The road stretched out in front of them, a narrow dirt path pressed between two endless walls of forest. Towering trees leaned in from both sides, their branches knitting together high above like an arched ceiling. Shafts of sunlight pierced through gaps in the leaves, scattering golden light across the ground. The air was thick with the smell of pine, damp soil, and the faint sound of birds hidden among the canopy.
Two figures walked down the road, their shadows long and steady under the sun. One was tall and broad-shouldered, the other small but lively. Father and son.
The taller man finally lowered the hood of his travel-worn cloak. His face was sharp, carved with experience. A medium-length beard framed his jaw, dark but dusted with streaks of gray that caught the sunlight. His hair was the same deep black as his son's, slicked back neatly, though strands waved with each step like ripples in a stream. And then there were his eyes — piercing crimson red pupils that glimmered faintly even in daylight, the same color as Fazer's.
He glanced down at his boy and spoke, his voice deep, steady, almost echoing in the quiet of the forest path.
"Let's keep moving faster. We need to finish our work before the day ends. First, we'll visit the man who gave us the commission for saving that village. We'll collect our reward. Then…" He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "…we'll stop at the meat store. Your mother said she's cooking tonight."
The moment the word "meat" left his father's mouth, Fazer's crimson eyes lit up like twin flames. His small frame almost bounced with excitement, his long black silky hair swaying behind him like a banner in the wind.
"Meat?" he repeated, as though he had just heard the most important news in the world. His stomach gave an eager growl, which only made his face brighten further. "Really? We're having meat tonight?"
His father chuckled, the low sound rumbling in his chest. "Yes. That's what she promised."
Fazer's lips curled into a wide grin, showing his small but sharp teeth. For all the battles he had fought, all the blood he had already spilled at such a young age, there were still simple things that could make him glow like an ordinary boy. Meat was at the top of that list.
His heart raced in excitement, and then an idea flashed into his mind. His eyes narrowed mischievously, sparkling in the light.
"Then let's race!" Fazer shouted suddenly, his voice echoing through the trees. "Let's see who gets there first!"
Before his father could even react, Fazer crouched slightly, ready to spring forward. His small hands clenched, his feet pushed into the dirt. He was ready to launch himself like an arrow—
But his father only gave him a quick, sly smile.
And then, without warning, the tall man dashed ahead.
Fazer blinked in shock. "H-Hey! That's not fair!" he cried, his voice rising high with indignation. "I didn't even say 'Go' yet!"
Dust kicked up as his father's long strides carried him swiftly down the path. For a man his size, he moved with the speed and lightness of a predator in the wild. Each step seemed effortless, his cloak flaring behind him like dark wings.
For a moment, Fazer stood frozen, his mouth hanging open. Then his face twisted into a scowl, though his crimson eyes gleamed with challenge.
"Oh, you're not getting away that easy!" he yelled, and he bolted after his father.
His small legs pumped furiously, his long black hair streaming behind him, his black funnel-neck shirt fluttering with every stride. The dirt path crunched under his boots as he ran with everything he had.
The forest became alive around them as father and son tore down the road. Birds shot out of the trees at the sudden noise, wings flapping wildly. Squirrels leapt to safety across branches. Even the rustling of the leaves seemed to cheer on the race.
"Too slow, Fazer!" his father's deep voice called out from ahead, carrying a teasing tone. "Is that all you've got?"
Fazer's teeth clenched as determination burned inside him. His chest heaved, but he refused to slow down. "You're cheating!" he shouted, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "You can't start without saying 'Go!'"
His father only laughed, the sound rich and full. He turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes glowing like fire under the canopy. "In battle, no one waits for 'Go,' my son. You strike when the chance comes."
Fazer pouted, his cheeks puffing slightly, but inside he knew his father was teaching him again — always turning even the smallest game into a lesson. Still, the boy wasn't about to lose without a fight.
He leaned forward, pushing his body harder. His small frame darted across the path like a shadow, each step pounding the earth with fierce determination.
His mind raced. "If I can't outrun him, then I'll outsmart him."
Scanning the road ahead, Fazer noticed the path curved sharply to the right where the trees thinned for a brief moment. A sly grin spread across his face.
Without warning, he darted into the forest, slipping between two thick oaks.
"Where are you going, boy?" his father's voice boomed after him, surprised.
But Fazer didn't answer. He wove through the underbrush, leaping over roots, ducking under low branches. His small size worked in his favor — he was quick, nimble, and light on his feet. He ignored the scratches of twigs against his skin, his mind focused on one thing: getting ahead.
The forest spat him out onto the path again just ahead of where it curved. His father's tall figure appeared from the bend only seconds later, and for the first time in the race, Fazer was in front.
"Haha! Who's too slow now?" Fazer shouted, his laughter ringing through the trees. His crimson eyes sparkled with pure joy, his long hair flying behind him like a banner of victory.
His father slowed slightly, a smirk tugging at his beard. "Clever," he admitted. "But the race isn't over yet."
With that, the tall man surged forward again, his strides eating up the ground between them.
Fazer gasped, panic flashing across his face. "No, no, no—!" He pushed himself harder, his lungs burning, his legs aching. Every muscle screamed, but he refused to stop.
The finish line wasn't real — just an invisible point in Fazer's imagination where he decided the race ended. But in his mind, it was the most important finish line in the world. If he could cross it before his father, just once, it would mean everything.
The sound of heavy but graceful steps drew closer behind him. The air seemed to thicken, filled with the weight of his father's presence.
"Not yet…" Fazer whispered to himself, teeth clenched. "I won't lose yet…"
His vision blurred slightly from the effort, his breath ragged. But then—
A large hand gently clapped down on his shoulder.
Fazer stumbled forward, almost tripping, before coming to a panting stop. His father had caught up, his deep voice steady but warm.
"Good race, son," he said simply.
Fazer bent forward, his hands on his knees, chest heaving. Sweat trickled down his temples, dripping onto the dirt. Despite his exhaustion, his crimson eyes still burned with determination.
"You cheated…" he managed to wheeze, though a small smile crept across his face.
His father chuckled softly, ruffling his long silky hair. "Perhaps. But you were clever. You thought of a way to get ahead. That's what matters."
Fazer looked up at him, his lips parting as if to argue, but then he closed them. The boy's chest swelled with pride, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. His father's approval meant more than victory itself.
The forest around them grew quiet again, the only sounds their breathing and the distant rustle of leaves. Above, a hawk cried as it soared across the sky, free and untouchable.
Side by side, father and son started walking again down the path.
For Fazer, the race wasn't just a game. It was proof that one day, no matter how strong his father seemed, he would catch up — and maybe even surpass him.
That thought alone kept the boy's crimson eyes glowing brightly as the two figures disappeared deeper into the road, swallowed by the great forest.