At the eastern edge of the small Lithra village, where the wooden houses clustered closely and the air was fresh, the village elder and his aide, Kmeros, sat beneath a low-hanging tree on a slightly elevated hill overlooking the field. They were conversing in low voices about the fate of the village children; their features were strained, and their tone devoid of any comfort. The Academy, although it seemed like an opportunity on paper, was in their view an uncertain path, often ending with the children being sent to arduous labor within the Orders, where they were treated as servants or slaves under the orders of the nobles. Only a few succeeded, while the rest were sent to servitude, and among those who did succeed, many disappeared without explanation.
A heavy silence hung between them, and the elder stared at the field without uttering a word. Kmeros clasped his hands silently, looking at the ground. They had no power, no ability to object, and the thought that their children would be taken without their consent was painful. A tear slipped from the elder's eye; he did not try to hide it. The feeling of helplessness was clearly present, so much so that Kmeros unintentionally recalled an old memory, something similar to what was happening now, but deeper.
In a faint voice, he alluded to old tales he had heard long ago, about seven individuals who appeared suddenly, possessed great power, and overcame all obstacles that stood in their way, but in the end, they entered the Abyss and disappeared, and nothing was known about them afterward. He turned slightly, as if the thought had not left him, then said in a calm, composed tone: "Those whose past is unknown often appear with remarkable power, but their fate in the end does not change... the Abyss. They disappeared there, and the strange thing is that they did not come from a clear place, just like Levan: no family, no record, as if they emerged from nothingness."
After his words, they exchanged a look for a moment, then turned their gazes towards the training ground below the hill, where a number of village children were training under the supervision of an adult. Amidst the movement and sounds, only one boy looked different in his manner, in his gaze, and even in his stance, and there was no need for his name to be said, for both of them were silently watching him: Levan.
In the training ground located on the western side of the village, an open space surrounded by rows of tall trees, the children moved energetically. Some practiced striking, while others took turns in sparring matches with wooden sticks. Among them was Levan, a fifteen-year-old boy with fair skin, short black hair, and clear blue eyes. Around his neck was a dark mark, resembling a round sign whose meaning was unknown, and he made no attempt to hide it.
The training was organized into groups, with the children taking turns fighting according to a specific order. In one of the rounds, Levan stood facing three boys of similar age. There was no talking, just a nod from the supervisor was enough to start the exercise.
The three advanced towards him; one from the side, and the other two from the front. Levan avoided the first strike with a sidestep, then lowered himself, grabbed one of their arms and pulled it quickly, twisting his body and blocking the second with his shoulder. As for the third, he hesitated slightly, but Levan did not wait, advancing steadily, planting his foot and pushing him to the ground. He moved calmly and confidently, without hesitation or emotion.
From behind the arena, some children began to speak in low voices, but the enthusiasm in their eyes was clear:
"Huh, they couldn't even touch him."
"I told you from the start, Levan never loses."
"Same thing always, he takes them all down quickly."
Even the children who were training on the other side stopped for a moment, some took a step closer, and others remained in place watching. What had happened was not surprising; everyone knew that Levan was strong, but his calm fighting style left an impression every time.
As the round ended, Argos gestured with his hand, and the children retreated quietly. He said only: "Enough for today." Then he headed towards the shade of a nearby tree, and the trainees began to gather around him, some sat down directly, and others followed him without hesitation.
Argos, in his mid-fifties, had a sturdy build and a long scar on his left forearm. He sat silently, then looked at them and said in his rough voice:
"Before you think about power, you must understand its meaning. Today you learn the basics, but what lies ahead is called Zen, and it is what changes everything."
He paused for a moment before continuing:
"The first level of Zen is born with every human being. If you have no Zen, you cannot live. It is what allows our bodies to withstand this world, especially after the Abyss."
He scanned them with his gaze and added:
"But despite its presence in you, it remains dormant. Without training, it remains weak, like walking but not being able to run."
He raised his forearm and said:
"Focus, reaction, physical strength... it all starts here. The first level gives you the foundation, but it does not distinguish you. Everyone possesses it, but not everyone masters it."
His tone changed slightly as he said:
"As for the second level, it is the first real transition. When you break through the barrier of the second level, you feel something inside you change. Zen begins to interact with you, and a skill related to you appears."
He paused for a moment, then continued:
"You feel it from the first moment, even if you don't understand its form or know how to use it directly. It's as if something was asleep and suddenly woke up."
One of the children raised his head and asked:
"So each person's skill is different?"
Argos nodded confidently and said:
"Exactly. Zen does not give you something random. It gives you something that reflects you... and appears when you are truly ready for it."
And so, night fell upon the quiet world.
Before the trainees dispersed completely, Agros raised his head towards the sky. He watched the horizon for a moment in silence, then commented in a low voice that carried a hint of hesitation:
"The light is beginning to fade... that's enough for today. Go back to your homes."
He paused briefly, then continued in a slower tone:
"The Wall exists, but sometimes... things can get through. Rare, but it happens."
A short silence prevailed. The younger ones exchanged glances, and some began to turn towards the edges of the arena. One of them whispered softly: "Wow... that's scary."
