Ron continued to gaze at the book in front of him. This was the last belonging of his father that was left with him.
After humanity faced a devastating blow at the hands of the stampede that occurred 6 years back, nearly all their strongholds and bases was destroyed and overrun by the monsters, including the headquarters of the time.
The territory was taken by the monsters, forcing them to move further north of the continent, and enduring the harsh climate of the place.
Countless lives were lost and they lost majority of their resources. Their home, food, belongings, everything was now at the mercy of those abominations.
His parents, who together acted as the leaders of humanity, also fell in that battle. All of their treasured possessions, anything it maybe, were all destroyed.
Fortunately, this book, which was also a notebook in which Frank used to write his insane theories and ideas about mana, was not only an treasured object, but also a legacy.
A legacy he later passes onto Ron in his final moments. In the notebook, there were many things Frank used to research and think about. It was a representation of his thoughts and geniuses. To thoughtless ramblings to inconceivable theories, self-narcissim to profound enlightenment, it was filled with everything.
There were things written in the notebook that even shocked Ron. He would always wonder if Frank was being serious while writing these or if he was just scribbling off his own thoughtless fantasies while reading the notebook.
Honestly, there were many things about his father that Ron found weird.
He wasn't even talking about his sensible and caring father turnong into a crazy scientist who ignored his child after a new world of possibilities opened up to him..... No, Ron had already made peace with that time and don't dwell on it anymore.
However, although he was just a child and was never able to do any professional studies..... He still found his father weird.
Just like how when he asked his father how has he sensed his hidden 'area' of talent, his father replied that he would have to 'research' it.
It was incredibly weird. Why does he have to research it? Wasn't it something he found out himself? What's exactly will he be researching? His own mind?
Considering that the Area was something Frank discovered, no, sensed, and he would have to research how he sensed it felt weird to Ron.
Suddenly, Ron sighed.
"Sigh, it doesn't matter what it is, what I have to do hasn't changed."
His muttering was almost akin to whispering.
'But.. '
His thoughts drifted towards his father's laat words.
•••
"I'm sorry Ron.... I'm sorry....."
Frank voice echoed out among the devastation that lay strewn among them.
"Please.... If possible, forgive me... "
His voice was pained, struggling to say each word.
/Growllll...../
Splurt....Splurt
"Aaaaahhhhhh.... "
"N-no, stay a-away, don't c-come clos-Ahh....Aaarrhh"
Roars of beast that terrorized the land resounded out , bloodied bodies lay sprawling lifeless, more succumbing and falling with each passing second, their screams having no destination to land upon.
Frank, ignoring the catastrophe that was transpiring around him, continued to speak to his child.
"I was a bad father.... I neglected you because of my own selfish desires.... But please, I don't want to be hated by my only child before my death... "
Frank managed to utter those words somehow. Tears dripping down from his face unctrollably.
"N-no, father, please, don't say that, I d-dont hate you."
Ron bellowed out, he too cried unctrollably.
"Haha... A man like me don't deserve a kind child like you.... Neither do I deserve a loving wife like your mom.. "
Frank said with a slight laugh as he bent down on his knees to hug his child.
"Thank you for everything..... In this world of darkness, only you shined as a point of illuminating light for both me and your mother."
Frank said to Ron with a fartherly smile full of affection. It was the same kind smile he used to have while Ron was still 7 years old. Not the maniacal smile he adorned as he researched the power of Mana.
"Father.. "
Ron had no words to offer to his father.
At this point, Frank reached out his hands in his coat's pocket and took out a notebook. He offered it to Ron while also explaining.
"I don't know how useful it will be... But please take this. All my research and theories that I have accumulated on mana over years are in there. There are also those I never let the world known. Hehe, it also contains a bit of my silly ramblings, but it's only a small portion."
Frank said while offering the book to his son. Ron took the book with shaking hands.
"Ron, I have never been a good father but my fascination towards mana and it's power has always been real. If not anything else... Ron, will you continue to research and unravel the mysteries of mana in my stead? I won't ask for much. Just... Just those 'two things'.... Nothing else."
At the last part of the sentence Frank's eyes and expression started to show a weird eagerness... as if he was possessed by an intense desire over something.
"Yes father, I promise, I will complete them and make them a reality in your stead."
Ron replied with determination.
Frank came out his trance as he heard Ron's reply. He lowered his head and said in an embarrassed tone.
"Huh... I really am the worst. But... Thank you... For putting up with my selfish desires."
He said as intense emotions seeped out of him.
"I have to go now, Ron... I can't leave your mother... She's fighting at the front lines alone.... I have to get to her... Please, it's a request. Don't die. Also... "
Frank went off after saying that, leaving Ron's crying figure behind.
