Year 329 of the Tarolinian Kingdom — Elryona City
My name is Arthur. I'm seven years old... and from the very beginning, my life has been nothing but sorrow and pain.
Each day feels heavier than the last.
Sometimes, I wonder if even the gods have forgotten me—just like my parents did.
They abandoned me. I can't even remember their faces.
I was barely two years old when they left me at the church's doorstep one stormy night... and never came back.
Tragic, isn't it?
There was a time—foolish, naïve—when I truly believed they would come back.
I used to imagine them walking through that church gate, arms open, calling my name...
But they never did. Not once.
The other children? They laugh at me.
Their eyes burn with cruelty, their words sting more than fists.
"You're so stupid to think they'd ever return for someone like you!"
They say it over and over... like a curse.
Some days, they beat me until my legs won't move.
Until all I can do is lie there, broken, staring at the ceiling... hoping it'll all end.
There's only one person who treats me like I matter.
Only one who hears the words I can't say out loud.
Father Malderius.
He's the only warmth in this frozen world.
The only one who listens when I speak.
The only one who understands the pain I carry in silence.
A voice called my name—once, then again.
But I was drowning too deep in my thoughts to hear it.
And then, it came again—louder, more urgent:
"Arthur!"
The boy turned his head in shock and fear.
Standing before him was Father Malderius.
A gentle smile played on the priest's lips.
"Lost in your own world again, aren't you?"
Arthur replied with a hoarse, sorrow-laced voice:
"Hello, Father..."
Sensing the weight in the boy's tone, Father Malderius knelt slightly, his voice warm and full of concern:
"Arthur... did the children hurt you again?
You can tell me anything that's on your heart."
Arthur lowered his gaze, his voice barely a whisper:
"Why does it hurt so much...?"
Softly, the priest asked:
"What hurts, my child?"
And then—unable to hold it in any longer—tears welled up in Arthur's eyes and fell.
His voice trembled as he spoke:
"They left me so long ago... but the pain never stopped.
It's like... a piece of my heart is still missing.
Why won't it ever go away...?"
With a calm touch, Father Malderius rested his hands gently on Arthur's head.
He paused, then spoke softly:
"Arthur...
None of this is your fault.
You just need time.
I promise... one day, this pain will fade."
Then, the priest coughed—once, then again.
His eyes fell to his palm.
A familiar stain of red blood.
But without hesitation, he wiped it away with his sleeve, pretending nothing had happened.
He didn't want Arthur to see. He didn't want him to worry.
With a smile—one that carried a hint of exhaustion—Father Malderius said,
"Arthur... you're a clever child.
I'm certain a brilliant future is waiting for you.
But don't let these thoughts weigh you down.
Someday, I may no longer be here by your side...
But even then, know this—I'll still be with you."
He paused, his voice softening to a whisper—like a candle speaking to the darkness:
"When you find yourself drowning in shadows,
I'll be the light that quietly flickers...
the one that stops you from falling.
So trust me, my child."
Arthur, feeling the depth behind the words, could only nod gently.
The priest smiled once more.
"Come, let's go inside. It's cold out here.
And tomorrow... tomorrow is an important day for you."
Arthur blinked.
"Tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow?"
Father Malderius looked up at the sky, then answered:
"Representatives from the Academy are coming.
They'll be selecting a few children for full sponsorship—
A rare opportunity for someone like you."
Arthur fell silent, unsure what to feel.
The priest continued:
"The Academy's tuition is so high, most wouldn't even dream of it.
But if you shine in tomorrow's test...
your life could change forever."
In the courtyard, the children had gathered.
The air was thick with tension—somewhere between excitement and dread.
The sky was blue...
But it felt like everyone was waiting for a storm.
Then, one of the great doors creaked open.
A tall man entered—draped in a gray cloak, a sword strapped across his back.
His steps were slow, steady.
He gave the children a sweeping glance... then came to a stop and began to speak.