“It is cold.“

My body shivers, attempting to generate warmth, while my consciousness slips back into the past.

"You... my firstborn son, Hildbrand Razorhardt, will become the next Sword Saint, the greatest of them all." 

My father proudly proclaims, handing me a beautiful sword on my sixth birthday. Everyone looks at me with admiration.

Ever since receiving that sword, I have trained harder than anyone. I stay up late and rise earlier than anyone within the castle.

I swing that sword thousands of times each day, my hand growing numb, but I never stop. 

Not once.

In the end, I was not the chosen one. I did not become the Sword Saint they had hoped for. But I believed everything would be fine; I would simply train even harder than before...

 I was too young and naive for everyone to see me as anything other than a child.

I was wrong.

My family, my servants, my friends, and even her—they all discarded me. Everyone looks at me as if I am trash. I don't understand. I trained diligently, but I failed to meet their expectations.

Treated like an unwanted piece of refuse, they cast me aside, stripping me of everything and leaving me in a small cabin deep in the forest. 

They forgot about me.

I don't understand. 

Why? Why? Why?

During the first month, I survived by hunting rabbits. They tasted unpleasant, but I still ate and ate.

Now, it's already the second month. The snow has made hunting rabbits more difficult, and the bitter winter cold has made my body stiff. Without food, proper clothing, or shelter... I can't think anymore. Will I die like this?

This is dire. My eyes feel heavier than usual, and my body grows hotter and hotter, but I understand that I must resist the urge to undress or fall asleep.

I just need one more chance. And I... I... What am I thinking? What can a child like me do? Is it better for me to embrace death, so at least everything will end when I close my eyes?

Am I gonna die like this? Lost and forgotten, I questioned my existence. Why? Why had they forsaken me so callously?

"Will you simply accept this wretched fate!!!" 

A howl pierced through the desolation of the empty cabin.

Was there someone attempting to rescue me? 

I opened my weary eyes, scanning the vacant surroundings, and cautiously lifted my body from the cold floor. 

Only emptiness greeted me—I was truly alone.

"Is there someone present?" 

Doubt crept into my mind, dismissing the possibility of salvation. 

Who would be foolish enough to venture into this treacherous tundra to save me? A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I mocked my own delusions.

"You can hear me?" 

The voice responded, brimming with anticipation, teetering on the brink of exultation.

My eyes widened, searching for the source of the voice within the abyss of the cabin. 

I rubbed my eyes, desperately trying to dispel the veil of darkness, but no matter how much I strained, no figure materialized before me.

"Who are you? Where are you?" 

I resigned myself to conversing with my own fragmented psyche, seeking answers from the depths of my delusion.

The voice fell silent upon hearing my words. Disheartenment enveloped me, even my own illusions had forsaken me. 

After what felt like an eternity of silence, the voice spoke once more, its words reverberating through the very core of my being.

"I was there when you first drew breath, witnessing your initial steps, and observing as you wielded your first stroke. I witnessed your unyielding dedication, surpassing even the knights of old. You, a child burdened with the weight of expectations, have now been unshackled, liberated from the chains that hindered your growth."

His words penetrated the depths of my soul. When betrayal and rejection became my constant companions, I had remained resolute, refusing to shed a tear. 

Yet, as his words resounded within me, a haze clouded my vision. A solitary tear cascaded down my cheek, marking the beginning of an unstoppable stream.

A resplendent golden shimmer bathed the space before me, casting an ethereal glow.

Standing there was an elderly man, his hair and beard as white as freshly fallen snow. His countenance held a wildness and strictness that coexisted in perfect harmony. Though his visage felt familiar, he remained a stranger to me.

Our eyes met, locking in an unspoken connection. It became clear—I was not ensnared by hallucinations. Before me stood a being with a soul.

"Golden Grandpa, pray tell, who are you?" 

Trembling with trepidation, I summoned every ounce of courage within me to inquire.

"HAHAHA!!!" 

His laughter resonated, echoing through the confines of the cabin. It brimmed with a vibrant energy, infused with both vitality and desperation.

Confusion gnawed at my senses, enveloping me in its clutches. I curled into a protective ball, cowering from the unknown.

"I am Emerys , Emerys Razorhardt, your greatest ancestor," he declared, his words laced with boastfulness. 

His thumb pointed proudly at his chest. Although his proclamation failed to assuage my apprehension, an unseen force compelled me towards him. "And today, kiddo, is your fortuitous day."

