A man must possess both intellect and character for happiness… right? We value our own safety over anything. The more knowledge we gain, the safer we become… but at the same time, the weaker we grow.
But what's the point of knowledge if we fear everything? Fear of being found. Fear of being hurt. Fear of death.
Dad once told me each race is fair only in death. He may not remember saying it, but it left me wondering—what fairness really means for us humans?
Cowering in fear to live.
Or
Risk death over courage.
I looked at Dad and Hedric, while Celia pressed close behind me, shivering against the cold and clutching my coat.
My hands shake, but my spine straightens. I will be courageous—even if it means standing against my own father.
Dad's eyes burn into me, dark with anger, the way his shadow seems to swallow the trees around him.
Hedric stays quiet, watching, lips pressed thin.
Finally, Dad exhales sharply, the sound cutting the silence. "Your… disobedience will cost you." His jaw tightens. Then, almost imperceptibly, he lets a long sigh escape.
Hedric murmurs, almost teasing, "It's not like you get angry, Kaelric."
Dad doesn't answer immediately. His gaze shifts to Celia, trembling behind me, and I feel the weight of his judgment. Then he turns back to me, voice low, calm, and deadly cold.
"I know what you're thinking. What you feel. You think courage alone is enough to shield her. But listen carefully, Kaiser…"
"If you want my tribe, my people, to take in that half-elf—if you want them to accept her, then you must convince me. Convince me, with your mind, your heart… and nothing else. No excuses. No sentimentality. I've seen what hope does to the weak…"
"I won't let it destroy us."
The coldness in his voice made me shiver, and I feel it carve into my resolve. But I won't flinch. I can't.
I swallow, steadying my body. I glance at Celia, I see the fear in her wide eyes, and the small quiver of trust she's placing in me.
That is all I need.
I take a long, deliberate breath.
"If that's what you want, Father," I say, voice steady, "Then, I'll convince you and everyone. And I'll protect her… no matter what."
C'mon, Kaiser… think. How do I convince him?
I look into Dad's eyes. His will is iron—unyielding.
He is the leader for a reason. No one has ever bested him in a proper debate, not even Hedric. And here I am, alone, trying to build something from nothing—with nothing but courage.
Something from nothing…
That could work.
"Dad," I begin, steadying my voice. "May I ask… why is taking Celia with us a threat? Why is it meaningless?"
"Simply put," he replies, cold and unwavering, "we cannot trust someone we meet in the woods. Pity and sympathy are luxuries we humans cannot afford."
"Is that so?" I press. "Then answer me this—what do you find meaning in?"
He frowns slightly, caught off guard. "Meaning?"
"You said pity and sympathy are indulgences. If that's true… then what gives meaning to your actions?"
"To protect my people from death. To safeguard them above all else. That is my moral purpose—to shield those who cannot protect themselves," he says firmly.
Got him…
"You are self-righteous for your own people," I say, letting the words land, "yet here you stand, refusing to help an innocent child. Is that what your ethics demand, Dad?"
He falls silent.
"In essence," I continue, voice rising slightly, "you value your own kind over the very principles you claim to uphold. That is self-righteousness. You are betraying your own beliefs."
Another pause. His jaw tightens, then he speaks, firmer now. "I have already stated the truth, Kaiser. I only value the lives of my own kind—not some half-elf who could be leading the elves to our doorstep."
That's true… How do I prove Celia is harmless? Targeting morality alone won't shift him. I need something different.
I feel a small tug at my hand. Celia's voice trembles, barely above a whisper.
"I-I'm n-not… l-leadin' them…" she stutters, her words breaking between hiccupping breaths. "I… I just… w-want to g-go b-back to M-mommy… c-c-can you t-take me… t-to her?"
Her small hands clutch mine tighter, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "P-please… I… I d-don't w-want to b-bother you…"
Her voice shatters something inside me. Courage is no longer abstract—I feel it, raw and urgent. I won't let her face this alone.
