The head and pelt of the young giant bear I had slain were mounted on the wall of our home.

But it did not have its teeth.

While I lay bedridden, my mother carefully extracted each tooth, cleaned them thoroughly, and made a necklace for me.

The wounds I sustained from the mother bear were worse than I had imagined.

Even when I had somewhat recovered, I was not allowed to leave the bed for quite some time.

On the day I finally gained permission to get out of bed, my mother approached me with the necklace of bear teeth.

That necklace was the proof of a warrior.

Only a warrior had the right to wear it around their neck.

My heart pounded with excitement.

Finally… finally, I too…

As I stared at the necklace, almost entranced, my mother placed her hand on my head.

"Rafa, this is proof that you killed a bear by yourself. Under normal circumstances, this would be the evidence that recognizes you as a warrior of Enorthos Autonomous Territory."

My mother paused.

Uh… Something about this sounded off.

I tore my eyes away from the necklace and looked up at her, seeing the serious expression on her face.

"If I hadn’t intervened, you would have died. Knowing that, I cannot fully recognize you as a warrior. A warrior is a title given only to those who have slain a bear and survived on their own strength."

"Mom."

Suddenly, tears welled up in my eyes.

The adult part of me inside thought, well, I suppose that makes sense, but the child within me, Rafa, couldn’t accept my mother's words.

It felt so unfair.

If only the mother bear hadn’t shown up, I was sure—

Noticing my expression, my mother spoke again.

"A true warrior would have anticipated and handled such a situation. A cub always has its mother nearby. Just from that, it’s clear that you are not yet ready to be recognized as a warrior."

But that bear had looked fully grown.

Even from the perspective of me, a former Earthling, and Rafa, who had grown up in the forest, that bear was a big one.

"…Mom, but you told me I was a warrior…."

I choked on my words, and my mother closed her mouth with a troubled look.

Well, I understood without her having to say it.

She must have thought I was going to die, so she said what I wanted to hear.

My father, who had quietly been standing by, finally spoke.

"Rafa, it doesn’t mean we won’t recognize you at all. You can tell from the fact that your mother made the necklace, can’t you?"

"…."

I looked at my mother through my tears, and she hurried to speak as if flustered.

"I can’t fully recognize you as a warrior yet. It would be against my conscience. But you do have potential. So, for now, I’ll give you this necklace. And when I truly believe you have become a warrior, then in my name, Helga, I will acknowledge you."

"… A warrior candidate?"

My mother nodded at my words.

"Yes. This situation isn’t unheard of. There have been rare instances where young ones, lacking experience, were recognized as warriors later on, even after killing a bear."

Seeing me wiping away my tears, my mother let out a sigh of relief and placed the necklace around my neck.

Perhaps she had made it long and loose, expecting me to grow into adulthood.

As soon as I wore it, the necklace dangled all the way down to my waist.

"It’s too big."

My mother crouched down in front of me with a grin.

"You’re going to grow taller than me. If it weren’t this long, you’d end up having to wrap it around your wrist later, and you wouldn’t like that, would you?"

"…No."

"Rafa, from today onward, I will turn you into a true warrior."

My mother must have been deeply shocked by the fact that I had almost been killed by the bear.

From that day on, I was subjected to far more rigorous training than before.

So that I would never, ever be killed by a bear.

My mother’s combat training was unlike anything taught at a school or gym.

It was a real, life-or-death battle.

She came at me with axes and fists, ready to kill, and I took a beating severe enough to make dying to a bear seem preferable.

This continued until I was twenty-three years old.

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"…."

It seems my mother had been quite shaken by her son’s near-death encounter with a bear.

That’s probably why she insisted on training me until I reached twenty-three.

She wanted to make sure I would never, ever be killed by a bear.

Lost in thought for a moment, I suddenly noticed an axe flying right toward my face, and I quickly moved back.

With a whoosh, the axe passed just a hair’s breadth from my head, narrowly missing me.

"Rafa! Are you trying to get yourself killed by daydreaming during a fight?!"

My mother’s thunderous voice reverberated through the air.

My ears rang.

Instead of replying, I twisted my body and used the momentum to launch an attack at my mother.

My iron axe clanged against hers.

She parried my blow easily, moving forward.

‘Got you.’

This was what I was waiting for.

I grinned as I twisted the axe.

The thick part of my axe struck her weapon instead of the blade.

In that instant, I saw my chance, and I kicked like lightning.

It connected!

The impact forced my mother back several steps.

‘Good, now to keep the momentum.’

Just as I raised my axe to attack again, my mother raised her hand to stop me.

"!"

I quickly twisted my axe away as it hovered in mid-air.

The axe shifted direction just a fist’s width away from my mother’s head.

I was shocked.

I had almost killed my mother.

My heart nearly stopped.

"Mom! What are you doing?! That was dangerous."

I blurted out without thinking.

Normally, I would never speak to her like that.

If I did, I’d be on the receiving end of one of her punches.

When I was a child, I didn’t quite realize it, but my mother was someone who spoke more with her fists than with words.

This was just my guess, but back when I was small, she probably held back for fear of killing me if she laid a hand on me.

Even though I trained back then, I had no memory of her hitting me. That was probably why.

Now?

Heh.

I knew all too well, through my body, how well her fists could "speak."

My mother looked at me silently.

"…."

What was this?

Something seemed off.

"Uh… Mom, did you get hurt earlier?"

"No."

"…."

Then why?

She looked at me with an expression that was a mix of happiness and sadness, something I couldn’t quite grasp, and spoke.

