The battle went on for hours.


    Now, I’m heading back to the house in the middle of the night.


    The Calamity Bringer was strong, even though our stats were nearly the same.


    Its attacks were sharp and unforgiving. Every swing of the staff pushed me back. I always knew that mages are always tough, but this one was different kind, it was cursed.


    They were controlled by dark magic. I don’t even have know who did this, but it was powerful.


    Now I''m walking down the mountain, like some thief in the night, still thinking about the fight.


    The rain''s finally stopped.


    The sky’s clear, but the land below still looks messed up from the storm, the one that almost wrecked everything.


    I already killed the one who started this but instead of feeling good. A bitter taste in my mouth still in.


    I can’t bring it back.


    But we can move forward.


    After the fight though I manage to be rewarded by the system again.


    While ago...


    [You have completed the Quest!]


    [Rewards]


    - Plus 10 to all stats


    - Anti magic cloak [Effective for lower magic spells]


    - Oblivion''s Gift


    [CONGRATULATIONS FOR COMPLETING THE QUEST]


    [YOU HAVE UNLOCKED THE ROLE SELECTION]


    "Woah! I''ve unlocked something again, this is sweet!"


    I got myself an anti-magic cloak and... something called Oblivion’s Gift? I’ve never heard of it before.


    Turns out, it’s some kind of treasure box with random abilities.


    I couldn’t open it earlier, though. I just had this feeling that I needed to get home fast, so my parents wouldn’t start asking questions.


    Then there’s the whole role selection thing. But it’s pretty obvious what that is. I figured I’d look at it later, once I was back home where it’s safe.


    ~


    I tried to stay as quiet as possible, but every step seemed to betray me.


    Squish… squish… squish…


    When I finally reached home, the house was quiet. Too quiet.


    Perfect! They are all asleep.


    I snuck into my room as quietly as I could, too tired to think about anything else.


    I just flopped onto my bed and fell asleep.


    Goodnight.


    ~~


    When I woke up, my body hurt like hell—I''d never felt pain like this in this body before. It felt like I had spent the night wrestling a bear...


    Hhhh...


    I groaned quietly, rubbing my face.


    I had pushed myself hard last night.


    I stayed in bed for a few minutes. Well, I told myself just a few more minutes, but before I knew it, I had stretched it out into an hour.


    But then… it was all sinking in. I needed to check out my rewards!


    With slow, aching movements, I reached out for the system. The gift one from the night before—Oblivion''s Gift.


    I mentally clicked it open, waiting for a surprise to happen.


    [Opening in 5 seconds]


    5..


    4..


    3..


    2


    1


    It felt like an hour though.


    Bing!


    <hr>


    [Wrath of Fenrir]


    Any weapon wielded channels the primal fury of the great wolf, allowing you to release an increased power of attack. It also grants immunity to magic.


    <hr>


    "Wrath of Fenrir. Sounds cool, and it sounds useful too. I’ll definitely save it for later."


    Excitement bubbled up inside me, but I pushed it aside. There was more to check. I opened the next option:


    <hr>


    Role Selection.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    I scrolled through the list, each role standing out in its own way.


    Warrior, Mage, Knight, Berserker… There were so many choices.


    But I knew, deep down, what I wanted.


    Swordsman.


    I selected it.


    The screen flashed, and It let me see my current status.


    [Attributes & Status New Look]


    Name: Alistair Quinlan


    Level: 9


    Age: 13


    Role: Swordsman [Beginner]


    Strength (STR): 28


    Agility (AGI): 33


    Stamina (STA): 30


    Intelligence (INT): 28


    Aura (AURA): 14


    Perception (PER): 26


    Endurance (END): 25


    The increase was overwhelming.


    It boosted my stats a lot. I wonder, though—if I face stronger opponents, will I be able to level up even more?


    The system appeared more, and a new option appeared:


    The Chamber. It was a display of Abilities.


    <hr>


    Abilities:


    - Wrath of Fenrir: Any weapon wielded channels the primal fury of the great wolf, allowing you to release an increased power of attack. It also grants immunity to magic.