"NO, FATHEERRRR!!"
He shouted, but his father won't stop, continuing on the path where dead bodies, of both monsters and humans alike, lay scattered disgustingly.
•••
/Clench/
Ron clenched his fists, his eyes reddening as a thick killing intent seeped out from his body but he soon calmed himself down as he thought of the impending meeting. This would happen whenever he would think of the past, a past that he cannot he change.
His eyes moved towards his waist, his pupils reflecting the old and rusty, yet sharp sword. A sword that had drunk blood from both humans and monsters.
'Mother'
The notebook and diary together acted as the last of signs that has remained of their parents existence.
Ron's expression changed again but this time, there was an intense determination radiating out of it.
Suddenly, he raised his head as he sensed several presences converging outside.
He didn't need to be told.
The generals had gathered.
With a deep breath, he stood up, his expression hardening into the cold, authoritative mask that befitted his role as the leader.
Ron moved swiftly through the stronghold, the surroundings echoing with the sound of his boots on the atone floor. The stronghold was a fortress of necessity, built from the remnants of a once-modern world now reverted to medieval means of survival. Guards stationed at intervals along the passageway snapped to attention as he passed, their eyes filled with a mixture of respect and fear. Ron acknowledged them with a brief nod, his mind already focused on the impending meeting.
He descended the stone steps leading to the bunker, the chill in the air growing more pronounced with each step. The bunker, a relic from the old world, had been repurposed into a command center. It was sparsely furnished, functional, and devoid of any comforts. The walls, lined with ancient, rusted weaponry and maps, bore testament to countless battles fought and strategies devised.
Upon reaching the heavy, iron door of the bunker, Ron paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle. He steeled himself, pushing aside the lingering doubts and fears. The door creaked open, revealing a long, rectangular room illuminated by torches mounted on the walls. The flickering light cast eerie shadows, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.
At the center of the room stood a long rectangular table, surrounded by eight chairs on each side, one at the end and a single lone chair, which was bigger than the rest, at the head: the seat of honor.
All eight generals were present, their figures partially obscured by the dim light.
Of the eight figures, a single one with light green eyes and dark brown hair, who seemed to be dozing off, immediately sat back up straight at Ron's arrival.
Another one, a lady in her mid to late thirties, who had a tanned skin, jet black braided hair and a slim and honed figure, gazed at Ron with an abnormal seriousness on her face.
And the last one, a young man, who had a youthful look to him, similar to that of Ron and didn't appear to be anything more than in his mid-twenties, was comfortably sitting on the chair with his elbow on the table and his chin resting upon his hand, lifted his head up and looked at Ron in the eye, smirking at the same time.
Ron gave all the three generals, who were late arrivals, a cursory glance before stroding towards his seat at the head of the table. The weight of his authority was palpable, an unspoken command that demanded respect and obedience. He settled into the chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the worn wooden surface.
The silence in the room was heavy, charged with anticipation and an underlying sense of dread. The generals, their faces lined with fatigue and determination, awaited his words. Ron's eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room, taking in every detail and every face. The moment stretched, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Finally, he opened his mouth and gave the command.
"Begin"
•••
In the vast expanse of the cosmos, a dazzling sphere of light moved with ethereal grace, traveling at otherworldly speed. Its surface shimmered in shades of golden yellow, adorned with intricate patterns subtly tinged with celestial blue. Rays of light emanated from its core, casting soft reflections upon the cosmic tapestry around it. Trails of iridescent energy followed in its wake, painting gentle arcs across the velvety darkness of space.
It appeared to wander aimlessly, yet there was purpose in it's journey. This radiant entity was not adrift but on a quest - a quest to find the rightful inheritor of the power and wisdom it carried with him. Within the sphere resided an ancient consciousness, wise beyond mortal comprehension, it's thoughts echoing through the void like whispers of forgotten epochs.
As it traversed the cosmos, the sphere encountered worlds and celestial phenomena of unimaginable beauty and terror. It soared past cosmic storms, where tendrils of celestial lightning crackled with primordial fury against the backdrop of swirling gas giants.
The sphere's brilliance remained undimmed, its essence untouched by the vastness of space and time.
Celestial beings paused in reverence as it passed, drawn to its enigmatic presence. Some sought to understand its purpose, while others feared the repercussions of its quest. Yet, none could deny the awe-inspiring majesty that surrounded the sphere—a majesty that transcended mortal understanding and invoked reverence among even the most ancient and powerful beings of the universe.
And so, guided by an unseen force and driven by an eternal quest, the dazzling sphere of golden yellow continued its journey. Across galaxies and dimensions, it persisted—an attestation to the cosmic authority and the boundless mysteries it contained within him.