Morning broke, and with it came the relentless heat of the sun, offering no refuge in these flat lands. Yet, the village buzzed with life, and the morning clamor outside was what stirred Ivan from dreams filled with thoughts of his mother. Rubbing his swollen eyes, he made his way to the bathroom to wash his face.
A crushing loneliness weighed on him, one he had never known before, filling his heart and permeating the entire house. Unable to bear staying inside, he stepped out toward the forest, seeking fresh air far from the stench of animal droppings and human waste. But on his path, five boys blocked his way—two slightly taller than him, three about his height—forming a circle around him.
The eldest, clutching a stick and bearing a face marked with scratches, grinned maliciously. "Hey, Ivan, remember who I am?"
Ivan met his gaze coldly, as if staring into emptiness, and replied calmly, "Yes, I remember. You're the one I beat badly last week. What was your name again? I forgot. How's your ass? Sorry, I'm not in the mood for trouble."
Fid's face flushed red with rage. "Looks like your tongue's too long for you. I'll make it equal in size to you."
Ivan stepped forward with a sneer. "The only thing equal here is your brain and that pile of dung on the ground."
The other boys stifled their laughter, careful not to anger Fid further, which only fueled his fury. He lunged at Ivan, swinging his stick toward his head. Ivan dodged, stepping back into a defensive stance, but noticed one boy sneaking up behind him. He kicked the attacker's shin, sending him crashing into a wall.
The three boys hesitated, fear creeping in, but Fid's shout rallied them: "Don't be scared of him, you scoundrels! We outnumber him; he can't beat us all!"
Ivan's voice was steady. "Seems you didn't learn last time. You're making the same mistake again, only this time you brought backup. Coward."
vid ignored the taunt, baring his broken teeth in a cruel smile. "I heard your mother rotted away at home last night. My mother told me she was a witch who seduced men, turning friends into enemies. Even her husband couldn't stand her and ran off, no one knows where. Maybe you're the product of her wild life."
Ivan's calm shattered.
This was the first time vid saw Ivan's fury. Usually, Ivan wore a mask of calm and confidence, unaffected by insults. But now, Fid faced a different person—one overflowing with raw emotion, striking like a raging beast.
vid lost consciousness under the onslaught, but the other boys quickly restrained Ivan, pinning him against the wall and landing a few blows that barely fazed him.
Fear gripped Ivan involuntarily. He stared at the boy advancing with the blade, wondering if this was fear of death. Why did he cling to life despite its meaninglessness? His life was far from perfect, yet he didn't want to die. An old saying echoed in his mind: "People prefer the pain they know over the unknown." He struggled to move his hands but was held fast by three others.
Just as the boy raised the knife, the ground trembled beneath them. From the depths emerged a colossal beast, towering over the village houses twice or more. Its countless sharp arms would take a full day to count, capable of tearing any body apart in seconds. Its back was armored like iron, massive horns protruded from the center of its face, occupying the space of its eyes, while the other half was filled with razor-sharp teeth.
Ivan and the others looked up, sweat streaming down their stunned faces, struggling to breathe. They glimpsed the first monster they'd ever seen as stones rained down from the beast, smashing homes and scattering debris. Ivan froze, like a stalk of wheat awaiting the reaper's scythe, unable to comprehend what his eyes beheld. The other boys fled silently, carrying the unconscious vid.
The monster let out a deafening roar, shattering the windowpanes and echoing in Ivan's ears. Unfortunately for Ivan that day, he was the first person the monster attacked.
The monster swung one of its sharp arms at Ivan, who jumped and rolled on the ground, his eyes watching the deep crater left by the attack. His heart raced; he was on the verge of being crushed. He gathered what little strength he had left in his legs and took off running through the alleys of the village, his breath coming in gasps. The monster crawled behind him, destroying everything in its path, and unleashed a fiery projectile from its mouth, causing Ivan to lose his balance from the echo of the explosion.
Ivan looked up, his eyes wide with fear. His throat was dry, and the blood froze in his veins as he found death before him, manifesting in its most horrific form, waiting to claim his soul.
