The Beginning

The scene was a wasteland. Everything was pulverized, a horrifying testament to the recent fight.

An old man named Leo, dressed in priest's robes, approached the young man lying about twenty meters away. His smile was warm on the surface, but his eyes held a coldness that contradicted his pious appearance.

"Lucas," Leo greeted warmly, "you've been defeated. This is your last chance. Surrender your power and become a loyal servant of our supreme god, and I'll spare your life."

But Leo's offer was a lie. He secretly craved Lucas's power for himself, planning to kill him after it was his.

Lucas simply smiled back. "Do you truly believe I'm foolish enough to trust you or your phony god?"

Leo's smile vanished. "Blasphemy!" he roared. "I've shown you enough mercy because of my benevolent god, but your time is up. You will learn the consequences of defying the supreme god!"

He marched towards Lucas, intending to capture him and extract his power through torture. Even if torture failed, a powerful slave wouldn't be a bad consolation prize.

Lucas scoffed at his words, but deep down, his mind raced.

"Looks like it's over, friend," he thought guiltily. "Just like the others before me, I couldn't fulfill our goal."

A voice echoed in his mind, filled with sorrow. "There's nothing we can do now. Who knew you'd be betrayed by the man you trusted most?"

Hearing this, a wave of sadness washed over Lucas. He remembered Peter, his best friend, the one who had betrayed him to the church. Peter was the only person Lucas had confided in about his powers and his mission.

Leo was just five meters from Lucas when he saw him begin to disintegrate. He sprinted towards him, panic rising in his chest.

Lucas, dissolving into dust, rasped, "I may be dying, but mark my words, you and your god will pay for your sins. This is my promise."

Frustration gnawed at Leo as he reached the spot where Lucas had been, finding nothing but an empty space.

** 2000 years later, in a small village called Hebrew **

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow on the small room where ten children, ranging from ten to fourteen years old, sat on the floor, listening intently to an old man named William.

"Today, we'll delve into the world beyond," William announced, his voice filled with excitement. "This knowledge could prove invaluable if you ever venture outside the village walls."

The children buzzed with anticipation. Most of them had never heard of anything beyond their secluded village, a place where generations of their families had lived and died.

William smiled at their enthusiasm, a pang of nostalgia reminding him of his own childhood curiosity. "Alright, settle down now," he said gently.

"Our world," he began, "is called Fantasia. It consists of two continents - the Light Continent and the Dark Continent. Many different races inhabit these lands, with humans, elves, demi-humans, dragons, and demons being the most prominent."

A young boy named Devon couldn't contain his excitement. "Grandpa, have you seen these other races? Can you tell us about them?" he blurted out.

William chuckled. "Patience, child. I'll answer your questions after I finish explaining."

Devon sheepishly grinned. "Okay, Grandpa."

"Besides humans," William continued, "I've only encountered demi-humans. As for the others, you'll likely never see them."

A wave of disappointment washed over the children, but William offered a comforting smile.

"It's not all bad," he reassured them. "Elves and dragons tend to keep to themselves and rarely welcome outsiders into their territories. Only high-ranking individuals might get permission to visit them. Demons, on the other hand, dwell in a separate continent completely inaccessible to ordinary humans."

After a pause to let the information sink in, he continued, "Now, let's explore the features of these other races."

The children's eyes lit up with renewed interest.

"Demi-humans are essentially humans with animalistic features like ears, tails, or fur," William explained. "They have their own nation, but you might also find them living amongst humans in some cities. Pulkit City, for instance, has a sizable demi-human population."

A ten-year-old girl named Gwen piped up in a cute voice, "Grandpa, where's Pulkit City?"

Most of the children stared at her with a mixture of amusement and irritation. Having grown up in the village, they considered themselves well-informed about nearby areas.

William chuckled. "Gwen, Pulkit City is the closest city to our village. The merchants who visit us come from there. Though close in relative terms, it still takes a ten-day journey by horse cart to reach there."

"Thank you, Grandpa," Gwen chirped.

William patted her head gently. "It's no trouble, Gwen. Remember, there's no shame in asking questions in class. Just wait until I'm finished explaining a topic before you raise your hand."

The children all nodded in agreement.

"Now, back to our lesson," William resumed. "While I haven't personally seen an elf, I understand they possess pointed ears. They reside in a forest called Everbloom, but that's all the information I could glean from the book I read."

He continued, his voice taking on a more awe-inspiring tone, "Dragons are the most powerful individual race. An average adult dragon can stretch over twenty meters in length, boasting enough power to level an entire city. Just like with the elves, the book offered limited details."

After a brief pause to let the children absorb this information, he added, "Unfortunately, I know nothing about demons, and my book offered no insights either."

He then opened a book that lay on a nearby table. "Come one by one," he instructed, "and take a peek at the pictures of these other races, excluding the demons of course."

The children erupted in excitement, swarming around William.

"One at a time," he cautioned playfully, "otherwise, there won't be any pictures for anyone."

The children quickly formed a line, their eagerness evident. Each child approached William, their eyes widening with wonder as they saw the pictures, especially the image of the mighty dragon.

Once everyone had seen the pictures, William concluded the day's lesson. "Alright, that's all for today. You're all dismissed."

The children chorused their goodbyes, a respectful "Thank you, Grandpa," escaping their lips. It was a title they used out of respect for their beloved teacher.