Wait… I think I know a way.
I lean down and whisper to Celia, careful not to let Dad hear. "Celia… can you tell me what it was like there? How do the elves… think?"
She wipes at her tears, sniffles, and hesitates. "U-umm… we… We take care of ourselves. Protect ourselves by learning magic… we want peace… to ourselves. We're… kind to each other but… why… why weren't they kind to me?"
I feel a spark. Something's clicking.
"What did they tell you about humans?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
"They… they said humans are… i-inferior creatures. Hiding in the wild. N-not… n-not a threat we should worry about… or respect." Her voice stutters, but steadies with each word.
I turn to Dad, glancing at Celia for courage. I offer her a small smile and say, "I'll be kind to you, leave it to me." Then I meet Dad's gaze and speak with deliberate calm.
"You heard her, Dad."
"What of it?" he replies, skeptical.
"From what she said, elves are creatures of peace. They learn magic to protect themselves, not to harm others. They have no reason to hunt us."
"And what makes you so certain of that?"
"Because… how she describes us. Elves consider humans inferior, unworthy of their attention. They wouldn't bother using a harmless little girl as bait to lure us out."
"And you think that's enough to trust her?"
"Because… we're not worth their time," I say firmly, squeezing Celia's hand for strength.
This has to work…
"Even so," Dad counters, his voice hardening, "what if she is lying to convince us to take her in? That's not something we can overlook."
I feel the cold creeping through my coat, see the wind whipping around us, hear it whistle in my ears. My chest tightens as I search for a way to prove her innocence. But logic fails me. Facts won't convince him. Ethics won't bend. I can't argue this the way I always have.
I feel her small body shivering against me, still fearful, still unsure. My heart tightens.
I can't let my doubt stop me. Mother always said mistakes are lessons, and I carry hers with me now.
I will learn from this.
I will not give up.
Not until the sun itself grows cold.
"Hey, Dad… tell me," I begin, keeping my gaze steady, "what do you believe is the truth about humanity? About us?"
He studies me for a long moment, then exhales slowly. "I'll tell you the truth," he says, voice calm but heavy.
"All the important things—where we're born, what parents we have, the culture we grow into, whether we are loved or rejected, whether male or female… our temperament, our intelligence, our folly… everything that shapes the bulk of our happiness and misery—is decided by chance. By coincidences, by casual encounters, by the smallest, most indifferent fortunes."
"That… that is what we call fate," he continues, eyes fixed on some distant point.
"We humans," he says, voice sharpening, "have no gifts. No powers. We are weak for a reason. Our fate is to hide, to survive each day just to see another tomorrow."
I smirk faintly. Hedric notices but says nothing.
I turn to Celia. "Celia… do you know what philosophy is?"
She blinks up at me, hesitation in her voice. "I-is it… the way we think? Or the way we do things?"
"You're close," I say softly, leaning down. "Everyone has a philosophy. It shapes their thoughts, their actions… even their temperament plays a part."
I turn back to Dad, letting my words fall deliberate and measured. "Our actions come from what we believe. Just as a coward judges others as cowardly, you judge the world according to your own philosophy."
His eyes narrow slightly.
"What you just said—that's your philosophy, Father. It governs your actions, your thinking. You want to protect us because you believe fate made us weak. That's why you hesitate to trust an innocent girl like Celia."
He nods slowly. "Yes… that's right."
I smirk faintly, letting the silence hang. "Then you're contradicting yourself."
He frowns. "How so?"
"Because," I continue, voice firm, "just like you, the elves see the world through their own philosophy. They see themselves as the pinnacle of creation. And we? We are insignificant to them. Bugs they do not even bother with. That… is the truth. And that truth—Father—that truth is their philosophy. It doesn't justify disrupting their peace."
I step closer, voice sharper, eyes locked on his. "To hunt us… to use her as a decoy… that's not their way. That's not their philosophy."
