As we entered the village, I felt dozens of eyes fixated on me. Everyone was staring—not just with curiosity, but with a mix of caution and disbelief. After all, I was walking beside the naughty boy of the village. Or at least, that's what I thought he was.
Kaito, completely unbothered by the attention, bolted ahead toward his house. "This way! This way! This way!" he called out to me, waving both hands in a flurry of excitement.
He skidded to a stop just outside a modest wooden home with a flower garden in front. His mother, a kind-looking woman, was in the garden watering flowers. The moment she spotted him, she dropped her watering can and ran to him with wide, teary eyes.
"Oh, Kaito!" she cried, embracing him so tightly that the poor kid began flailing slightly. Kaito awkwardly patted her shoulder, as if surrendering to the affection. "Mom… can't breathe," he whispered, his voice barely audible beneath her shoulder.
After a moment, she pulled back, brushing his hair with trembling fingers. Then her gaze shifted to me. Her expression changed instantly—from overwhelming joy to concern and suspicion.
"Kaito… who is this?" she asked, eyeing me cautiously. "Is he with you?"
Kaito nodded with a proud grin. "Yeah. He's with me. He rescued me in the woods."
The woman's expression softened immediately. She stepped forward and gave me a polite bow of gratitude.
"Thank you for rescuing my kid. I'm Aoi Kasama," she said kindly. "What's your name?"
I figured it was the perfect moment to try something I had long fantasized about doing. Channeling the flair of a dramatic warrior, I stepped forward, raised my right hand into the sky, swung my right leg back dramatically, and struck a bold pose like some over-the-top hero from an old anime.
"My name is Hiroshi Miyamoto," I declared with theatrical confidence. "And I lost my way from home. I forgot to remember most about my country."
For a moment, silence.
Aoi blinked several times, utterly stunned. She wasn't sure if she should laugh, call a doctor, or simply accept the strange boy before her.
Just then, a large man stepped out from the house. His body was muscular beyond belief, and crisscrossed with scars that hinted at years of battle. His sheer presence was enough to make me straighten up instantly.
"What is it here?" he asked, his deep voice resonating like a low growl.
Aoi quickly spoke up, introducing him. "This is my husband and Kaito's father—Ryoji Kasama."
"Nice to meet you, sir," I said, offering a respectful bow. "I… uh… was wondering if I could stay here for a while."
But Ryoji didn't respond immediately. He wasn't the type to welcome strangers on a smile and a polite request. His eyes scanned me coldly, weighing every inch of my presence. Suspicion practically radiated from him.
Before the tension could deepen, Kaito jumped in excitedly. "Dad! He defeated the Mana Beast—the Direwolf—all by himself in the forest!"
Ryoji's eyes widened at once. "He defeated the Mana Beast by himself?"
For the first time, the cold suspicion turned into genuine disbelief. His jaw tightened. Muscles flexed across his arms. His gaze turned even sharper—searching for a lie.
Then, without warning, he stepped forward and punched me square in the face.
The world turned into a blur of wind and force.
I flew backward like a ragdoll, my body soaring several meters before smashing into a tree. The tree cracked and snapped under the impact like a dry twig. The last thing I remember was the sky above me spinning as everything went black.
I was knocked out instantly.
When I came to, I was lying on a straw mat inside a wooden house, the scent of herbs and fresh flowers surrounding me. A soft warmth rested on my chest, and I realized someone had been healing me.
Standing nearby was an old man draped in a white robe, the cloth fluttering gently as if responding to a breeze only he could feel. His presence alone calmed the restless villagers gathered outside. There was wisdom in his eyes, a quiet authority in the way he stood.
The old man turned to Ryoji, who stood nearby like a wall of iron.
"Ryoji," the elder said with a sigh. "What happened here? I couldn't get back to sleep with all the commotion."
Ryoji explained everything—the forest, the Direwolf, Kaito's rescue, and finally my claim of slaying the Mana Beast. He even mentioned that he hadn't hit me with full strength. Had he done that, apparently, I'd be dead.
Aoi Kasama, who was now tending to my injuries, was no ordinary village healer. Her name was known far beyond Rivermill Village for her ability to treat even the most fatal wounds. People often said she could heal wounds that even death would pause to observe.
With her hands glowing faintly with mana, she finished the treatment and backed away.
Almost an hour passed before I opened my eyes.
The room was quiet. Only a few villagers and the elderly man remained inside.
"Ah," the old man said, stepping forward gently. "You're awake."
He smiled and sat beside me.
"I am Jiro, the Village Elder of Rivermill," he said with grace. "First of all, please accept my apology for Ryoji's… rather aggressive way of greeting. He's a warrior at heart, and warriors don't take extraordinary claims lightly."
He bowed slightly.
"You are welcome here, Hiroshi Miyamoto. You saved one of our own. We owe you thanks."
Then his expression became more serious.
"But I must ask," he said slowly, "how did you kill the Direwolf?"
I sat up, wincing a little. My body still ached.
"I… I don't know how to explain it," I said, looking down at my hands. "But for a brief moment, time itself came to a standstill. It was like everything froze except me. And then—just like that—power surged into me. I slashed, I cut… and the Direwolf was dead. That's all I remember."
Jiro's eyes narrowed in thought.
"That's… unexpected," he said slowly. "But that Direwolf was no ordinary beast. It was a Grade 3 Mana Beast. Even top-level mages struggle to defeat such creatures."
He stood silently, clearly weighing something deep in his mind.