A chilling wind swept through the quiet night as Adrian's sciousness stirred from the depths of the void. It was a strange sensation, as if he had been asleep for tless years, only to wake up to a world he had never known. His body felt light, fragile, and ed in warmth. The muffled sounds of voices echoed around him, but he couldn't uand them.

  The st of herbs mingled with the faint flicker of a dim ntern and soft whispers—sounds that were now distant and unfamiliar. His vision was blurry, but gradually, he could make out the delicate silhouette of a woman cradling him gently. It was his mother. Despite her weakening breath and trembling body, she held him as if he were her final tether to life.

  In that fragile moment, her voice, barely a whisper, reached his ears:

  "You shall be called Adrian, for you carry the light of our hope."

  Although she didn't fully uand the significe of the was the first that came to her mind—chosen without hesitation, as if by instinct.

  Even as her warmth faded and her embrace sed, that simple, unthinking choice became his eternal bond—a hat would guide him through every trial to e.

  The warmth faded. The arms that held him sed. The murmurs turo cries.

  —

  Adrian's earliest clear memory was not one of fusion or fear, but of quiet determination. Even though he was only three years old, there was something in his eyes—a depth that spoke of experiences from lives past. Born into sorrow, he had bee with no parents: his mother had passed away at birth, and his father had wandered into the wilderness, o returhe Eldenwood , a small but resilient noble family, had taken him in. They did not pity him; they saw him as another child who will face hardships and treated him as one of their own.

  The Eldenwood pound y at the edge of a vast forest, where the gentle hum of nature mingled with the low murmur of everyday life. In the soft light of early spring, little Adrian would toddle along the worn stohs of the pound, his curious eyes taking in every detail. He would watch as other children pyed in the meadows, and he would listen closely when the elders discussed the day's tasks.

  It was on one such bright m that Adrian got his first spook. As he sat quietly beh an a oak, he heard a clear, steady voiot the chatter of the other children, but a voice that seemed both distant and close, ge unmistakable.

  "Adrian, how do you feel about this new life?" the voice asked.

  Startled at first, the young boy looked around. He had learned his name, and though he was very young, he uood that his life was different from the others. He replied in a small

  but a clear voice, "I feel safe, though sometimes I am a bit lonely."

  The voice chuckled. "Lonely? Nonsense! You've got me, the wisest, most charming panion ience. Besides, the path ahead is long, and trust me, the moment you start walking it, you won't have time to feel lonely—just time to get stronger."

  Then the young boy asked, "Didn't you tell me that you wouldn't help me because of other ws?"

  The voice let out a dramatic sigh. "Ah, yes, the ever-plicated ws. Trust me, Adrian, if I had a loophole, I'd be throwing divine blessings at you left and right! But, as, even mighty cubes have rules to follow. Otherwise, where's the fun in not having struggles on your way to greatness?"

  The voice tinued, "I am here to speak with you, although I 't interfere with the world, I still give you some knowledge and aid you in your journey."

  Adrian was tent with that because although the journey might be a long one he was happy that there was someoo his aid in this new life.

  As the days turned into years, Adrian's life in the pound tinued, and the world around him began to reveal its broader tapestry.

  — — — —

  The Eldenwood pound buzzed with life as Adrian wahrough its stohways. He wasn't searg for anything in particur, just letting his feet carry him as he observed the world around him. That was when his steps slowed—his attention drawn to a heated argument nearby.

  he training grounds, two young members were in the midst of a heated argument. One was a frail-looking boy, sharp-eyed and quick with words, while the other was a sturdier youth, his hands calloused from years of training.

  "You don't uand," the frail bued. "If we iate with the merts properly, we won't eveo fight for better deals. Strategy is far more important than brute strength!"

  The sturdier boy scoffed. "Words mean nothing if your enemy doesn't listen. If someoakes what is yours, will you outtalk them? If a beast charges at you, will you reason with it?"

  The frail boy hesitated, but before he could respond, the sturdier one pushed forward. "What if you had to protect your family? What if you had to defend your life?" He ched his fists. "You think intelligence alone will save you?"

  Adrian's gaze sharpened as he watched.

  The argumeed. Frustrated, the frail boy suddenly stepped forward, attempting to shove the other back. But the sturdier youth barely moved—his stance was firm, grounded. With a siep, he tered the shove, knog the frail boy off band sending him stumbling to the ground.

  Silence followed.

  The frail boy looked up, stunned. He had all the words, all the logic, but in the end, they had not stopped the oute. The sturdier youth simply offered his hand. "Strength doesn't meahing. But without it, nothing else matters."

  Adrian leaned back against the tree, deep in thought.

  For all his intelligence, his quick wit, and his ability to reason, he could not deny what he had just seen. Wisdom had its pce, but in a world where power dictated survival, one could not rely on cleverness alone.

  As the breeze carried the st echoes of the argument away, Adrian made a quiet resolution. He would sharpen his mind, yes—but he would not his strength.

  For in a world of power, words alone could not hold their ground.

  And so, through those quiet, long days of early childhood, Adrian grew up not just as an orphan, but as a thoughtful and observant child—one who knew his name, carried memories of many lifetimes, and uood that every small choice mattered. Though he was too young to cultivate, he did not remain idle. He trained in martial arts, honing his body in every possible way. Whether it ractig stances, strengthening his limbs, or testing his endurance, he pushed himself beyond the limits of an ordinary child.

  — — — —

  A sharp whistle cut through the courtyard, signaling the start of the sparring session. Adrian tightened his grip around the wooden sword, his pulse steady but alert. Across from him, his oppo smirked, clearly expeg an easy match. The instructor, arms crossed, gave a small nod, and the duel began. Uhe watchful gaze of an elder instructor, Adrian was given a wooden sword for a sparring exercise. His oppo, a slightly older boy, had trained longer and was expected to win easily. Yet as the match began, Adrian's eyes flickered with a sharp focus. He noticed the pattern in his oppo's strikes—the way his shoulder tensed a fra of a sed before an attack, the rhythm of his steps, the slight telegraphing of each move.

  Before his training, he might have reized these patterns but cked the ability to a them. Now, however, his honed reflexes allowed him to move. He twisted his body at the st moment, dodging the first swing by a hair's breadth. The sed strike came, but he sidestepped, letting it pass harmlessly. The elder's eyes narrowed slightly in i.

  By the time Adrian tered with a strike of his own—precisely aimed but trolled—the elder watg the match stroked his beard in thought. "His movements are sharp, but his mind is even sharper," the man murmured to himself. "For one so young, he reads his oppo far too well."

  The sparring matded with Adrian holding his own far lohan expected, f the older boy to exert himself. Though Adrian ultimately lost due to his ck of experience, he walked away with something far more valuable: the quiet approval of the elder and the knowledge that his training was bearing fruit.

  In time, as his body matured and he reached the age of eight, the promise of cultivation would call to him. But for now, his days were filled with learning from the , abs the wisdom of the elders, and quietly preparing for the challehat y ahead.

  — — — —