Another ordinary day.
Jonn’s gaze settled on the neatly stacked small logs, their rough bark glistening in the sunlight. A content smile played across his face as he set his axe down. Reaching for a soft towel, he wiped away the beads of sweat trickling down his face, inhaling deeply, savoring the crisp scent of pine needles.
“Aah!”
Having drained half the liquid from a small glass bottle, his lips parted, still moist, revealing a sense of delight that permeated the air. His voice soon faded, melding with the tranquility of yet another dawn. The weather was exquisite, the sky unblemished by a single cloud. The temperature was perfect—neither too hot nor too cold.
Jonn paused, studying the slope before him, nodding in appreciation.
I can’t get enough of this view.
The Green Hills stretched out before him, a breathtaking panorama that left him in awe. Each day, he made a point to pause and gaze at the horizon, immersing himself in the tranquil beauty of nature’s serene sanctuary.
With forest extending in all directions and no town for at least 100 kilometers, a profound stillness reigned, undisturbed by noise or commotion. Only a sense of calm, unity, and the eternal cycles of nature prevailed.
Jonn resumed chopping his firewood, expertly maneuvering his axe in the air before swiftly bringing it down on the half-meter-long log.
Just as the sharp blade was about to meet the wood, Jonn noticed that time seemed to freeze. Despite his motionless body, he remained acutely aware of his surroundings, his gaze fixed, his mind unaffected.
What is this?
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“Hah, hah, hah.”
Jonn’s eyes snapped open abruptly, and he bolted upright, his mouth agape as if desperately expelling air from his lungs. Inhaling deeply, he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, shivering uncontrollably as he surveyed his surroundings.
As reality slowly seeped back, his gaze settled on the door of his house. Its weathered cracks offered glimpses of the outside world, allowing slivers of light to filter through, casting an ethereal glow within the confines of his modest dwelling.
The spartan 12-square-meter room housed only the essentials: a small chest of drawers, the bed he currently occupied, a sink, and a solitary table with a single chair. The floor was nothing more than compressed soil, and the once-white walls were now grimy and marred by cracks.
A full minute after waking, his senses fully reoriented to reality, leaving behind the lingering vestiges of his dream.
With a wry smile, he laced up his boots, preparing to face another day.
These dreams are getting longer and longer. Am I going crazy?
As he pushed open the door, his eyes narrowed instinctively against the almost blinding brightness outside. It took only moments for the eyes of the tall boy—standing at an impressive 1.95 meters (6.4 ft), with a firm, muscular build belying his youthful appearance—to adjust and take in the horizon.
Stretching out before Jonn’s house lay a vast, seemingly endless black valley. For hundreds of square kilometers, no sign of intelligent life could be discerned beyond the small enclave of Eternal Village.
Save for the black, ashen earth, the only break in the monotony of the blue sky were the 12 houses clustered around Jonn’s, comprising the small Eternal Village with its 44 inhabitants.
“Jonn, hurry, something’s happened to your grandfather!”
The sudden voice from behind his house sent an electric chill down the spine of the white-haired young man.
Turning to identify the source of the cry, Jonn saw a middle-aged woman with an unremarkable appearance—neither beautiful nor ugly, as simple as everyone else in the village seemed to be. However, Betta’s normally gentle face was now ashen, her usually soft features contorted into a grimace of distress.
If Betta’s tone hadn’t immediately set off alarms, her expression certainly did. Jonn rushed to the side of the woman in the yellow and red dress, asking worriedly, “What happened? Where is he?”
“The Village Elder fell while leaving the greenhouse. Hurry, Jonn, he’s at Arber’s house. He wants to...” The black-haired woman with the ponytail stammered, “He wants to say goodbye.”
With terror gripping him, Jonn swallowed hard and left Betta behind. He scaled the fence behind his house, perched on top of the hill, and raced towards the house that was situated 250 meters (273 yd) away.
Jonn covered the distance to Arber’s house—identical to all others in the village—in a mere 30 seconds.
Villagers watched him pass, their silence speaking volumes. Some women covered their mouths in shock, while the men removed their hats in solemn respect.
“Jonn, this way,” said Lance, Arber’s husband. The middle-aged man, his once-blond hair now streaked with white, looked as if he had aged two decades in a matter of hours.
“I don’t know what happened, Jonn,” Arber said, her eyes reluctantly leaving the figure lying on her and her husband’s bed. There lay an old man, nearly bald, who appeared no younger than 90. His body was wrinkled and thin, blood trickling from his nose.
Arber continued, her voice heavy, “We went for a walk after picking strawberries, and when we left the greenhouse, he had a coughing fit.”
