POV Narrator:

The twelfth age began as the Colossus slept. Life was blooming on the continent once again, seemingly guided by a higher power. New species were born, and new cultures were created. The Colossus was woefully unaware of the chain of events that he had inadvertently triggered by his deep slumber. A new age was dawning, and a new sentient race was dominating the continent.

In a small village close to the ocean, lives a boy named Zohn. Only ten years old and a mere two meters tall, he's slightly short compared to kids his age, but his small stature harbours boundless ambition and dreams.

“When are the hunters coming back?” Zohn asks his mother, always prying for more information about the wondrous world outside their village. “Remember son, the hunters announced that they're exploring a new region, who knows when they'll return.” his mother replies kindly.

Staring aimlessly at the village gate, Zohn spots the returning hunters. “They're back!” he excitedly announces. He's a curious boy, and a chance for more wonderous tales of the outside world always excites him. “Zohn, don’t bother them. They're probably exhausted from their excursion, you’ll be able to hear all about their adventures at tonight’s annual feast.” his mother urges, trying to calm the excited boy.

Darkness gradually covers the horizon, as the sun disappears from the moonless sky. A large fire roars in the centre of the village, as the villagers prepare food for the night’s feast. Children are running around the bustling square, losing themselves in the festive air, except for Zohn. Zohn's impatiently waiting near the bonfire, close to the stage, waiting for the hunting party leader's speech.

Eventually, the villagers finish their meals and begin gathering near the bonfire. Bizag, the hunters' leader, walks up the stage. His broad frame glistens in the fire's light, a majestic beard adorning his face. His powerful voice commanding respect as he speaks, “Today, we successfully surveyed the eastern coast, past the mountains, and we've made some amazing discoveries.”. Every sentence that Bizag says fills Zohn with childlike wonder.

“As we roamed the beaches, we came across a moss-covered, granite formation half-buried in the sand. That alone wouldn't be interesting, but as we scaled the formation, we made a discovery.” Bizag continues, Zohn's heart rate increases. “Embedded, near the edge of the granite formation, a majestic spear made from gold and other strange and precious metals caught our attention,” Bizag says, his voice filled with excitement.

This information ignites a burning passion in the young Zohn. Some of the younger villagers' eyes start shining with ambition and others shout with excitement. Everyone desires the spear for themselves and Zohn was no different. Images of himself wielding the spear flow from his wild imagination.

“Now, before any of you start having wild dreams of becoming a hero or something ridiculous; let me add one last detail,” Bizag says, his eyes shining and a grin on his face. “We already tried pulling the spear out the granite, but it wouldn’t budge. No one was able to even scratch the spear and the granite formation is effectively unbreakable.” Bizag concludes in a solemn tone.

The villagers' wild ambitions grind to a sudden halt. “Maybe it’s because none of us is worthy enough to wield the spear?” a voice asks from the crowd of villagers. “You could be right, but if none of the hunting group's members is considered worthy, then no one stands a chance,” Bizag replies in ridicule.

Any desire for the strange spear disappears from the villagers' minds, but not Zohn's. “So you have to be worthy to wield the spear? That means that I still stand a chance. No one seems to still care about the spear, but that's their loss. I need to train. I'll become strong enough to wield the spear's might and prove my worthiness by pulling it from the granite! With the spear, no one will stand in the way of my goals and dreams,” Zohn naively decides, unrivalled determination radiating from his entire being.

The next day, in a secluded corner of the village, Zohn starts his training alone. He tightly grips a long stick with both hands, shakily attempting to teach himself. He didn’t ask for anyone’s help, fearing that, in some strange way, outside influence would make him unworthy of the spear. Many villagers, including Zohn, went to the spear’s location to try and pull it out, only to find their efforts in vain. This only reinforces Zohn’s previous assumption.

Years pass. Gradually, everyone lost interest in the spear, some forgetting that it even existed, except for the lone Zohn. Every day, he keeps on training, slowly improving his crudely self-taught skills. At the age of twenty, he joins the hunting group as one of their new members. With unrivalled skill, he beats down any competition, climbing his way to the top of the group's ranks. Alas, he still can’t pull the spear from the granite. It didn’t discourage him, it only strengthened his resolve to improve himself more.

At the age of thirty, Zohn is promoted as the leader of the hunting group. No monster can stand in the way of his unrivalled spear techniques, yet the spear wouldn't budge an inch. His determination gradually fades each year, but he continues practising every day. From nearby villages and cities, visitors hear tales of this mythical spear. Heroes and generals all try their luck, but the results surprise no one.

At the age of forty-five, stories of Zohn's strength and renown has spread throughout the continent. He never marries, choosing to rather spend his time solely focusing on his life's obsession. He never accepts any disciples either, despite the numerous students that seek his strength. It's always the same rejection, "If I'm not worthy enough to wield the spear, then my skills aren't worthy enough to be passed on.".

At the age of fifthy-five, Zohn leaves the hunting group. He decides to retire, building a small house on the granite formation, quietly watching over his beloved spear. A Long grey beard rests on his aged face, beautifully complementing his long, greying hair. Despite his age, nothing but pure muscle line every inch of his five-meter tall body. Zohn made peace with his life long obsession, contently watching over the spear as numerous people come and try their luck.

On the morning of his seventieth birthday, Zohn dutifully sweeps the granite formation next to the spear. Patches of green moss line the granite, providing some colour to its white facade. As Zohn sweeps, a tremor throws him off balance. He barely manages to jump off of the granite formation as it begins to lift itself out of the ground. Behind him, a looming shadow blots out the sun. A mixture of confusion and fear fills Zohn's mind as an unbelievable existence rises before his wide eyes.