On top of the snowy mountain where the trees had died, leaving behind thin trunks and leafless branches, a small wooden house stood as the only warmth in the middle of the eternal snowfall.
The chimney rose high, puffing out smoke from the burning firewood. That smoke was the only thing black in the endless sea of white snow that covered almost the entire mountain peak.
"After collecting firewood, I need to hunt some rabbits for lunch."
A seventeen-year-old boy worked his way through the thick forest and heavy snow. With a wooden basket on his back, he went on with his daily routine—collecting firewood, cutting small trees, and gathering food.
He was Kaine Nareth, a young man with naturally white hair and ocean-blue eyes. His skin was as pale as snow, and his body carried the light muscles of someone used to daily labor. Not too bulky, not too thin—just right for someone his age.
The farther he walked downhill, the thinner the snow became. Kaine stepped into a forest with thick green leaves, an ideal habitat for wild animals.
As he moved carefully, he spotted a medium-sized snow rabbit sitting alone, away from its group. It was the perfect target.
Smearing the tip of his wooden dart with Aspic Flower extract—a natural sedative—Kaine threw it forward.
"Got it!"
The dart pierced the rabbit's side, making it twitch in pain before soon falling asleep from the drug's effect. Kaine approached, picking it up carefully.
By noon, all his work was done. He carried everything back up the mountain, ready to prepare lunch.
As he reached the small yard in front of his house, Kaine faintly heard coughing sounds from inside.
He dropped his basket and rushed in. His mother, Ruri, was lying on the wooden floor, coughing up blood into her trembling hands.
"Mom!" Kaine shouted.
He quickly helped her back to the bed. Ruri had been suffering from a lung illness for a long time.
Many herbal medicines had been used, but none ever worked. It broke Kaine's heart—he felt guilty for not being able to heal her.
"You shouldn't move around too much. Just rest. I'll take care of everything," Kaine said softly.
"I'm sorry, Kaine."
"You don't have to apologize. I love you, that's why I do all this," Kaine said with a warm smile.
He pulled up the thick blanket around her, then scooped some burning coal into an iron bowl and placed it under the bed to keep her warm.
Ruri smiled faintly, happy to see her son taking such good care of her.
"I caught a pretty big rabbit today. It should be enough for dinner too," Kaine said.
He tossed some firewood into the fireplace, filling the house with a gentle warmth. Then he began cutting vegetables and preparing the rabbit meat for a hot soup—something easy for his mother to eat.
"Tomorrow is your birthday, Kaine," Ruri said weakly.
"You'll be turning 18."
"I know. Time really flies, huh?" Kaine replied.
"It does," she said softly.
"Your father would be proud to see you now—so strong and caring."
Kaine froze when he heard her mention his father. His heart tensed with anger. That seed of hatred that had lived inside him for years began to stir again.
"Don't ever mention him, Mom," Kaine said firmly.
"My father's been dead to me for a long time."
Ruri turned to look at her son. His face had hardened, and his hands stopped stirring the soup. She could feel his pain but didn't know how to ease it.
"He… must've had his reasons—"
"He's just a coward, Mom! A man who abandoned his own family," Kaine snapped, cutting her off.
He sighed deeply and went back to cooking. Ruri stayed quiet. Deep down, she believed that one day, Kaine and his father would meet again—they were too much alike.
Not long after, the soup was ready. Kaine carried it to his mother and helped her sit up against the wall.
Spoon by spoon, he fed her gently. But unlike before, she couldn't finish it.
Ruri soon fell asleep, exhausted. Kaine sat quietly by her bedside, watching her pale face in the dim firelight.
He couldn't just sit there. He had to get more medicine for her. The nearest village was six hours away on foot, but he had no choice.
"Mom…"
"Please rest. I'll go to the village to buy your medicine."
Ruri opened her eyes weakly and lifted her thin hand—the same hand that used to stroke his hair when he was a baby. Now, that hand felt cold against his cheek.
"You don't have to… I just want you here, my dear Kaine," she whispered, her eyes glistening.
"I can't just stand by and watch you suffer."
"It's okay, Mom. I'll be quick. I promise I'll be back before night."
Ruri looked at her son, now a grown young man—strong and kind, so much like his father. She smiled faintly and told him to be careful climbing down the mountain.
Kaine nodded firmly. He promised to return with the herbs she needed.
After saying goodbye, he closed the door and ran through the thick snow, heading down toward the valley where the village lay.