“He coughed up blood just before he lost strength in his legs,” Lance added as Jonn stooped beside the bed, bringing his face close to his grandfather’s. “We sent Betta to call you right away.”
“Grandpa!” The tall young man felt his eyes well up, a lump forming in his throat. Despite his robust, even mature appearance, it belied the reality. At merely 16, Jonn felt woefully unprepared for what everyone seemed to believe was inevitable today.
The old man’s eyes flickered, a subtle but unmistakable smile forming on his dry, pallid lips. “Don’t c-cry, Jonn. Y-You’re a man n-now.”
“Grandpa!”
The old man coughed weakly, his gaze barely focusing on his surroundings. But even if Jonn wasn’t ready, the march of time was relentless.
With his last reserves of strength, Hewet said his last words, “Jonn, be s-strong from n-now on. The Eternal Village is in y-your c-care now. When I’m g-gone, go to my house and find a letter. I’ve prepared it to e-explain everything to y-you.’
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The man’s coughing worsened, his breathing growing increasingly labored, his voice fading to a whisper.
Arber and Lance bowed their heads and stepped back, silently mourning the Village Elder’s impending passing. For three decades, old Hewet had led the village, witnessing the ebb and flow of life in this small settlement.
“Grandpa...” Jonn felt hot tears streaming down his face, unable to accept that he was about to lose his only family.
“With my inheritance, I hope that one day you will find your parents. You may not have my blood, but you’ll always be my grandson. Never forget that.” The old man seemed to rally, his last words startlingly lucid, a white-toothed smile gracing his face. “I wish you success. I hope you don’t fail as I did.”
Jonn closed his eyes, squeezing his grandfather’s hand as he kneeled beside the bed. When he felt the old man’s strength ebb away, he looked up into Hewet’s eyes, only to find the light had gone out.
Calling out to him, the boy felt for a moment as if he could hear the kindest voice in the world again. Alas, Jonn was met with disappointment.
As he finally fell silent, the sepulchral quiet of the village enveloped him, broken only by subtle sounds of weeping from neighboring houses, where the Eternal Village’s only four children shed tears of grief.
“The old man is gone,” a man on horseback announced, his gaze fixed on Arber’s house.
Golden rays of light pierced the sky, hovering above Arber’s dwelling. The entire village bore witness to Hewet’s departure, watching in awe as the Dawn Gates opened in the heavens—a sight that surprised some, but not the elders.
Jonn’s eyes widened as he saw the edges of his grandfather’s body begin to glow with a gleaming, golden light. A moment later, Hewet’s form turned white, slightly transparent.
Clenching his fists, Jonn made a solemn vow to his grandfather, “I will do my best! But I’ll never match your greatness, Grandpa!” His voice was firm, tinged with unmistakable pride.
In his last moment, Hewet achieved what even powerful mages strived for throughout their lives. Receiving heavenly recognition, the old Village Elder’s soul ascended to the Immortal Realm, passing through the Dawn Gates.
Ordinary folk, like the villagers, knew little of the Dawn Gates or the Immortal Realm. But one universal truth was known even to the most unremarkable mortals in this world: Death came for all, be they powerless peasants or mighty Sages. Only Ascension could defy the absolute end!
Emerging from Arber’s house, Jonn gazed up at the azure sky. He spotted a small, colorful star rising towards the golden pillars of the Dawn Gates. Watching what must be the soul of the man who had rescued and raised him 15 years ago, Jonn clenched his fist, his heart a maelstrom of sadness and immense pride.
He hadn’t wanted Hewet to die. But no one could deny the mortality of their existence. If life followed its natural course, his grandfather’s passing was inevitable, leaving Jonn to carry on in this world.
It was the natural cycle of things. And since that was the case, his grandfather’s ascension to the Immortal Realm was the best possible outcome.
I hope the Immortal Realm is like the legends say, Grandpa. That you have a lot of fun drinking with the gods and telling them your stories. I hope one of them believes what you’ve seen.
Amidst his tears, a subtle smile formed on Jonn’s youthful face—not one of happiness, but of acceptance.
One day I hope to join you and tell my own stories. Until then, wait for me!
The golden rays emanating from the expanse faded, making the entire event seem like an illusion. If not for the memory etched in each villager’s mind and the absent body in Arber’s house, any passerby would doubt that someone had died here and transcended to the Immortal Realm.
In a world where even Sages couldn’t breach the Dawn Gates, who would believe that an old man from the Eternal Village had ascended to the Immortal Realm?
