In the quiet farming village of Dagan's Rest, life moved like the seasons—slow, predictable, and without surprise.
Zor's bare feet sank into the damp soil as he pulled a stubborn weed from the rows of onions. The morning sun kissed the fields golden, and birds chirped their usual tunes. At ten years old, Zor already knew how to plow, plant, and harvest. His small hands were calloused, his back often sore, but he never complained. Not out loud, anyway.
That was just life in Dagan's Rest.
Then came the sound that changed everything—hoofbeats.
They thundered across the valley like a storm. Zor squinted toward the edge of the fields, where a group of strangers on horseback rode in formation. Clad in foreign armor with cloaks bearing unfamiliar crests, they stopped at the base of the Old Whisper Tree, the tallest and oldest tree in the village.
One of them unrolled a scroll—a massive one—and nailed it to the tree with a metal spike.
Curiosity burning in his chest, Zor dropped his tools and sprinted across the field, heart pounding. As he neared the tree, he could see it wasn't just any scroll—it was a poster, and the title alone made his breath hitch:
"Adventurers' Admission & Exams — Open to All for the First Time in History"
He read it once. Then again. And again. His wide eyes scanned every word.
No age limit.
No background checks.
No regional restrictions.
All who believe they carry the spark within may come forward.
Discover your Aura. Face the Trials.
The world needs new explorers. The undiscovered awaits.
Zor's heart felt like it might burst from his chest.
He took off running, faster than he ever had, the wind pushing at his back like fate itself. Through the fields, past the animals, down the dirt path that led to the small wooden cabin he called home.
"Father! Father!" he shouted as he flung the door open.
Inside, Arden, a rugged man in his forties with a faded scarf tied around his neck, looked up from sharpening his axe. His expression didn't change. He never smiled much.
"There's a new posting in the village! For Adventurers! And this time—" Zor panted between words, "they're accepting anyone! Even kids! They're letting everyone try!"
Arden stared at him for a long moment, then slowly stood and set the axe aside.
"No money. No gear. No bloodline. You're ten, Zor. What do you think you can do in a world made for warriors and monsters?" Arden's voice was low, almost tired. "Adventuring is a grown man's burden. You'll just end up dead."
Zor's excitement flickered.
"But… my parents," he whispered, "they were adventurers. I just know it's in me too."
Arden turned away, his back tense.
Ten years ago, he had found a basket at his doorstep—a baby, wrapped in cloth, crying under the stars. A letter had been tucked beside him, creased and water-stained.
"His name is Zor.
We are adventurers.
We are sorry."
He had never spoken much about it. Not to anyone. But Zor just accidentally found the letter when he was only six year old which led to Arden to tell him the truth.
Zor clenched his fists. He didn't care if he had no sword, no armor, no family name. Something deep inside him called out when he read that poster.
Zor didn't argue after Arden's harsh words.
As much as he wanted to chase his dream, a part of him understood. The world beyond their quiet village was unforgiving. Becoming an adventurer wasn't a child's fantasy—it was a deadly pursuit. In every exam, held only once every five years, only a handful passed. Rumors whispered that barely one to three percent made it through. Some came back broken. Others never came back at all.
Zor sighed and told himself the same words every night.
"Someday. When I'm older. When I'm ready."
But every morning, his feet still carried him to the giant Whisper Tree, where the poster fluttered in the wind. He stood there, eyes tracing every word like he hadn't read it a hundred times already. He wasn't reading anymore—he was dreaming.
Dreaming of going.
He knew Arden would never allow it. And that hurt even more than the danger.
Arden noticed.
Every day, he watched Zor stare at the poster with longing eyes. The same eyes that reminded him too much of that stormy night ten years ago.
He hated seeing Zor like that. A boy who didn't even know who he was—where he came from. No parents, no answers. Just a name and a letter.
As the exam date approached—just ten days away—Arden found it harder to stay silent.
That night, during dinner, Arden placed the viand on the table with a heavy hand. Zor quietly served the beans and rice, avoiding his eyes.
"Sit down, Zor," Arden said, his voice unusually soft.
Zor paused, then obeyed.
Arden stared at his plate for a while, then finally spoke. "First of all… I want to apologize."
Zor looked up, surprised.
"I'm sorry that it was me who found you," Arden said. "Sorry that I never gave you much. You've been working the farm since you could walk. That's no kind of childhood."
Zor shook his head. "Don't say that. I owe you everything. Without you, I wouldn't even be alive. I never felt like I lacked anything. You raised me."
Arden's eyes softened, and he wiped them with the back of his hand. "You're a good boy, Zor."
He stood, walked to the far end of the cabin, and crouched in front of an old wooden chest buried beneath torn cloths and patched sacks. He dug beneath them and pulled out a familiar object—a worn basket, the very one Zor had been found in.
"This," Arden said, "is where you were when I found you."
