The surroundings were dark. A pitch-black void that felt so spacious it seemed infinite, and yet at the same time felt so claustrophobic that any form of motion seemed constrained. It contained nothing. Only blinding darkness graced anywhere and everywhere one's vision could gaze upon.

A young figure floated around in such a void, his face dimmed under a blank look, his eyes dull with no shine.

Legas couldn't feel anything. Who was he? What is this place? Why was he here? The boy just existed within the space, where the flow of time appeared disordered. He felt as if an eternity had passed in one moment, whereas a feeling that he had just arrived here, persisted on the other. The only emotion that remained constant was a deep, deep sorrow that had submerged his entire soul ever since.

shciing!

Suddenly, within the darkness, a pair of enormous eyes glowed with a brilliant greenish luster that illuminated the boy's face. And with the very first intake of sensory information, Legas' mind was jolted awake with awareness.

shudder!

The tragic memories that he had wanted to forget, came swarming in like a horde of bees. The horrific truth he had desperately strived to deny, came pounding him like a hammer of facts. Legas curled up in a fetal position as he clutched his head, his body shivering under immense trauma.

Within those gigantic eyes, the vivid and graphic imagery of the frantic escape from his house, the manslaughter he had unleashed, the mortifying deaths of his family, all flashed through like a film. The boy trembled harder, burying his face into his chest as an instinctual refusal to such a reality.

Time passed on, a second, a minute, an hour, day, year, century, millennia, Legas lay unmoving, and the mental torture appeared endless. He had two choices, either to spend his entire life in this nothingness or face the harsh truth head-on.

'Be patient...Be resilient...Endure everything the world throws upon....'

Legas remembered. The sheer torture his mother had to endure to convey this set of messages. How pathetic of her son to crumble down at something of this level.

phat!

With a resounding smack at his cheeks, the boy got up to his feet, squeezing out every bit of courage from within as he stared into the pair of ethereal eyes. It felt as if they were a gateway to reality, the place he needed to be. The place where he still had a lot of work to undertake. Legas stretched out his hand, touching the vibrant greenish glimmer with a face of resolution, and in the next moment...

schiiiiiiiiing!

Legas woke up, and the very first thing that felt odd was a dark patch that prevented his left eye to open up. The strap felt soft and pleasant as the eyelid brushed against it, and a medicinal smell of herbs dug through the nose as he inhaled in a deep breath.

A wooden roof came into the scene through the other unstrapped eye, the damage over the years being discernable. Water had accumulated around the corners, emitting a smell of moist wood, while darker rotten patches had occupied some parts in random that appeared to be a comfortable dwelling for swarms of mites.

Legas tried to tilt to the side in an attempt to get a full view of the place but to no success. He had been bandaged, so tightly in fact that the straps coiling around all over his body restricted the movement of even a single muscle. The only part that was left out was the area around the right forehead.

Shifting his pupils to the extreme, Legas took in a glimpse of the site. It was just a small room. Nothing else. Parts of what could be a cupboard stood out at the corner of his vision, and a short table at the opposite end had a multitude of objects stacked upon. The entrance door stood only a few meters away, a healthy glow of sunlight pouring in that had lighted the space.

'Someone brought me here? Where is this?? I was.....!!'

It struck like a bolt of lightning, a realization that everything his brain remembered was the harsh reality.

"mmmghh! mmmgbbh!" the boy thrashed around, trying to speak words that came out as a muffled garble. The crude wooden bed creaked with high pitched noise, seemingly about to break any moment.

"mmghh!!!"

pat! pat! pat! pat!

Legas' violent writhing had continued for a good few minutes before hurried footsteps approached the scene, and within no time, the silhouette of a figure outlined the entrance.

"Pipe down kid! You want to get crippled for life!?" a heavy and aged voice thundered out as the figure rushed in beside the sprawled kid, pressing down on his body with one hand.