    - [Earn more Oblivion''s Gifts to acquire more abilities.]


    <hr>


    I couldn’t help but grin.


    More abilities? More power? Yes, please.


    The excitement is great that i didn’t notice my mother calling me downstairs.


    I barely heard her calling me.


    "Ali, I know you''re awake—stop pretending. I can hear you moving around up there. Get down here and have breakfast before I come up and drag you out myself!"


    I dragged myself out of bed, feeling every ache in my muscles, but forced myself to get downstairs.


    The smell of warm bread and stew filled the house, it comforts me.


    We sat at the dinner table.


    My parents, my siblings—all of us, still recovering from the storm.


    "Great gods, I ask for your blessing upon this meal. May it nourish our bodies as your light nourishes our souls. Protect us from the dangers that lurk in the shadows, and guide us to wisdom and strength. I thank you for the bounty before us, for the love we share, and for the strength to face another day."


    I thought it''ll be a day full of sadness but my family looked happy, hopeful even.


    Dad broke the silence, his voice steady and calm. "I know this hurts. We put in so much effort... But there''s nothing we can do about it now. All we can do is move forward, work harder, and be better prepared for next season, is that right Sylra?."


    My little sister nodded playfully.


    I smiled back, grateful for the simplicity of the moment. They were clueless about last night. They didn’t need to know.


    I hadn’t even shared the fight with them—not yet. Maybe never.


    But then—Mother shouted from the other room, her voice shrill.


    “Where’s the knife?!”


    I froze. My heart skipped a beat.


    “Oh, shit,” I whispered under my breath.


    ~~


    Days passed, and life slowly returned to normal. I worked alongside my parents to rebuild the farm, pushing through the aftermath of the storm, and focusing on what we could salvage.


    Elias, my friend, helped too, though I never told him the full story. Some things were better left unsaid. There were details my family didn’t need to know, things I didn’t want to burden them with.


    Life moved at a slow pace, the way it only could in a small town. Mornings were spent working on the farm, the afternoons quiet and uneventful. In the evenings, I practiced with the sword my father had made for me.


    My parents supported me, even letting me venture into the forest now and then.


    There were no real dangers here, just that rare goblin that I encountered, which was more of an oddity than a real threat.


    It had always been peaceful in our village—too peaceful, at times. No neighbors, no pressing dangers, just the occasional merchant passing through and the dense woods to the east.


    But there were downsides to such a peaceful place.


    I didn’t have enough fighting experience. There were no more goblins to fight, no monsters to defeat.


    No opportunities to earn more stats or grow stronger. I was still at Level 9, and it was frustrating.


    I knew there was more out there. More to learn, more to conquer.


    I couldn’t stay here forever. I knew that since I tol my parents that I wanted to become an adventurer.


    At fifteen though, I’d leave.


    I had to.


    I knew I had to leave the safety of the farm, step into the world beyond, if I was ever going to find the strength I needed. I needed the experience, the challenges, to grow into the warrior I dreamed of becoming.


    It wasn’t easy, but staying here, in my comfort zone, wouldn’t get me anywhere.


    At sixteen, I would take the Trial of the Arcane Flame.


    The Adventurer’s examination. If I passed, it would change everything. It will determine my ranking and I''m going to be accepted as an adventurer.


    So, I couldn’t stay here forever. I knew it.


    ~


    Two years later.


    Alistair stood at the edge of the farm, a small pack over his shoulder. His parents stood with him, their expressions a mix of pride and sadness. It had been two years since the storm—two years of training and preparing.


    Now, at fifteen, it was time to go.


    Elias was supposed to come, but life had other plans. His mother’s condition had worsened, and he couldn’t leave her.


    “I’ll catch up with you someday, you brat,” Elias had said, forcing a grin.


    Now, Alistair was heading out with a merchant caravan led by Garrick, an old friend of his father. The burly merchant had agreed to take him to one of the kingdoms in the west, where his journey would truly begin.


    “Don’t worry, Jorin,” Garrick said, clapping Alistair’s father on the shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on the boy.”


    Jorin nodded, his usual stoic demeanor softening. “I trust you, Garrick. Alistair, take care of yourself.”


