Tirnanog

The forest was dense and alive with the sounds of nature—chirping birds, rustling leaves, and the distant babble of a stream. Youth treaded carefully through the underbrush, his white and blue armor glinting faintly through the canopy of sunlight. The angel-winged cape he wore swayed with his steps, marking him as a figure of intrigue, even in the solitude of the woods.

He didn't realize he was being watched.

From behind the trees, a group of thieves crept silently, their eyes gleaming with greed as they caught sight of his gleaming armor. Their leader, a wiry man with a cruel grin, whispered, "That armor alone will feed us for months. Surround him. Don't let him escape."

Youth, unaware of the threat, paused to adjust his eye patch, scanning the path ahead. Suddenly, the underbrush rustled violently, and from all sides, the thieves emerged, their weapons drawn.

"Hand over that fancy armor, boy," the leader sneered, raising his rusted sword. "We'll take good care of it."

Youth sighed, gripping the spear at his back. "I don't have time for this."

The thieves lunged as one, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Youth stepped back, taking a defensive stance, his spear poised to counter. He was ready to strike when a deafening crash shook the forest.

From nowhere, a massive sword swung through the air, scattering the thieves like leaves in a storm. The blade slammed into the ground with a thunderous impact, its sheer force sending a wave of dust and debris outward.

"BEHOLD!" a booming voice declared. "The Knight of Fracture, Schneizal, has arrived!"

A tall elf emerged from the shadows, his silver hair glinting like starlight and his piercing blue eyes glowing with a mischievous glint. He wore dark brown armor adorned with intricate

carvings that seemed almost organic, as if the armor were alive and forged from ancient wood and stone. His massive sword—equal in size to his own body—rested easily on his shoulder, its jagged edges shimmering with faint light.

"Now, you wretches," Schneizal growled, his melodic yet commanding voice cutting through the tension, "crawl back into the shadows you came from before I truly lose my patience."

The thieves, shaken and outmatched, scrambled to their feet and fled without a word, disappearing into the forest.

Youth lowered his spear, his eyes narrowing as Schneizal turned to face him.

"Well, well," Schneizal said with a smirk, pointing his massive sword at Youth. "No need to thank me. Just hand over my fee, and we'll call it even."

Youth blinked, confused. "Fee? For what?"

"For saving your life, of course!" Schneizal declared, his grin widening. "I could've let them cut you to pieces, but I didn't. That kind of generosity doesn't come cheap."

Youth raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a wry smile. "Oh, so that's what this is about, huh? You didn't help me out of kindness; you just want my money."

Schneizal shrugged, his grin unwavering. "Call it what you want, kid. But in this world, nothing's free."

Youth shifted his weight, preparing to leave, his spear resting at his side. He had no time for Schneizal's antics. The thief threat had passed, and he was eager to continue his journey.

However, Schneizal stepped forward, blocking his path. His grin was now a sly, almost predatory smile.

"Hold on there, kid," Schneizal said, his blue eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and greed. "You think you can just walk away without paying the toll?"

Youth stopped in his tracks, eyeing the elf with growing frustration. "I don't have time for this," he muttered, already making plans to sidestep Schneizal.

"You think you can just ignore me?" Schneizal's voice dropped, becoming darker. "I'm a Grade 2 class warrior! You should show some respect when talking to someone of my status!"

Without warning, Schneizal lunged forward, his enormous sword slicing through the air with speed and precision that defied its size. Youth quickly raised his spear to block the blow, the force of the strike sending vibrations through his arms.

"Impressive," Schneizal said with a laugh. "But not enough to stop me." He spun, aiming another vicious swing at Youth.

Youth's instincts kicked in. He ducked, avoiding the slash, and countered with a swift strike to Schneizal's side. The elf staggered but quickly regained his footing, his eyes widening in realization.

"Wait…" Schneizal muttered, staring at Youth as if seeing him for the first time. "You're a Grade 2 too, aren't you?"

