When Shayne got home, he found his mother cooking their best meal in the small kitchen. The warmth of the fire made the house feel cozy. Shayne handed his mother the money he earned from chopping wood, and she smiled with relief.
"Thank you, Shayne," she said, her voice full of gratitude. "This will help us stretch the food until tomorrow. You've done well, my son."
Shayne felt proud. *If just a little money can make her smile like this,* he thought, *how much happier would she be if I became a Mythe Being?* He decided right then to work even harder, to push himself beyond his limits.
Later that day, as the sun started to set, Shayne went back to the bush where he had met the old man. This place had become both a workplace and a training ground for him. He picked up his axe and began chopping wood again, the sound of the blade hitting the wood almost soothing.
After a while, Shayne stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. He noticed the old man sitting on a fallen log, carving something from a piece of wood. Shayne walked over, curious.
"Hey, old man," Shayne said, trying to sound friendly. "My name's Shayne. I'm from Hwarthings, in the eastern part of Vegras. Where are you from?"
The old man looked up, his face hard to read. "Just call me old man," he said gruffly. "I don't have a place I come from. I just come here to work and survive."
Shayne was surprised. "W-What? You don't have a place you're from? That's… strange."
The old man let out a short, dry laugh. "Hey, kid. I think that's enough chit-chat. Let's get back to work."
But Shayne wasn't done talking. There was something he needed to say. "I… I want to become a Mythe Being someday," Shayne said, his voice serious. "To protect everyone and to help my family."
The old man's eyes narrowed as he looked at Shayne. "Tch, who cares about other people's dreams?" he said dismissively. "Grab your axe and let's finish this wood. Unless you don't want to get paid."
The old man's words hurt, but Shayne knew he couldn't afford to dwell on it. His family needed him, needed the money he earned from this work. So, with a heavy heart, he grabbed his axe and started chopping wood again, his movements fueled by a mix of frustration and determination.
Each swing of the axe was a way to release the emotions he felt inside—the doubts, the fears, the hopes that he kept buried deep down. As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows through the trees, Shayne worked faster, thinking about a future where he could rise above his current life.
When he finally finished, the pile of chopped wood was larger than usual. He stood there, catching his breath, staring at what he had done. Even though he was exhausted, the fire in his heart burned brighter.
Shayne knew his dreams might seem far off, but he couldn't afford to give up. Not now, not ever. He was determined to find a way, even if the odds were against him. With one last look at the old man, who was packing up his tools, Shayne turned and began the long walk back home, the promise he made to himself clear in his mind: *I will become a Mythe Being. I will protect my family. I will make them proud.