Then another boy raised his eyes and asked with clear hesitation: "Agros Sensei... have you fought a monster before?"
He did not answer immediately. He remained in place, his eyes still on the edge of the forest, as if the memory had taken him back to something he did not want to recall. A moment passed, then he replied in a faint voice:
"Yes."
He added nothing. After a few seconds, he changed his tone to a more firm one and said briefly:
"That's enough. Everyone go back."
The boys began to move in silence, some quickening their pace, and others looking back from time to time without speaking. And before everyone disappeared, he said in a normal tone, looking towards one side:
"Levan... Romo, stay."
And when the others had disappeared down the path leading to the houses, Agros moved towards a low stone at the edge of the arena and sat on it. He gestured for them to approach without speaking, and continued to look at them steadily, as if he had been waiting for this specific time to talk about something that should not be heard by the rest.
Romo sat down beside Levan without hesitation. He was slightly shorter, with short brown hair and fair skin, and his features held a spark of curiosity that never left him. He was not just a training partner, but had been his closest friend since childhood, never leaving his side on any day.
Agros observed the two young men silently for a few seconds before addressing Levan in a low but measured voice: "I've been watching you for a while. Your movements are clean, and your reactions are precise. Everything about you says you're on the verge of the second level... but something is missing." He tilted his head slightly and added, watching him with a deep gaze: "Every time I tried to sense your energy, I found nothing. No pulse, not even a faint trace of Zen. And that... is not right."
Romo raised his head sharply, as if a single sentence had shaken a thousand questions within him, but he did not speak. As for Levan, he remained still, no unease showing on his face; instead, he listened with quiet focus. Agros continued, his voice dropping even lower: "The problem isn't just with you... the problem is that you're going to a place that doesn't tolerate ambiguity. At the Academy, if they see something they don't understand, they become afraid... or they eliminate it."
Levan finally spoke, his tone calm and clear: "And yet... I will go." He raised his gaze steadily, devoid of defiance, but filled with silent determination. "I must become strong. My adoptive mother is an old woman, and the people here... even if I am not of their blood, I grew up among them. I want to protect them, from the monsters, or from the oppression of the nobles and the Orders."
Romo smiled; he didn't know what to say, but his eyes sparkled, reflecting something of pure joy, then he said in a quiet voice: "And I too... will accompany him." He lowered his gaze slightly before continuing: "My father used to work in one of the Orders. He would come and go, and then suddenly he disappeared. No one has seen him since. They said they had no news, but I didn't believe them." He raised his eyes again, his voice this time sounding more stern: "I am not looking for a title or a rank. If there is a way to reach the place where they took my father... then I will go."
Agros did not reply. He slowly turned his face towards the horizon, and his gaze this time held no doubt, but a heavy respect and a feeling that he was in the presence of something rare and genuine. Then he stood up and said in his usual voice: "That's enough for the night. It's late... go to sleep."
Romo nodded his head and said quietly, "Yes, Agros Sensei," while Levan simply gave a quick glance, then turned away without comment. They left together towards the village houses, and behind them, Agros watched the path for a moment, then turned and left as well.
The next morning, the village children gathered in the square in preparation for their big day; the final training before going to the Academy. Enthusiasm and anxiety filled their faces, but Levan was not among them.
At that moment, he was trapped in a dream unlike any dream before. He found himself standing in a void with no ground and no sky, no sound, no walls, only a cold darkness that swallowed everything. He tried to move, to scream, but the place did not respond... as if nothing in it acknowledged his existence.
Then, without warning, a figure began to form in the distance. A tall, white silhouette without features, before the features of an old man became clear, sitting quietly on a wooden chair, reading from an open book as if he had not noticed Levan's presence.
Levan muttered in a trembling voice:
"Where... am I? And... who are you?"
He wasn't sure if he was asking the man... or himself.
The man slowly raised his gaze, looking at him with an expressionless stare.
He said in a calm, heavy tone:
"Be at peace. You will not comprehend now. You are not ready yet. What I will grant you is not knowledge... but a burden. And you will not bear it unless you become stronger."
He approached and placed his hand on Levan's head. In an instant, strange visions swept through his mind: civilizations collapsing, wars fading away, places he had never heard of before. They were not his memories... but they became within him.
The old man said:
"Now, the complete memory is within you. It is not limited to what has been narrated, but includes what has been hidden."
Then he added:
"But it will not open all at once. With every skill you acquire, with every power that grows within you... a window will open for you, and a memory will return to you. You alone decide to what extent you see it."
He took a step back and looked at him steadily:
"But beware. If you speak of this meeting, or try to reveal what is within you before its time... you will lose everything. Your memory, your path, and even who you are."
And suddenly a sound...
THUMP! THUMP!
The knocking on the door broke the silence.
"Ooooh, Levan! Wake up! You're late for training!"
Levan woke up suddenly, gasping for air as if he had emerged from underwater. Drops of sweat streamed down his face, and his chest rose and fell rapidly.
He opened his eyes slowly. Everything around him was familiar... but the feeling was not.
He sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn't just a dream.
Something had changed.
And he would never be the same.
End of Chapter Two.