Tatsuma Village was still shaking the dust of snow from its shoulders when Grandma Kaina made her way toward the cottage. Shimoro's small body was limp in her arms, his head swaying left and right with every weary step she took.
"My God! Kaina? What has happened to the little one?"
The voice came from behind the bakery storefront. Goro emerged, his massive frame shaking as he walked, his white apron stained with flour and his black cap tilted slightly over his black eyes. Beside him, Kenta stood frozen; his messy blonde hair covered his forehead, and his yellow eyes were wide with terror as he saw his best friend unconscious.
"Did he fall from the heights?" Kenta asked, his voice trembling, while his companions whispered in the back. "Look at him," one of them said with faint mockery, "he doesn't even have magic to protect himself from a simple fall."
Kenta turned sharply toward his companions, his yellow eyes flashing with anger: "Shut up! If it weren't for Shimoro, you wouldn't have laughed a single day in this village. Get lost!"
Kaina cleared her throat, trying to hide her exhaustion and her ragged breathing: "Just a harsh training session, Goro. He wanted to prove to me that he could climb the ice slope, and he ended up with an icy sunstroke."
Goro shook his head skeptically, looking at the blood staining Kaina's forehead, but he chose to remain silent out of respect for her. "Give him my regards when he wakes up. Tell him there is a cream-filled pastry waiting for him... no one else will steal it."
"And I'll come visit him tonight!" Kenta shouted, following Kaina for a few steps. "I'll bring him some of the colored stones I collected! Shimoro loves them!"
A full day passed, and Shimoro was submerged in deep darkness. In the small cottage, the scent of medicinal herbs filled the air. Suddenly, Shimoro's body jolted, and a muffled cry escaped him as he pushed the quilt away.
"Grandma! Run! The black ice!"
Kaina placed her cool hand gently on his forehead: "Calm down, Shimoro. You are in your home. There is nothing here but the scent of soup."
Shimoro looked around with wandering eyes, then leaned his back against the bed, panting. "He bound you... that man... Vargas."
"He is gone," Kaina said, offering him a cup of warm tea. "And by the way, Kenta didn't stop banging on the door all night. He visited you and brought you these." She pointed to a collection of colored stones beside his bed.
Shimoro smiled weakly, feeling some warmth in his chest. Then, the words tumbled out of his mouth with excitement: "Oh! He brought me the colored stones!!" Grandma smiled, but the young boy's features soon clouded with seriousness. "Grandma... what did he mean by me being 'unripened fruit'? Am I food to him?"
Kaina sat beside him, laughing softly, and spoke in a calm tone: "No, boy. Sometimes, a hunter sees a young deer and does not kill it immediately. Instead, he waits until it grows and becomes a prize catch. Vargas saw a power in you whose limits he does not know, and he wants you to grow... so he can steal that power when it is complete."
Shimoro clenched his fist. "He won't get anything from me, will he??"
The grandmother replied with a worried calmness: "Certainly, my son... but you will have to train during this time as well."
Five Years Later
Tatsuma had changed, and Shimoro had changed even more. At seventeen, he was no longer the boy who ran away from his studies. He stood in the frost-covered training yard; he had grown taller, wearing his black coat with white fur, his shoulder muscles bulging with every movement, and his black hair—tinted slightly blue—falling to the edge of his jaw at the back.
"Slow! A wounded turtle is faster than you!"
The voice roared like a thunderclap. Fang stood there, his broad body blocking the meager sunlight. His dark tan head shimmered from the cold and his lack of hair, while his black eyes looked toward Shimoro with a relaxed gaze. His white scarf fluttered, and his brown clothes were loose on his frame.
"Master Fang!" Shimoro shouted, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I've smashed a hundred dummies! My hand has become a piece of wood. I'm exhausted!"
Fang kicked the remains of a wooden dummy, turning it into splinters. "The enemy won't wait for you to rest. Draw your sword; show me the 'power' within you!"
Shimoro focused, feeling the bite of the frost. A blue aura erupted from his palm, and ice formed with staggering speed to create a sharp, transparent blade. He lunged at Fang with speed, and they began exchanging blows. Fang parried Shimoro's attacks with his bare hands, which were covered in a thin layer of energy.
In an instant, Shimoro retreated, and with a cunning move, he fired a small ice arrow from his other hand toward Fang's head while feigning an attack at his feet.
Fang didn't move. As the arrow drew near, he caught it between two fingers and crushed it like a biscuit. "An attempt to cheat? That means a hundred extra rock-swings, you cheater."
"Damn your senses, Fang!" Shimoro grumbled, collapsing onto the snow, depleted.
But after a while shimoro continued his training...
And At sunset, Fang stood at the edge of the village, wrapping his long white scarf around his massive neck.
"Where to?" asked Shimoro, who had been watching in silence.
Fang turned, his eyes carrying a seriousness Shimoro had never seen before. "There is a scent of rot in the south. Vargas's schemes are starting to appear like black stains on the snow. I will return when I find answers... or when my ammunition runs out."
Fang placed his hand on Shimoro's shoulder, the man's hand heavy on the youth. "Remember your promise. Do not hesitate. The sword that trembles kills its owner before the enemy."
"I know you will do it. Remember... no hesitation. And in my absence, listen well to your grandmother."
Shimoro replied, feigning strength while smiling confidently: "Alright, take care of yourself. I will train well until you return, and I'll protect Grandma and even the village!"
Shimoro watched Fang disappear into the blizzard, feeling a strange void. Fang was more than a trainer; he was the mountain he leaned on.
In the evening, Shimoro and Kaina sat before the fireplace in the cottage. Shimoro sipped his tea slowly, and they talked about his training and old memories of the village. A tender smile formed on Kaina's face as the words left her mouth.
"You are strong, Shimoro. Your body and mind have completely changed in these five years. But... are you ready to accept the truth?"
Shimoro looked at her, then down at his fist, clenching it tightly. "I saw the truth in Vargas's eyes five years ago. Nothing scares me anymore. I will protect the village... but I will be a very strong protector!... the strongest, even! And I will venture into different places to learn everything about my past and about this world, just like my master Fang!"
Kaina nodded with a smile, relieved yet worried for her grandson. She turned to look through the window toward the night sky, where the stars appeared clearly. At that moment, a heavy silence fell over the place. It wasn't the quiet of a sleeping village, but a strange stillness that swallowed all noise.
That night, the silence in Tatsuma was uncomfortably heavy.
Far from the warm lights of the village, an army of shadows was making its way through the mountain passes. The Black Knight Order. Their steel armor had no luster; it absorbed the light as if they were moving black holes. From their closed helmets, nothing could be seen but narrow slits emitting gazes cold as death.
Their gait was synchronized; there was no sound of clanking weapons, only the heavy thud of their footsteps on the snow. Their leader advanced with steady steps, without any weapon—only his bare fists.
The leader stopped and looked toward the horizon where Tatsuma lay. He spoke in a cunning voice:
"The heir...."
With a single motion of his hand, the knights surged like a black plague toward the sleeping village.
To be continued...