In a city of mortals… inside the grand manor of the Asteris family, an eight-year-old boy with shiny black hair and bright scarlet eyes wandered through the garden. His name was Ares.
He had spent the whole day tending to the plants, a tiring but necessary task for the servants of the manor. He had pulled weeds, watered the flowers, and cleaned every corner with care. When he finally finished, he wiped the sweat from his face, satisfied with his work. "Time to go home and take a nice shower," he thought, heading toward the small house he shared with his mother.
Ares's mother worked as a cook for the family, often staying late at the manor. Their home was simple and modest, tucked away in the servants' quarters. As soon as he stepped inside, Ares took off his dirty clothes and hurried to wash. The cool water was refreshing as it ran over his tired, dusty skin. "Ah, that feels so much better," he murmured to himself, feeling his muscles relax.
But his peace didn't last long. A loud growl from his stomach made him flinch. "I'm starving… Mom said she'd be back late today. She must have left me something to eat."
Feeling hopeful, he walked over to the fridge and found a covered plate. Grateful, he grabbed it, sat at the small table, and ate quickly. Once he was done, though, boredom started to creep in.
"What should I do now?" he wondered, tapping his fingers on the table. Then he remembered something. A few days ago, Leophold, had told him about some books on cultivators stored in the manor's library. He had described these legendary figures, capable of flying and controlling nature with their power. The idea fascinated Ares.
"Maybe I could take a look," he thought. But he knew it wouldn't be easy. The library was reserved for the family and their scholars. Entering without permission was strictly forbidden, and getting caught would have serious consequences for both him and his mother.
Despite the risk, his curiosity drove him to act. Moving cautiously, he avoided the busier parts of the manor. When he reached the library, he stopped to hide behind a wall. The guard was there, sitting by the entrance, seemingly lost in thought. Ares waited patiently, watching the guard's every move. When the guard got distracted talking to another servant, Ares seized the opportunity and slipped inside.
The library was enormous. Shelves stretched up to the ceiling, filled with ancient, dusty books. The air was quiet and still, almost sacred, but Ares's heart pounded loudly in his chest. He remembered Leophold's words: "The books about cultivators are at the back, on the right." Tiptoeing, Ares moved between the shelves, careful not to make a sound.
Finally, he found the section Leophold had mentioned. His eyes landed on a book titled "The Cultivators." With trembling hands, he picked it up and glanced around. He noticed a hidden corner behind a shelf, a perfect spot to read without being seen. He slipped into the corner, sat down, and opened the book.
"I can't believe it… Leophold was telling the truth!" he thought as he eagerly read the pages. "They can really fly? And make the earth shake with their power? This is amazing! I need to ask him how people gain this kind of strength."
But time was running out. Ares knew the guard made regular rounds through the library. He carefully put the book back and started toward the exit, but as he approached, he heard footsteps. The guard was coming his way.
Panic rose in Ares's chest. He ducked behind a shelf, but in his haste, he bumped into it, causing some books to fall. The loud noise broke the library's silence.
"Who's there?" the guard called out. Ares's heart raced as the sound of footsteps grew closer and closer. He searched frantically for a way out but realized he was trapped. In his confusion, he accidentally bumped his head against the wall, forgetting that his hiding spot had only one exit.
"What do I do now? If they catch me, it'll be over for me and Mom."
The guard's footsteps grew louder and slower, each one making Ares's chest tighten. He could now hear the man's heavy breathing, just on the other side of the shelf. Ares was cornered, with no way to escape, and his heart was pounding like a drum.