Zor stood, walking toward it slowly. His eyes widened. "Why… why didn't you ever show me this before?"
"I wanted you to live freely. I thought… if I hid this, maybe you wouldn't think so much about the parents who left you behind." Arden's voice cracked. "But I realize now… that was selfish of me. I can't keep you from wondering forever."
He set the basket on the table. Then, with careful hands, he tapped at the bottom until a small click sounded. A hidden compartment slid open.
Zor leaned forward.
Inside was a necklace—a delicate chain with a key-shaped pendant, its edges engraved with strange runes. Beside it lay an old, faded black card with a single word:
"The Death."
"I found this hidden in the basket three years ago," Arden said. "But I didn't tell you. I thought it would just make things harder. But I see now… you deserve to know everything."
Zor picked up the necklace, feeling its weight in his palm. Something about it felt alive.
"I know you want to leave. I know you've been staring at that poster every day. I didn't want to endanger you, Zor. I just wanted you to live peacefully."
He paused, voice shaking.
"But maybe… peace isn't what you were meant for."
Zor looked up, eyes already brimming with tears.
"I don't want to lose you," Arden continued. "But keeping you here, pretending you're just a farmer's son… that's not right either. So I'm giving you my blessing."
He placed a firm hand on Zor's shoulder.
"We'll go together. To the exams."
Zor's tears spilled over as he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Arden. For the first time in his life, he felt two things at once—grief and freedom.
The path ahead was unknown. Dangerous. Maybe even deadly.
But he would walk it.
Not alone.
The next morning, Zor's mood was different—lighter, livelier, like the weight he had been carrying for years had finally lifted. He hummed as he swept the front porch, and the lines in his face, usually etched with quiet frustration, were now filled with energy.
Arden noticed it, too.
"Keep the cabin safe," Arden said, grabbing his old satchel.
"Where are you going?" Zor asked, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.
"Market," Arden replied. "Thought we'd need a few things before we head out. Just a few supplies. Won't be long."
The village market was small but busy that morning. Arden moved with purpose, his coin pouch light but his intentions heavy. He purchased a small dagger—nothing fancy, just something strong enough for a boy's grip. He picked up dried meat, a water flask, a threadbare map of the outer roads, and a pair of traveling boots one size too big.
Everything a young adventurer might need.
He made his way back along the dirt path, the bag slung over his shoulder. But halfway home, just past the wheat fields, a sharp, stabbing pain struck his right knee.
"Gah—!" Arden groaned, stumbling to one side.
His leg locked up. The pain was sudden, hot like fire. He reached for a tree for balance but barely managed to keep from falling over.
"Father!" Zor's voice rang out from the cabin gate. He dropped everything and ran toward him. "What happened?"
"Leg—just my leg," Arden gritted out.
Zor slung his father's arm around his shoulder and helped him limp the rest of the way home. He was small, but he held his weight with surprising strength.
Back at the cabin, Arden collapsed onto a stool and began rubbing his knee with calloused hands.
"Probably just age," he muttered. "Years of tilling soil and carrying sacks of grain… finally catching up to me."
Zor didn't respond. He sat across from Arden, brows furrowed, lips tight.
Arden reached into his satchel and forced a smile. "Look what I got," he said, pulling out the dagger, then the map, then the boots. "I thought these might come in handy. I even got jerky. You always hated boiled beans."
Zor looked at the items, then slowly back at Arden.
His smile was gone.
"Father," he said firmly. "I think… I should go alone."
Arden blinked. "What?"
Zor clenched his fists. "You're injured. That leg—what if it gets worse on the road? What if something happens in the exam? What if you die?"
"I'm fine," Arden insisted, standing up only to wince immediately. "I won't leave you to face that alone. You're ten. You're just a kid, Zor."
Zor stood too, fists shaking. "I'm not just a kid."
He stepped forward, fire blazing in his young eyes.
"My parents were adventurers. I feel it in my blood. I know I'm not normal. I don't want to hide here forever behind crops and soil. I want to find out who I am. And I… I can't do that if I'm worrying about you the whole time."
Arden stared at him.
In that moment, he didn't see a ten-year-old boy.
He saw someone growing—someone destined to walk a road far beyond anything this village could offer.
He exhaled deeply, like he was releasing something heavy.
"I see," Arden said softly.
Zor's shoulders slumped slightly, thinking his father would object again.
But Arden placed the dagger into his hand. "Then I'll trust you. You'll go."
Zor's eyes widened.
"You'll go alone… but not unprepared."
He opened the small drawer beside the stove and pulled out a tiny satchel. "Inside is some coin, the map, the card, and the necklace. Wear it at all times. You don't know what it unlocks… but maybe, on your journey, you'll find out."
Zor took the satchel and held it to his chest, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
"Thank you, Father," he whispered.
Arden ruffled his hair and smiled, though it was shaky.
"Come back stronger. Come back… alive."