I was incredulous. I recognized that dream, I recognized it damn well. After all, that dream was about the last moments I spent with my father; how could I forget that day—so joyful, yet so terrible?
But that wasn't the strange thing. It wasn't even the fact that it had been over four years since I last dreamed about my father.
What agitated me was the fact that, in that very dream, I was trapped in my body from eight years ago—when I was just a stupid kid. What was worse was that I couldn't control my emotions. I knew what was happening, I knew how it would end, yet I couldn't control my actions and responses, behaving and responding to my father as I did that fateful afternoon of a hot summer.
The sun shone high in the clear sky, flooding the village of Hakvill with golden light. The people were busy with their daily activities, but for me, that day, everything revolved around my father, Artemisius.
My father used to play with me before leaving for every mission. I used to be a spoiled child, craving and seeking my father's attention in every possible way.
But now, with "mature" eyes, I noticed details I missed as a child: the hidden tension behind my father's smile, the fatigue in his eyes, yet also his sincere joy for the upcoming adventure.
"Erwin, one day we'll go on the adventure we've always dreamed of together. We'll become the greatest explorers and wizards in history. It's a promise!" my father said, extending his pinky finger toward me as a symbol of our promise.
My father's eyes sparkled with hope and affection. With the innocence of a child, I intertwined my pinky with his, sealing that promise.
"Dad, will we really go together?" I asked, my voice trembling with excitement.
"Yes, Erwin!" Artemisius replied, smiling warmly. "Together, there's nothing we can't face and discover!"
"Will you teach me to fight with swords too?" I asked, admiring the three swords my father always carried—named Vulcan, Tempest, and Gaia.
"Certainly! But only when you awaken your mana! Don't worry, you're my son! You'll definitely succeed!" my father said promisingly.
I was excited about the future with him, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ron watching us from a corner with an enigmatic expression.
"And Ron? Will he come with us?" I asked, looking at him rather ambiguously.
"Ron? Of course, he'll be with us, as always!" my father exclaimed, looking at Ron with admiration. "You know, he may not be a wizard, but he's funny and reliable!"
"…Funny? Reliable?"
I looked at Ron with skepticism. I couldn't stand spending time with Ron, a middle-aged man who only thought about his inn. His grumpy nature and severe punishments were a constant source of conflict between us, and every time I set foot in Hakvill, I couldn't wait to go home.
Yet, my father trusted him blindly, admired him greatly, and called him master. Even the villagers of Hakvill respected him, which puzzled me: how could an unawakened man be respected by everyone and even be called "master" by the most powerful wizard of the time?
“Hahaha! One day you’ll understand his greatness... if he ever chooses to reveal it!” my father said, winking at Ron, who, without a word, went back into the inn.
That day, Ron seemed particularly nervous. Although his face was impassive, and his expression would scare even a blind man, I sensed a thin veil of anger or worry in him.
But I didn't dwell on it much, since at that moment, he mattered little to me.
My father ruffled my hair energetically, causing me a bit of pain. Then, he headed toward the carriage with confident steps, ready to face any challenge that lay ahead.
“See you in a few weeks! Be good, Erwin!”
“Yes!... what?!”
To my great surprise, the dream suddenly changed. The bright scene dissolved into oppressive darkness, and my heart tightened in terror. This time, I was no longer in my eight-year-old body but found myself watching the scene from a dark corner. In front of me was a small platoon of wizards, their faces hidden in shadows. The sky was gloomy, the wind howled, bringing with it a sense of impending doom. In the center of the group was a wizard holding my father's three swords.
I saw myself, little Erwin, and Ron, both immobilized by anguish. My young, confused face was reflected in my wide eyes as I looked at the swords. Ron, usually impassive, was marked by fear and surprise. His eyes were wide, and his mouth moved without making a sound.
The central figure of the wizard was an indistinct shadow, his face a dark void. He advanced towards us with heavy steps, observing us silently.
Then, with a cold and distant voice, the wizard announced: "I'm sorry, but Artemisius is..."
The words were interrupted by growing darkness, and the anguish of the dream overwhelmed me. I woke up with a start, sweaty and trembling. I hadn't had that dream in years, and it disturbed me deeply. Why now? Why just when I thought I had moved on?
I got up, trying to shake off the dark thoughts. It was still night, and the village was enveloped in a deathly silence. I tried to fall back asleep, but that cruel dream had reminded me of something... something I hadn't forgotten, but something I had gradually stopped aiming for.
So, I decided to go out and train to distract myself, and I knew the perfect place to release my tension: the woods I often frequented.
Still agitated from the dream, I hurriedly got out of bed and started getting ready.
As I dressed, my heart was still pounding. But the thought of being able to vent, to get out of my room for a bit, gave me a sort of comfort.
Once ready, I left my room, heading for the back exit of the inn.
