"Asper... Asper... Wake up, Descendent... of Cloverdel... The time... Of the promise... Has come... It is time... "

The voice resonated within Asper's mind, deep and resonant, stirring both fear and wonder within him. He tried to respond, to question the source of the voice, but his throat felt dry and his words refused to form.

"Who... who are you?" Asper thought, his mind awash with confusion.

There was a pause, as if the voice was considering its response. Then, it spoke again, its tone filled with urgency.

"Asper, I am 'Zeus' Cloverdel family's Guardian Qurint," the voice intoned. "I have been bound for too long, and now, the time has come for you to set me free."

Asper's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursing through him. He knew nothing of this Guardian, yet there was a strange familiarity in the voice that spoke to him.

"But... I don't know anything... how... how am I supposed to free you?" Asper thought, his mind brimming with questions.

The voice fell silent, leaving Asper hanging in anticipation. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease as he waited for a response, his patience wearing thin. "Um... Mr. Voice... Zeus?" Asper ventured tentatively, hoping for a reply. Yet, the silence persisted, stretching on like an endless abyss. Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the stillness, jolting Asper from his reverie.

His eyes snapped open, and he found himself lying in a familiar white room, the soft glow of the infirmary lights illuminating his surroundings. He felt a throb in his shoulder, a reminder of his recent defeat at Riven's hands.

As he sat up, his mind buzzing with the encounter with the Guardian, he couldn't shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he could never have imagined. His Vision cleared, and he became aware of a doctor attending to a young girl who sat on chair nearby. The doctor wore a traditional white yukata with red borders, her long white hair cascading down her back. She looked like a figure out of a timeless legend, her hands moving with practiced grace as she bandaged a scrape on the little girl's knee. The girl, with rosy cheeks and wide, curious eyes, watched the doctor's every move.

As the doctor finished bandaging the girl's knee, the child looked up and locked eyes with Asper. A warm, innocent smile graced her face, a pure expression of childhood joy. With a sudden burst of energy, the girl hopped off the bed and scampered towards Asper, her small feet barely making a sound on the polished wooden floor. She stopped before him, still smiling, and then giggled as if sharing a secret with a newfound friend.

"Be careful, Yumi-chan," said the doctor with a concerned expression.

"Heehehehehe, okay, Granny," replied Yumi with a mischievous grin.

With a gleeful twinkle in her eyes, she turned and dashed out of the room, leaving behind a sense of wonder that lingered in the air.

Asper couldn't help but chuckle at the exchange. "Granny?" he echoed, amused by the little girl's choice of words.

The doctor shot Asper a disapproving glance, clearly annoyed by Yumi's playful jab at her age. With a resigned sigh, she turned her attention back to Asper. "So, How do you feel now?" she asked, her tone softening with concern.

Asper shook his head, a hint of discomfort evident in his expression. "Not really good, mom" he admitted reluctantly. After Asper's confession, his mother's concern deepened, her brows furrowing with worry.

"What happened, Asper?" she inquired gently, her voice laced with a mother's tenderness. "Warrek told me you were zoned out during the fight. Is it because of "That" incident?", she continued, "If so, you should stop blaming yourself for that. It wasn't your fault."

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Asper's breath caught in his throat, the weight of his mother's words sinking into his troubled mind. "No, it wasn't because of that," he interjected hastily, his voice tinged with frustration. "Sorry, I think I mistook the situation," she admitted, her tone softened with maternal compassion. "But even so, you know what your defeat to Riven means, right?"

"But, Mom..." Asper attempted to protest, but she cut him off with a gentle shake of her head, her expression firm yet loving.

"No 'buts,' Asper," she insisted. "Your defeat to Riven signifies that you aren't yet ready to leave the safety of the village and venture into the world beyond. The dangers out there are far greater and more unforgiving than anything you've encountered here... and I won't risk losing you too."

Asper's frustration simmered beneath the surface, his emotions threatening to spill over. "You don't understand, Mom!!!" he burst out, his voice trembling with pent-up anger. "Living in this dojo and this godforsaken village feels like being trapped in a cage! You promised to let me go when I turned 17, but all I always hear is I'm not ready. Just when... when will I be ready to leave the village and follow my dream?.... And today..., there was a voice inside my head, urging me to free them or.... unseal them, I think i will go crazy at this rate..."

His mother's eyes widened at the mention of the unknown Voice, her concern deepening as she reached out to her son. But before she could utter another word, Asper's anger flared, and with a swift motion, he tossed aside his blanket and stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he fled the confines of the infirmary, leaving his mother behind, her heart heavy with worry and regret.

He burst out of the dojo and into the heart of Darzine village, a place where everyone knew each other. The village was divided by three river streams flowing from the mountain, converging into a grand ocean. The villagers went about their daily routines, some tending to their gardens, others engaging in lively conversations.

"Hey, Asper!" called out Mr. Horan, the village blacksmith, his voice gruff but friendly. Asper barely registered the greeting, his thoughts a whirlwind. Mrs. Della, the baker, waved at him, her apron dusted with flour. "Asper, dear, how are you?" she asked, her voice full of warmth. But Asper walked on, his mind elsewhere.

"Did you hear about the match?" a villager whispered to another as he passed by. "He lost to Riven again," came the reply, tinged with sympathy. Asper's jaw tightened, but he kept moving.

The bustling market came into view, a cacophony of sounds and smells. Vendors called out their wares, the scent of fresh produce mingling with that of baked goods. "Fresh fish! Just caught!" "Handcrafted pots and pans!" The familiar sights and sounds were a backdrop to Asper's turbulent thoughts.

Asper's feet carried him to his favourite spot by the ocean, a place where the three streams converged and spilled into the vast, shimmering expanse of water. The sight was as breathtaking as ever. Seagulls and other birds soared above, their cries blending with the gentle roar of the waves. The ocean breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of salt and freedom. He sat down on a smooth rock by the water's edge, his thoughts still racing. This was where he always came to find solace. The rhythmic flow of the river into the ocean brought him a sense of calm. He watched the birds fly freely above, their wings cutting through the sky with effortless grace. They embodied everything he longed for: freedom.

Sighing deeply, Asper felt the weight of his recent confrontation with his mother pressing heavily on him. The promise she had made to let him leave the village at 17 now felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by her protective fears. His heart ached with the desire to explore the world beyond the mountains and the ocean, to break free from the confines of Darzine village and find his own path.

He glanced at a tree nearby and memories flooded back. He remembered lying under that very tree years ago, feeling just as trapped and despondent as he did now. A shadowy figure of a girl had appeared over him, her voice clear in his mind. "Hey, you look sad!" she had said.

They had shared countless adventures, explored the village and dreamed of the world beyond. Moments of laughter and joy, running through the fields and playing by the streams, flitted through his mind. But then came the darker memory. The same faceless figure, reaching out to him with concern, saying, "Asper, you shouldn't...". He remembered the anger and frustration boiling over, pushing her away, leaving her alone as he stormed off. He never saw her again after that day, and the memory of her voice haunted him.

The pain of that mistake mingled with his current frustrations, deepening his sense of entrapment and loss. Asper leaned against the tree, the bark rough against his back, and closed his eyes. His mother's words echoed in his mind, and he felt the weight of his past mistakes and future uncertainties pressing down on him. He knew he couldn't stay in the village forever. The world outside called to him, and the voice inside his head only intensified that call.