Gorrik stared at Ashura, his thick brows furrowing in disbelief. He let out a short, gruff laugh, shaking his head as if he had misheard.
"A scythe? You sure, lad?" The dwarf folded his arms, his tone shifting from amusement to something more serious. "That ain't exactly a conventional weapon for a warrior."
Ashura remained still, his gaze unwavering. "I'm sure."
The blacksmith huffed. "Scythes ain't made for combat, boy. They're meant for harvestin' crops, not takin' down opponents. A sword, a spear hell, even daggers would serve you better."
Valerie leaned against a nearby weapon rack, watching the exchange with mild amusement. She wasn't surprised by Ashura's choice. He was always unpredictable.
"But," Gorrik continued, rubbing his beard, "if a scythe's what ya want, ya better have a damn good reason."
Ashura closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply before speaking. His voice was quiet but carried weight, each word deliberate.
"A sword cuts, swift and decisive. A spear pierces, driving forward with unrelenting force. An axe cleaves, crushing and breaking with raw power. But a scythe… a scythe reaps." His black-clear eyes met Gorrik's, sharp and unyielding.
"It is not a weapon of struggle but of inevitability, moving in a single motion to take all that stands before it. True strength is not about the loudest roar or the heaviest strike it is about certainty, patience, and unwavering resolve. The scythe does not clash or hesitate; it simply fulfills its purpose.
"When the storm rages, be the scythe. When doubt creeps in, stand firm. A scythe does not fear, nor does it question it reaps. Strength lies in commitment, in the ability to carve your path without hesitation. Those who waver are cut down, but those who move forward without fear will harvest their destiny.
"So I want to be relentless, I want to be patient, and when the moment comes, I shall swing without hesitation."
The forge fell silent.
Gorrik's expression shifted from one of skepticism to something far more intrigued. He studied Ashura for a long moment before letting out a deep, throaty chuckle.
"Tch. Damn brat got a way with words." He turned, waving them over. "Fine. Let's see what I got."
He led them deeper into the forge, past the polished swords and spears displayed for common buyers. The weapons here were different raw, powerful, crafted for those who truly understood the art of combat.
Stopping at a heavy chest, Gorrik unlocked it and pulled out a long, cloth-wrapped object. Dust scattered as he unraveled the fabric, revealing a dark, curved blade. The scythe's handle was long and reinforced with intricate metalwork, built sturdier than any farming tool. The blade itself gleamed, wickedly sharp, carrying an ominous presence.
"This here's a battle scythe," Gorrik said, handing it to Ashura. "Not many use these, so I don't make 'em often. It's a bit heavier than what you're probably used to, but if ya got the skill to wield it, you'll find it deadly."
Ashura grasped the weapon, testing its weight. It was heavier than expected, but that was fine. He adjusted his grip, feeling the balance. Something about it felt… right.
"Try a few swings," Gorrik instructed.
Ashura nodded and stepped back. He exhaled slowly and moved.
The blade cut through the air in smooth, fluid arcs. His motions weren't yet refined, but the potential was there. The way he shifted his weight, the way his hands adjusted their grip he was already adapting.
Valerie raised an eyebrow. "Not bad."
Gorrik grunted. "Hmph. Kid's a natural."
Ashura stopped and looked at the dwarf. "How much?"
The blacksmith smirked. "For a little brat like you? Hah, I should charge ya double for the trouble!" He scratched his beard before sighing. "But since I'm curious to see how ya use it, I'll give it to ya for a fair price."
The deal was struck, and Ashura left the forge with his new weapon strapped to his back. As they stepped onto the bustling streets of Terraverde, Valerie glanced at him.
"A scythe, huh? You really are something else, Ashura."
Ashura looked down at his hand, gripping the handle tightly. He didn't know why, but something told him… this was only the beginning.
***
The dense canopy above swayed slightly with the evening breeze, allowing slivers of sunlight to pierce through and cast fragmented patterns onto the bloodstained forest floor. Ashura stood still, his breaths steady, his grip firm around the scythe's pole as the last beast in his path collapsed. A swift, precise strike to the neck had ended its struggle.
