It was another dreary and unforgiving day for a boy at Krol.

Dressed in the best clothes he had, he stood there lifelessly and devoid of will while in his hands were a bundle of flowers he had picked up along the way. A week had already passed, but the sharp and aching pain he had felt at that time never weakened at all. Unmoving as if repenting for something, his gaze was locked below him.

Every time he lay his gaze on the two engraved slabs of stone on the ground, the pain would intensify as if knives were stabbed repeatedly at his already decrepit heart. The slabs were destitute, uneven and obviously poor in quality, but it was all he could do; an incomprehensible feeling of self-pity and loss festered in his heart. Unable to finally control himself –a repeat of what happened in the days before-- tears slowly gushed out from his eyes. In a choke voice, he spoke, “Dad. Mom. I’m sorry...” He carefully halved the bundle of flowers into two, and lovingly placed a portion onto a slab of stone.

He kneeled, and beside him was a wooden sword that looked new and shimmered in a faint light, so faint that it looked like it was dying. It was a gift from his father, hoping that the boy would grow up to be a respected Spirit Warrior like him. It was a sword covered in his father’s Spirit and meant to be used as a training tool and nothing more.

On his other side laid meticulously was an intricate leather glove, that gave off a feeling of power but just like the wooden sword, the feeling was faint. He could see traces of colorful small orbs from time to time gathering towards the glove. It was something he received from his mother when he said he wanted to be a spellcaster. It was an item that helped gather mana for the wearer, especially for ones who were incapable of perceiving mana. His mother had made it for him, even though, she was

fully aware of her son’s poor talent in mana.

He waited there while kneeling, and held back his wailing voice, afraid that he would get scolded by his parents on the ground. He wanted to openly cry, and voice his desire of seeing his father and mother again, but he was not able to. Even with his naive and young mind, he knew that if he did so, it would be the greatest insult he could do to his parents who sacrificed themselves for him.

He stared at the two slabs, and imagined his parents overlooking him with a smile, and spoke to him in a soft voice like always. ”Get up, son! There’s no need to cry. I’ll race you back to town. First one to get there, gets the first taste of Mom’s cooking!” said by his boisterous father.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

A sigh came beside his father, “Dear... Can’t you see our boy’s tired?” said by his gentle

mother.

“Pfft. My son? Tired? He’s as strong as his dad!” his father flexed as he said so, “Right, son?!” continued by his comical father.

The pain in his heart eased a bit, even though his father and mother weren’t really there. He was just truly glad and happy that even though they were gone, they still cared for him from beyond the Aether. He shook his head and the imaginary forms of his parents disappeared. His tears had stopped, and the turmoil from the last week started to weaken but he still waited on that very spot until sunset. Just outside the walls of Krol, waited a boy over two slabs of stone.

Sunset came. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt and stood up, though, unsteadily. The lifelessness in his eyes were nowhere to be found and what replaced it was the seed of a strong will. He looked at the grave of his parents, and spoke softly, “Dad. Mom. From now on, I won’t mourn for your deaths.” He breathed deeply, and continued, “Starting today, I will respect both of your wishes: I will live the life the two of you have given me.” He then grabbed the wooden sword on the ground. “I will become strong like Dad! I will become a renowned Spirit Warrior like him.” And sheathed the wooden sword to his side.

This time, he grabbed the leather glove from the ground. “I won’t let Mom’s work be in vain. Alongside being a powerful Spirit Warrior like Dad, I will also be as good as Mom when it comes to enchanting items!” He equipped the leather glove on his left hand. “Tomorrow, I’ll enroll for the Academy and train there. I will become strong! I won’t be as weak as I was back then. That way, what happened then won’t happen twice. I won’t let anyone sacrifice themselves for me ever again. I’ll show them that I can be stronger than anyone else!”

After bowing to the graves of his parents, he walked off with power back to Krol. And when tomorrow came, he would train bitterly until he became strong, and if not, he would continue for the day after. He won’t let anyone destroy his parents’ legacy.