"So, this is the book everyone’s been crazy about?" the narrator muttered as he examined the worn, leather-bound volume in his hands. The title, "A Peasant's Ascension," captured his gaze. His friends had been relentless in their recommendations, insisting that this was a tale worth diving into. “A slow start”, they had said, but with a payoff that was nothing short of spectacular. He took a deliberate sip of his tea.

With a smirk, he finally opened the book, the turning of the pages the only sound in the quiet room. The promise of an epic adventure, a world vast and full of mystery, was tempting. This was a story of a peasant’s rise to power throughout his life, earned through grit and determination. He went from a weak child to the strongest in the world.

It was a story he could appreciate—if it delivered well on the premise. He leaned back in his chair, letting the words pull him into the world, not yet concerned with how it would end, but eager to see how it all began.

----------------------------------------

“Uhhh… dad,” Erik mumbled in a half-asleep state. He opened his groggy eyes and rubbed his hands on them. It had been a year since his father had gone to war and Erik still dreamt of that moment at least once a week.

Erik got up and looked through the small window in his room. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the village. It looked like a beautiful day.

It was a special day actually—Erik Blake's tenth birthday.

He could hear his heart beat fast from the excitement. It was much more than last time. Perhaps it was the promise of growing older, becoming a man, or maybe it was the anticipation of the festivities his family had planned.

He looked to his side. His younger sister, Anna, was already awake as her bed on the other end of the room was unoccupied. Erik eagerly jumped out of bed and looked up. Looking at the blankets, he could see that Ben, his younger brother, still hadn’t woke up.

‘He’s so lazy,’ Erik snickered and left the shared room.

As he stepped into the small hall of his modest home, Erik was greeted by the smell of freshly baked bread and the sound of his mother, Alice, humming a tune in the kitchen.

“It smells so nice in here,” he said before even moving to the kitchen’s doorstep.

"Good morning, Erik," Alice greeted him with a warm smile as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Happy birthday, my dear boy." She went to him and pulled him in for a hug and straightened his messy red hair with her hands.

"Thank you, Mother," Erik replied as he held her waist for a moment. His hands almost touched her long, wavy hair that made its way down. He couldn't help but grin at the thought of the day ahead.

“Yes, happy birthday!” Anna who was but a second ago helping their mom with the Stove now pounced onto Erik with a hug that felt more like the attack of a wild animal, making him lose balance and fall on the ground as they embraced.

“Ouch, ouch.. thank you so much,” he managed to laugh somewhat through the pain this caused on his back.

“Anna, don’t kill your brother on his birthday,” Alice had her hand brought to her mouth but Erik could easily see she was laughing at the situation.

After a bit the situation normalized itself, Ben joined the family and they had that delicious warm bread for breakfast.

“Now, children, let's hold our hands and pray for this food,” Alice suggested and brought her hands to her sides so they could be held.

“Aw come on Mom, it's my birthday. Can’t we just eat?”

“You shouldn’t say that Erik.. the lord helps us every day,” Ben interjected, making Erik pout.

“Yeah, but I don’t see them bringing the bread,” Erik muttered under his breath, a small smirk on his face.

Alice gave Erik a gentle yet firm look that only a mother could give. “We say thank you because we’re grateful. Now, hold hands.”

Reluctantly, Erik took his siblings’ hands and closed his eyes as she prayed. His mind was already drifting to the day ahead, barely paying attention to the words his mother spoke.

Later on during the day, he pondered what to do. Erik used to help his mom cook—be useful around the house. However, it was his birthday, she wouldn’t let him. Anna on the other hand was very much occupied with it so he couldn’t play with her.

‘What about Ben?’ He thought before shaking his head. His younger brother was incredibly smart, or so Erik thought, he constantly read books, be it hero tales or practical books like “18 Best Ways To Prepare A Fish”.

He was very smart for a seven-year-old, perhaps even more than Erik so he couldn’t get it.

It was the peak of summer so Erik could have gone fishing but it was his birthday, and he didn’t want to put on hard work.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Since nothing ever came to his mind, Erik settled on just laying on the warm grass in front of his house, he eyed the houses of the village while he waited for lunch.

Erik’s house was on top of a small hill, with the rest of the village being a couple of hundred meters away, down the hill.

The village itself was a small community, home to a few dozen families, meaning everyone knew each other around here and nothing much interesting ever happened.

It was bordered by a dense forest on one side and a gently flowing river on the other. These natural boundaries gave the village a sense of seclusion, and the people relied on the forest for timber and game, while the river provided fresh water and fish.

He saw some children playing in the distance, he thought of going and saying hi but decided to not.

There had been a time when the Blake family enjoyed a strong standing within the village. His father, Kaf, had been well-respected, a leader of sorts.