Youth didn't respond. He simply raised his spear, ready for the next clash.

Schneizal hesitated for a moment, his arrogance flickering as he analyzed Youth's stance. There was no mistaking it now—the young man was on his level.

With a roar, Schneizal charged forward again, swinging his massive sword in a wide arc. Youth sidestepped and retaliated with a precise strike, his spear finding its mark against Schneizal's armor.

The elf let out a grunt of frustration, his sword swinging wildly as he tried to overpower Youth. But Youth was fast, his movements fluid and calculated. He dodged and parried with ease, matching Schneizal's every move.

Finally, with a decisive blow, Youth struck Schneizel's sword aside and landed a hit to his shoulder, sending him tumbling back. Schneizal stumbled, his arrogance now replaced with a look of stunned disbelief.

Youth stood tall, breathing heavily but composed, his spear steady in his hands. "You were right about one thing," he said with a faint smile. "You should be shown respect… but that doesn't mean I'm going to pay you for a job I didn't ask for."

Schneizal stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off his armor. He was no longer grinning. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "You've got guts, kid. I wasn't expecting that."

Youth didn't respond. He simply turned, walking past Schneizal with a sense of finality. "Next time, don't make demands you can't back up."

Schneizal watched him go, his mind racing as he processed what had just happened. It wasn't often he found someone who could challenge him. But this boy… there was more to him than met the eye.

After the intense clash, Youth gave Schneizal one final look, his gaze steady and unwavering. The elf was still recovering, his pride bruised from the defeat, but Youth had no time for him. Without saying another word, he turned and began walking away, his footsteps quiet and determined.

However, as he moved deeper into the forest, he heard Schneizal's voice call out from behind him.

"Hey, wait up!"

Youth sighed, his frustration mounting as he slowed but did not turn around.

"I've never met a Grade 2 before," Schneizal continued, his voice now more casual, almost friendly. "Most of the people here on the surface are just lowly Grade 1s. Grade 2s are rare down here."

Youth clenched his jaw, clearly annoyed. He hadn't come all this way to be followed by someone he barely knew.

"I don't need a tag along," Youth muttered, continuing his path forward.

But Schneizal wasn't discouraged. He quickly caught up, matching Youth's pace with ease despite his size.

"I'm serious," Schneizal persisted. "You're not like anyone I've met. I've been around long enough to know there's something different about you." He looked at Youth, his blue eyes gleaming with curiosity. "I want to be your friend."

Youth's hand tightened around his spear, irritated by the elf's persistent attitude. "Friend?" he repeated, shaking his head. "I don't need friends. Not from someone like you."

Schneizal chuckled, unfazed by the rejection. "Come on, don't be so stiff. I get it, you're not a big fan of talking to random strangers, but look at me—I'm a Grade 2 as well, We should stick together. Think about it. Not everyday you meet someone with a sword the size of their body, right?" He grinned widely, trying to break through Youth's serious demeanor.

Youth sighed, clearly bothered by how nonchalant Schneizal was about the situation. "Just because we're both Grade 2s doesn't mean we have anything in common. I've got my own mission. I don't need you tagging along."

Schneizal's grin didn't fade. "Come on, what harm could it do? I'm not asking for much. I just want to stick around and see what you're about. Who knows? Maybe we'll make a pretty good team. You're obviously strong, but even strong guys need a friend, right?"

Youth paused for a moment, glancing over at Schneizal. The elf's persistence was grating, but there was something strangely earnest about him—he wasn't just after something for himself this time.

"You're really going to follow me, aren't you?" Youth muttered under his breath.

Schneizal grinned wider, clearly pleased by the response. "That's the spirit! You won't regret it. Who knows? We could make history together. You, me, and a giant sword."

Youth groaned in frustration, but he couldn't bring himself to shake Schneizal off completely. "Fine. But don't get in my way."

Schneizal gave him a mock salute. "I wouldn't dream of it. We're going to be great friends!"

Youth rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small, reluctant smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as they walked together into the unknown.