'One strike. No wasted movements. No hesitation.'
The massive, fur-covered creature lay motionless beneath him. Its thick hide had been no match for the sheer sharpness of his scythe and the momentum he had learned to harness over the past year.
'A year ago, I wouldn't have been able to do this. A year ago, I was struggling just to keep up. Now, I'm stronger. But how much stronger? Is it enough?No of course not.'
With a silent exhale, Ashura climbed atop the beast's still-warm body, sitting cross-legged as the tension of battle drained from his limbs. The scent of blood clung to him thick, metallic, almost suffocating but he paid it no mind. Instead, his thoughts drifted elsewhere, toward the object he had carried with him all this time yet had not dared to truly examine.
'It still feels like something is missing.'
Reaching into his cloak, he pulled out the box.
The cloth that had once concealed it was stained with time and something darker dried blood, long since turned to brownish flakes. Ashura unwrapped it carefully, revealing the box in its entirety.
It was made of a smooth, black wood, polished to the point that it reflected the dim light filtering through the trees. There were no carvings or marks on its surface, no indication of what lay inside. But it felt ancient. It felt important.
'What is this? If it was hidden under a sealed rock, then it must have been important. But why does it feel like it's rejecting me?'
He expected something dramatic to happen as soon as he unwrapped it perhaps a pulse of light, an ominous hum, or a whisper echoing from within. But nothing happened.
Silence.
Ashura ran his fingers over the lid, then attempted to lift it.
It didn't budge.
He frowned. Adjusting his grip, he tried again, applying more force. The result was the same. It was as if the box itself refused to open, rejecting him entire
'Was I not meant to open it? Or… is there something I'm missing?'
A strange feeling stirred in his chest something between frustration and curiosity. He had faced countless obstacles in his training, but this was different. It wasn't something he could break through with sheer strength or skill.
After a moment of contemplation, he sighed and wrapped the box back in the cloth, tucking it away once more.
That was when he heard the rustling.
His instincts sharpened instantly.
Without hesitation, his hand gripped the scythe, and he rose to his feet in a single smooth motion. His clear black eyes locked onto the source of the sound, his muscles tensing for an attack.
The bushes parted.
For a split second, Ashura prepared to strike.
Then he saw who it was.
Valerie.
She stepped into the clearing, her expression as unreadable as ever, her golden eyes taking in the scene before her. A small dark elf, bloodstained and gripping a weapon twice his size, standing atop the corpse of a beast.
There was no judgment in her gaze, no concern. She simply regarded him in that same detached, almost porcelain-doll-like manner.
"Practice is over," she stated flatly. "You need to get ready for the tournament."
Ashura didn't move.
"You smell of beast and blood," Valerie continued. "Go wash up in the waterfall."
Still, Ashura remained silent, studying her as if searching for something beneath that composed exterior.
Valerie tilted her head slightly. "I also prepared new clothes and light armor for you."
That made him blink.
"It was hard to find armor that fits a six-year-old," she added, "but I did."
Ashura stared at her for a moment longer before finally lowering his weapon. His grip loosened, and the tension in his body eased.
Without a word, he turned and started walking.
The waterfall wasn't far, and as he approached, he could already hear the soothing crash of water against stone. He stepped into the shallow stream first, allowing the crimson stains to dissolve into the clear currents before moving under the falling water itself.
The cold struck him immediately, but he barely reacted. He let the icy cascade wash over him, washing away the scent of battle, the dirt, and the blood.
Yet, even as the water cleansed his body, his mind remained elsewhere.
On the box.
On the past he couldn't remember.
On the future that awaited him in the tournament.
When he finally stepped out, Valerie was waiting at the edge of the clearing, holding the set of clothes and armor she had prepared for him.
"Dry off quickly," she said. "It's almost time to see if your training has been worth it."
Ashura took the offered attire, his expression unreadable.
'The box rejected me. But why do I feel like whatever's inside… is waiting for me?'
Tomorrow, the city of Terraverde would witness the rise of the something great.
To be Continued