The morning sun bathed the quiet village in golden light, warming the dew-kissed fields and the weathered wood of every home. Birds chirped softly from treetops, and a lazy breeze danced through the rice paddies on the outskirts of the village. It was the kind of peaceful morning that felt eternal.
Kaoru stood outside a modest wooden house on the eastern edge of the village, gently tying his hair back. Though his snow-white hair shimmered faintly in the light, it was cut into a simple, neat style—nothing like the wild, ethereal locks of the man the world once feared. His silver eyes held a calm depth, neither cold nor warm, but distant—as if watching something far beyond the horizon.
Inside the house, children were already bustling about. Some were folding laundry, others finishing breakfast, and a few sparred clumsily in the back courtyard with practice staves. It was chaos—but the kind that sang of life.
"Kaoru!" called a voice from the hallway.
He turned to see a bright-eyed boy about ten years old, dark curls bouncing as he jogged closer. His name was Renji, the middle child of the group, always brimming with curiosity and too clever for his own good.
"What is it, Renji?" Kaoru asked with a soft smile.
Renji tilted his head, trying to sound casual. "I was just wondering… what did you do before you came here?"
The room quieted. A spoon clinked against a bowl. Even the younger ones seemed to feel the shift in the air.
Kaoru's smile didn't falter, but something in his eyes froze. He knelt down and placed a hand on Renji's shoulder.
"That's a question I won't answer," he said gently, yet firmly. "And a question none of you should ask."
Renji blinked, taken aback by the change in tone. "O-oh… okay."
The house slowly returned to its lively hum, but the tension lingered like a whisper in the walls. It was an unspoken rule in the village—don't ask about Kaoru's past. Not out of fear, but respect.
Later in the day, Kaoru gathered the children in the open-air classroom he had built from salvaged wood and stone. The midday sun filtered through the trees, dappling the children's curious faces as they sat cross-legged on the floor, books open in their laps.
"Today," Kaoru said, holding up a page from an old scroll, "we continue our lesson on the Cataclysmic Era—the time when the sealed one returned."
Murmurs rippled through the group.
"You mean Kagetsu, right?" a girl asked, eyes wide.
"Yes," Kaoru replied, nodding.
"Did he really get sealed for hundreds of years?" another asked. "And then come back stronger than ever?"
"He did."
"Did he kill gods?"
"Yes," Kaoru said again, quieter this time.
"Was he evil?" asked a small boy with nervous eyes.
Kaoru paused. He looked down at the scroll for a long moment before answering.
"He was… complicated. He carried sorrow like a second skin and did terrible things. Some say he was a monster. Others say he was a victim of fate."
The children were silent, absorbing his words. Some looked in awe, some in fear.
"But," Kaoru continued, "what matters is that you learn from the past—not just the names or the dates, but the choices people made, and why."
The lecture moved on, shifting into the mechanics of basic magic—the way mana flowed through the body, how intention shaped spellcraft, and the importance of grounding oneself in meditation. Kaoru had a gift for teaching. His voice was steady and patient, and even the most distracted child somehow found themselves paying attention.
While he demonstrated a simple water spell, he watched the children closely. Several of them showed unusual potential. Renji could already cast minor barrier spells without a chant. The youngest girl, Kana, summoned fire without flinching. These weren't just orphans. They were seeds of power—ones that could bloom into legends, or tragedies.
As the sun began to lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the village paths, Kaoru stood quietly by the well, refilling a water jug. The peaceful rhythm of his life was something he had built carefully, day by day, layer by layer. It was fragile—and he knew it.
A faint tremor ran through the earth beneath his feet. He looked up.
In the distance, just at the village's edge where the forest thinned into rolling hills, several figures approached. Dust followed their steps. Steel glinted under traveling cloaks. The way they walked spoke volumes—trained, cautious, and armed.
The adventurers' guild had arrived.
To Be Continued...