"This time… I lost."

"…."

"Rafa, you won."

"…."

Did I just hear that correctly?

During my many sparring sessions with my mother, there were times when I landed a hit.

Such opportunities were rare, but there had been occasions when my attacks had connected, just like today.

But she had never admitted defeat before.

More often, what I thought was a successful attack turned out to be a trap she had set, and I would only realize it afterward.

There were maybe one or two times in the past where I had truly struck her.

But for her to now admit defeat?

Could this be a trap?

Or was this someone else who looked like my mother?

I instinctively glanced around.

Seeing my confusion, my mother laughed heartily and approached me.

"Rafa, I doubt I would have been able to counter your next attack. You won."

She hugged me tightly.

The mother who once seemed like a towering mountain was now a head shorter than me.

"There have been hints of this for years. I’ve been using every trick in the book to keep up with you. But now, it’s impossible. You’ve become stronger than me, Rafa."

After saying that, my mother’s expression became solemn.

"I, Helga, hereby acknowledge Rafa as a warrior of Enorthos Autonomous Territory. You, Rafa, a proud warrior of Enorthos, may the goddess of the earth be with you."

"…."

A short conversation, with just the two of us, without any audience.

Nothing had really changed from before and after being recognized as a warrior.

It was merely a sentence, meaningless to anyone else.

But I had been waiting a long time for those words.

I hadn’t expected it would take fourteen years to be recognized as a warrior.

"…."

It was real.

I never imagined I would have to defeat my mother to gain recognition.

Mother, this isn’t the usual way, is it? I’ll hold that against you.

But somehow, I could understand her feelings.

She had worried about me.

Once recognized as a warrior, I would leave home and seek my own path.

She had feared that, and so she had used every trick she knew to keep delaying this day.

Feeling tears threatening to spill, I turned my head slightly.

It still took too long, Mom.

"I’m so proud of you, Rafa."

With those words, my mother gave me a hard pat on the back.

Tears glistened in her eyes as well.

That evening, we roasted a boar that we had caught a few days ago, seasoning it with herbs from the mountain.

"Eat well, Rafa. Your body is your most valuable asset as a warrior."

My mother placed a thick slice of meat on my plate.

My father watched her, his eyes narrowing.

More than ten years had passed, but my father was still beautiful.

"Rafa, do you remember all that I taught you?"

Hearing my father’s question, I straightened my posture.

I believed my father was probably of noble birth.

When I was young, he meticulously taught me how to sit, stand, use utensils, and even how to speak properly.

None of it was necessary for life as a warrior, but he insisted on teaching me anyway.

Just like my mother, my father was strict in his teachings.

During those years, I had practiced the same action hundreds of times until it met his standards.

"Yes, Father. It has become a part of me."

"Good. Knowledge is power. But there are times when you must not reveal what you know."

"Yes, Father."

Having grown up observing both my father and mother, I could act like a nobleman, or appear as a wild warrior.

In day-to-day life, I usually leaned toward my mother’s mannerisms, though.

Suddenly, my father extended a hand and gently touched my hair.

While I hadn’t inherited my father’s beautiful looks—unfortunately, I took after my mother—I did inherit his eye and hair color.

This seemed to please my father.

He gently played with my platinum hair and smiled softly.

"It feels like just yesterday you were a little child, but now you’ve grown."

I had grown up years ago.

In this world, one was considered an adult at fifteen.

I should have been recognized as a warrior and left this house long ago.

"Rafa, when you go out into the world, think carefully about why I live here, in this forest. There is a reason why I raised you in this place."

"…."

Not understanding, I glanced at my mother.

But her face was unreadable.

My parents had never told me about their past.

Whenever the topic came close, they both remained silent.

I swallowed a chunk of the thick meat and nodded.

"Yes, Father."

But what could I come up with if I thought about it?

I hardly knew anything about my mother or father, so I doubted I would come up with anything worthwhile.

But I swallowed that thought along with the meat.

It was best not to question or argue with my father’s words.

His words were like commands that my mother upheld absolutely.

Whenever he said something, my mother would obey without question.

Naturally, I followed suit.

It was what I had seen growing up.

It had been the unchanging law of our household since my earliest memories.

At dawn the next day, I left home, carrying an axe and my belongings.

In the large sack slung over my shoulder were dried meat, a flint set, a knife for butchering, a pot, oil, a blanket, and other essentials for traveling.

The world around me was still dark, but in the distance, the black sky was beginning to lighten.

The sun would soon rise.

My mother and father accompanied me to a spot a little way from the house.

"Please go back now. It’s too dangerous for you to come out this far, Father."

My father was the type who wouldn’t notice a wolf creeping up on him from behind, let alone fight it.

Of course, my mother would protect him, but the forest was filled with danger from all sides, and I worried.

My father nodded.

"You're right. I don’t want to cause your mother any trouble. I’ll head back now… Rafa, be careful. Trust no one. The more sincere someone seems, the more likely they are to lie with a smile."

"Yes, Father."

My mother said nothing.

She just stood there, her lips pressed tightly together, staring at me.

The torch my father held flickered in the wind, making her face look as if she were crying.

"Please take care of yourselves, Father and Mother."

With those words, I turned around.

Although they had said they would go back, my parents remained there, watching my back.

I could feel their gaze.

I didn’t turn around, for fear that tears might come.

When I had walked far enough away, to the point that our house was nearly out of sight, I finally looked back.

My parents appeared as tiny dots in the distance.

They were still standing there, still watching their now-distant son who had become nothing more than a small speck on the horizon.