Eldron

I tightened the strap on my grappling hook and grinned. "Let's see what today's got for me."

And with that, I set off, cane in hand, ready to face the day.

The sun hung lazily in the sky as I stepped further down the street. Today wasn't a day for training or tinkering; it was a day to breathe, to savor the village one last time before my departure.

Walking through the bustling market square, I noticed the usual indifference from the villagers. The days of open mockery had faded, replaced by a general disregard for my presence. It was an improvement, albeit a lonely one.

Among the stalls, one stood out—a modest setup adorned with woven baskets filled with freshly baked goods. Behind it, Old Man Thom, the village baker, greeted customers with his toothy grin. He was one of the few who acknowledged me with kindness.

Approaching the stall, the aroma of warm pastries enveloped me. My eyes were drawn to the small tarts, their golden crusts encasing rich fillings. These medieval treats, known as "cheese tarts," were my favorite—a delightful blend of cheese and subtle spices baked to perfection.

"Morning, Eldon," Thom called out, his voice gruff yet warm. "Fancy a tart today?"

I nodded, reaching into my pocket for a coin. "Yes, please. One cheese tart."

Thom chuckled, selecting the finest tart and wrapping it carefully before handing it over. "On the house today. Consider it a farewell gift."

Surprised, I met his gaze. "You knew?"

He nodded, his expression softening. "Word gets around. Take care of yourself out there."

With a grateful smile, I accepted the tart, the warmth seeping through the cloth. "Thank you, Thom. For everything."

Finding a quiet spot beneath the old oak tree at the edge of the market, I sat down, unwrapping the tart. The first bite was a burst of flavors—the creamy cheese melding with hints of nutmeg and pepper, all encased in a flaky crust. It was comfort, nostalgia, and a reminder of simpler times.

As I savored the treat, I watched the villagers go about their day, their lives intertwined in routines I was leaving behind. Today was a day of rest, of reflection, and of quiet goodbyes. Tomorrow, the journey would begin.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the village as I made my way back to my shed. The day had been peaceful, a rare break from the constant grind of training and self-imposed isolation. My muscles still felt the burn of yesterday's sparring, and the weight of my thoughts pressed down on me like a thick fog, but for now, I could let it all go.

I turned the corner toward my home, but there she was—Lina—standing by my door, looking as out of place as a bird on a fence post. She had her arms crossed, a familiar mischievous glint in her dark eyes, but the moment she saw me, her expression softened into something different. Not quite shy, but something close to it.

"Hey, Eldon," she called out, her voice as lively as ever. "I've been looking for you."

I smiled, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly, though I'd grown used to her presence by now. "I've been around, Lina. What's up?"

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering to the ground before meeting mine again. "I've got something for you."

She pulled a small, carefully wrapped bundle from her bag and handed it to me, her cheeks tinged with a soft pink. I took it, raising an eyebrow in surprise. What could she have made for me?

The bundle unraveled in my hands, revealing a finely crafted miniature catapult, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. It was made of smooth wood, the pieces intricately tied together with strong twine, the tension in the frame perfect. It was clear she'd spent hours on it—Lina was always tinkering with things it's how we got to know each other.

I was taken aback, unsure what to say at first. "Wow… this is incredible. You really made this?"

She shrugged, though the blush on her face deepened. "Yeah, I thought you might find it useful. You're always talking about going on adventures. You never know when you'll need to launch something… or hit something that needs hitting." Her smile was playful, but there was something vulnerable in her eyes, a softness that I wasn't used to seeing from her.

I couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, light sound that felt good in my chest. "You're something else, Lina. This is awesome. Thank you."

Her eyes brightened, and her usual cocky grin returned. "It's nothing. Besides, I figure you'll be gone soon, so I wanted to send you off with something useful. You know, in case you find yourself surrounded by bandits or whatever. You can just sling rocks at them or… I don't know, annoy them until they give up."

I laughed again, and it felt like a weight lifted off me, just talking to her. "I'll make sure to carry it with me. Maybe one day, I'll tell you about the crazy adventures I get into."