He opens his mouth, ready to reply, but I cut him off. "You're wrong."
I see the pause flicker in his eyes. The silence stretches. He is thinking. Hesitating. Doubt flickers across his expression—just enough.
I smile faintly. I've got him.
I'm doing it. I'll convince him.
Hedric steps forward, placing a hand on Dad's broad shoulder. "Your son isn't wrong," he says, calm but firm.
Dad nods once, his face unreadable. "Even so," he mutters, voice low.
Hedric leans back slightly, eyes narrowing at Dad. "Your son is beating you, Kaelric. I agree with him."
Dad blinks in surprise, the rigid mask of authority faltering for the briefest moment.
Then Hedric turns toward me, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Hey, champ… Do you believe in absurdity?"
I tilt my head. "Absurdity? What is that?"
"It's a word for something so wild, so… ridiculous, that most would call it fiction. Isn't that kind of—"
I cut him off, voice sharp. "Misjudged?"
"Exactly," Hedric says with a faint smile. "I've always told your father there could be a future where all races live in harmony, at peace with one another. Helping one another. He just called it absurd and ignored it."
"But with you," he continues, his gaze softening as it lands on me, "looking at you… makes me want to believe in absurdity."
I take a careful step forward, still holding Celia's small hand in mine. The weight of her trust presses against my chest, urging me on.
"I suppose," I say, voice steady, "such absurd reasoning… is humanity's way of thinking."
Dad shakes his head sharply. "Don't give him any ideas, Hedric. He's just a child."
I shake my head, meeting his cold gaze without flinching. "Even so… he isn't wrong, Dad."
His eyes narrow, a cold shadow creeping back across his features.
"The old history," I say, "has never hesitated to make use of the foulest, cruelest means to ensure the advent of the New—in whatever form it asserted itself."
He frowns, the corners of his mouth tightening.
"Those are your words, not mine," I continue. "You said that when you told me about the wars the elves and demons waged in the past… they were absurd, yet they followed their ideals."
"I believe—no… I know—one day humans and all races will live together in harmony. In peace. As equals."
For a heartbeat, the world seems to hold its breath.
Then suddenly, Dad throws back his head and laughs. The sound cuts through the cold air like a whip. "Ahahahah… Peace? Equality? Don't make a mockery of being my son, Kaiser."
I flinch. His voice… it's colder than I've ever heard it before, sharper than any word he's ever spoken to me.
"Kaiser… Do you think humans can wield magic like the elves or demons?" His voice is cold, deliberate. "No. They can't."
"Can they deceive, craft illusions like the Sylaris?" he continues, each word sharp, slicing the air. "No. They cannot."
"Can they dominate the land, bend nature with brute strength like the Beastkin?"
"No," he snaps. "They cannot."
"Will they ever leave a mark in history, like the Dragonics—fighting all races at once, shaping the world with war? Never. They will never be worthy of history. Never enough to be written down."
He leans closer, eyes like steel. "Just as they will never rival the destruction caused by an Archon… never reach the heights of the Dwarfs in technology. Never escape the fate chosen for them."
"Just like how we will never reach the skies."
He straightens, his voice now low, relentless. "It is easy to be logical. But to follow logic to its bitter end? That is almost impossible. Men who die by their own hands… they only follow their emotions to the final conclusion."
"You are not the first, Kaiser. Men throughout five centuries have tried to defy fate. All failed. And the cost… was their lives."
His glare pierces me. "But if you dare… if you try to defy it, then tell me—" His voice rises, ragged with fury.
"WHO. ARE. YOU?"
I tremble, step back. My heart races.
Hedric reaches out. "Kaelric, calm down—"
"Do not interfere," Dad snaps, voice cutting through Hedric like a blade. "This is between him and me."
He leans closer, chest heaving. "Tell me. WHO ARE YOU TO DEFY THIS?"
My throat locks. Words stick. Tears prick my eyes.