    “I will,” Alistair said, his voice firm. He embraced his parents one last time, then climbed into the carriage.


    Inside the carriage, Garrick settled into the seat across from Alistair, his broad shoulders almost touching both walls. He gave a wide, toothy grin.


    “So,” Garrick said, leaning back. “You’re Jorin’s boy, huh? Can’t deny the resemblance.”


    Alistair nodded, managing a small smile.


    “Garrick’s the name, though you probably already knew that,” the merchant said, extending a hand.


    Alistair took it, giving a firm shake. “Alistair. But I guess you knew that too.”


    Garrick let out a hearty laugh. “Sharp one, eh? Your old man said you’ve got a good head and a strong arm hahaha.”


    “Did he?” I felt a warmth in my chest at the praise.


    “Aye,” Garrick said. “But don’t let it go to your head. We’ve got a long road ahead, and I could use some good company.”


    Before I could reply, Garrick leaned back and started singing. His voice was deep and rich, filling the small space with a surprising warmth.


    “Oh, the trees sway and the rivers run,


    The mountains stand tall in the sun.


    The wind it whispers, the birds they sing,


    Nature’s a song, a wondrous thing!”


    The lyrics were ridiculous, talking about squirrels stealing acorns and rivers gossiping about the rain. But his voice was so good, I couldn’t help but laugh.


    “Where’d you learn that?” I asked, grinning.


    “Made it up on the spot,” Garrick said, winking. “Travel long enough, and you find ways to keep yourself entertained.”


    I laughed again, feeling a bit of the tension from leaving home slip away. The road was long, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with Garrick around.


    After his singing, Garrick leaned forward, his face suddenly serious. “Did I ever tell you about the time I faced down a pack of wolves with nothing but a stick and a loaf of bread?”


    I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “No, but I’m guessing you’re about to.”


    He nodded solemnly. “It was a cold night, deep in the heart of the Forest of Echoes. I was younger then, still green to the ways of the wild. The wolves came out of nowhere, eyes glowing in the dark.”


    He paused, his expression grave. I leaned in, hooked. “What did you do?”


    “I broke the stick in two,” he said, voice low, “and threw the bread to distract them. Then I ran like hell.”


    I blinked. “That’s it?”


    Garrick broke into a wide grin. “Of course not, lad! The wolves didn’t care about the bread—they wanted me! But I led them to a stream, where I tripped and fell face-first into the water. Turns out, wolves don’t like the smell of wet Garrick. They ran off, tails between their legs.”


    I laughed, shaking my head. “You had me there. Thought you were telling some grand survival tale.”


    “It is a survival tale!” Garrick said, chuckling. “the lesson I''ve learn that day is you have to always carry a stick and a loaf of bread hahaha."


    ---


    The journey stretched on, but Garrick made it bearable. Between his stories, his terrible but entertaining jokes, and the games he taught me—like "Rock Toss," which involved guessing how far a rock would land after he hurled it out of the carriage—I barely noticed the hours passing.


    As we rode, I couldn’t help but reflect.


    The Kingdom of Cindralis was our destination, one of the great powers of the West. I’d heard of its sprawling cities, towering spires, and bustling markets. A land of opportunity—and danger.


    The system had confirmed it long ago: I’d been reborn in the same world, just on the opposite side. As Elian, I’d roamed the East, a place of dense forests and winding rivers.


    But even then, I’d never explored all of it. Now, as Alistair, I had a chance to see the West.


    This world was divided, with the borderline cutting it cleanly in two.


    West and East.


    Back then, I hadn’t cared much. Now, I wondered how different the West from the East I once knew.


    “Lost in thought, lad?” Garrick asked, breaking my reverie.


    “A little,” I admitted. “Just thinking about how different things might be.”


    “Different, sure,” Garrick said, “but one thing stays the same no matter where you go.”


    “What’s that?”


    He grinned. “People. You’ll find good ones and bad ones, no matter the side. Just keep your wits about you, and you’ll do fine.”


    I nodded, his words sinking in. The road ahead was uncertain, but I was just getting started.