"Hmm?",

"Mgghb!!!', the sheer force that traveled down the wrinkly arm almost squeezed out every bit of air within the lungs, as the boy exhaled a fierce gale. His right eye had bulged out under the terrific pressure before his body calmed down to take deep breaths, or rather was forced to do so.

Legas gazed at the old man staring down, deep in thought. A maroon robed tunic covered all of his torso, and hair as white as snow overflowed out of his wrinkly scalp and an invisible chin, making him resemble a sage from the typical children's stories. But his eyes contained a different gleam of power, their luster being deep and profound as if showcasing the wisdom he had attained through decades worth of experience.

"Strange, this level of effect. You could probably start walking within another week," the old man mumbled, an expression of surprise visible upon.

"Mbbgug!! mgbtbjj!!" the boy's eyes widened and his violent attempt to get free of the bindings resumed for a second time.

"Stay still won't you!" with another heavy press on the stomach, Legas got short of breath in an instant, and under the immense pressure, he was pacified again.

"Now, don't move," the old man gripped the cotton strap wrapped around the head, and slowly unfolded the part above the boy's lips.

"My family!", Legas screamed. "Their corpses! I need to bury!"

His breathing was still erratic, and although the face was not visible, one could easily discern the sheer restlessness in his voice.

"Ah, that? Rest assured..." the old man spoke with a tinge of sorrow. "I have completed the last rites for them...and the rest of the villagers. Their souls have passed on with success, and hopefully won't haunt the place as vengeance spirits."

"...what?" Legas sounded bewildered, the emotion of doubt and disbelief being visible in his unstrapped eye. He had just experienced a phase too tragic to simply trust in the words of any stranger.

"huh, you don't believe me."

"Why should I!?" Legas growled in fury. "Now hurry and unstrap me, geezer, I need to go!"

The elderly stranger raised one of his eyebrows in response to the skeptical gaze and...

pow! pow! pow!

...pounded atop the boy's stomach with his seemingly light taps.

"Wh-What...*cough* are you....!"

"You brat, still wet behind the ears! Is that how you respond to your elders huh! Is that what your mother has taught you!"

"St-Stoop ...*cough*!"

"After...all....the....work...I ...did...to....nurse...you...huh!!"

"Stop....it..*cough* *cough*...please..."

'You still don't believe huh!"

"Al-Alright, I believe!", Legas screamed in the emergence and the man's hands halted in midair. "I believe it so...*cough* *cough*!!"

"Hmm, that's better!"

As he ignored the trembling physique of the boy who wheezed intensely, the old man broke off from the bed, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room as he rustled the insides of a leather pouch.

"People of the south..." he spoke in a solemn tone before pulling out an arm-sized, long reddish fruit from within the bag. "They don't bury the dead, unlike we do over here. Instead, they cremate the bodies under the blessings of a sacred flame spirit, and then drown the ashes in a river under the guidance of a sacred water spirit."

"In the future, when you can walk again, you can go back and complete the rituals according to your mother's native land, if it eases your mind."

Legas' eye widened in surprise. How did he...? At least from the tone, he could infer that this stranger might have, spoken the truth, and that very thought eased the boy's heart. It then struck his mind that this old man was essentially his savior, someone he owes his life to. His pupils wavered, a multitude of emotions rising within.

'I...I can trust him, right?'

The old man had started peeling the long fruits like a peapod as he picked out small, marble-sized seeds, before storing them inside a wooden bowl. Very soon, he began grinding those dozen or so seeds into a slimy paste. Although it was faint, Legas could discern the smell emanated from the bowel contents to be similar to a part of the fragrant mixture that coated his bandages.

"Why did you save me?" after a few breaths of silence, Legas asked with a tone that felt as if he was rebuking the stranger.

"huh, what are you on about?" the latter spoke in a distracted voice, not taking his eyes off the herbal condiment. "How many people do you think are heartless enough to ignore a dying child, huh?"

"A lot."