"I-I'm…" I stammer, voice cracking.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" he roars again, the world around us vibrating with the force of it.
I shake violently, a few tears spilling free. The weight of his fury is unlike anything I've ever felt. He's never spoken to me this way—not even when I failed, not even when I did something wrong before.
"I-I'm your…" I choked, my voice breaking under the intensity of his gaze.
"MY WHAT?! WHO. ARE. YOU?!" His scream shatters the air, raw, unrelenting, peak fury in its purest form.
He is right… Who am I? I'm nobody… I don't have power or any talents. I'm just a human who has reached their damn limit. I can't even face my own father…
My feet drag backward, another step stolen by fear, until—
Celia's hands clutch mine with both of her own, trembling but refusing to let go.
"Are… are you scared?" Her voice cracks, stuttering, her words fragile.
I freeze, eyes widening.
"Please don't be," she whispers, breath uneven, "I… I can hold you too… if you're scared."
She tries to hold back her tears, but they spill anyway, glistening trails cutting down her cheeks.
"You're crying…" My voice is barely audible.
Her lips quiver as she forces herself to speak. "It's… it's because I'm happy I got to meet you… you're the only one who held my hand after Mommy disappeared… thank you."
The words twist like a knife in me, sharper than anything my father could say.
"You even put your scarf around my neck… so I would feel warm. Thanks for showing me kindness." Her grip tightens desperately, as though I might slip away.
"If you're scared… I'll do the same for you. I promise."
Her tears keep falling, but her smile is there too—fragile, broken, but fighting.
And in that moment, something inside me shifts.
For a moment I didn't know who I was, but now… I do.
I had been nothing but a coward, shivering at the thought of standing against my father. That's who I was—someone too afraid to articulate a response when the person I love screamed at me. Because at the end of the day… I'm still just a kid. A kid who wants to change everything nobody else has.
But having her beside me changes everything.
The truth doesn't mind being questioned. A lie does.
I lift my right hand, slowly, brushing away her tears with my thumb. My smile finally comes back, calm this time—not forced, not desperate.
"Thank you, Celia," I whisper.
I turned slowly to face my father.
"Isn't it strange," I began, my voice calm but heavy, "that we—of all the creatures under heaven—stand alone? No divine gifts. No blessings. No talent written into our blood. Tell me… is that fairness? Or favoritism?"
I let the question hang before adding, "If a creator exists, I do not blame Him. I only wonder."
Both Father and Hedric stared at me, caught off guard.
"After all, you must be odd to stand as number one."
"Utter nonsense—" my father snapped, but I cut across him.
"Until the day humanity learns to write its own story, every tale will only glorify the other races. And in those tales, we are always the lesser."
I stepped closer, eyes fixed on him. "You once said humans could never wield magic like elves or demons… but I refuse to believe that. I will find a way. I will build a future where all of us can wield it. Because our minds—" I tapped my temple "—are the most paradoxical miracle of all. A mind that studies itself, questions itself, and uses itself to understand itself. That is our true gift."
My words pressed into silence. Both men watched me, unsettled.
I broke it deliberately.
"You think we cannot weave illusions like the Sylaris? You're right—we don't need to. Words are greater. Words are deception sharper than any spell. Humanity does not need sorcery to create falsehood—we are falsehood. We are the creatures greed itself adores."
I leaned forward, lowering my tone. "Our words are the reason we survived the edge of extinction. Don't deny it, Father. Especially not you. Was it not your story—the tale of a man who deceived an archon and a higher elf with nothing but speech—to protect his family? That is the only history where humans appear at all: in the art of deception."
Their silence thickened, and I pressed on.
"We are capable of atrocities beyond comprehension, yet also peace more profound than any race alive. No human is ever the same as another. No mind can be replicated. Our potential is limitless."
I let the truth fall between us, unchallenged.
"We will never reach the raw power of the beastkin," I said, meeting my father's gaze without flinching.