Her expression softened again, and for a second, she looked almost sad, though she quickly hid it behind a bright smile. "Promise me you'll write? Even if it's just to tell me what trouble you've gotten into?"

"Of course," I said without hesitation. "I'll send you letters. And I'll definitely tell you about all the wild stuff."

She stood up then, brushing dirt off her skirt. "Good. Because you'd better come back and tell me about it all. You're not getting away that easy."

As she turned to leave, I tucked the catapult carefully into my pack, feeling the weight of it, but also the weight of her care for me. I watched her walk off toward her home, the fading light catching the glint in her hair. For a moment, I wondered if I'd ever have something like that again—someone who cared without question, without judgment.

I stayed there for a while, watching the stars slowly appear in the deepening sky. Tomorrow, I would leave. But tonight, the village felt different, less oppressive, less like a cage. I wasn't sure where I was going, but for the first time, I felt like I had a reason to return.

The sky was still dark, the faintest hint of blue creeping along the horizon. The village slept as I slipped out through the shadows, the weight of the world on my shoulders—or at least, the weight of my oversized pack.

The first steps were always the hardest, but not for me. Not anymore. The pack was a monster, bulging at the seams with every piece of gear I'd painstakingly collected. Rations, rope, a few spare changes of clothes, tools, weapons, and a whole bunch of stuff I probably wouldn't need. The kind of over-preparation that came with knowing the road was unpredictable.

But I carried it all, no problem.

The muscles in my legs barely flexed as I moved, the pack a mere afterthought. The straps dug into my shoulders, but even that was nothing—just a constant, dull pressure against skin hardened by years of grueling training. It had been three years since I started pushing my body beyond limits. Every day had been about breaking a boundary, getting stronger, faster, more capable. And now? Now, carrying a pack three times the size of a normal man's was just another part of the morning.

My cane was securely strapped across my back, its familiar weight sitting like an old friend against my shoulder. It had more uses than any normal walking stick—transforming into a bo-staff or a scythe when I needed it most. The handle, a simple wood by appearance, hid the secret to all its power. My wrist grappling hook, a little invention of my own design, was tucked away at my side—just in case. Not that I expected trouble, but you never knew when the world might throw a curveball. And then there was my collection of tools and gadgets—things I'd made myself. Tiny, makeshift weapons, useful if things got dicey. There wasn't much I couldn't handle with my own two hands, but it was good to be prepared.

I walked with purpose, my boots crunching softly on the dirt path. The world around me was silent, the only sound the wind whispering through the trees. The village faded behind me, its crooked rooftops just barely visible in the morning haze. No one would wake for hours, and by the time they did, I'd be long gone.

I'd been preparing for this for so long, it felt surreal to finally be taking the first step. Every moment in the village had been about surviving, about enduring the looks and the whispers. But that was behind me now. I wasn't just a kid carrying too much weight—no, I was someone who had trained his body and mind until they were both weapons in their own right. The path ahead was nothing but a challenge, one I was ready to conquer.

I paused for a moment at the edge of the village, looking back one last time. The cold morning air filled my lungs, and I exhaled slowly, savoring the taste of freedom.

It was a strange feeling—saying goodbye to everything I'd known. I wasn't angry. I wasn't sad. I didn't need to be. The village had never seen me for what I truly was. But that was fine. What mattered now was what I'd become.

With a final glance over my shoulder, I turned away from the village, my feet already moving toward the capital. The road stretched ahead like a ribbon of possibility, leading me toward the academy, and beyond that, who knew what else. The academy would take me in. They'd have to. A kid like me with this much potential couldn't be ignored forever.

And even if they did ignore me, I wasn't going to stop. I couldn't stop. Not now. Not when I was finally free.

As the first light of dawn kissed the edge of the horizon, I picked up my pace. The journey would be long, but I was built for it. Every muscle in my body screamed with readiness, and my spirit felt alive with something more than just the path ahead. It was something I couldn't name yet. But it was there, deep inside, pushing me forward.

I didn't need the world to understand me.

I just needed to show them what I was capable of.

And as I walked on, the weight of my pack felt lighter with every step.