As expected, I encountered Ron diligently cleaning the inn area. He did it always, both day and night, even when no customers came in throughout the day. Besides finding it incredibly boring, I found his ambiguous nature, and especially his unsettling demeanor, disturbing—at least to me.
Ron, with his icy stare and rigid posture, looked at me with a suspicious expression. "Where are you going at this hour of the night, Erwin?" he asked, his cold voice cutting through the silence of the night.
"I'm going to train a bit," I replied, trying to appear calm. I couldn't tell him I was going into the woods at night, so I told him a half-truth.
"I'm going to train on the beach… I need some fresh air, you know..."
"I don't think you're telling the whole truth," Ron immediately countered, slightly furrowing his brows. "You know you shouldn't go out alone at this hour. Didn't we discuss about this many times already?"
I knew it wouldn't be easy, but at that moment, I needed to clear my mind—I needed to think about something else.
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"I know, Ron. But don't worry. I just need to burn off some energy," I insisted, growing more anxious.
Ron remained silent for a moment, then nodded, though his gaze remained wary. "Fine, you can go. But remember, I can't always protect you. So, stay out of trouble. I hope you're really going to the beach... right?"
"Y-Yes, of course..." I replied, trying to convey confidence. "I'll be back soon..."
Ron gestured assent and walked away with heavy, cautious steps. I headed toward the woods, my mind immersed in thoughts I didn't know how to categorize.
I walked in silence, reflecting on myself. Many things had happened over the years that had changed me, though not drastically.
I had to abandon my dream of becoming a mage like my father—even though I still hoped for a miracle—since I was not awakened. I didn’t have the ability to control mana like my father, which I had always wanted to have since my childhood. I didn’t really know why, but without this ability, it was impossible for me to become a real magician or an adventurer.
The lack of this power had deeply pained me, especially since I had promised my father that we would do great things together, and after his death, my desire to emulate his story—his legend—had only grown stronger.
However, it wasn't possible, not for me, who, besides not being awakened, was a rare case, as I didn't have even a drop of mana in me—something unusual even for the unawakened.
The news, striking like lightning from a clear sky, made me furious, made me cry, drove me mad. Gradually, I became a spoiled boy who, after seeing his life fall apart, had a lot of pent-up anger inside him, which often got me into trouble.
It was then that Ron, seeing an agitated and exuberant boy in me, decided to "control" me with force, starting to train me in martial arts to channel my excess "energy". Ron had understood my constant state of restlessness, and one of the mantras he often repeated to me was, "If you can't control mana, you must at least control your body and mind."
Until then, I didn't know, but despite not being awakened, Ron was an expert in combat. And not only that, he had taught swordsmanship to my father!
This puzzled me a bit because, from his face and character, it wouldn't seem so—but at the same time, this discovery made him a bit cool in my eyes, and that's when an important bond began to form between us, although it didn't change his gruff nature.
Initially, as I had always wanted, Ron wanted to teach me the art of sword fighting, just as he had done with my father. However, we soon discovered that I had two major issues: first, I was hopeless with any weapon; second, I had a deep fear of blades.
Because of this, Ron changed his approach, deciding to train me in martial arts instead, training me in the barehanded fight. At first, I took it lightly, but I quickly realized that things would be very tough for me.
His training was grueling and relentless, and I often felt that he took pleasure seeing me suffer. But over time, this brutal regimen had a positive effect. It helped me find a certain physical and mental balance, I had learned to fight, defend myself, and protect myself—even without the use of magic, which I initially thought was impossible. Despite my initial resentment, I couldn't deny that Ron had made me stronger. And now, even though I hated to admit it, I saw him almost as a father figure.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize I'd arrived at the edge of the forest until the fresh scent of the woods filled my nostrils. The forest stretched out before me like a dark expanse of shadows. At night, it was certainly eerie, but I wasn't afraid—I had ventured into these woods before.
Without hesitation, I stepped into the ancient trees, heading toward my favorite spot: the glade in the heart of the forest. After a few minutes of walking along the shadowed path, I finally reached the designated place, and every time I saw it, I was always awestruck. It was an almost mystical place, a perfectly round clearing with meticulously maintained grass, and the moonlight made the scene even more incredible.
I enjoyed training here because, aside from immersing myself in nature, this "mystical" place somehow relaxed me. That's why I came here despite the late hour. But this time, the place I loved failed to have the desired effect. As soon as I stepped into the clearing, I felt a strange sensation around me; it was as if the air suddenly grew heavy, and the nighttime sounds seemed amplified and distorted. Initially, I wasn't too worried and continued my training, but the sense of unease persisted.
