I entered the bedroom and lay down on the wooden bed. It was rough and uncomfortable, with no mattress, but I had already grown used to it.
In two months, I would turn ten. The moment I did, I'd have to leave my regular classes and join the training classes, where they'd teach me the village's martial art. At first, I believed this world revolved solely around magic and abilities. But as I've grown older, I've realized there's much more to it than that—things I'm determined to uncover.
Lost in thought, I eventually closed my eyes. I wanted to rest now so I could stay awake later tonight. There was something I was waiting to witness, something important.
Eno, Eno!" Hearing my name, I woke from my sleep and turned toward the voice. At the entrance stood my mother, smiling as she saw me awake.
"Go and wash up; it's dinner time," she said before leaving.
I watched her leaving
Emily stood at 5.6 feet, her shoulder-length black hair framing a face of modest beauty, with pale white skin that bore the faint flush of life in the village. She wore the standard attire of first-order women—simple, worn-out brown clothing that barely covered her chest and hips, extending only to her thighs and leaving much of her body exposed. Her figure was average but well-proportioned, with 36C breasts, a moderate waist, and a normal-sized butt, making her appearance neither striking nor plain. Her name was Emily, a name that matched her presence—ordinary, yet somehow memorable.
I nodded and got up, heading outside. In the garden, I washed my face and hands in a wooden tub filled with water before returning to the living room. Inside, a man—my father—was already seated, waiting for dinner.
James stood at 5.9 feet, his white skin contrasting with his neatly kept black hair that framed a face marked by a hint of shrewdness in his dark eyes. His build was unremarkable—neither lean nor overly muscular—with a slight softness around his belly that hinted at a comfortable but not overly active lifestyle. Though his appearance was average, there was an air of quiet calculation about him, as if he observed more than he let on, making him seem sharper than he looked at first glance.
As I sat down, he asked, "How was your class today?"
"As usual, nothing new to learn," I replied.
"Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "You'll learn a lot in the training classes soon."
"I'm looking forward to it," I said, trying to sound optimistic.
As we talked about various things, my mother entered, carrying the food and curry. She began serving the meal, and once everything was distributed, she sat down in the last empty seat.
I looked down at my dinner: rice and curry made with some green leaves which I couldn't name. We began eating in silence, but soon my mother turned to my father. "Do you have patrol tonight?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. "But it's a normal patrol. No beasts have been seen roaming around the village, so there's no need to worry."
The moment I heard the word beast, my body tensed, a slight tremor running through me. I quickly controlled it, but the fear lingered. There was a reason for it. Every winter, our village was attacked by beasts, driven by hunger during the food shortages. I had witnessed the beast tides before—their relentless slaughter and the bloodshed they left behind.
After every brutal battle, we emerged victorious, but always at a heavy cost. The first-order villagers bore the brunt of the losses, though some second-order fighters also died. Many were left injured—some crippled for life, having lost limbs or suffered severe internal wounds.
The only reason we survived those tides was because of the Baron Lord, the one and only fourth-order being in the region. I had never seen him fight, but the stories of his strength were legendary. They said he was the reason the village still stood.
Every week, a hundred first-order , ten second-order , and one third-order elder take turns patrolling the village to ensure its safety. This week, it was my father's turn. I had already predicted it using past patrol data I had memorized, and I knew there was a high chance he'd be assigned. That's why I went to bed early—I wanted to stay awake later tonight.
I silently offered a small prayer to the god I believed in, asking for my father's safety during his patrol. Then, I continued eating, not speaking another word. My father and mother didn't say much to me either. They probably thought I was just being introverted.
It's true—I am introverted, but not deeply so. The real reason I didn't speak to them was because I didn't truly consider them my parents. After seeing their hidden sides, my feelings toward them had changed. Still, they gave birth to me and raised me, so I regarded them as more like adoptive parents than true ones.
Oh, and I don't have any grandparents. They all died in the beast tides, though not all at once. I vividly remember attending my grandmother's and grandfather's funerals. Those moments were when the harsh reality of this world truly hit me: it's a cruel place where death can come at any time.
In this world, only strength matters. Strength is survival. And I've resolved to do whatever it takes to achieve it, because I refuse to die. I won't waste this life.