Ivan closed his eyes, surrendering to the inevitable, as the monster's mouth flared like a raging volcano, spewing fire toward Ivan, who vanished within it as if he had turned to ash. But from nowhere, a man with red hair appeared, dressed in black. He easily severed the protruding horns of the beast with a swift motion, then struck it down, driving his sword into its forehead, splitting it in two.
The red-haired man stood triumphantly at the monster's head, his green eyes surveying the destruction it had left behind. "Another failed mission; too many lives lost, homes destroyed. If this continues, I may be removed from my position as squad leader," he said in a tone that betrayed disinterest.
Amidst the sounds of flames and the villagers' screams, he caught a sharp cough coming from behind him. Curiosity piqued, he turned to discover who had survived near the monster. But the thick smoke obscured his vision, making it difficult to identify anyone.
After a moment, Ivan emerged from the black smoke, unable to stop coughing, his eyes red and swollen to the point he could barely open them. The shock was evident on the blond man's face when he saw Ivan emerge from the smoke, and he muttered to himself, "How did this happen? I saw the monster literally roast him. Could it be...?"
He focused his eyes on Ivan's face and smiled faintly before jumping toward him, saying, "I didn't expect to meet my successor here."
Ivan was puzzled by the red-haired man's words, not understanding his meaning. He didn't grasp anything; since the moment he closed his eyes and then opened them, everything around him had changed. He found the monster lying on the ground, surrounded by smoke, and a strange man he had never seen before mumbling incomprehensible words.
The man extended his hands toward Ivan, saying, "I see you're alright, little one. I'm foden, from the Riters." Ivan looked at him in confusion for a moment before shaking his hand and introducing himself: "I'm Ivan. So, you're the one who took down the monster. Thank you; you saved me from death; it was about to finish me off."
foden replied with a sly smile forming on his face, "No need to thank me; I didn't save you; death just didn't find its way to you." He placed his hand on Ivan's shoulder and added, "Anyway, you seem alone. Why don't you join the Riters?"
Ivan was taken aback by the unexpected offer and said, pushing his hand off his shoulder, "It seems you know nothing about initiation." He sighed and continued, "I don't know why I keep meeting such strange people. An old man asking me to live with him, and now an Foden interrupted his speech with a fake cough, then said, "First, I'm not an officer; I'm a squad leader. Second, the injured will be taken care of by the Sisters of the Dawn. Third, I don't usually invite anyone to join, but I see in you the traits of success."
Ivan let out a sarcastic laugh, saying, "Traits? I couldn't even run away, which is something humans have been doing since ancient times. I'm a failure at it! And you want me to take the Riters' test? You're seeking my death."
Foden felt that continuing the discussion was futile, so he concluded, "The test is in two months. If you decide to participate, we will be competitors. Your path to seeking power will find me as an obstacle; let's see if you can remove me."
Then, as if he had never been there, he suddenly disappeared into the air, leaving Ivan in a state of confusion, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity.
Ivan stretched out on the green grass in the forest, with his hands behind his head, enjoying the shade of the giant tree whose branches extended towards the sky as if trying to touch it. This tree had something special about it, aside from being the oldest in the area. Its massive trunk was like a canvas, etched with the faces of a woman and a man, their features exquisitely detailed, as if the artist had imbued them with a living spirit.
Despite the age of the engraving, the details were clear, reflecting deep emotions and an ancient story. Beneath their faces were names carefully carved: "Fleiman" for the man and "Nada" for the woman. But what caught Ivan's attention was the third drawing that had been erased, as if someone had deliberately removed it, leaving behind an unsolved mystery.
Ivan wondered to himself about the story that might be behind these names and carvings. Who were Fleiman and Nada? What happened to the third person?
He raised his eyes to the sky, the surrounding trees partially blocking the blue sky from view, as he tried to fill his smoke-stained lungs with fresh air. The sounds of the flowing river reached his ears, washing away all the negative feelings he had experienced that day.
He had endured so much that day in this village that used to be dull to the point of boredom, but suddenly it had become noisy to the point of burning. The village used to be tinted yellow in the summer, but this time it had suddenly turned red, flowing through its alleys.