Emerys Razorhardt—a name of distant legend, yet one that resonated deeply within me. Emerys Razorhardt, the revered hero of the Ferrous Empire, and the very founder of the illustrious Razorhardt Ducal estate. Among the countless names of our esteemed lineage, his stood at the pinnacle of greatness.

The young boy stood bewildered, unable to articulate the bewildering sequence of events unfolding before him. 

Lost in the turmoil of his thoughts, his mouth began to open involuntarily, and he uttered a simple yet profound four words.

"I can see you..."

...

Six years have elapsed since that fateful incident.

"Too slow!" Emerys swung his sword.

I didn't have time to think. I let my six years of arduous training speak for itself.

"You're mine!" I grazed his shoulder with my sword, utilizing the momentum to thrust my wooden weapon toward Emerys . But before I could complete the maneuver, a sinister smile crept across Emerys ' face.

My face collided with the unforgiving ground as a devastating punch struck me square in the face.

"Ack~"

The sudden cry of pain escaped my lips.

"You're a hundred years too early," Emerys remarked condescendingly, his iron sword vanishing from his grip. “You haven't even awaken your wolfen eye, yet.“

I wiped the blood from my nose, my eyes gleaming with newfound understanding.

"Thank you, great ancestor."

"What is there to thank from such a brute?" A melodious female voice echoed from behind me.

The owner of the voice was a stunning woman in her mid-thirties, her long blonde hair cascading down to her feet. She wore a pristine white priestess dress.

"This kid won't learn if you keep coddling him, you old hag."

"What?! Who are you calling an old hag? And I am a hundred years your junior, you old goblin."

"You're nothing but a bag of meat, old hag."

With a pained smile, I interjected between the two of them.

"Nana, thank you for taking care of me, but I need to become stronger."

"Huhuhu, look at my boy being brainwashed by a sack of muscles. Let your Nana heal you from this old goblin." She floated over to me, embracing me while sticking her tongue out at Emerys .

A cold laugh escaped my lips.

I had encountered Priestess Joanna when I inadvertently wandered deep into the forest, stumbling upon a dilapidated chapel with a lone tombstone. I learned her true name was Priestess Joanna Lanna Pious Emmaculada. Initially, I had no inkling of her significance within the Church until Frelain informed me.

"I think it's time," a youthful male voice sounded from atop a tree. The figure leaped down gracefully, landing on the ground.

He was a petite elf with a blond ponytail. His handsome features befitted an elf, but a scar marred his right eye, rendering him blind on that side. He is covering it with a piece of blue cloth.

"Knife-ear, take him, and while you're at it, take this old hag with you," Emerys waved his hand dismissively as he strode into the cabin.

"We should go now; time is of the essence," Frelain urged, his free-spirited nature evident. He motioned for me to hurry.

"Priestess, you can join us if you wish."

"Well, I trust Frelain, and I don't want to interrupt his studies, as long as those old goblins aren't involved," Priestess Joanna replied, planting a kiss on my cheek. "See you tonight."

She waved her hand and headed toward her resting place.

"Let's get going then; we don't have the whole day to hunt, and I don't want to steal Gregorie's time," Frelain said, leaping into the air and landing on the branches. I retrieved the bow and arrows I had prepared earlier and followed suit.

Frelain, being an elf, possessed remarkable agility. However, I was no slouch either. I managed to keep pace with Frelain during our journey, and he regaled me with tales of his travels, enlightening me about various regions and their customs.

"In the east of the Siliconie Empire, there lies a magnificent lake. A great fairy resides there, and she adores riddles. If you can answer her questions, she'll grant you a gift."

"I'll make sure to remember, especially since you and everyone will be with me—I've got a built-in cheat code."

Frelain halted in his tracks, perched atop a lofty branch, before continuing.

"Hahaha, of course... How could I abandon a young calf like you?"

With that, we proceeded toward our hunting grounds.

I have six mentors, and except for the essential activities of eating, sleeping, and attending to personal needs, I devoted myself to constant training, not only in swordsmanship.

Frelain was a seasoned traveler and an adventurer, well-versed in the geography and hunting, albeit with a potential discrepancy of five to ten years, yet compared to the rest of my mentors like Emerys , who remained fixated on the era of the Great War, or Priestess Joanna, who spent most of her time within the convent.

"We've arrived."