As the last student left, only one child remained - a young boy named Max. "Grandpa," he said, "I'm going to play with Devon and the others."

"Of course," William replied, "but be home before nightfall."

"Yes, Grandpa," Max chirped before skipping out of the room.

After a bit of tidying up, William stepped outside. He was surprised to see Michael, Devon's father, waiting for him.

"Hello, Michael," William greeted. "You could have called me instead of waiting outside."

"No need to worry about that," Michael chuckled. "I knew you'd come out after cleaning up. Why disturb you?"

It was worth mentioning that William didn't have a formal classroom. The village simply lacked the resources to build one. Since William took on the responsibility of educating the children, he used his own house for this purpose.

Michael followed William inside, and they both sat down to chat.

"So, what brings you here?" William asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Surely you're not here for gossip at this odd hour."

Michael grinned. "Old friend, you may have aged, but your tongue remains as sharp as ever. Actually, I'm here to discuss buying new swords from the merchants. Most of the old ones are broken, with only a few remaining."

Michael was the only person in the village who possessed swordsmanship skills. Born and raised in Hebrew village, he had ventured out into the world as a young man to become an adventurer.

During his adventures, he honed his skills and gained valuable experience. At the age of thirty-five, he returned to his village with his wife Mary and their son Devon, seeking a more peaceful life. He even took it upon himself to train the village children above the age of sixteen in swordsmanship.

William grimaced. "You managed to break all the swords in just six months? Use them wisely, Michael. You know the village budget is tight when it comes to running things."

William served as the village chief of Hebrew village, receiving a stipend from the ruling noble to manage the village's affairs.

Michael sighed in frustration. "Old man, you know I use them wisely. It's just that the children who learn often make mistakes. It's not entirely their fault, everyone makes mistakes while learning."

William knew Michael wasn't serious and understood the importance of learning practical skills. "No need to get all riled up," he said with a chuckle. "I know it's important. I'll order more when the merchants next visit."

He added sternly, "But tell the children to handle them with care. The village can't afford to replace swords every month."

"No problem, I understand," Michael conceded. "I've told them before, and I'll remind them again."

Then Michael changed the subject. "William, how's Max doing these days?" Michael finished his question.

Max was the child who had just asked permission to play with the others. Since Max was an orphan, William had taken on the role of his caretaker.

"He's doing well," William replied. "He's much more sensible than most children his age and has even learned to read and write."

"No surprise there," Michael mused. "I've always suspected he might be the bastard son of a noble or someone of high status. Look at his features and skin - they're not what you'd find in a commoner."

William sighed. "Even if he is, what difference does it make? He's grown up here in the village, and I consider him my own grandson."

"Of course," Michael agreed readily. "He's like a son to me too. You know, I'm the one who found him in the forest, all those years ago."

This sparked a shared memory, and both men drifted back in time.

** Fourteen years ago, on the outskirts of the forest near Hebrew village **

Michael had just returned to the village with his wife Mary, their two-month-old son cradled in her arms. They had spent the past few months in Pulkit City for the child's birth, but now they felt it was time to return to their village where they could raise their family.

The city lacked proper educational facilities, especially for commoners. There was no school, and the only option was to pay exorbitant fees for private lessons, which most commoners couldn't afford. This meant most commoners remained illiterate unless they were self-taught or extremely fortunate.

Every other day, Michael ventured into the forest to hunt for meat, a service he offered to the village as a way to contribute.

Hunting skills were scarce in the village; the adults focused primarily on agriculture. Some villagers had attempted hunting in the past, but even rabbits proved too much for them, leading them to abandon the pursuit and rely solely on Michael's occasional meat provisions.

This was a typical evening on a typical day. Michael was returning to the village with ten dead rabbits, accompanied by three other villagers who had volunteered to help carry the day's bounty. These rabbits would be enough to feed the entire village of ninety-five people, including Michael's family.

Just outside the forest edge, Michael's ears perked up at the sound of a child's cry coming from a nearby bush. He rushed towards the sound and was stunned to find a baby nestled in a luxurious cradle, crying amidst the foliage. There was no one else around.

The other villagers who had followed Michael caught up and shared his astonishment.

"Let's take the child back to the village first," Michael suggested, "and then we can decide what to do." The others murmured their agreement.

Michael carefully picked up the baby, leaving the cradle to another villager. They then hurried back to the village, heading straight for William's house as he was the village chief.

William examined the child and, considering the late hour, suggested, "Michael, take the child with you and ask Mary to care for him tonight. I'll call a village meeting tomorrow to discuss what's best to do."

Michael nodded and carried the baby to his own house, where Mary readily took charge, even breastfeeding the child.

The next day's village meeting resulted in a decision. The child would be raised in Hebrew village. Michael and Mary would care for him until he turned one, after which William would take over. William, having no family of his own, volunteered readily.

** Back in the present **

A smile touched William's lips. "Yes, I know," he said. "Mary won't even let Max call her anything but 'Mom'.'"

Michael chuckled. "That's Mary for you, always possessive. Even I've gotten a few lectures for making mistakes while taking care of him as a baby."

They continued reminiscing and catching up on village gossip, unaware of time slipping by as the day darkened. Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside, shattering their peaceful conversation. 

They rushed outside to find Devon crying hysterically, shouting "Max… Max is dead."