In the dim confines of a ramshackle wooden cart, Edith swayed gently in his sleep, lulled by the uneven rhythm of the horses that pulled the carriage.
Leaning against his sheathed sword, the dark-haired boy exuded an almost mystical allure, his features captivating anyone who gazed upon him.
His lean, muscular arms only heightened the charm, accentuated by the sleeveless tunic that draped his toned body like a beautiful sculpture.
His eyes twitched from time to time, an indication of the familiar nightmare that had haunted him for a month now.
A companion in the cart let out a deep sigh, raised her round glasses and watched the boy with a solemn gaze. Slowly she shut her eyes that had become blurry due to the wet tears they shed.
Glancing back at his sleeping passengers, the cart driver eased the horses into a steadier pace.
The fate the sleeping boy had faced, had certainly been tough.
...
Atop the hill, Edith lay with his eyes closed, awaiting the Sun's rise. His black hair and dark brown eyes blended into the shadowy dawn, while the cool grass caressed his skin and a gentle breeze washed over him, instilling a profound sense of peace.
"Damn! It feels so refreshing! Why haven't I ever come here before?"
"I mean, I have, but why not as early as today?"
"Tch, I've been missing out on a lot. I'll bring Horus along tomorrow. Ren too! She'll definitely be happy!"
His spirits soared that morning.
Lying on his back, he drew in a deep breath. He pulled his knees to his chest, lifted his hips, and threw his arms overhead, slapping his hands against the ground. He relaxed his muscles, paused, then pushed off with his palms. His spine curved as his legs whipped forward in a swift arc.
Swish!
His toes met the earth, bearing his weight, and he tightened his core to rise upright.
Swoosh!
The rush of air whistled past his ears, filling him with joy and bolstering his confidence for the day ahead.
So exhilarated was he that even the simple thrill of the kip-up sent waves of euphoria through him.
Straightening up, he surveyed the surroundings. The hilltop stretched mostly flat, with only a few pits here and there. Short, trimmed grass covered the ground, as if cut recently.
Some distance away, a solitary autumn tree stood, its yellow leaves drifting like feathers with each gust of wind.
Rocks were scattered around the landscape—some large, others small—decorate by flowers of varied shapes and sizes next to them, all exuding an intense, refreshing fragrance.
Further inspection revealed brown patches of mud and soil, lending the hilltop the look of a patchwork quilt.
Edith closed his eyes and tilted his neck skyward. Relaxing fully, he inhaled deeply, feeling the cool breeze graze his bare arms beneath the sleeveless tunic.
"I can feel the blood rushing to my arms. Gee! I'm so excited."
With that, he widened his stance—left foot forward, right angled back. He bent his knees, lowered his center, and raised his arms to chest height, clenching his fists with a snap—left before right.
Drawing in a deep breath, he twisted his waist. His left foot bearing his entire weight, he pushed forward with his right, unleashing a sharp punch from his right in the same moment.
His senses sharpened, mind calmed, breathing steadied.
This was why he could feel the wind roll over his entire arm.
The jolt in his bones from the impact, and the arch his back had curled into were not missed by him either.
Easing his posture, he murmured to himself:
"That felt really good. I'm more or less about to reach Stage 2. All I'm lacking is in strength and endurance."
Like most kids his age, he was only a Stage 1 fighter, achieved through years of study and training.
"I think I'll be able to reach Stage 2 in a week or so! The village competition came at the perfect time. I'll definitely breakthrough during my matchs!"
"Let me try to figure out my kicks. I hope they've become better as well."
With that, Edith took half a step forward with his left foot, raising onto his toes, and twisted his heel outward in one fluid motion.
He extended his left arm, bent his body leftward, and lifted his right leg for a whiplash kick. But as he pivoted his left toe for swing, he lost balance and tumbled onto his back.
"..."
"Hahahahaha!"
"That was so funny!! Hahahaha! Edith, you sure you want to fight in the competition today? Look at your sorry ass lying flat on the ground!"
He mocked himself in self-deprecation.
"Hahahaha."
He couldn't stifle the hysterical laughter. Growing up and playing with his little sister Ren had ingrained in him the habit of poking fun at himself.
Rising to his feet, he began descending the hill, still smiling and giggling at his clumsiness.
The path down bloomed with grass and fragrant flowers of every variety. The green in the dimly lit light did not miss his eyes, nor did the fragrance permeating the air escape his breath.
His recent "spar" and buoyant mood sharpened his gaze, making him notice them anew. He knelt by a particular flower to pluck it—for his sister Irene, whom everyone affectionately called Ren. Edith loved playing with her, making her laughter, and cared for her really deeply.
Flower in hand, he stood and continued downward. At the hill's base, he paused by the village lake, the Vapour Lake. Glancing back at the 200-meter-tall hill—known as Old Pal, the village's main attraction and battleground—he smiled.
"Look, Old Pal, I embarrassed myself so early in the morning. Not a word to anyone, okay? And yeah, be gentle on me today."
He paused for a moment, then continued.
"So what if I embarassed myself? I'm just starting, no? I've managed to reach Stage 1. I'll soon reach Stage 2 and even 3. Can anybody stop me?"
"Even if I don't leave the village this time, Ren will one day grow up. I'll have to leave then. I'll make sure to make my name go down in history."
He paused and clarity returned to his mind, forgetting his monologue from moments before.
Whistling, he turned to circle the lake toward a nearby spring. He set the flower on a rock, knelt to drink the cool water, and splashed his face, banishing any lingering drowsiness from his early rise.
Thirst quenched, he retrieved the flower and headed home. Along the way, a nagging sense of forgetting something tugged at him.
Unable to pinpoint it, he pushed it aside and strolled leisurely. He passed villagers emerging from their simple mud-walled homes with roofs made of hay, embodying their unassuming lives.
Men hurried out, women carried chopped wood inside, and groggy children darted about, fresh from sleep. Yet anticipation gleamed in every eye.
Edith recognized it instantly—the thrill of the day's competition, a festival-like event held every few years.
He greeted those he met with a warm smile, receiving well-wishes in return.
As he walked, a subtle warmth touched his neck. A faint shadow stretched ahead, prompting him to glance back at Old Pal. A golden hue glowed from behind the hill—the sunrise he'd risen early to witness.
The sight clicked in his mind, sparking laughter.
"Oh! I knew I was forgetting something! It was the sunrise! The sunrise!!"
"Man, I really forgot what I had come to see, right? How funny!"
"Rem would laugh her head off! Hahaha"