On his way, he saw the bodies of people whose heads had been crushed under the rubble, yet his heart was not kind enough to mourn for the deaths of people he did not know.
Ivan closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind and reflect on what the old man had said yesterday about living with him. Should he accept or refuse his invitation? There was something inside him urging him to accept the offer, as if whispering that this was a golden opportunity that wouldn't be repeated, and that he would miss it if he let it slip away. But his mind presented him with other possibilities, relating to a person who might be a deceiver trying to lure him into a trap.
He remembered his mother's saying, which embraced a single philosophy: mistrust. She made it the devil from which all misfortunes come, always saying, "Trust is a noose that one willingly ties around one's neck."
All these thoughts plunged him into a whirlpool of internal conflict until he felt like his brain was about to explode. He held his head with both hands and began to scratch his hair as he rolled over on his back and stomach, turning left and right. This was his special way of calming down and relieving tension. It wasn't a new habit; his mother had told him that he used to toss and turn a lot when he was an infant.
After hours of wandering, Ivan left the green forest, heading towards the cemetery where his mother's grave lay. The flowers he had picked from the wild herbs in the forest sparkled with their vibrant colors, but they were not enough to ease the heavy sadness crushing his heart. He felt that this visit would be different, as he would talk to her grave and have a one-sided conversation with his mother for the first time.
When he reached the grave, he gently placed the flowers on the stone, then bent slightly, as if trying to get closer to her spirit. He began to speak, his tone heavy with sadness: "Mom, I miss you. I miss your boring stories filled with lessons, those moments when you sat beside me, planting hope in my heart and killing my fears. Just one day has passed since your departure, yet so much has happened that is out of the ordinary."
He paused, as if the words were stumbling in his throat. "I think this village hates me and wants me to leave. It only tolerated me for your sake. Isn't everything that has happened a signal to me? What should I do? Tell me, I'm lost."
On his way back to the village, Ivan halted his steps when he spotted a strange man who was not from the village. He had unkempt black hair and emitted a foul stench akin to that of beasts. But what caught Ivan's attention most was the large nose that took up a significant part of his face.
The man was shouting and cursing loudly, directing his anger at someone from the Hybrids, who looked to be around Ivan's age. This person had small ears and a fox-like tail, with messy brown hair, while his face was not clearly visible. He appeared extremely exhausted, unable to stand on his feet due to the weight of the things they were carrying, while his skin was bruised from the beatings he had received, and his dirty clothes were full of holes.
Suddenly, the boy from the Hybrids fell to the ground, as if he had suffered a seizure, while the man shouted angrily, "Damn you, you bastard! Are you going to keep pretending to be sick? Get up, or I will break this stick over your head!"
Ivan felt contempt for this scene, his eyes reflecting deep displeasure. But the strange man, who noticed Ivan's gaze, shouted in a voice reminiscent of pig grunts, "What are you looking at, you little brat? Do you want to join him?"
Ivan continued on his way without responding; he had a strong desire to avoid any additional problems on this day. He had suffered enough.
As sunset approached, the sun slowly began to dip below the horizon, bidding farewell to the summer village on another hot day, perhaps hotter than the previous ones. They were fortunate that the beast's flames had not reached the fields; otherwise, there would have been nowhere for them to flee.
Ivan returned home, lost in thought, his eyes directed at the ground, so much so that he didn't notice the old man from the previous day who was standing in front of his house until he heard his voice: "Hey, kid, hello! What are you thinking about?"
Ivan was startled and inwardly terrified, so he began to stutter: "W, w, what? Is that you? You scared me! Where did you come from?"
The old man replied, leaning against the wall: "The right question is: where was your mind? Look at your face; it's full of scratches. Were you in a fight? What happened here? I left this village in one condition, and I found it in another."
Ivan opened the door to the house, saying, "I don't want to think about it." Then he paused for a moment before asking a strange question: "Old man, do you think life is fair?"
The old man was surprised by this strange, out-of-place question and said, "What makes you ask this random question?"
