Dastarn and Enara had chosen the name Rynathar, lovingly referred to as Ryn, for their precious newborn.

The significance of the name held profound meaning for Enara, and one aspect that resonated deeply with her was its literal translation: "Pure." It symbolized the purity of their child's spirit and the untainted innocence that would guide him through life.

However, there was another layer of meaning concealed within the name, one that only Dastarn had contemplated. In a moment of introspection, he had unearthed an alternative interpretation that stirred his thoughts.

It whispered of "The Unsullied Ruler" or "The Scattered Ruler," though the latter seemed nonsensical. Dastarn pondered this hidden implication, unsure if anyone else would perceive it or if it was merely a figment of his imagination.

Nonetheless, he dismissed the idea, confident that their son's name would primarily be associated with its earlier, more straightforward meaning.

As the festival continued, the air buzzed with animated conversations. People shared stories and laughter, recounting the triumphs and joys of the initial activities.

The atmosphere was filled with mirth and camaraderie as they reminisced about the exhilaration and lightheartedness that had permeated the festivities.

Each tale contributed to the tapestry of memories woven throughout the day, creating a vibrant tableau of celebration and shared experiences.

As the festival unfolded, the vibrant energy of the crowd intensified. Conversations filled the air, carrying tales of friendly competition and spirited camaraderie. Laughter cascaded through the gathering, mingling with the tantalizing scents of food and the joyful melodies that echoed in the background.

Enthusiastic voices relayed anecdotes of the initial activities, painting vivid pictures of the exhilarating moments that had unfolded.

"Hey, hey! Where's Darwin? Did anyone see him in the running contest?" exclaimed a man, capturing the attention of his friends and fellow villagers.

"There he is! Hey, Darwin, come over here for a second," another man beckoned, gesturing toward a shy 15-year-old who sat alone, stealing glances at a group of girls in the distance.

"Hey, man, who knew you could run that fast, huh?" one of them remarked, playfully dragging Darwin into their midst.

"Ah, yeah," Darwin replied, his gaze fixed downwards. At 5 feet 8 inches tall, he possessed a lean and almost slender physique. His brown, curly hair cascaded over his green eyes, and faint freckles adorned his nose and cheeks. However, his habit of keeping his head down often made it difficult to truly notice his face.

"What do you mean, 'Ah, yes'? Remember, you even beat Tarvel," one of the men chuckled.

"Oh, right! Now I remember," another chimed in, a spark of recollection igniting within him.

"What is it now?" someone inquired with curiosity.

"Remember how Tarvel kept boasting that no one in this village could surpass him during the hunt a few days ago? Well, I confronted him after the race, and he nearly pummeled me for it," the speaker laughed, concluding his words.

"So, that's why he was furious after the race," another person mused.

"Remember the look on his face when Darwin zoomed past him? I couldn't even bring myself to run after witnessing that expression," one of them remarked.

"Oh, it felt so good!" another exclaimed, relishing the memory.

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Most of them had been part of Tarvel's team, working under him during significant hunts that took place monthly, while serving as guards for the rest of the time.

"I can somewhat understand that, but what about Lazzar today?" someone queried.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you see how high he was jumping? But that's not all!" the speaker turned to face the group, their faces full of curiosity.

"Right before you guys joined the group tug of war, there was an individual contest," they continued.

"Really?"

"Yeah, and guess who suggested it?"

"No way! Was it Tarvel? He disappeared after the race ended," someone chimed in.

"Now, guess what happened to him?" the storyteller paused, skillfully capturing the crowd's attention. Even Darwin, who had earlier contemplated slipping away, now leaned in attentively.

"He was almost defeated by Lazzar, if it hadn't been for the rope breaking!"

"No way, that's impossible!" "Yeah, it can't be true!" "You know Tarvel is one of the strongest in the village, right? He's on par with Dastarn, or maybe even stronger!" They couldn't believe what they were hearing; some suspected the storyteller was embellishing the tale for added excitement.

"I'm telling you the truth, guys. If that rope hadn't snapped, Tarvel would have been pulled to one side," the storyteller insisted.

"I was there too!" a slightly older boy, who appeared to be older than Darwin, interjected, raising his hand. "See, I told you!"

"So, what happened next?" they eagerly inquired, now more intrigued by the unfolding outcome.

"Ehem!" The storyteller cleared their throat, preparing to regale the crowd with the story of Tarvel's near-fallen reputation and Lazzar's display of unmatched strength despite his lean physique.

They recounted how Tarvel had requested the contest committee to bring a new rope or allow them to use the group tug of war rope, as the previous one had deteriorated due to disuse, which turned out to be true.

However, Tarvel's easy victory in the second trial, combined with the bitterness of almost being defeated and the fact that Lazzar had let the opportunity slip from his grasp, further soured Tarvel's mood.

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers, directing their joyous energy toward Lazzar.

Similar stories of daring feats and unexpected victories spread like wildfire, sparking a sense of awe and admiration among the listeners.

Each retelling was embellished with playful embellishments and good-natured banter, heightening the festive atmosphere.

The crowd's laughter echoed through the air, filling the atmosphere with a sense of merriment and camaraderie. Eager to hear more, they urged the storyteller to continue unraveling the events that unfolded during the village festivities.

With a mischievous grin, the narrator took a moment to relish the anticipation building around him. He could feel the eyes of the villagers fixed upon him, their curiosity hanging in the air like a tangible presence.

"Well, my friends, that wasn't the end of it," he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. "After Tarvel's failed attempt to salvage his reputation, Lazzar's newfound confidence sparked a series of unexpected challenges throughout the festival."

Curiosity danced in the eyes of the listeners as they leaned in closer, captivated by the unfolding tale. Even Darwin, who was usually reserved, found himself caught up in the excitement, unable to resist the allure of the story.

"During the archery competition," the storyteller continued, "Lazzar stepped forward, drawing his bow with remarkable precision. His arrow flew through the air, hitting the bullseye with unmatched accuracy. The crowd erupted in awe and applause, astonished by the hidden talents of this unassuming young man."

Gasps and whispers rippled through the crowd as they exchanged astonished glances. The revelation of Lazzar's hidden skill added another layer of intrigue to the unfolding narrative.

"But that was just the beginning," the storyteller proclaimed, his voice brimming with dramatic flair. "In the wrestling ring, Lazzar faced off against opponents twice his size. Their muscles bulged with strength, intimidating even the bravest souls. Yet, with each match, Lazzar displayed an incredible agility and technique, swiftly defeating his adversaries one by one."

The villagers watched with bated breath, their eyes widening as they visualized the remarkable scenes described by the storyteller. Lazzar's triumphs against formidable opponents ignited a newfound admiration and respect within their hearts.

"And if that wasn't enough," the storyteller continued, his voice growing even more animated, "Lazzar's talents extended to the arts as well. During the talent showcase, he took center stage, captivating the audience with his mesmerizing dance moves. His graceful steps and fluid motions painted a vivid picture of beauty and passion, leaving the crowd spellbound."

The villagers erupted in applause, their cheers and admiration filling the air. Lazzar's multifaceted abilities had transcended their expectations, weaving a tapestry of awe-inspiring moments that would be etched in their memories for years to come.

As the tale reached its climax, the storyteller paused, allowing the crowd to savor the extraordinary journey they had embarked upon. The villagers exchanged knowing glances, their hearts brimming with newfound admiration for the young man who had defied expectations and left an indelible mark on their festival.

The night carried on, filled with laughter, music, and celebration. The villagers reveled in the magic of the moment, relishing in the stories shared, the bonds forged, and the unexpected heroes that had emerged within their midst.

And amidst the joyous festivities, Lazzar stood tall, his spirit emboldened by the support and recognition of his community, forever etching his name into the annals of their shared history.

In one corner, a group of friends animatedly discussed the thrilling race that had captivated everyone's attention. They recounted the heart-pounding moments as participants sprinted towards the finish line, their determination etched on their faces. The cheers of the onlookers reverberated through the clearing, spurring the racers on to push their limits.

Elsewhere, children gathered in excited clusters, their faces flushed with excitement.

They excitedly shared tales of their own accomplishments, regaling one another with stories of impressive displays of agility, creativity, and skill. The air buzzed with the youthful exuberance of these budding talents, their enthusiasm contagious and uplifting.