No one in the village mocked him; the elders would always pat him on the shoulder and comfort him, saying "Just wait a bit longer, your bloodline is just awakening late," and his companions were still willing to take him hunting—yet the more kindness he received, the more it pricked Calot's pride like a needle.
He knew that he might never have the fate of becoming a Dragon Blood Warrior in this lifetime.
At the age of sixteen, he packed a simple bag, moved away from the treehouse he had lived in for years, and built a wooden hut alone in the dense forest on the village outskirts.
Occasionally, when he returned to the village to visit, he only watched from afar as his former companions trained, and the only person he maintained contact with was Berg.
Over time, the people in the village gradually forgot about him, only mentioning "the genius of those years" during idle chat, followed by a sigh of "what a pity."