The reply was so fast and crisp that the old man abruptly halted any work, as he glanced at the boy sprawled atop the bed. Legas had been eyeing the stranger with a powerful gleam that conveyed curiosity and determination. Determination to find answers. Under his piercing gaze, the old man found it hard to just brush off the topic as the two remained in eye contact for a long second.

"They are not heartless," he replied, exhaling a deep breath. "Well, not all of them I believe. You have to stand in their shoes to understand the perspective and decisions."

"...what do you mean."

"No matter if he's the saintest of sentient beings, he won't advance any further if the stakes include something very precious," the old stranger eyed the wooden ceiling with a complex gaze. "What I mean is, if people have anything to lose in consequence, they wouldn't mind turning a blind eye to the situation, even if the truth is that they are in fact kind at heart."

Legas closed his eye as he fell into deep thought. The words were different, but the general meaning sounded familiar, something his mother had also inferred during her final moments.

'They are...striving for their...own survival...their selfishness...'

"Then what about you?" the boy asked after a few minutes of silence. "If you had something to lose, would you still have saved my life."

"No, why would I?" the old man replied with a confidence as if it was the most obvious answer ever, and at that moment, Legas felt a filter getting lifted off of his eyes that made his understanding of the world a tad bit deeper.

"But hold on, if you want to make me hesitate at my decisions, you will have to bring something along the level of a dragon into the fray, hahaha," a narcissistic laugh escaped the man's mouth that had his rotten, black teeth in the display.

"Ahem! Do you know what is the prime cause that may either restrict or boost any of the people's actions?" he spoke after another round of awkward silence in response to Legas' look of contempt.

".....what?"

"It's strength," the old man replied with a bright smirk. "It does not matter if the strength is purely physical, magical, or even political, as long as you have enough of it, nothing can hinder you in this world."

"..."

"Imagine the strongest being that sits above all in the entire continent, he has what you could say complete freedom. He can do whatever he wants, save anyone he likes, help anyone he pities...or even kill anyone he resents. None would dare to oppose him."

"..."

"Because like I said, if people have something to lose, they will ignore any such acts, even if they hate them and want to stand against them at heart. In this case, it is their very life that would be on stake," the old man ended with a wry smile, carefully observing the boy's reaction.

"Strength, huh...", Legas eyed the crude ceiling with a wistful gaze.

The importance of such a quality, the boy knew firsthand. Because he had lacked strength, he could only run away, abandoning the villager's pitiful plea. Because he was weak, he was not able to protect his sister. He was not able to do a single thing as he helplessly stared on, the light gradually dimming within his mother's eyes.

If he had enough strength, the outcome may have been far different. But the old man's words got Legas pondering over a different direction. Was this world such a place, where one needed to have enough strength even to show kindness and compassion? Are individuals without power not allowed to be benevolent? The boy wanted answers.

"So...", the old man interrupted Legas' train of thoughts. "Do you want strength?"

"I do...", Legas replied in a wistful tone.

"Then how about it?", the old man had his rotten teeth in display with another not so bright smile.

"How about what?", the boy donned in a quizzical look.

"Huh, you want to get stronger right, I'm talking about that."

"I do long for it, but... what do you have to do with this?"

"This brat! I'm saying I will take you as my disciple and train you to control your powers!"

"And why would I believe that? Who knows if you are as strong as you speak?"

"You!..", the old man's eyebrows raised in a comical fury, but his pupils glowed with a tinge of amusement. "When you can move again, I will show you. You can decide then, hmph!", he turned away with a snort, resuming the herbal chore.

"We'll see."

Legas had found himself atop a crossroad of destiny where each of his decisions would impact the future. But not a single shade of dilemma could be discerned within his pupils that shimmered with an abnormal gleam. From the moment he had chosen to wake up from that pitch-black void, his path in life had already been set.

'Mom...Dad...Lora...rest assured...and watch me. I will...live to the fullest!'

With an everlasting resolve at life, Legas closed his eye for deep sleep.