Tirnanog

In the shining heights of Ketergia, where light never seems to dim, there lived a boy named Youth. At only eight years old, Youth was already a child of extraordinary promise, though he did not yet know it. The son of one of the Great Knights, the Knight of Truth, Sir Gordon, Youth spent his days within the grand halls of the city, surrounded by stories of valor and justice.

To Youth, his father was the epitome of everything he wished to be: strong, noble, and unwavering in his dedication to protecting the kingdom. Sir Gordon was not only a knight but a symbol of integrity in a city teetering on the edge of its own ideals. Youth idolized his father deeply, clinging to his every word and following his every move like a shadow.

Each morning, as Sir Gordon donned his radiant armor and left for his duties, Youth would run to the balcony overlooking the city. From there, he would watch his father march with purpose, the sunlight catching on the crest of truth emblazoned on his shield. "One day," Youth would whisper to himself, clutching the wooden sword his father had carved for him, "I'll be just like him."

One bright afternoon, the city of Ketergia basked in the golden glow of the sun. Youth, practicing his spear techniques in the courtyard, imagined himself as his father—swift, strong, and unshakable. The tip of his wooden spear cut through the air with determination, but his playful training was abruptly interrupted by a loud explosion that shook the city.

Startled, Youth sprinted toward the source of the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached the edge of a balcony overlooking the square and froze in horror. There, surrounded by five noble knights he had once admired, was his father, Sir Gordon, standing tall yet visibly battered.

Leading the knights was Flient, the squad leader, his voice booming with accusation. "It's over Gordon, just give it up and hand over the gem and face judgment!"

Gordon, clutching a glowing circular red gem in his hand, stood firm despite his injuries. "How can you not see it Flient? Look around you, this is not what Ketergia is supposed to be!" he retorted, his voice filled with fury and defiance. "Ketergia is already a failed state. We abandoned the people we swore to protect, cast them down to the earth to suffer while we sit above in luxury. This city is a lie!"

Flient sneered, raising his blade. "Enough. Bastion has ordered your execution, and I shall see it through."

As Flient moved to strike, a terrified cry rang out: "Father!" Youth's voice, filled with panic, echoed through the square.

The knights turned their attention to the boy, their gazes sharp and unrelenting. Flient's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Kill the boy," he commanded coldly.

Gordon's eyes widened with fury. "You will not touch him!" he roared. With a burst of power fueled by desperation, he lunged at the knights, cutting through them with deadly precision. Yet, in the chaos, a blade scraped across Youth's right eye, drawing blood and a sharp scream from the boy.

Panting and bloodied, Gordon knelt before his son. His voice softened, but the urgency remained. "Youth, listen to me. Ketergia is not what you think it is. This city is built on lies and betrayal. It was never meant to be this way. I swore to reunite the people of the ground and the heavens. You must carry that promise now."

Gordon held up the gem, its red light pulsing with an otherworldly glow. Before Youth could protest, Gordon placed it against the boy's injured eye. Pain exploded through Youth's body, and he screamed as the gem fused with him, his right eye glowing with its eerie red light.

"There is no time," Gordon said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Forgive me, my son. Live. And find the truth."

In one final act of love, Gordon pushed Youth toward the edge of the city. The boy's cries of protest were swallowed by the howling wind as he fell, plummeting toward the earth below.

Gordon turned back to Flient, his eyes blazing with defiance. The knights swarmed him, and despite his immense skill, the battle was unwinnable. As Flient's blade struck the final blow, Gordon fell to his knees, his head bowed in silent defiance.

Far below, Youth hit the ground with a bone-jarring impact, cushioned by some unknown force. He awoke hours later, injured but alive, the gem's glow faintly flickering in his eye. The local villagers, moved by his condition, took him in, nursing him back to health.

When he awoke, a mysterious Grade 2 mage sat at his bedside. The man studied Youth with an air of knowing before speaking. "You're Gordon's son. I can see it in your eyes—well, eye. Your father was a descendant of one of the Great Knights who served under The Divine Knight King, Alfred. That gem… it's more than just an artifact. It holds the power to reunite the heavens and earth, to bring down Bastion's rule. Your father believed in it, and so should you."

11 Years have passed. The village bustled with life, the morning air carrying the scent of bread and the sound of laughter. Among the people walked a young man clad in white and blue armor, angelic wings serving as his cape. His right eye, now hidden beneath an ornate eye patch, held a secret few could imagine. 

At 19, Youth had become the image of his father—a beacon of strength and resolve. He paused at the edge of the village, looking toward the skies where Ketergia floated far above.

"I'll avenge you, Father," he murmured, gripping the spear at his side. "I'll find the truth, no matter what it takes."

With that, he turned and began his journey, his resolve as unshakable as the floating city that awaited him.