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The night the baby arrived was the night my life changed.
When I opened the door, expecting to see some wild beast lurking in the shadows, I was instead met with silence—until I looked down.
A wooden casket sat at my doorstep. Inside, wrapped in nothing more than a thin cloth, lay a child. His tiny hands clenched the empty air, his barely opened eyes staring up at me with an innocence that didn't belong in this world.
I stood frozen, my mind racing.
Who would abandon a child here? And why?
There was no letter. No sign of who had left him. Just the baby, placed before me as if fate had made the decision for me.
I should have walked away. Left him for someone else to find. What did I know about raising a child?
But then, I saw something in him.
Something... familiar.
That night, I brought him inside, cradling him in my arms as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. Sitting beside the fire, I watched the flames flicker against his fragile form. And before I even realized I had spoken, a name slipped from my lips.
"Zerro."
The name of the man who had once saved my life. My idol. My hero. And the man who had sacrificed himself for me.
Perhaps... this was fate's way of telling me I still had a purpose.
So, I raised him.
At first, he was just a helpless infant, crawling after me as I carried out my daily routines. I took him with me on small hunts, watching as he giggled at the swift movements of my blade.
When he turned three, I started teaching him the way of the sword. Too small to wield a real blade, I made him practice his footwork, his stances, his awareness. He had yet to awaken any abilities, and I had no way of knowing if he ever would. But strength—raw, unrelenting strength—was something that did not require talent.
By the time he turned nine, Zerro had become more than just a child under my care. He was a warrior in the making. His movements were sharp, his instincts honed, his will unshaken.
And today, he would face his true test.
The clearing was silent, save for the rustling of the trees.
I exhaled slowly, watching as Zerro tightened his grip around the handle of his sword. His gaze was locked onto mine, his body poised for battle.
Good. He knew what was coming.
The moment I took a breath, he moved.
No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just instinct.
He lunged forward, blade slicing toward my side. But before it could reach me—
I was already gone.
He barely managed to react in time, raising his sword just as I appeared beside him. The impact of my strike sent him stumbling back, his arms shaking from the force. But he didn't stop.
He twisted, slashing, feinting, adjusting—throwing everything he had at me. Yet, no matter how fast or precise his attacks were, I deflected them with ease.
Too slow.
Too predictable.
He stepped back, panting, sweat dripping down his brow. His frustration was clear.
"You've improved, Zerro," I said. "But..."
I vanished.
His eyes widened, his instincts screaming at him as he barely managed to raise his sword in time to block my next attack. But the sheer force behind my blade sent him skidding back, his feet digging into the dirt.
He needed a plan.
Then, I saw it—the flicker of an idea in his eyes.
Instead of attacking, he dropped low, sweeping his leg out—a move he must have learned from observing the creatures in the wild.
For the first time, I was caught slightly off guard.
I shifted my stance to avoid it, but that moment of adjustment was all he needed.
He lunged, aiming for my shoulder.
But—
CLANG!
His sword went flying.
And before he could react, my blade was at his throat.
The fight was over.
I lowered my sword.
He wasn't at my level—not yet. But his instincts were sharp, his attacks relentless. More importantly, he fought with heart.
He was ready.
Zerro met my gaze, breathing heavily. "So, Master... did I pass? Am I strong enough to adventure on my own?"
I watched him for a long moment before nodding. "Yes, child. You are strong."
Relief washed over his face. He had worked for this. Trained for this.
"But don't get cocky," I added. "There are countless warriors stronger than you. If you meet one, don't be a fool—run. You are still weak."
He clenched his fists but nodded. "I understand, Master."
I thought back to the promise I made him years ago—that if he became strong enough to protect himself, I would let him leave the mountains and explore the city beyond. He had been five then. Small. Helpless.
But now... now he was ready.
Zerro packed his belongings—food, water, spare clothes, and his sword. I said little as I watched him prepare.
When everything was ready, we stepped outside, the morning sun casting golden light over the trees.
He turned back to face me, the man who had raised him. His master.
"I guess this is it," he said. "I'm going now."
I nodded. "Can't believe you're already nine," I muttered. Then, more firmly, I added, "Be careful, Zerro. Don't be reckless. And remember my words."
He grinned. "I will. Thanks for everything, Master."
And with that, he took his first step forward—toward the unknown.
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