As Travis fell asleep with the sword in hand, he found himself drifting into an unusually vivid and mysterious dream.

In this dream, Travis stood alone in the middle of an infinite white expanse. The emptiness stretched out in every direction, an overwhelming void that made him feel both small and insignificant. He’d never encountered such a place before, and its strangeness unsettled him, leaving his mind racing for any explanation.

He looked down at his hands, marveling at the sensation of his body, as if it were tethered to reality itself. He could move freely, control his actions as easily as if he were awake. The weight of the sword in his grip felt almost tangible, a surreal, grounding sensation.

'Hmm, am I actually in a dream? Or am I dead?' he wondered, his thoughts a blur of confusion.

The feeling of control combined with the utter strangeness of the world around him unsettled him further.

As he turned and began walking, he felt a peculiar resistance in the air, like invisible barriers around him, hindering any real forward motion. No matter how much he moved, he remained in the same spot. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, he turned back and saw something that made his heart skip a beat.

The sword he had just found lay there, waiting. How had it returned to this place?

'What's it doing here?' he thought as he approached the blade, his hands instinctively reaching for its hilt. He swung it around, the action fluid and practiced. 'If only I were an adventurer. I'd probably use this as my own,' he mused, but his thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"You seem familiar with swords."

Startled, Travis spun around, his hand instinctively tightening on the hilt. Standing before him, a man cloaked in brilliant white robes met his gaze, exuding an air of serenity and power that unsettled him.

"I apologize for spooking you," the man said, his voice calm and even. "It’s nice to meet you, Travis."

The words felt oddly personal, almost as if they were meant for him alone, as though the man knew him, understood him, in ways Travis couldn’t begin to fathom. A sense of unease settled over him as he tried to move back, but his body remained rooted in place, unwilling to obey.

"My name is Eryndor, and I am the All Father's Blade."

The title lingered in the air, an unfamiliar weight that made Travis feel both awed and apprehensive. He stared at the man, his confusion deepening.

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He had no idea who the "All Father" was, but something about Eryndor’s presence felt immense, timeless.

"Ah," Eryndor said, his gaze softening, "it seems you lack basic knowledge. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to offer you a history lesson. Instead, I’ve come to deliver a message."

Travis’ mind raced, but he stayed silent, waiting for the answer to his growing questions.

"You have been chosen by me to become the wielder of that sword you hold," Eryndor continued, his voice steady but carrying a gravity that tugged at something deep within Travis.

"Why me?" Travis asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and doubt.

Eryndor smiled, a knowing expression flickering across his face. "It is you who found me, of course. You’ve shown yourself capable, resourceful." His tone was quiet, yet it resonated in the silence that followed. "That sword calls to you, Travis, as you are its destined bearer."

"So... you're just going to be my sword, or is there an end goal?" Travis asked, a hint of skepticism in his words.

Eryndor’s smile deepened, a glint of something ancient flickering in his eyes. "I like that question," he said. "You see, the answer is more complex than you might think. My purpose is not just to be wielded, but to return to my rightful place." His voice grew more solemn, as though the words carried the weight of centuries. "I fell from the High Realm a century ago, a fall so great it nearly shattered this world. The impact could have leveled everything, but I controlled my descent. I landed with less devastation, though I was exposed to the elements for many years." His gaze turned distant, as if recalling events far beyond Travis’ understanding. "Over time, I became buried, hidden from the world, until today, when you unearthed me from the soil."

Travis stood in stunned silence, trying to comprehend the enormity of what Eryndor was saying. This was no ordinary sword. It was a relic, a being of unimaginable history and significance. Eryndor was not just a weapon—he was a piece of something far greater, a fragment of a world that Travis couldn’t yet fathom.

"Okay, how do I return you to the All Father?" Travis asked, the weight of the decision pressing down on him.

Eryndor’s gaze never wavered, his voice calm and steady, as if this was something he had long anticipated. "Well, it's simple. You just have to find the Tower. Its location isn't a mystery. It's situated atop the highest mountain, in the North, where the Dragons reside."

Travis blinked, the idea of what Eryndor had just said sinking in. "You expect me to go into Dragon Territory? You know I'm not that strong, right? I'd be crushed by a newborn Dragon. I can’t even fathom what an adult could do to me," he said, the skepticism in his voice clear as he tried to imagine the overwhelming odds stacked against him.

Eryndor’s expression softened, but there was no trace of doubt in his eyes. "Yes, that is true. But power is the last thing you should concern yourself with," he said, his voice deepening, carrying the weight of something ancient. "Because I alone carry more power than all the living beings in your realm combined, and that power will be yours if you take up the task. So decide." He extended his hand, an invitation not just to accept the mission, but to accept everything that came with it.

"Will you return me to my creator?"

Travis hesitated for a moment, his thoughts a swirling storm of doubt and fear. Yet, as his gaze fell upon the hand that reached out to him, something shifted within him. 'I honestly have nothing to lose here. Since I’ve already lost it all. Guess I'll be returning this lost sword,' he thought, the resolve settling into his chest.

With a determined smile, he took Eryndor's hand. "I'll try my best," he said, a quiet promise to himself and the being before him.

Eryndor’s smile deepened, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Good choice."

The moment Travis made his decision, the air around him seemed to change. His heart began to pound fiercely in his chest, the beat echoing through every fiber of his being. His brain pulsed with a sharp ache, as though something was awakening deep within him, something old and powerful. His palms were slick with sweat, his fingers trembling slightly as the sensation of heat began to build beneath his feet.

"What’s happening to me?!" Travis gasped, his voice edged with panic as his body reacted to an invisible force surging through him. He looked at Eryndor, hoping for some explanation.

Eryndor stood unmoving, a faint, knowing smile on his lips. "Well, you're awakening, of course," he said, his tone calm, as though he had been expecting this moment all along. The words sent a shiver down Travis' spine, and he realized, in that instant, that the path he had chosen was only the beginning of something far greater.

TO BE CONTINUED