As the initial minutes following Hewet’s departure passed, the few residents began to compose themselves. Children retreated to their homes, while the elders resumed their duties.
Death was selfish and cold. Someone died, and no matter how crucial that person was to others, the living would invariably move forward.
“Jonn.”
The village hunter, who had just arrived on horseback, dismounted and approached the boy still gazing skyward.
“Jonn, your grandfather has bequeathed the position of Village Elder to you. It’s time to assume his role,” Petyr said slowly, aware that while it wasn’t an ideal moment, there was no better time either.
The village needed a leader to guide its decisions. Although Jonn deserved time to grieve, none of them had that luxury. In a place as unforgiving as the Barren Hills of Deepshadow, life was arduous. Daily toil was necessary just to survive!
Arber and Lance stood beside Jonn, eyeing Petyr curiously.
Noting the expressions on the two farmers’ faces, the hunter said, “The old man frequently discussed his will. I didn’t need to hear his last words to identify his chosen successor.”
Arber and Lance sighed, recalling how Hewet always spoke of Jonn and how the boy would succeed him. The old Elder had held great expectations!
Jonn took a deep breath and met Petyr’s hard gaze. The red-haired man’s round face was marked by a diagonal scar running from his left eye to his right ear.
Jonn knew Petyr didn’t particularly like him, but as Hewet’s trusted man and a born warrior, he was naturally reliable, though ill-suited for the position of Village Elder himself.
Following Petyr to Hewet’s house, Jonn soon found himself standing in the familiar interior of the small residence—not unlike the others in the village—where he had spent his formative years before building his own home.
Beyond the standard bed and chest of drawers, he noted a desk, a substantial bookshelf, and an assortment of miscellaneous objects scattered about. It was a collection that surpassed what one would typically find in the village houses, hinting at Hewet’s unique status.
In the first of the desk’s six drawers, Jonn discovered a small box, roughly the size of an encyclopedia. His name was inscribed on its surface, accompanied by an arrow pointing to a keyhole.
Jonn knew his grandfather’s ways intimately. Without hesitation, he reached for the chain around his neck, fingering the key Hewet had given him 13 years ago with the cryptic message that one day, he would know when to use it.
That day had arrived.
The gears turned as he inserted the key, and the box unlocked with a click that resonated through the room, breaking the solemn silence.
Inside the box lay only three items: a note folded in half, a silver ring adorned with symbols Jonn couldn’t decipher, and what appeared to be a miniature magnifying glass.
Jonn unfolded the note, and his eyes scanned its contents.
Jonn, my dear grandson.
If these words have found their way to you, it means I have departed from this earthly realm. I know sorrow may weigh upon your heart, but fear not. I have lived many full and wondrous lives, and now it is time for me to return to the land of my birth, to find my eternal rest.
Yet, your journey is just beginning. Use my inheritance wisely to care for the Eternal Village. They are your kin, and I trust you will guide them with strength and wisdom into the light of a new dawn.
The box you hold contains treasures I brought to the Eternal Village when I discovered it 44 years ago. The silver ring is a remarkable device, known as the Dimensional Storage Ring, commonly called a spatial ring. As its name implies, it serves to store things. As for the small magnifying glass, I leave the mystery of its purpose to you. Though I have not unraveled its secrets, I believe it to be the most precious part of my legacy.
With all my love, from your old grandfather,
Hewet Irondoom.
As Jonn finished reading Hewet’s farewell letter, he found himself needing several minutes to process his grandfather’s words. The realization that he would never again see his grandfather, hear his hoarse voice, or receive his wisdom struck him with a palpable weight of grief.
However the presence of Petyr, looking at the old Village Elder’s books with no intention of actually picking them up, soon brought him out of his immobile state.
Picking up the silver ring from the box, Jonn noted that Petyr’s demeanor remained unchanged. To the hunter, it appeared as ordinary as any other item in the village.
But Jonn knew better. While he might not be familiar with Dimensional Storage Rings, he grasped the concept behind them. He had grown up in a world of magic, accustomed to fantastic things.
Why did Grandpa have such a ring? I don’t recall ever seeing him wear it.
He slipped the silver band onto his finger, feeling nothing extraordinary but trusting in Hewet’s words. If the old man claimed it was a Dimensional Storage Ring, then surely that was the item’s true nature!
Next, he turned his attention to the small silver magnifying glass, tempering his expectations. His grandfather had declared this his most valuable artifact, but Jonn understood that value was a relative concept. Curiosity piqued, he raised the magnifying glass to his eye, eager to examine the first such instrument he’d seen outside of a book.
Suddenly, ethereal blue boxes materialized before his eyes.
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