"I'll admit it, Father…"
"Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"But tell me—since when has the impossible ever stopped us? Everyone accepts it as the truth..."
"Everyone knew it was impossible—until a fool came along who didn't know better. And that foolish race… is humanity.
"Our true strength lies not in how high we rise, but in how fiercely we lift each other when we fall."
"That… is why we stand at the apex of predators."
I glanced at him, my tone unwavering.
"You, yourself, once felled a beastkin using nothing but forest traps, Father. We don't need to match them in strength—we'll win by any means. Because we are the destroyers of nature… the cold, calculating beings who set the bait, who bend the world itself to trap our enemies."
I slowly reached out, my hand finding Celia's trembling fingers.
"And as for history… I'll leave my mark here today."
Her eyes widened as I clasped her hand in mine. She wasn't crying anymore. Instead, a faint blush spread across her cheeks, fragile and radiant beneath the night sky. I tightened my grip.
"We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking that created them. Celia may not be human… but I swear, I will never let go of her hand. And just like this, humanity will reach for the hands of every race that exists. I'll carve into history a flame that will ignite the future to come."
I lifted my gaze, letting the stars bear witness.
"Because we are the architects of both hope and despair… and I will make certain of this—"
My voice hardened, carrying through the silence.
"—we will have no enemies."
The countless stars shimmered above, as though listening.
They all followed my gaze upward.
I smiled faintly and said, "The night is beautiful tonight, isn't it… Father?"
"The stars shimmered endlessly, each one stretching across the heavens toward a destiny of its own—just as you believe fate binds us to ours."
He looked at me and replied, "That's fate."
I shook my head with a smile. "No. In the vastness of the skies and the stars above… I'll be the one to declare it." My voice grew firmer, sharper, until even the silence trembled.
"We are the ones who gave the universe its name."
Both Hedric and my father stood frozen, robbed of words, as though the weight of my voice had left no room for theirs.
"We tell ourselves stories—legends that defeating an Archon is nothing but fantasy. But…" I drew a breath, steady and unwavering, "I believe that day will come."
My hand tightened around Celia's as I pulled her to my side, no longer allowing her to hide behind me.
"We are human. And humanity carries a bottomless hunger, a will that does not bow to destiny. In the end, only powers beyond the cosmos itself—or we ourselves—could ever hope to erase us."
I smiled again, softer now, but no less certain.
"Each beginning has an end. Each life bows to death. Every imagination springs from reality. The orders we issue arise from the chaos we forge. The time we spend is shaped by the space we inhabit. There is the self—and there are the others we live alongside. Bound by the same truths and lies we whisper to one another. Across the limitless stretches of past and future, we create and endure.
With peace comes war. With consciousness comes instinct. With nature comes technology. With creation comes destruction. With light, darkness.
With love comes hatred.
With evil comes good.
Just as it has always been, Father. With every ending comes a beginning.
I am at the beginning… before the end."
The lantern in his hand slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground, silence swallowing the sound.
I let the quiet linger, then spoke my final words:
"The dwarfs may have reached the skies first. They may soar upon the winds of life as the creatures who first touched those heights…
But I swear to you, Father, humanity will reach even farther.
I will ensure we claim the universe itself. We will reach space.
Because… we were born to inherit the stars."
I met his gaze, letting the weight of my words settle.
"You asked who I am, didn't you?"
"I am Kaiser Revenhart."
"The Hope of Humanity."
Hedric's eyes glimmered with something he hadn't seen in years—perhaps longer.
My father's voice faltered, stuttering in disbelief. "I… um… Kaiser…"
"Please, Father," I urged, my voice steady, "accept Celia. Help me take the first step toward changing everything."
Silence stretched, thick and trembling. His hands shook, mirrored by Hedric's, both caught in the weight of everything I'd just said.
