Requiem of the Abyss & The Dawn's Call

6 – The Journey Begins

The village square was buzzing with conversation.

"Did you hear about the attack?"

Elias barely paid attention as he wiped sweat from his forehead. His wooden training sword rested against the ground, his morning exercises completed.

"Another heretic village was wiped out," Old Man Garett muttered, pointing at a parchment nailed to the bulletin board. His face, usually calm, was lined with unease.

Some villagers murmured in agreement. Others shook their heads and walked away.

"Monsters, all of them," someone spat.

Elias listened but didn't react. The Holy Dominion's affairs didn't matter to him. His focus was on his own path—one that would soon take him far from this village.

He turned away from the crowd, heading toward the training grounds where he saw a familiar figure waving at him.

"Elias! You coming?"

Alec, his childhood friend, stood by the pond, holding two wooden boats. Their usual game.

Elias smirked. Training was over. Now came the fun part.

---

The scent of iron and burning coals filled the air as Elias entered his home. His father, Darius Vael, stood over the forge, his muscular arms covered in soot as he hammered at a glowing blade.

"Done training?" Darius asked without looking up.

"Yeah," Elias replied, stepping closer to watch the metal take shape.

"Good. You'll need to be sharper than that wooden stick if you're serious about leaving."

Elias grinned. His father had always been blunt, but there was pride in his voice.

From the kitchen, his mother, Seria Vael, set a plate of food down on the table.

"Eat first," she said, her piercing gaze locking onto him.

Seria wasn't just his mother—she was once one of the most feared mercenaries in the region. Though retired, her presence alone could make men hesitate.

"Are you going to nag me about the capital too?" Elias teased, sitting down.

Seria crossed her arms. "No. You've made up your mind."

"Then why do you look like you want to break my legs?"

Darius chuckled from the forge.

"Not helping."

Seria sighed, sitting across from him. "You're strong, Elias. But you're fourteen. The capital isn't like this village. You'll be on your own."

"Plenty of kids my age join guilds or knight orders."

"And most of them die," Seria shot back.

Darius finally set his hammer down and walked over. He placed a heavy hand on Elias' shoulder.

"Your mother worries. But she knows better than anyone that you have to make your own way."

Seria exhaled. "You want to go? Fine. But remember one thing—"

Elias nodded. "Come back."

Her lips twitched into a rare smile.

"That's right."

---

The next morning, Elias stood at the village gates. His steel sword hung at his waist, a pack slung over his shoulder.

His father handed him a small, wrapped bundle.

"Something to remember us by."

Elias unwrapped it—a finely crafted dagger, polished to perfection.

"You'll need more than just a sword out there," Darius said.

Seria adjusted the straps on his pack, muttering something about his form being sloppy before stepping back.

"Don't make me come drag you back myself," she warned.

"I'd like to see you try," Elias shot back.

Her sharp smirk told him she very well could.

With one final look at his home, Elias took his first step toward the capital.

His journey had begun.