot."
He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled something out.
A… notebook?
Zeke tilted his head, then slowly opened it with a calm, almost smug grin. The small notebook, as it turned out, had been left by his mother. Inside was a neat list of household chores that needed to be done.
"Water the plants, feed the chickens, wipe the floor, wash the clothes... blah blah blah…" he muttered, scanning through.
"Pffft. Easy," he said with full confidence. "It's just kid stuff—like the tasks I've been doing every—"
He froze mid-sentence as something fluttered out.
A long strip of paper unrolled from the back of the notebook, stretching all the way down to his feet.
"Huh?"