But since his father’s sacrifice—an act that saved the village but brought him to the war far away—Erik couldn’t shake the feeling that a barrier had grown between his family and the rest of the villagers. It wasn’t hostility, exactly, but more a quiet sense of separation, a void that had been left in the wake of his father’s absence.

Children often told Erik and his siblings they couldn’t play with them, giving one excuse or another. While these rejections stung, what hurt more was the way the villagers avoided meeting their eyes, even as they requested Alice’s services as a tailor.

Alice was known for her skill with a needle, and while her work was valued, they were quick to send her off with their orders rather than linger for conversation.

Trying to distract himself from these thoughts, Erik decided to concentrate and bring forth his magical powers to life. By feeling the mana build up in his mana core and slowly transferring it to his fingertips, he could bring his energy to the outside world.

With a flicker of imagination, Erik imagined the invisible sphere of mana igniting—and so it did. For a few seconds, he had a sphere of fire just above his palm. However, it quickly lost control and exploded in his hand like a balloon.

“Still can’t do it. Dad, I need more magic lessons from you!” Erik rolled on the grass in frustration. He had been meditating as his father had told him to and practicing making fire, but it only lasted for a short bit before disappearing. The progress he had made in the last year was marginal at best.

It was then that his morning was abruptly interrupted.

The sound of distant hoofbeats made him get up. Erik frowned his brow and squinted his eyes, looking down at the village as the sound came from there.

A solitary rider, clad in leather and iron armor reminiscent of a knight's, arrived on a gray stallion. He surveyed the surroundings briefly before engaging in conversation with the village elder. After handing over a letter, they exchanged a few words, and then their eyes settled on Erik.

The boy’s heart almost left his chest, making him quickly run inside his home, wondering why they looked at him.

“What’s wrong Erik?” Alice asked with a puzzled expression.

“A… a.. there’s a man in a horse, he looked at there and he’s very well dressed,” he tried to explain, his thoughts all scrambled. Erik vaguely remembered a similar sight a year ago, a well-dressed man was at the village too—the difference now was that this one was alone and they had already sent Kaf to war so what could it be?

‘Wait, DAD?’ Erik screamed in his mind as the realization took over. This must’ve been a messenger of some kind with a letter from his dad. He heard in those books that soldiers send those to their families. “He’s here because of Dad!” Erik screamed.

Alice was completely surprised by what Erik said, her eyes widened. “Wait a minute, dear, I’ll go talk to him,” despite keeping herself calm and collected, the wish that somehow her husband could be returning—or just any news from him—made her heart beat faster.

As the figure approached on his horse, he greeted Alice before dismounting.

All the siblings peered through the window, careful not to be seen as they watched. The messenger, with a solemn expression, approached Alice and began speaking, but Erik couldn't hear what was being said. He frowned and moved closer to the window, straining to catch snippets of the conversation. Erik pressed his ears onto the window, almost snapping it from the sheer pressure.

"Madam Blake," he began, bowing slightly out of respect before dismounting his horse. He then continued speaking but he must’ve been talking low as Erik couldn’t hear it at all.

There was a moment where both figures stood without speaking though. Alice brought her hands to her mouth and seemed to tremble slightly.

This was serious.

Turning toward Anna and Ben, who were watching with wide eyes and confused expressions. "You two should go to the room," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Let’s not bother mom now."

"But Erik, we want to know what happened!" Anna protested, her voice tinged with anxiety.

"Yeah, we deserve to know too," Ben added, his eyes flickering between curiosity and fear.

“Just go!” he said, getting angry as they kept bothering.

Anna pouted but left to her room, followed by Ben.

When Erik looked back at the window again, he saw his mother with something in her hands—a letter, it seemed. He crept up to the window again, trying to catch anything from it.

“...just know I died without any regrets.”

That was all Erik could hear.

So little, yet enough.

Erik didn’t need to hear anything more. He stepped back slowly, his eyes wide and his hands trembling. His breaths became shallow and ragged.

The boy kept looking outside as he kept muttering “What happens now?”

He saw the man bring out something from a bag. It was a pair of large gauntlets.

The outer parts, including the back of the hand and fingers, were made of iron, now clearly battered and cut through. There was a violet gem on the back of each gauntlet, though they were shattered. The palms were covered only with leather for greater dexterity but those seemed to have been chewed. The sturdy leather straps secured the gauntlets to the wearer’s arms were probably the only thing intact.

These were his father’s weapons, magical gauntlets that enhanced him. Looking at them alone was enough to tell anyone how the wearer had died.

Soon, the man left.

Erik stared blankly at the outside world, hoping it was somehow a lie. That his father would come back and be the unifying figure he once was.

He never did.