In a small village nestled at the foot of the mountains, young Rael stared out of the window of his grandfather's cottage, his heart heavy with anticipation. The Sword Ceremony was only a day away, and the entire village buzzed with excitement. For most, it was a day of destiny—a moment when their gifts would be recognized by the Divine Sword Tree, granting them the power to protect the world from the forces of darkness. But for Rael, the day was shrouded in uncertainty and dread.

Unlike the other children in his village, Rael had never manifested a gift. From an early age, the people around him could harness elemental magic, extraordinary strength, or other miraculous abilities. Rael, however, had nothing. He was an ordinary boy in a world that valued the extraordinary. Still, he clung to a sliver of hope that a sword from the Divine Sword Tree might still choose him.

"Rael," his grandfather called from the other room, "come here for a moment."

Rael left the window and entered the small, cluttered living room, where his grandfather sat by the fire, a weathered map spread out on the table before him. The old man, his face lined with the marks of time, looked up at Rael with kind but concerned eyes.

"Grandpa, do you really think... do you think a sword will choose me?" Rael asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

His grandfather sighed, placing a hand on Rael's shoulder. "The swords of the Divine Sword Tree choose based on more than just gifts, Rael. They choose based on courage, determination, and the will to fight for what's right. You may not have a gift, but you have those qualities in abundance."

Rael nodded, trying to take comfort in his grandfather's words. But deep down, he feared the worst. The Sword Ceremony was a sacred tradition, one that determined the course of a child's life. To be unchosen meant a life of obscurity, of being forever seen as lesser in a world obsessed with power.

The following morning, the village gathered in the sacred grove where the Divine Sword Tree stood tall, its branches reaching toward the heavens. The air was thick with anticipation, and the children lined up nervously, their eyes wide with hope.

One by one, the children stepped forward, and one by one, the swords descended from the tree's branches, choosing their champions. Each sword was unique, its design reflecting the gift of the child it chose. Flames for those with fire, waves for those with water, and so on. Each selection was met with cheers and applause, the chosen children beaming with pride.

Finally, it was Rael's turn. He stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. The world seemed to hold its breath as he stood before the tree, waiting, hoping, praying.

But nothing happened.

No sword descended from the branches. No light enveloped him. The silence was deafening, the disappointment palpable. Rael stood there, exposed and humiliated, as the whispers of the crowd began to grow.

"He's giftless," someone murmured.

"What did he expect?" another voice said, dripping with scorn.

Rael's vision blurred with tears as the reality of his situation hit him like a physical blow. He turned and ran, his feet pounding the earth as he fled from the grove, from the judgmental eyes, from the truth he had desperately tried to avoid.

He didn't stop running until he reached his grandfather's cottage, where he collapsed on the porch, sobbing uncontrollably. The dreams he had harbored for so long had been shattered in an instant, leaving him with nothing but a hollow ache in his chest.

"They didn't choose me," Rael cried when his grandfather came out to find him. "None of the swords chose me."

His grandfather knelt beside him, his expression grave. "Rael, there's something I need to tell you. A story that has been passed down in our family for generations."

Rael looked up, wiping his tears. "What story?"

"About a sword that doesn't belong to the Divine Sword Tree. A sword hidden in the Eastern Realm, in the land of monsters and demons. They call it the Forsaken Blade."

Rael's eyes widened. "The Forsaken Blade? I thought that was just a myth."

His grandfather shook his head. "No, Rael. It is very real. It is said that this sword was forged in the depths of darkness, and it only chooses those who have been forsaken by the light. But beware, for this sword comes with a price—a system that binds itself to its wielder, pushing them to the brink of madness and despair. But if you can master it, you will gain power beyond anything the Divine Sword Tree could offer."

Rael felt a spark of hope ignite in his chest. "So, there's still a chance for me? I can still be strong?"

His grandfather nodded, though his expression remained somber. "Yes, but the path you would walk is perilous, Rael. The Eastern Realm is not like the lands you know. It is a place of nightmares, and the sword you seek is both a blessing and a curse."

Rael clenched his fists, determination surging through him. He had nothing left to lose. "I'll do it. I'll find the Forsaken Blade and prove that I'm not weak."

His grandfather smiled sadly. "Very well, Rael. I will help you as much as I can. But remember, once you set foot on this path, there is no turning back."

The next morning as the sun set over the village, Rael stood at the edge of the forest, armed with his grandfather's ancient map and a heart full of resolve. Sudden memories flowed through his trying to recollect what happened for the past years being with his grandfather. He hasn't seen his parents before. Anytime he asked his grandfather will either change the topic or create some dad jokes he is not good at.

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He looked back at the cottage one last time, then turned and began his journey into the unknown, into the Eastern Realm where the Forsaken Blade awaited.

Is time to search for the Forsaken Blade