The Master of Uradan

Horim was waking up from this night passed at forging again and again. The loud creak of the door of the forge opened on a young man with a plate on his hands.

It was his disciple, not really a true one and was only so by name, but still, the blacksmith considered this young warrior to be his disciple.

He knew that one day this one would leave, but he didn't care at all, on the contrary he was glad to have met and helped someone who had the same goal as him: vengeance.

It was easy to see that in the eyes of the warrior with his black hair and deep eyes. He always wore a calm face, but it was still easy to read what he was thinking.

As Horim stood up from the ground, which had replaced his bed for a few years, he suddenly felt that something was amiss.

He looked deeply as Rohan put down the plate of the table before heading toward the anvil. Like each morning, he would begin to forge a dagger, and there was now a mountain of these pieces of junk taking up a small part of the room.

Horim stood there, rooted on the ground as he saw this young man who was only fifteen or so years old. He couldn't believe what he was sensing. This young boy was already a rank 4 Beginner Warrior! How was this even possible?

The image of his own son entered his mind. This year, he should also be 15 years old. At least, that would be the case if he was still alive.

He watched Rohan lively heating up the fire as he prepared to throw a piece of metal inside the furnace. He could understand this young man, and this maybe even better than himself. He remembered the day he had asked him why he had killed, after he had seen that was supposed to be impossible.

The answer the young boy had then given to him was completely enough to him. This young man hadn't killed by choice, and what he had lived wasn't supposed to be lived. It wasn't even a question of being a noble or not, he could see that deep inside the being of Rohan, this one was hiding a rage that was slowly consuming him.

The night he had seen this boy come back from the cleanup of the bandits, bleeding from everywhere, he wasn't preoccupied at al. Actually, he was even relieved. Relieved that at least, he had fought for his life, as that would maybe open his own eyes.

All mana users in the world tend to use all their power when they fight, and what resulted from that was actually simple. Hell. A bloodbath. In the end, the more they fought, the more they became a bit crazy, but it was a normal occurrence, and it was to be expected.

But Rohan was still too young, he was still trying to have his fight cleaner, and didn't want to kill someone. But it was nothing more than naivety.

If he continues in this path, then one day he will meet a stronger opponent who will really want to kill, and this day, if he wasn't ready to end a life, then he would die for nothing but his own inhabilities.

That was why Horim was relieved to see him this way, but not when he had seen him come back from the party or whatever it was. There was another light in the eyes of this young man that night. It was always here since the beginning, but for an unknown reason, it had bursted that day.

Horim didn't really know about the story of his disciple, he didn't know about his past, but he didn't want to. He could feel it, he could sense it. It was the same kind of emotion he was feeling himself. It was the injustice felt, a need for revenge, a need to simply destroy an institution.

It was the truth of this world, and that was that whoever a person was, a noble, a commoner, a powerful man, a weak man, at the end, there was always someone who could destroy his whole life. That was what had happened to Rohan, and that was what had happened to him.

He was born in the Empire of The Saint Goddess. For him, this name was just a joke. He was a commoner, and a poor one at that. His family had disappeared in only a few years, destroyed by a single disease, killing half of the village.

That was from there that he had learned how harsh the world truly was. He had lived in the street, among a lot of other children, and in the end, in the only goal to survive, they had become thieves. Working for bandits who were lurking inside a city, they robbed each day, only to give almost everything to these men. But at least, he could eat a bit everyday.

That was until a day, when a handful of people had appeared in the city.

All wearing the same white armor, giving off an aura of holiness. Their goal was simple, and that was to destroy this group of thugs who were terrorizing the whole region. That was at that time that Horim had also understood another truth. Humans, weren't limited to their human capacities.

With a terrifying might, these couple of armored people had sweap all the bandits, they had murdered them all, without letting only one of them flee. But Horim didn't care, and with an incredible luck that would change all his life, one of these legendary paladins had decided to take him with them.

What followed was a much better life, he worked hard and harder than everyone, all for the sake of power. Then, without even seeing all the time that had flowed, he was already an Intermediate Paladin and a well known blacksmith. By his side, he had a beautiful wife that he loved dearly, and he even had a son.

All his terrible past and the tough life he had lived had disappeared, and he was at time the more happy man of the world. Each morning he woke up with a big smile on his mouth, looking at his wife still sleeping.

But that time was now lost, and he would probably never wake up with a smile on his face.

One day, he had received a mission to hunt some beasts lurking in the outskirts of an important city, an easy mission for him and it was done in only a few days. But it was when he had reached back home that he had encountered hell.

The door opened, slightly ajar. The horrible smell, floating in the air. The wooden furniture, all broken over the house. And her.

She was lying on their bed, naked, with her opened eyes looking in this direction. Her crimson hair was stretching under her head, trying to flee this carnage. She was lying on her own blood, forming a coagulating pond in the whole room.

Her lifeless face was still showing the small hope she had to see her husband debark here to save her. But sadly, help had come too late.

Horim had fallen on his knees at this sight, as tears rolled down and fell on the bloody floor. He felt as if countless daggers were plunging inside his chest, inside his heart. All the happiness he had felt coming back home was destroying him, and a darkness without a name had enveloped his whole body.

But it was at that moment that he was reminded of something. He had only eyes for his deceased wife, and he had forgotten the most important information.

In the whole house, there wasn't a single trace of his son.

Horim shook his head, chasing away all these memories. In front of him, Rohan was finishing to prepare his dagger, and he was even doing himself the handle of the weapon.

But the master blacksmith didn't care about that. He thought back to the day when he had encountered Rohan, when he had seen something that was supposed to be an impossible feat. He thought back at the mountain overlooking the whole south in the Barren Lands. And he looked at this young man in front of him, with a face as calm as ever.

A surnatereal calm as Horim had never seen before.

But in this calmness, there was still a raging tempest bursting. A sea of emotions that could be seen deep in his eyes.

He recognized them easily, because they were the same ones he had on his own eyes. A sadness directed towards his family, an anger towards himself, a hatred towards the whole world, and above all, a crave for power.

He was only a young boy of fifteen years old, and here he was, immersed in the fact that they were so alike.

Rohan wanted power. Then he will give this boy a way to have more power.

Maybe it was ridiculous. Maybe it was a story, and maybe he will find absolutely nothing at the end. But in any case, the only person that could try to go to this place was this young boy, always with his purple ribbon tying up his hair.

That was why as Rohan was throwing nonchalantly the dagger on the ground, he interpelled him.

"Rohan." This one turned around to look at his master, today, he had acted strangely. "Follow me."

He headed toward the stairs and went without waiting for the young warrior to follow him.. Today, he would speak about the Barren Lands, and the fact that Rohan was probably the only one of the world to be able to enter the Kolmos Mountain.