Ivan responded in a sad tone, "I don't know. Consider it a question from someone seeking the truth and loves knowledge."
The old man moved past Ivan into the house, where he sat in a nearly broken wooden chair. He crossed one leg over the other, lit a cigarette, and then looked at Ivan with eyes full of experience. "The only two things that are fair in this life are death and disease," he said, exhaling cigarette smoke into the air. "They know nothing about distinction, and they don't differentiate between big and small, human or amphibian, or hybrids."
He paused for a moment to savor some of the cigarette smoke and then added, "Do you know what creates justice among people besides morals? It's fear. Fear is an instinct that has a sensitivity to danger. You may find people following the law not because they are moral, but because they fear punishment. Those are the ones who turn into savages in times of hardship."
The old man paused for a moment, pondering whether what he said made sense before continuing. "The law represents to them a danger they must hide from. It restricts them and creates boundaries they cannot cross. Therefore, to become a just person, you need morality and fear. These two things, when combined, create a constraint that makes a person adhere to their principles, and thus they won't wrong others."
Ivan was deeply affected by the old man's words, for he immediately remembered his mother's talk, which always carried a strange and wonderful tone at once. He closed the door behind him and approached the old man, taking a chair to sit in front of him. Then he said with a smile, "Beautiful words; it seems you carry a lot of wisdom, old man."
The old man chuckled, his false teeth nearly falling out. "That's due to age, or perhaps because I'm wise," he replied proudly. Then he added seriously, "But wait a moment; we don't know each other's names yet. I'm van; you can call me Uncle van instead of the old man."
Uncle van extended his hand toward Ivan, who quickly responded, shaking it warmly. "I'm Ivan," he said, feeling somewhat relieved.
van smiled at him, ruffling his hair, saying, "Nice to meet you, little Ivan." But Ivan removed Uncle van's hand from his head, his face turning red with embarrassment as he said, "I'm not a kid!"
van replied with a grin, "And I'm not that old!"
Ivan involuntarily laughed at his comment, before adding cheerfully, "Although you know a lot, you don't realize that you can't enter people's homes without permission."
van's features shifted slightly, and he felt a mild tension as he stammered his words: "Well, I suppose you're right. You've got me this time."
But soon, the atmosphere of seriousness filled the place once more, as van removed the guise of the silly old man. He furrowed his brow, and his brown eyes became sharp like a hawk's, then said seriously, "So, let's get back to the important matter you came for. What have you decided?"
Ivan felt a severe tension; he stood up from his place, unable to meet van's eyes. He turned towards the door, turning his back on him, and said in a shaky voice, "I don't know; I'm still confused. The only thing I've realized today is that I'm clinging to life." These words escaped his lips, but deep down, he felt the exact opposite. He was certain of his desire to escape this place, but his mother's will lingered in his mind like a specter that wouldn't leave him.
He remembered the monster's attack and that person from Riters who had asked him to participate in the test. Those events convoluted in his mind, and they could not be ignored. It wasn't just a coincidence; they were signs urging him to choose, as if fate was beckoning him with hidden fingers.
van stood up from his seat and walked towards the exit, his hands behind his back, leaving Ivan behind. Then he said, as smoke wafted from his mouth, "Letting the fear of the unknown dominate a person makes them lose many opportunities. They think they are protecting themselves, but the truth is that they are just cowards who cannot face reality and resort to fleeing from it. All your convictions and thoughts are nothing but borrowed knowledge from the experiences of others. I told you to stop borrowing others' eyes; you have your own."
van left the house, leaving Ivan behind until he reaches certainty, and he didn't delay; he dashed after Uncle fan, who was halted by a voice calling him, saying, "Okay, I agree, but I have one request: I want you to pay for the medicine I stole last night. I don't know if that old man is still alive or not." To which Uncle Fan replied, "How do I know you won't steal from me as well?" Ivan felt he had said something he shouldn't have disclosed in front of him, so he tried to defend himself, saying, "It was something necessary; I didn't do it gladly; I…"
van laughed at Ivan's spontaneous replies, saying, "I'm just joking; so, shall we go?"