In a room dimly lit by the fire of a crackling hearth, an old man with a white beard and a deeply wrinkled face sat in a carved wooden chair. Across from him, a boy of about 9 or 10 years old, with hair as white as snow and eyes as gray as the sky before a storm, listened intently. His small hands cradled a cup of hot tea, though he had barely touched it, too absorbed in the old man's words.
"Over a thousand years ago," the old man began, his voice hoarse but steady, "the gods descended from the heavens. They abandoned their celestial thrones and chose to live among us mortals."
The boy tilted his head, his gray eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Why would they do that?" he asked, his tone innocent yet inquisitive.
The old man chuckled softly, a smile spreading across his weathered face.
"Ah, little one, that's an interesting question. They did it out of boredom."
"Boredom?" the boy repeated, surprised.
"Exactly," the old man continued, leaning on his cane. "Imagine being an immortal being, with all the power and knowledge of the universe at your fingertips. In time, even that becomes tedious. So, to amuse themselves, they sealed their powers and descended to the mortal world, forming what we call families."
"Families?" the boy interrupted, leaning forward, his eyes brimming with intrigue.
"Yes, that's what we call them. Each god or goddess forms their own family by recruiting mortals and granting them a blessing, known as falna. This blessing allows mortals to grow stronger, face monsters, and accomplish feats that would otherwise be impossible."
The boy frowned, pondering the old man's words. After a few moments, he looked up with another question.
"If the gods are so powerful, why don't they just get rid of all the monsters themselves?"
The old man laughed heartily, as if the question had taken him back to simpler times.
"Because they can't. When they descend to the mortal world, their divine powers are completely sealed. Now, they're like us, though much wiser… and with a peculiar obsession for entertainment."
"So they form these families just for fun?" the boy asked, his tone a mixture of wonder and skepticism.
"Exactly. The gods love watching us, pushing us to our limits, and seeing what we can achieve with the blessings they grant. It's like a game to them. But for us…" The old man paused, his expression turning serious. "For us, it's the difference between life and death."
The boy nodded slowly, processing what he had just heard. But another question formed in his mind.
"How are adventurers ranked? How do they know who's the strongest?"
The old man let out a satisfied sigh, pleased with the boy's curiosity.
"Ah, adventurers are ranked by levels, from one to ten. Each level represents a significant leap in power and skill. For instance, a level one adventurer can barely face minor monsters, while a level five adventurer could take on hundreds of them alone."
"Has anyone ever reached level ten?" the boy asked eagerly.
The old man's face darkened slightly, and his tone grew more somber.
"No, little one. The strongest person ever recorded reached level nine. A true hero among heroes, capable of defeating entire armies and battling the most terrifying monsters. But even she… was not invincible."
"What happened to her?" the boy asked, a mix of sadness and fascination in his voice.
"She died eight years ago. Her sacrifice saved thousands, but her loss reminds us that even the greatest have their limits."
The boy fell silent, his gray eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and sorrow.
"So… no one can reach level ten?" he murmured, more to himself than to the old man.
The old man gave him an enigmatic smile.
"Perhaps someone will achieve it one day. After all, this world is always full of surprises."
The old man observed the boy, who seemed lost in thought.
"So, tell me, child, who are you? Have you remembered anything?"
The boy shrugged, his gaze dropping to the floor.
"I don't know… I just remember waking up surrounded by snow before you found me."
Hours earlier…
A snow-covered forest stretched in every direction, a frozen and silent landscape. Among the trees, a boy lay peacefully asleep, his small body surrounded by a blanket of snow. Despite the biting cold that would make anyone shiver, the boy seemed entirely unaffected, as if the icy embrace of nature could not touch him.
After a moment, his body stirred slightly, and his eyes, gray like a cloudy sky, opened with a confused expression. He looked around, blinking slowly.
"Where am I?" he thought, his gaze scanning his surroundings. The snow, the trees, the overcast sky… Everything felt unfamiliar, yet something deep within him seemed to recognize it.
"Snow… What is snow?"
He stood up awkwardly, his feet sinking into the pristine white. The cold beneath his bare feet puzzled him, but it did not bother him. Every step he took was a discovery, every crunch of snow beneath his weight a revelation. The icy wind brushing against his face felt both familiar and foreign.
He wandered for what felt like hours, exploring this strange but captivating world. The snow, the trees, the sound of the wind… all of it stirred questions in his mind. "Who am I? Why am I here? What is this place?"
Suddenly, a voice broke through his thoughts.
"What are you doing here, boy?"
The boy turned quickly and saw an old man wrapped in a thick coat, holding a bow in one hand and a sheathed sword at his belt. His eyes were kind, though his expression showed concern.
"Are you alright?" the old man asked, approaching cautiously when he noticed the boy dressed only in simple clothes.
The boy remained silent, his thoughts racing once again. "An old man? A human? What is an old man? What is a human?"
Finally, he managed to respond, his voice trembling.
"Y-yes, I'm fine."
The old man studied him carefully, noting the boy's curious expression.
"Then what are you doing here? Where are your parents?"
The boy hesitated, unable to answer. He lowered his gaze and, after a moment, murmured,
"I don't know… I just remember waking up here not long ago."
The old man frowned slightly but saw no signs that the boy was lying. With a sigh, he nodded.
"Alright. Come with me. You can't stay here."
The boy followed without protest, walking behind the old man as he led him toward his home, a small village near the forest.
When they arrived at a modest cabin, the old man invited him inside and led him to a lit fireplace.
"Warm your hands here. I'll bring you some tea."
The boy obeyed, staring at the flames with fascination as the warmth began to spread through his body. The cabin was filled with things that caught his attention: wooden furniture, tools hanging on the walls, and the comforting scent of burning wood.
When the old man returned with a cup of tea, the boy looked at him curiously.
"Where am I?" he finally asked.
The old man smiled as he handed him the cup.
"We're in a small village, a few months' journey from Orario."
"Orario?" the boy repeated, a hint of interest in his voice.
"It's a grand city where most of the gods and adventurers live," the old man explained.
The boy tilted his head, confused.
"Gods? Adventurers?"
The old man chuckled softly.
"It's a long story, but I'll tell you if you'd like."
Back in the present...
The old man sighed, though his expression softened.
"Well, don't worry. You can stay here with me. But it'll be easier to call you something other than 'boy.' You should choose a name."
The old man smiled and extended a hand.
"By the way, my name is Alexander Relish."
The boy grew thoughtful at the old man's suggestion. He stared at the fire in the hearth, as if searching for answers within the dancing flames. His mind, still clouded with confusion, began to process the old man's words slowly.
"A name…" he murmured.
"Yes, a name," Alexander said. "It's important to have one. A name not only defines you to others but also to yourself. It can be a beacon to remind you who you are while you discover more about yourself."
The boy nodded slowly. He closed his eyes and thought deeply, trying to find something that resonated within him. After a moment of silence, he spoke.
"I'll call myself Soren."
Alexander raised an eyebrow, impressed by the choice.
"Soren, huh? That's a good name. Why did you choose it?"
The boy looked up, his expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.
"I don't know… I just… it felt right."
Alexander smiled warmly and leaned forward, placing a firm but reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Well, Soren, from now on, this will be your home. We'll make sure you find the answers you're looking for."