He came to the realisation of his existence at the tender age of six.

He was looking out at the wheat fields as the sun set behind it, casting the entire valley in red and gold. As the sunset’s rays reflected in his eyes, so did the memories of his past life began to reflect in his mind.

He dropped the stick he was playing swords with, his mouth agape as his past life as the Sword Saint filled the jar that was his mind, threatening to spill out of it.

Yet his mind held. It did not break. Thus, he was gifted with something altogether unworldly.

He must have been standing there for a long time. When he returned to consciousness, his mouth was dry and throat screaming for water. Yet, it was not water that he reached out for first.

It was the stick.

He went into position, legs apart and bent, both hands gripping the stick. Then he applied a physical enchantment that raised his strength.

He swung the stick towards the ground. Upon touching the soil, a burst of dirt and mud exploded from the tip, leaving a fissure in the ground.

The enchantment ended.

So did his normal life as a child.

It was like having a book permanently attached to his head. He could reach for it, could flip through it, could view the scenes on the page as he wished.

In the light of the sun, he viewed memories concerning training and replicated them in his life. Martial Arts, Swordsmanship, and Enchantment training - as the days passed, his knowledge on all three continuously grew. His stance became steady, his grip on the heavy stick more sure, and was able to cast more and more enchantments on his body and on his weapon. These he took with pride.

In the dark of the night though, what he viewed was the quiet, beautiful moments. Of the sea, which he had never saw in his short lifetime. Of the mountains, which to him now remained only a distant horizon. Of a blanket of flowers in a meadow, or a fire crackling in the middle of an encampment. These fed his soul, his desire to become more than what he is now.

As his twelfth birthday grew ever closer, he began to take interest in the Sword Saint’s own life. In a time when the title Sword Saint did not even exist, as he was the first. What gave him happiness, what sadness scored his heart, what made him fear, what he regretted in the end. These things he kept as secrets close to his heart, and he let the memories become one with his.

As such, being both adult and child at the same time, he grew more distant from his peers and from his siblings. At every free moment in the day he was training, and every free moment in the night he was reviewing his memories. His peers and siblings began to leave him alone, but seeing his fervour they gave him a new name: Edge.

Soon though, his skills began to plateau. Sure he could swing his sword more, punch the rice sack more, increase the number of enchantments he could cast at once more - but he wasn’t getting any better at it. The movements of his martial arts and swordsmanship have been etched into his body, and he couldn’t do more than seven enchantments at once no matter how he pushed himself. He realised soon that he needed experience. A real battle with an enemy at or above his level.

So then. It was time to leave.

His twelfth birthday rolled in. His family happily celebrated, bringing out various of his favourite dishes. He smiled the whole day. Inside, his determination solidified.

As his birthday party winded down, he made the announcement.

“I am going to sign up for the military.”

Everything paused. His siblings looked at each other with gaping mouths. His mother put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide in horror. His father took on a strict countenance.

“No. Wait until you’re older,” his father insisted.

He countered, “Now is the time. I won’t get any better at fighting if I stay here.”

“What in the world do you want to fight?” his mother queried, a little frenzied.

“I just want to use my skills to protect all of you,” he dodged.

“You can do that here. You don’t have to join the military.”

“My skills will be wasted here. I must be out there, gaining experience in fighting monsters.”

Rather than his parents, his eldest brother was the one who sealed the deal.

“Then, if you want to fight, prove it to us! Defeat me,” his eldest brother proudly announced.

Thus in the bright light of day, he stood across from his oldest brother. He was a good brother, helpful on the farm and kind to his siblings. However, his vice was how fast he brandished a stick in any situation. Well, in this case it proved a boon to Edge.

They both wielded sticks, the family too poor to afford any fancy training sword. His brother swung his stick around, as if testing it. Edge didn’t need to; he had been using this stick for awhile now.

The sun at its zenith. Their father called for the battle to start.

Edge was content to wait for his brother to move first, and he didn’t have to wait long. He charged in with a yell, stick held up high. Apparently he was counting on his strength as a teenager to overwhelm Edge, who was still young. Now, if only Edge were a normal child, he would have easily won.

Instead, Edge simply sidestepped the stick that came down for his shoulder. This unbalanced his brother, who fell to the floor with his momentum. Edge used his stick to tap his brother on his neck. The movement made it clear: if this were a real battle, Edge would have cut off his neck.

“I hope this makes it clear,” Edge addressed the rest of the family.

His mother and sisters cried, while the men of the family tried their best to hide their tears.

In the quiet of the night, while his siblings were asleep, Edge thought to leave to avoid the incoming tears-filled goodbye. He had to pass the living room to do so, and he was surprised to find his parents still awake. Rethinking his strategy, he couldn’t help but to overhear their conversation.

“…that boy was always a strange one,” his mother commented.

“Yes, he was always practising with his sword. I thought it was just play, but I underestimated him.”

“No, that’s not what I was thinking about.” His mother sighed. “Since he was young, there was something strange about him. When he came home one day, I felt that he… changed, somehow. Got older than he should be. That’s about the time he suddenly took to practising his stick so much.”

“You think something happened to him?” his father asked.

“I don’t know. What I do know is that he is serious about joining the military.”

“Yeah, I could see it in his eyes.”

There was a pause. Then, “He’ll leave tomorrow. I hope to give him a good sendoff. I want him to remember that he still has his family here. No matter who he becomes, I want him to know that I will always be his mother.”

At that, Edge quickly moved to a more secluded area of the house. Tears poured down his face, tears that were clearly Edge’s own. He decided to abandon his plan to leave early.

As he waved his family goodbye, he thanked them repeatedly in his heart. He was raised well by these people, who did not abandon him even when he changed. Edge resolved to send regular letters to keep his family updated.

Therefore, on the day 500 years ago when the still-green Sword Saint entered the capital, so did Edgar son of Bertram first step foot into the Capital City.