The last berserk

 Early winter a wind howled like a lone wolf as the blizzard punished the Northern Kingdom of Westeros. Thick snow fell from the sky, covering everything in a white, cold blanket. The trees were shrouded in a layer of ice, and the silence of the frozen expanse was broken only by the sound of the heavy footsteps of a lone rider. Mounted on his sturdy horse, he rode with difficulty through the storm, protecting two small babies who were whimpering in the biting cold in his fur cloak.

 On an isolated farm in the distance, among the white hills, a farmhouse emerged like an oasis of hope. The smoke coming from the chimney promised warmth and shelter. In the yard, a boy of medium height and slender build was fiercely attacking a scarecrow with a wooden sword. His movements were determined, albeit clumsy, showing the eagerness of a young warrior in training. Nearby, a blonde girl was sitting in a haystack, absorbed in reading an old leather book. Her small hands flipped carefully through the pages, while her eyes ran quickly over the words. Her name was Mey, and the boy with the wooden sword, Alex.

"Alex, if you fall, ask about the Northern Kingdom," suggested Mey, with a tone of restrained curiosity in her voice. The boy paused for a moment, his eyes meeting hers, reflecting the determination and mystery that resided in the deepest recesses of that icy land. "No, Mey, they're extinct," replied Alex, his voice laden with regret and a touch of disbelief. "The only thing left is fencing, and no one can use it." Mey frowned, absorbing her friend's words while her mind lost itself in the details of the kingdoms she had studied so much.

Each kingdom had its own legends, its own unique skills passed down through the ages. In the Southern Kingdom, swordsmen were said to be blessed with incomparable grace, fluid movements like freely flowing water. In the Eastern Kingdom, practitioners of magic were revered, mastering the elements with a dexterity that defied human comprehension. In the Western Kingdom, warriors were known for their brute strength, able to cut through steel like butter. But the Northern Kingdom... Ah, the Northern Kingdom was different. It was a place shrouded in mystery and shadows, its secrets locked away in the depths of the eternal ice that covered its lands. Its inhabitants were said to possess a unique ability, an art lost in time, which allowed them to manipulate cold and darkness as weapons. They were the masters of the shadows, the lords of the ice, and their skill with the sword was as deadly as the relentless winter that enveloped them.Mey closed the book slowly, her mind plunging into the forbidden legends and forgotten tales that surrounded the Northern Kingdom. She knew there was more to that desolate place than met the eye, and her heart yearned to uncover its hidden secrets. As the sun set beyond the distant mountains, casting long shadows across the frozen landscape, Alex and Mey shared a silent gaze, their minds immersed in the mysteries of the past and the promises of the uncertain future that awaited them in the Kingdom of Westeros

Alex continued his blows against the scarecrow, each movement driven by the determination burning in his chest. Mey watched intently, her eyes following her friend's every move as she absorbed the words in the book in her hands.

"Are you studying kingdom politics?" asked Mey, lifting her eyes from the book once more.Alex paused for a moment, his breathing heavy after the exertion of his practice. He turned to her with a playful smile "I await your revisions," he replied, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "The sword is not the only weapon, and knowledge is very good." Mey nodded, a glint of determination in her blue eyes. "But since you're so eager for revisions, know that several wars have taken place, betrayals have taken place, and the Solaris are the current leaders." 

The Solaris. The name echoed in Alex's mind, evoking images of nobility and power. They were one of the most influential families in the kingdom, known for their political cunning and military skill. The current leader, known as Lord Solaris, was equally feared and respected, his decisions shaping the destiny of Westero,

"My review now," said Alex, resuming his combat stance. "Concentrate the mana core energy and attack." He invoked the power system known as Nen, an ancient skill that allowed him to channel the body's spiritual energy to strengthen his attacks. Mey nodded in acknowledgement, her own knowledge of magic and combat complementing Alex's skills. "You know I use magic and arrows," Mey reminded her, as she concentrated her energy to conjure a sphere of air in her hands. With one fluid movement, she launched the sphere towards the scarecrow, hitting it hard enough to knock it down. Alex, impressed by her friend's skill, put her sword away and prepared to meditate. "I'm going to meditate, shorty," he teased, provoking an indignant look from Mey. "I'm not," she protested, but a playful smile danced on her lips.

Alex laughed and walked off, leaving Mey alone in the quiet of the farm, with nothing but the icy wind and the rustle of leaves to accompany her. As the sun set over the distant horizon, she turned her attention to the book in her hands, immersing herself once again in the intrigues and secrets that permeated the Kingdom of Ecatia.

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