Chapter 14
The day had finally come. My story—the one I would write for myself—was about to begin. As I stood by the door of my childhood home, my emotions were a swirling mix of excitement and fear. The future was waiting for me, full of potential, but its unknowns weighed heavily on my mind.
The previous night, Matt had shared some troubling news. Orcs and other creatures from the Dredmor Zone had become increasingly aggressive. Villages were being wiped off the map, leaving only ruins and despair in their wake. But that wasn't the worst part. Survivors spoke of a fate worse than death. Women and young girls were captured, enslaved to bear children for goblins, their bodies unable to withstand the horrors of their captivity. The men weren't spared either. They were turned into cannon fodder—human shields in the monsters' brutal assaults.
It was horrifying, a grim reminder of the cruelty of this world. And as much as I hated it, I felt powerless. I was too weak to make any difference. I need to get stronger, I told myself as I washed up, the cold water shocking me back into focus. Determined not to waste the opportunities ahead, I took a deep breath and headed downstairs.
My family was waiting for me, their eyes glistening with tears. The room was heavy with unspoken words, and even the owl perched on Lea's head seemed subdued, its feathers fluffed up as if it, too, was sad.
Before anyone could say anything, my father stepped forward, holding a bag in his hands. "You'll need this for the academy," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Inside the bag were extra clothes, some money, rations, and—tucked neatly at the bottom—something that took my breath away: a brand-new khopesh. The weapon gleamed in the morning light, its blade crafted from black metal with silver accents. It was far more than just a weapon; it was a symbol of hope, crafted from the most durable materials our family could afford.
There was also a letter tucked beside the khopesh, sealed with Matt's familiar handwriting. My heart swelled as I opened it.
Hi, little brother,
At the front, I made a dwarven friend. He owed me a favor, and I asked him to make this for you.
This is a khopesh, a mix between a sickle and a sword. It's usually an elven weapon, but after hearing about your fight with that snake from Mom and Dad, I thought this would suit you better than just a sickle. Plus, let's be honest—it looks cooler.
Train hard and get strong. One day, when you're ready, we'll have a friendly spar, just like the old days.
Your awesome big brother,
Matt
I clenched the letter in my hand, my chest tightening with emotion. The weapon wasn't just a tool; it was a reminder of who I was fighting for and what I wanted to protect.
With a lump in my throat, I turned to face my family one last time. Their expressions were bittersweet—proud but heartbroken. "I'll make you all proud," I promised, my voice steadier than I expected.
Lea hugged me tightly, the owl hopping onto my shoulder as if to offer its own silent goodbye. My mother smoothed my hair one last time, her lips trembling with the words she couldn't bring herself to say. My father gave me a firm nod, his pride shining through his stoic demeanor.
And with that, I stepped out into the world, the weight of my family's hopes resting on my shoulders. As I walked down the familiar road leading away from the village, I felt the khopesh at my side, its weight both comforting and grounding.
The morning air was crisp, carrying with it the scent of dew and the faint promise of rain. I glanced back only once, catching sight of my family still standing at the doorway, waving until I was out of sight.
My journey had begun.