One Year Later…
Today was a special day. It wasn't only because it was my fifth birthday in this world, but also because it marked the first major milestone of childhood.
At around this age, children in this world are deemed ready to begin formal education or training. In my case, that meant learning how to wield a sword.
Standing in front of me, my father, Rowin, handed me a small, thick metal sword.
When I asked where he had gotten it, he explained that he had bought it from a merchant who came to the village a couple of years ago. He had been using it while hunting with the village's hunting party, but now he was giving it to me.
"Father, won't you not have a weapon if you give me this?" I asked, holding the blade with both hands.
He shook his head. "No need to worry. I have another blade I can use, so you can have this one."
The sword was heavy for its size. It was a single-edged, curved falchion, with the edge side significantly wider than the back.
"You'll have to clean the blade periodically so it doesn't dull. But in all the time I've used it, it hasn't shown any signs of rusting, so it should last you a long time," my father told me.
"Thank you, Father." I hugged him, expressing my gratitude for the gift.
Just then, another voice called out from beside us. "It's my turn now."
I turned to see my mother, Rokari, standing a few feet away with something hidden behind her back.
"Here you are."
She revealed what she had been hiding.
It was a necklace—a distinctive, diamond-shaped purple stone with sharp, clean lines and multiple facets. The stone was encased in a simple metal frame, looped at the top with a dark leather cord.
"Whenever someone in the village reaches five years old, they are bestowed with a necklace of the tribe and take the last name of Migurdia," she explained, smiling warmly at me. "Congratulations, my son."
She stepped forward and gently told me to turn around before placing the necklace around my neck.
"From today onward, you are now Draven Migurdia."
Both of them smiled happily as they wrapped me in a tight group hug.
Shortly after, my parents headed toward the kitchen and brought out one of my favorite meals: a great land tortoise steak.
"Enjoy," they both said as I began digging into my food.
Usually, we eat meat from Pax coyotes. They are canine monsters about two meters in length that tend to appear in large numbers. A single coyote forms its own group by reproducing once every few months through division. Any given group steadily grows over time, with all the new coyotes under the complete control of their leader.
If that leader falls in battle, another coyote instantly assumes its position. Their strength lies in their sheer numbers, but their perfect coordination and discipline make them genuinely dangerous.
At least, that's how my parents described them.
In contrast, the great land tortoise is a massive creature commonly found on the plains of the Demon Continent. They are usually around eight meters in length, though the largest can exceed twenty meters. Their meat is a staple food source, and the Migurd tribe uses their shells as the roofs of their houses.
Over time, the tribe has learned that the key to making both tortoise and Pax coyote meat taste good is to cook it slowly, much like brisket.
I've eaten this kind of food for so long that it's starting to taste like chicken and beef to me.
…
Minutes passed in silence as we all focused on our meal. Eventually, once everyone had finished eating, I turned to look at my parents.
They both wore uncertain expressions, as if something was weighing on their minds.
I decided to break the silence. "Is something the matter, Father? Mother?" I asked.
They didn't respond right away.
After a few seconds, my mother finally spoke.
"Draven… listen. Your father and I have something very important to tell you." She paused. "It's about where you come from."
"Where I come from?" I asked, confused.
Did they actually know?
"You are…" Her voice faltered as her throat tightened. "You aren't actually our biological son."
Oh… so that's what they meant.
My mother continued, "You were found while members of the village were out doing monster control. They discovered you near an abandoned village and brought you back here. The chief asked if any family would be willing to take you in… and we volunteered."
I stayed quiet, letting her finish speaking.
"So… you're not my actual parents," I said.
My mother's eyes immediately began to fill with tears.
From the side, my father added gently, "No… we're not."
They both waited for my response.
"Does that mean you don't love me?" I asked.
Both of them quickly shook their heads.
I looked at them, confused, like a child who didn't understand the problem. "If my real parents didn't want me and you did… doesn't that make you my real parents?"
Tears streamed down their faces as they pulled me into another tight embrace.
"Yes… yes, it does."
We stayed like that for some time, basking in each other's presence before finally separating.
…
Later that evening, my parents shared another story.
It turned out they weren't new to parenting—they had a daughter named Roxy Migurdia.
They told me about how a magician once visited and taught her beginner water magic. However, unlike the rest of the tribe, she wasn't able to use telepathy.
When I asked why I could use telepathy, they said it was probably because I had some Migurd blood in me.
They went on to explain how Roxy had felt isolated because of her inability to communicate telepathically. One day, she disappeared, leaving behind a note telling them not to look for her. She had decided to become an adventurer.
They believed she would be around thirty years old now, having left at the young age of fourteen.
From there, the conversation continued. They told me more about their lives—their ages, their experiences.
When they mentioned that they were around one hundred years old, I was too stunned to speak.
Before I knew it, night had already fallen.
…
Later, lying in my small room on my ground bed, I stared up at the ceiling, reflecting on everything they had told me.
An adventurer, huh… so they really do exist in this world.
As Draven slowly closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, something stirred within him.
The dark power dwelling inside each of his seven hearts—the same presence he had felt years ago but dismissed—suddenly began to expand.
[To Be Continued…]