I, too, felt breathless, my mind struggling to keep pace with my own words. Where did all that come from? It had risen unbidden, instinctive, emotionally.
"You are… so… amazing," Celia whispered, clutching my hand tighter. Her cheeks blushed, a soft smile blooming as she gazed at me.
"Okay… Kaiser Revenhart," my father said, his voice firm but layered with awe.
I looked up at him as he spoke my full name, feeling its weight.
"I, Kaelric Revenhart… hold you accountable for this promise."
"To change fate?" I asked.
He nodded.
"I hereby declare my promise… beneath the moonlit sky, under the endless expanse of stars… to unite the world." I said.
He studied me for a long moment, then a faint smile curved his lips. "Let's go home… son."
"Wait… that means…" I asked.
"It's her home as well," he said gently. "You've convinced me."
A wide grin spread across my face. "Thank you so much, Father."
"No need to thank me," he replied, his voice quiet, almost nostalgic. "Hearing you speak… It lit the small fire I lost long ago. The dream Hedric and I once shared… it's alive again."
"Let's not wait," he continued, gesturing for us to follow. "Come. Let's go… Kaiser, Celia."
Celia's voice trembled, stuttering with excitement and disbelief. "Can I… really come with you?"
He nodded, a gentle smile touching his lips. "Yes. You can come with us. After all, Kaiser promised he'd never let go of your hand. I cannot let my son wander alone in the dark, cold forest."
"I… I didn't mean to… um… I…" she flustered, cheeks red.
"It's alright," he said softly. "I didn't take it that way. You're welcome to stay with us, Celia. We may not be your true family, but we'll treat you as one."
"R-really?" she asked, eyes wide, stuttering softly.
"Yes," he promised.
"Then… let's go," I said.
She nodded, a smile and blush lighting her face, and we began walking slowly toward Hedric and Father.
I glanced at her and felt it deep in my chest—I had done it.
I had won.
We all turned to leave, backs facing each other now, walking toward where our families waited.
Hedric patted my head, a small, proud smile on his face. "Proud of you, champ. You're… truly something special."
I felt my cheeks warm at the praise, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Thank you, Uncle Hedric," I murmured.
He lifted the lantern to the sky, eyes following its light. "Maybe we adults just… stopped dreaming. That's why I could never be like you."
"What do you mean?" I asked, curiosity peeking through.
"You'll know one day, champ," he said, patting my head again.
I grinned softly, certain I'd understand when the time came.
I knew I had made the right choice—choosing to stand by her side. If I hadn't taken the first step, no one would have. Humanity would have remained trapped in a world of fear, of hatred, not love for what we are.
Celia's small voice broke the quiet, stuttering with hesitance: "H-h-ey… u-umm… y-you're still… h-holding my hand… K-Kaiser."
"Oh… eh?" I stammered, glancing down to realize I had. My heart thumped. "I-I'm sorry… I d-didn't mean to."
I tried to pull my hand away, but she held it tighter.
"It's… it's okay. I like it… i-it's really warm," she said, cheeks flushed, hiding her face in the scarf.
"It… it is?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes," she whispered.
I smiled. Warmth spread through me as we continued walking, side by side, my father and Hedric speaking quietly to one another ahead of us.
Suddenly, a sharp, unnatural noise tore through the night to my right.
I turned—but too slowly. A purple flame erupted, wild and chaotic, its surface scrawled with deadly runes. It shot toward me faster than my eyes could track.
I froze, terror gripping my chest. My body refused to obey.
Is this… is this where it all ends? The end of me? Of humanity?
This… this is where I die…
"No! You can't die… Kaiser!"
Hedric's voice cut through the chaos as he lunged forward, shielding me. He wrapped his body around mine and Celia, bracing against the attack.
The blow slammed into him with devastating force. He coughed, blood staining the snow as smoke and chaos swirled around us. I could barely see, barely think, but I heard his voice—strained, faltering, yet unwavering.
"You're… our hope…" he gasped.