Zego stared at the stretch of sand beside Zeos's lifeless body. There, a message was written in a crude scrawl, as if etched with trembling fingers in the final moments of life. "Zego, do not mourn for me. This is my last request: become stronger. It seems my promise to your mother ends here. The rest, I entrust to you. Keep walking with your convictions. I love you very much, as a father would."
Zego read each word, and each word was like a sharp stab into his already shattered heart. Tears flooded his eyes, flowing ceaselessly. He fell to his knees, hugging his uncle's stiff body tightly. "I love you too, Father," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I've wanted to call you 'father' for so long, but I was too shy. Even until your last breath, I couldn't say anything. There were so many things I wanted to ask, so many things I wanted to try with you. You protected me and raised me this far, and I am so grateful. I've always seen you as my own father. Forgive me for always being a burden. Forgive me for always being difficult. I don't know what to do now."
Grief and sorrow filled Zego's entire being. His mind was truly shattered beyond repair. He cried for a very long time, the deep pain draining all his energy. After a while, Zego wiped his tears with the back of his hand. Suddenly, his gaze changed drastically—from eyes filled with hurt, they now radiated sharpness, seriousness, determination, and a burning spirit. He stood up, looking at the ocean and the forest that stretched out before him.
"I... will become stronger," Zego said with a firm voice, burying his sadness deep in his chest.
With trembling hands, Zego buried Master Gran and Grandma Anna next to Uncle Zeos. He marked their graves with large stones, a simple monument for people he had only known for a short time, but who had left a profound mark on his life.
When he was finished, he saw a very bright light in the middle of the debris. It was his uncle's spear, which had somehow remained intact. The spear stood vigil over the graves, weeping frost onto the sand. Zego approached the spear. I've never seen this spear up close, Zego thought. The spear looked like a sculpture of ice, but its surface radiated a dense, pure energy. A spear that had carried his uncle through hundreds, even thousands, of battles, yet its sharpness was still perfect. Zego tried to grab it. When his fingers brushed its haft, frost seared his palm like Zeos' final breath. It wasn't a rejection, but a warning: "You carry my rage now... but you're not ready to wield it." With a heavy heart, Zego bid farewell to the spear and turned away. He walked straight ahead, into the dark forest, without looking back.
Several days later, when Zego was deep in the forest, the howls of wolves echoed in the distance. Zego immediately looked for food he could eat. He searched the forest, only finding a few berries. Zego wanted to make a bonfire to keep warm, but he remembered his uncle's words. "Don't make a bonfire at night. It will only reveal your location." Because of those words, Zego's intention faded. He felt very cold. Suddenly, a tear fell. "Uncle...," he whispered, missing the figure who had always protected him.
Zego climbed a tall tree, seeking protection from wild animal attacks. In the deep, dark forest, alone on his journey, he felt very lonely. That night, he fell asleep with an empty stomach and a bone-chilling cold.
The penetrating light of dawn through the trees woke Zego. He woke up and immediately continued his journey while looking for food. He stopped to rest, ate the fruits he had found, and set some aside for the next day. After that, Zego resumed his journey, walking straight ahead without a clear direction, only hoping there was a village in front of him.
When night fell, he wanted to rest. But suddenly, a group of ferocious wolves approached him, growling and threatening. Zego seemed panicked, but he quickly remembered Master Gran's teachings. Zego clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and exhaled. The action made him calmer.
"Come on," Zego said in a very calm tone, challenging the wolves.
The first wolf advanced, trying to pounce on Zego. As the wolf lunged, Zego's vision sharpened—he saw the wolf's muscles glow with pulsing constellations. Zego spun his body nimbly to avoid the attack, and he succeeded. He immediately landed a punch on a tiny star-point behind the alpha's ear. The wolf instantly collapsed, spasming. The other wolves immediately became wary. As a result of Zego's attack, the first wolf died instantly. Zego didn't hesitate, immediately attacking the rest of the wolves with the new punching techniques he had just learned.
"Argh... just fighting them alone makes it difficult for me," Zego said, panting from exhaustion, his body bruised here and there. He examined the wolves' carcasses. "It seems this can last for about a month," he muttered, referring to the wolf meat. He then fell into a deep sleep from exhaustion.
The next day, he woke up from his sleep. Zego immediately prepared a bonfire, roasting the wolf meat. "There's so much leftover meat," he thought. "I want to bring some with me as provisions." He thought of wrapping the meat in large leaves and using tree fibers as a rope. He spent almost the entire day making the provisions. Finally, he had a supply that could last him for 7 days. Night was already falling. He decided to rest and start his journey the next day. His eyes looked up at the sky full of shining stars. The stars seemed to rearrange themselves—forming the same constellation he had seen in the sea monster's eye. A silent whisper seemed to say: "Run, little star. They'll smell your light." Zego ignored it. It's so beautiful, he thought. "Goodnight," he whispered to the stars, and he fell into a deep sleep.
In the pre-dawn darkness of the forest, Zego woke up quickly. He ran with speed, carrying his provisions on his back. "Just think of this as training, come on, you can do it!" Zego said to himself.
Zego spent his days like this. Morning runs, searching for food, and surviving. After the seventh day, he saw a plume of smoke in the distance. He immediately rushed there, his curiosity exploding. He ran with great joy. "What's that up ahead?" Zego said, his voice full of excitement.
When he arrived, he was stunned. He saw a fairly large village, surrounded by a high wooden fence. His eyes sparkled, filled with emotion. "It seems this is my luck," he muttered. He immediately went to the village.
"Ah, you stop right there!" A loud voice stopped him.
"Huh? Who's that?" Zego said, surprised.
"We are the guards of this village. State your purpose and how you got here," the guard said, a sturdy man in simple armor.
Zego tried to think quickly. "Uh... I saw smoke in the distance so I came to visit for a bit. I'm from... (if I say I'm from the beach, it might not be good)... oh yeah, I'm from another village in the south!" Zego answered carefully.
"Oh, so you're from another village? It seems you've had a long journey. Come on in, you can rest here," the guard said kindly.
"Ah, thank you, Uncle!" Zego replied.
"Hahahaha, no problem! Be careful not to cause any trouble, yaaaaa!" the guard said cheerfully.
"Yesssss, don't worry!" Zego replied.
As Zego entered the village, he was blocked by a thin old man who was staggering drunk, his breath reeking of rotgut wine. A scar split his lip like a cracked star. He spat at Zego's feet. "Tch! Eyes like a god... but you stink of GRAN'S failure!" he said, his voice hoarse and contemptuous. Zego froze. How did this stranger know everything?