He crossed forests and rivers with determination. Thanks to his endurance, he managed to reach the village in just three hours instead of six.
"Look, the mountain boy's here."
"Don't get too close to him. He's a savage."
"Is he even human? How do he and his mom survive up there in the snow?"
Mockery and insults—Kaine was used to them. Because he lived differently from the villagers, they treated him like an outcast.
Some even called him and his mother monsters. Kaine didn't care. He was only there for the medicine.
He bought several herbs with the few coins he had, money earned from selling firewood. Five herbal potions cost fifty coppers—he didn't mind. His mother's health was worth far more.
After buying what he needed, he turned back into the forest, running uphill again. The villagers shook their heads, calling him the crazy mountain boy.
Kaine clutched the potions tightly as he climbed. His face brightened at the thought of his mother feeling better.
With these herbs, she'll be happy again.
The climb back up was much harder than the way down. Kaine had to stop several times to rest. But when he finally saw the snowy boundary, joy filled his heart again.
"Mom! I'm home!" he shouted from outside.
He pushed open the wooden door, covered in snow from head to toe. There she was—his mother—sleeping peacefully on the bed. The sun hadn't even set yet. He'd kept his promise.
"Those villagers don't know anything," Kaine muttered, setting down the potions and brushing snow off his shoulders.
"If I could, I'd punch them all myself."
There was no response. Kaine smiled softly, assuming she was still asleep.
"I'll boil the herbs now. The old herbalist gave me an extra potion—he's a good man," Kaine said as he prepared the pot.
"Don't worry, Mom. The medicine will be ready soon."
When it was done, he carried the steaming bowl over and gently touched her shoulder.
"Mom? Wake up for a bit, the medicine's ready."
No response. He called again and shook her gently. Still nothing.
"Mom?" Kaine's voice trembled.
He put the bowl down and held her hand—it was cold, just like always. But this time, something was different.
"Mom?!" he yelled, panic rising.
He pulled off the blanket and pressed his ear to her chest, hoping to hear a heartbeat.
His eyes widened. His body shook. Tears welled up in his eyes as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her desperately.
"MOM!"
"THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!"
"Please! Wake up!"
But she didn't move. Her heartbeat was gone. Her face, calm and smiling, would never open its eyes again.
Ruri was gone.
"Mom! Please… don't leave me alone!"
Kaine's scream echoed through the empty house. Tears streamed down his face as his world fell apart. He hit the bowl beside him, spilling the herbal mixture all over the floor. Falling to his knees, Kaine cried uncontrollably.
"I shouldn't have gone… I should've stayed with you!" he cried.
"I'm such an idiot! A stupid idiot!"
The house fell silent. The woman who once filled it with warmth was gone. Only painful memories remained.
Night came, cold and quiet. Kaine stepped outside, carrying his mother's body wrapped in her finest clothes—the ones she always said she wanted to wear when he grew up.
He dug a grave behind the house by himself and laid her down gently.
I'm sorry, Mom. I wasn't a good son.
Kaine clasped his hands together in prayer. He didn't believe in gods or heaven, but tonight, he prayed anyway—because he wanted to believe that his mother deserved to be among the gods.
He buried her with his own hands, finishing it with a stone marker above her grave. After one last prayer, he went back inside.
As he cleaned up, he lifted her pillow and found a folded piece of paper and a sky-blue knitted scarf. It was her handwriting.
[If you're reading this, it means I'm gone, and I know you must be heartbroken, Kaine. I'm sorry.]
[I'm sorry I couldn't stay by your side. I'm sorry if I ever hurt you. I'm sorry you had to suffer so much.]
[You've grown into a strong, kind, and responsible young man. I'm proud of you, my dear Kaine.]
[This knitted scarf is my gift for you. I know you probably won't like it since it looks girly, and that's okay.]
Kaine lifted the scarf. The stitches were neat and warm in his hands.
[I'm sorry I couldn't give you something better. If you don't like it, give it to the girl you love one day. I'm sure you'll find her—you're strong and handsome.]
[I guess it's not too late to say this…]
[…Happy birthday, my dear Kaine.]
Kaine collapsed, holding the letter tight against his chest and hugging the scarf close.
[You were such a good son, Kaine.]
His eyes opened slowly, and a faint smile formed on his lips. His heart ached, but something inside him began to calm.
"Thank you for everything, Mom."
[Dragon System Activation Detected.]
[Bloodline: Nivareth — Awakened.]