The land is vast and filled with thick mud, leading to the next section of the cliff. Kangha, a 12-year-old boy, is overjoyed. This is his first victory, and the excitement fills his heart. His grandfather looks at him with soft, proud eyes, feeling a deep sense of happiness. At that moment, a voice calls out from behind them.
"You shouldn't push him too hard," a man says to Kangha's grandfather. "He's still just a child. Something could happen."
Kangha's grandfather turns to him, his gaze firm and full of confidence.
"No," he replies, his voice steady and strong. "Nothing will happen to him. He's testing his own strength, and believe me, he has far more power than even he knows."
The man stands silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The bond between Kangha and his grandfather is unbreakable, built on years of trust and understanding. But the boy's power, his true strength, is something that will soon reveal itself.
"Kangha, you are capable of ending evil," his grandfather says, guiding the boy. Kangha, with hands covered in mud, is sitting with food in a box, trying to eat despite the mess.
His grandfather continues, his voice steady with wisdom, "The greatest strength comes from mastering one's own power. The real strength is in controlling it, not letting it take control of you. Never allow your fears to overcome you."
Kangha listens carefully, understanding the depth of his grandfather's words. It's not just about the strength in his body, but the strength in his heart and mind. His journey to control that power is just beginning.
This was the lesson Kangha knew he must remember for the rest of his life. It was his first victory, but he understood that there was still so much more to accomplish in his journey. The road ahead was long, and this was just the beginning. The future held countless challenges, but Kangha was ready to face them all, carrying the wisdom of his grandfather's words in his heart.
The sky outside is a pale shade of gray, the evening sun shrouded by drifting clouds. Kangha's breath is labored as he sits up on his bed, his hands clasped tightly around his neck. Sweat trickles down his face, soaking his temples. He struggles to calm his pounding heart, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
The room feels oppressive, the air thick with an unseen weight. Slowly, his breathing begins to even out, though his mind remains a whirlwind of confusion. He glances around the large, dimly lit room, the faint hum of the ceiling fan doing little to dispel the unease lingering in the corners.
"What was that?" he whispers to himself, his voice barely audible. His fingers graze his neck as if searching for marks. The sensation from moments ago still lingers—a phantom grip that sent him into a panic.
He closes his eyes for a moment, replaying the vivid fragments of his nightmare. He remembers a man standing at the edge of a deep ditch. Kangha had been there before, running along its edges as a child, but this man... he was unfamiliar. A stranger, yet somehow his presence felt suffocatingly real.
"I don't know this man," Kangha murmurs, his brows furrowed. He tries to shake off the unsettling memory, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Why am I seeing him? And why does it feel like he's trying to hurt me?"
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the cold floor. He stands slowly, his knees trembling slightly as he tries to regain his composure.
"What's happening to me?" he asks aloud, his voice breaking the silence of the room.
In the back of his mind, the conversation he overheard in his child days resurfaces. Two elders, their faces etched with solemn expressions, had spoken in hushed tones about a child destined for something greater. They had gazed at a young boy sitting on the ground, eating from a box with hands and face smeared in dirt.
"Will he truly be able to do it?" one of them had asked, his voice tinged with doubt.
"Yes," the other had replied with conviction. "He will grow and learn. One day, he will have the power to eliminate evil."
Kangha shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Was this all connected somehow? The man in his dream, the choking sensation, the strange words of the elders—it all felt too much to be mere coincidence.
Determined to make sense of it, he steps toward the window, pulling back the curtain slightly to let in the evening light. The faint rays warm his skin, grounding him..
With one last deep breath, Kangha straightens his back and prepares to face the day. Whatever challenges lie ahead, he knows he must confront them head-on. The answers, he believes, are out there waiting for him.
After splashing cold water onto his face, Kangha steps out of the bathroom, his hair still damp. He wraps a towel loosely around his head, rubbing it briskly as he walks toward the window. The fresh air coming through the cracks brings a fleeting sense of calm, but his mind refuses to settle.
"The man was with my grandfather," Kangha mutters to himself, the thought striking him like a flash of lightning. He pauses, lowering the towel from his head. "Grandfather must have known him. He wouldn't just associate with strangers. There must be something about him in the old books he left behind."
Kangha throws the towel onto the bed, his brow furrowed with determination. He knows his grandfather's belongings hold countless secrets—old journals, records, and stories passed down from generations. They might hold a clue to the mysterious figure in his dream.
But now isn't the time to dig through dusty books. He has other responsibilities to tend to, and they can't wait. He glances at the clock ticking softly on the wall and sighs. "First, I need to fix the school's condition," he says under his breath.
Pulling on a light jacket, he steps out of his room. His footsteps echo lightly in the narrow corridor as he makes his way to the balcony. He looks down at the courtyard below, scanning the surroundings. Everything he sees confirms what he had dreaded.
The once vibrant space is now a picture of neglect—children sitting idly on broken benches, and the faint sound of wind brushing past the empty swing set. It's exactly as he had feared, just as he had imagined. The school he had always dreamed of restoring now lies in shambles.
Kangha tightens his jaw, gripping the railing. His thoughts swirl between his personal mystery and the responsibility weighing on his shoulders.
"I'll figure this out," he says quietly, more to himself than anyone else. Straightening his posture, he turns away from the view and heads toward the front gate. The time to act is now—both for the school and the lingering shadows of his grandfather's past.
The soft hum of voices drifts through the open courtyard as Kangha descends the stairs, his footsteps quick but measured. The faint chatter grows louder as he approaches the field, where a crowd of young faces gathers. This year's new students are assembling, their excitement and curiosity palpable in the air. Kangha can't help but feel a spark of hope.
"At least I woke up at the right time," he thinks, straightening his posture. He steps onto the field, his presence immediately drawing the students' attention.
Scanning the crowd, he takes a deep breath and moves toward a large, flat stone near the center of the field. With a quick hop, he climbs onto it, positioning himself where everyone can see him. The murmur of voices quiets as the students turn their gazes toward him.
"Hello, friends," Kangha begins, his voice clear and confident, echoing across the field. "How are you all today?"
The group remains silent at first, surprised by his warm and casual tone. A few students nod, while others exchange curious glances. Kangha offers them an encouraging smile.
"I'm Kangha," he continues, his eyes scanning the young, eager faces before him. "I'm the new headmaster of this school."
A ripple of murmurs spreads through the crowd, but Kangha raises a hand to quiet them. "I know you're all wondering what kind of changes will happen here, and I'll be honest—there's a lot to do. This school isn't in the best shape right now, but together, we're going to change that. Each of you has the potential to help create something amazing here."
His voice carries a note of conviction, and the students seem to lean in, their curiosity shifting into engagement.
"This isn't just a school," Kangha says, spreading his arms as if to encompass the entire space. "This is your second home. A place where you can dream, learn, and grow into the best version of yourself. And I promise, as your headmaster, I'll do everything I can to make that happen."
A few of the older students start clapping, and soon, the applause spreads throughout the group. Kangha nods, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Now," he says, his tone lightening, "let's get started. We've got a lot of work ahead, and it's going to take all of us. Are you with me?"
A resounding cheer rises from the field, the energy infectious. Kangha steps down from the stone, his heart lighter than it had been all morning. For the first time in a while, he feels like he's exactly where he needs to be.