It's strange, isn't it?
Suffering would never exist if we were all numb to pain.
.
.
.
.
Learn.
Always know more than everyone else.
Learn.
For knowledge is everything.
Without knowledge, you can never defeat those a thousand steps ahead of you from the start.
My father's words on my fourth birthday.
A child on his father's lap, staring into his eyes as he spoke those words.
He told me I would face trials—many of them. I would cry at some point in my life, so much that life would lose all meaning. He told me I would eventually learn the hard way that equality is all a lie.
No one is born equal.
Not even twins.
Even when they are identical, one will always stand above the other.
He told me that in this life, there are only two sides. Many may disagree, but those who have seen life and understood it for what it truly is would never deny this fact.
There is no middle ground.
You are either a winner or a loser.
A winner takes it all, but a loser will only keep losing until there is nothing more to lose.
What made me realize from that tender age that life was cruel were his next words:
"From birth, it's fixed."
Heh.
It broke me in that moment. Hearing that even at that tender age, there was never a chance to fight in the first place. From the start of life, the winners had already been decided. The rest are left to fight against fate until their last days, but deep down they always know... they never won.
He told me I was going to be a loser.
He said he himself was meant to bear such a cursed fate. That I would lose everything I tried so very hard to keep, because I was never meant to win.
He said I would reach a point in my life when I would be tempted to end my own life, as he himself had reached that stage.
But there was a way. A way out.
Knowledge.
It was the only thing that wasn't fixed. You chose to acquire knowledge—it isn't fated that you would. And it only takes a single understanding to change everything.
The moment I understood life, and how destiny worked, how much fate would try to destroy me—only then could I have a chance at winning.
That was the only way.
I took those words to heart. Boy, did I become an introvert because of it. I never left the mansion, always trapped within the confines of that personal library that was my room. A child from the age of four who was already seeking knowledge with obsessive recklessness.
I had heard what my father achieved, how far he had come—from a poor country boy, a commoner, to the lord of House Sylvaris. He came so far, but even till this moment, all I see in his eyes is sadness. He never even tries to hide it from me. Perhaps he wanted me to understand that he never won. He might have stood a chance, grown to such great heights from nothing, but in the end... he never won.
Fear—a deep, raw fear gnawed at me.
I didn't want that. I didn't want to reach such heights yet feel so empty.
I read. Damn, I read.
I read to the point I barely slept at night. Eyebags were a common sight. But it wasn't enough.
I needed more. I needed more knowledge.
I NEEDED TO ESCAPE THIS CAGE!
So I read from morning till noon, till night, till dawn.
Father knew what I was doing, but he never once stopped me. He would only smile and say, "You did well."
I reached the age of six, and he already began taking me to swordmanship classes. It was like he knew I wouldn't become a Wave Controller or even a Mage, so he only focused on beating me senseless day after day.
I felt like a boy being trained for an upcoming war—a war I could never escape.
So I never once complained. In fact, I was grateful. I knew he was only going this far because he didn't want me to end up like him.
At five years old, he already made it clear that I had two choices:
One was to inherit his legacy and die a shadow to it.
Or escape and choose my fate—a life where I would be satisfied knowing that whatever I did, I chose to do. Not bound by expectations or burdened by the pressure of wanting to be greater than he was.
I chose wisely. And he smiled.
Damn, he smiled.
I have never met my mother, and no, she's not dead. In fact, I was told by father that I have a sister. But I couldn't meet her. I could never meet her.
Not because she was dead or anything, but because I had a certain condition—something that made them so desperate to keep us apart. She was a fairy, so was my mother. But that wasn't the reason I couldn't meet her. Fairies were, after all, somewhat like humans—you could see and interact with them.
The reason I couldn't, however, was because there was something about my birth, something that the moment I met her would seal my fate. I didn't know what exactly would happen or what he even meant by "birth," but it seemed I would really never meet her... even my mother, as they kept us both away from each other.
So I chose to forget about them.
According to my father, in life, when we encounter a situation, there are two parts to it: one, the part where you have no control over, and second, the part where you have control over—and this part can actually affect the outcome of what we don't have control over.
I didn't have control over what would happen if we met, so I decided to make a decision on the part I had control over.
I wouldn't meet her. I would forget about her.
It might be cold, heartless—whatever the hell self-righteous fools would call it. For me, I could see a pattern. I could see what my father always meant.
Life was already telling me I would lose everything. I already lost my sister, my mother, and probably more to come.
I didn't have control over that, so why kill myself over it?
So I decided to push away everything that could trap me in a cage of despair and read. I just kept reading.
My imagination was my only safe haven in this world. Even in such an opulent mansion, I could only feel like a bird in a cage—a bird waiting for the eventual date of slaughter.
But it was okay. It was better this way.
Knowing that truth from such a tender age helped me prepare my mind for the cruel future ahead.
And sure enough, it happened.
The day I awakened an F-rank talent.
Haha.
Chances of becoming a powerful swordsman were as small as my dick at the age of seven. Not to mention being a Wave Controller or even a Mage who literally depended on Aura for everything.
I was fucked from the onset.
With such talent, I might as well hang myself. Fighting for Lordship? Sure, I would become the duke, courtesy of father, but how long would I last?
It seems father foresaw it all. He didn't even seem disappointed—he just smiled and hugged me as I cried.
Yes, I still cried. I had seen the pattern long before, but I still cried.
Damn, I cried.
I cried because I foresaw the pain and suffering that awaited me. Father wouldn't always be there. At some point in my life, I would be thrust into the cruel world to survive on my own.
Life truly despised me.
And that day, I came to despise it just as much.
I still trained daily, but I didn't place my hopes there. I kept reading. I needed the knowledge. I desperately needed it. I became obsessed with it.
And then... the day came.
Vandarias.
When I was sent to receive the first level of education.
It was supposed to last just a year.
But that was the worst year of my life.