I couldn't quite pinpoint what was different that night until, suddenly, I began to hear a distant sound—almost like a howl. The noise was strange and unsettling, a call that seemed to come from a dark abyss. In that moment, I recalled Ron's constant warnings, warnings I had dismissed since nothing had ever happened to me before.
"It can't be... there are no monsters here..." I thought aloud, convincing myself that I was imagining things. "Ron’s warnings must have made a bigger impression on me than I thought..."
I tried to refocus on my meditation, but the strange sound persisted. Curiosity began to overpower my reason, much like it often did with my father. As if in a trance, I ventured deeper into the forest, heading toward where I had heard the eerie noise.
I should have been scared, but instead, my heart raced with excitement and the thrill of adventure. The deeper I went into the forest, the clearer the sound became, and I realized it was indeed a howl—cold and menacing.
It was strange, though; this forest wasn’t home to wolves, and certainly not in Hakvill, a place with a typically warm climate. This oddity only fueled my adventurous instinct, inherited from my father. Instead of being frightened by the presence of a potential monster, it only exhilarated me further, driving me to discover more.
But as the noise grew louder and my desire to explore intensified, something in the air changed. A sharply metallic odor filled the atmosphere, overpowering the forest's natural scent. Immediately, I was overcome with nausea, almost to the point of tears.
[T-This disgusting smell...]
The odor was immediately familiar, though I had never encountered it with such intensity. It was the stench of rotting animal carcass. Once, meat I had bought from Ron went bad, emitting a particularly unpleasant odor. But this smell was nothing like that. It was 100... no, maybe 300 or 400 times more repulsive than anything I had experienced before. I couldn’t see anything in front of me—nightfall rendered visibility beyond a few meters difficult.
I might not have been the sharpest kid in Hakvill, but the absence of carcasses or blood around me was significant. It meant that there were multiple carcasses, but it also suggested that the howl I had heard was coming from further within the forest.
The smell of death brought me back to my senses, and Ron’s warnings resurfaced in my mind: [You shouldn’t venture into dangerous places.]
I hated to admit it, but common sense had finally taken over: I couldn’t stay in such a dangerous place.
“Maybe it’s best to head back. Let’s not tempt fate,” I said to myself, covering my nose and mouth with my hand.
However, as I turned to retrace my steps, two red eyes suddenly emerged from the darkness among the trees. I was frozen in place, my heart struck by a wave of terror.
Indeed, I had stopped hearing the howl for a while, but I hadn’t questioned why. Now I knew, as I heard the beast panting like a hungry, foolish dog.
"I’m really unlucky...” I thought nervously, with a smile that could only be described as a grimace.
Those eyes, cold and bloodthirsty, were a harbinger of something terrible. They were so frightening that I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Slowly, the monster emerged from the shadows of the forest, revealing its ruthless and hideous form: it was a Lupix ferucis, a particularly troublesome creature.
The Lupix ferucis were not the most powerful monsters, but they were ruthless and intelligent, with protruding teeth capable of slicing an adult man in half like a flower stem. Their fur was black or gray, with an extremely hard and rough texture. They resembled wolves, only twice as large, ugly, and violent.
I tried to calm myself and assess the situation, which was already dire; at that moment, the damned beast was alone, and I thought that perhaps an escape might be possible—somehow, in a way I didn’t yet know.
I was scared, but I couldn’t afford to panic—not now, or it would be the end for me.
I looked around for an escape route while keeping a wary eye on the Lupix, which watched me panting, unmoving. I was sure there was a way out, but I had to abandon that idea almost immediately. Seconds later, as if all the night’s malevolence had been summoned by my feeble presence, a dozen Lupix appeared in front of me, their red eyes glowing with hunger.
[Damn it! These monsters never travel alone...] I thought nervously, cursing myself for not considering this possibility sooner.
Terror engulfed me completely, and I saw myself as doomed, seriously considering throwing myself into their brutal jaws. My legs felt like lead, unable to move even a step, though I was trembling like a leaf.
I sweated profusely, my gaze fixed on the pack of Lupix; they frightened me, but I was even more afraid of looking away and being attacked.
[So... am I going to die like this?]
In the middle of the night, with death only a few steps away, I thought of my father. Inevitably, I thought of the promise I made to him but failed to keep. At that moment, something snapped inside me. Did I really want to die like this? Without ever accomplishing anything in life?
True, I might never become a mage, but hope was the last thing to die. And if I died in such a pathetic way, it would almost be an insult to my father. Did I really want to die like this?
[No... I won’t think about it!]
Adrenaline surged through my body, giving me a burst of energy I had never felt before. I was still terrified, but more afraid of dying in such a manner. Summoning my courage, I turned sharply and dashed through the trees, plunging into a desperate run for safety.
Deep inside, I felt that this run might be futile, but now that I had found the strength to escape, I would not stop for anything.
"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!”
END OF THE PROLOGUE 1 - THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST