The sun was just peeking over the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of gold and lavender as Kellan trudged along the dusty trail. His tiny legs felt like they were weighed down by lead, and his backpack, heavy with what remained of his meager supplies, thumped against his back with every step.

"I swear this trail is getting longer," he muttered to himself, wiping his forehead dramatically with his arm. "Why couldn't the Blade of Eternity be, I don't know, five minutes from my house? Who hid this thing, a sadistic marathon runner?"

His stomach growled angrily in agreement. He reached into his pack and pulled out the last remaining applesauce pouch, the only survivor of his dwindling supplies. "You and me, buddy," he said to the pouch, "we're in this together." He squeezed the applesauce into his mouth, savoring the sweetness like it was a five-course gourmet meal. "Delicious," he said, licking the inside of the pouch with a level of desperation that would have embarrassed him if anyone were around to see.

The terrain had shifted from grassy fields to jagged rocks and uneven ground. Each step was a gamble, and Kellan's legs screamed for mercy. "Who designed this path? A mountain goat?" he grumbled, kicking a loose stone. The stone tumbled down the slope, its echoing clatter reminding him how far he had to go if he slipped.

Still, he pressed on, clutching his "weapon"—a rusty crowbar he'd scavenged from an abandoned shed near his house. It wasn't some Holy Weapon, but it was better than nothing. "If I run into a dragon or something, at least I can poke it in the eye," he joked, though the thought of dragons didn't seem entirely ridiculous in this strange new world.

As he climbed over a particularly sharp ridge, a rustling sound froze him in his tracks. Kellan's eyes darted to the bushes ahead. "Oh no. Please don't be a wolf. Or a bear. Or… both," he whispered, gripping his crowbar like it was a lightsaber.

The rustling grew louder, and out leaped a creature that looked like a cross between a squirrel and a raccoon but with far too many teeth. Its glowing green eyes locked onto him, and it let out a high-pitched screech that made Kellan's hair stand on end.

"Great, a mutant furball. Just what I needed," he said, backing away slowly. The creature didn't share his hesitation. It lunged at him, all claws and teeth, forcing Kellan to swing his crowbar like a baseball bat. He barely managed to smack the creature aside, but it recovered almost instantly, circling him with predatory intent.

"Okay, Kellan," he muttered, "you're five, but you've lived through worse. Sort of. Maybe." The creature lunged again, and this time, Kellan jabbed the crowbar into its side. It let out a yelp but didn't back off. Instead, it jumped onto the crowbar and started climbing toward his face.

Kellan panicked, flinging the crowbar—and the creature—away with a yell that was equal parts terror and frustration. "Why is everything in this timeline trying to kill me?!" he shouted, scrambling backward as the creature hissed at him.

Just when he thought it was over, the mutant furball suddenly stopped, sniffed the air, and darted back into the bushes. Kellan blinked, stunned. "Yeah, you better run!" he called after it, though his trembling hands betrayed his bravado.

He collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving. "I need a vacation. Or at least a snack," he muttered, rummaging through his backpack only to remember he'd already eaten the last of his food.

The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky as Kellan continued his trek. The terrain had become increasingly inhospitable, with jagged rocks that scraped at his legs and a biting wind that seemed to come from every direction. His stomach gnawed at him with hunger, but he had no choice but to keep going.

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

By the time the first stars began to appear, Kellan knew he wouldn't make it to the Ruins of Keplar tonight. He needed to rest.

He found a small clearing surrounded by trees, their skeletal branches reaching into the air like twisted hands. The air was cold, and the ground felt even colder beneath him, but Kellan didn't have the energy to find something better. His tired eyes barely stayed open as he huddled against the rough bark of a tree for warmth, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"That's it," he said through clenched teeth. "First monster attack, then the hike from hell, and now I'm sleeping in the middle of nowhere. This is definitely not what I signed up for."

The night stretched on, and though Kellan was tired enough to fall asleep in a second, the strange sounds of the forest kept him alert. Branches creaked ominously in the wind, and the occasional howl of a distant creature made his stomach churn with unease. He couldn't stop thinking about the dangers that might lurk in the shadows.

"Maybe I should've brought more snacks," Kellan muttered, staring into the dark. "Like, way more snacks. If I had a pizza right now, I'd be living my best life."

But sleep came eventually, his dreams filled with swirling images of glowing eyes and monstrous creatures, until the first light of dawn filtered through the trees, dragging him out of his restless sleep.

The next morning, he felt like he hadn't slept at all. His back ached, his stomach was a gnawing pit of emptiness, and his legs were still sore from the previous day's trek. But he wasn't going to quit now. He'd come too far.

"Alright, time to get moving," Kellan muttered to himself as he forced himself to his feet, stretching his stiff muscles. "I'm going to find that Blade of Eternity. It's gonna be awesome. And then I'll have the strength to... to… I don't know. Destroy Plenthota. And then maybe get a snack."

As he trudged along the final stretch toward the Ruins of Keplar, Kellan's mind buzzed with excitement and disbelief. The Blade of Eternity—something so important, something that could change everything—was just ahead. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. Or maybe that was just hunger.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of walking, Kellan arrived at the ruins. The towering stones loomed like ancient giants, their surfaces weathered by time and decay. Vines crawled up the sides, and the air smelled faintly of damp earth and history long forgotten.

"Well, this is it," Kellan said, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "This better be worth it."

The ground beneath his feet was uneven, the stones cracked and treacherous, but he pressed on. In the center of the ruins stood a pedestal, the stone worn smooth with age. Kellan's heart raced as he approached it, his breath quickening in anticipation.

And there, atop the pedestal, was… not a blade.

Kellan stopped dead in his tracks, blinking several times as if trying to will the image into something more familiar. His brow furrowed. "Is that… an egg?"

It was large, smooth, and shimmering with an iridescent sheen that caught the light in strange, shifting patterns. Kellan hesitated, his hand hovering near it like it might suddenly explode or bite him. "Are you serious? I came all this way for a giant egg? What kind of sick joke is this?"

He reached out slowly, almost expecting the egg to burst into flames or start chanting ancient curses. But when his fingers brushed the cool surface, something strange happened. The egg pulsed with a faint golden glow, and Kellan felt a wave of warmth and energy rush through him, almost like an electric current mixed with a comforting embrace. His heart skipped a beat, and he stumbled back, clutching his chest.

"Okay," he said, breathing heavily. "Not a normal egg. Got it."

Despite his exhaustion and the gnawing hunger in his gut, Kellan couldn't shake the feeling that this egg was important—maybe even more important than the Blade of Eternity he'd been hoping for.

"Well, you know what? I'm taking you with me, whether you like it or not." He gingerly picked the egg up, marveling at its weight and warmth. It felt alive, somehow. Maybe this wasn't the weapon he'd expected, but there was something about the egg that made him feel… hopeful? Powerful? He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that this little discovery was the start of something much bigger.

"Well," Kellan said, adjusting the egg under his arm, "guess I'm going home. I just hope you don't hatch into something that tries to eat me."

With the egg cradled carefully in his arms and his rusty crowbar in hand, Kellan began the long journey back, the weight of his new discovery both literal and figurative. His legs ached, his stomach growled, and his mind raced with thoughts of the future.

Maybe, just maybe, this egg was the key to everything. And he wasn't about to let it slip away.