Covenant (1)

A hero deserved a monument for their final resting place, but Master had asked for nothing more than a simple burial in a forest.

"Master, I thank you for these four years."

Valan Ferndall stood before a mound of soil, marked by a stone that bore no name. He meant to pray in silence, yet words spilled out, dredging up emotions he thought long buried.

As he spoke, the forest around him faded.

The scent of trees gave way to salt air, and suddenly he was twelve again—weak, half-dead, with seawater still burning his lungs.

Where he met Master for the first time.

You’re still alive?

Her first words had carried a lighthearted tone, showing no trace of worry.

You’re the luckiest boy I have ever seen.

Back then, Master didn't know his entire story.

Later, Valan told her a sliver of it. Hearing it, she decided to bring him along on what she dubbed an "adventure"—even though they both knew it might cost their lives.

He had no reason to reject her. Nowhere else to go.

As he thought about his first journey, the beach dissolved, replaced by a moon-lit desert night.

Wake up, Valan. Time to train.

During early days, Master would splash cold water on his face at dawn. The training was relentless—sometimes he slept only four hours a night.

You're hopeless at arcane, boy. Remember—weakness invites death.

The warning came in their very first sparring match, delivered with a knife pressed against his cheek. With Master, there was no coddling, but he knew it was all to help him stand on his own.

And she had taught him so much.

He learned everything from her, enduring countless hardships that forged him into a stronger person.

His past life in Tokyo had been rough, but this world hadn't been much kinder—some experiences ran too deep to share.

But those experiences paled beside his time with Master.

Years of shared bond now twisted into guilt.

Valan feared he had betrayed her. For the first time, he chose to admit the truth.

"There's something I never told you, Master."

Valan had never lied to her—except about his past life, and the true reason he needed to grow stronger.

But he had hidden even more than that.

"I'm not from this world." The words felt strange to finally say aloud. "I came from a place where arcane magic doesn't exist—where it was only a mere fantasy. That's why I struggled with your training."

He closed his eyes and continued, "But you never gave up on me. You showed me the way. I still have much to learn, but I've become stronger than I ever imagined."

He remained quiet for a few moments. He focused his senses to the forest around him—the birds, the leaves, the stream—as if they listened, waiting for his next words.

“A disaster is coming, Master. Something more terrible than anyone has ever seen.” He hesitated, sensing the burden of his words. “But there’s still hope. I know how to prevent it. With your blessing, Master, I pray that your spirit will always guard me in my quest.”

Everything—every hour of training, every lesson, every moment of growth—had been aimed toward this purpose.

"Even though you're gone, I’ll protect our legacy and carry out your will."

He opened his eyes. Then, he dug into his pocket and retrieved a pair of plain wire-rimmed glasses, setting them gently on the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you for everything, Master. Farewell." He bowed his head.

Valan lingered until the quiet felt like an answer.

He hoisted his travel pack and checked its contents one last time. Several letters—including Master's will—his supplies, and a few possessions. Everything he needed was there.

With the grave behind him and the world's fate ahead, Valan took his first step into the storm.

As he walked, his thoughts drifted backward in time—past his training with Master, past his arrival in this new world, all the way to the moment that changed everything.

The moment when he died, and his new life began.