The first few days after Seren's visit to the Demon Beast Forest passed in uneasy quiet.
The adults of the village never learned how close Seren and Fenwick had come to danger. Sister Helena suspected something her eyes were too sharp to be fooled,but Seren kept the details to himself.
He wasn't hiding it out of recklessness.
He simply understood that telling adults would only lead to them forbidding him from training… and he needed to train.
The Birth of a Routine
Every morning, Seren rose before dawn and sat cross-legged on the orphanage porch, listening.
Not with his ears.
With his magic.
Sound was everywhere.
Even silence had depth.
The rustle of morning wind carried information about distance.
The creak of the chapel's old wooden frame revealed weight and pressure.
Footsteps—light, quick ones—belonged to children waking early.
Hearts beating, breaths rising and falling…
A living diagram of the world.
At first, it overwhelmed him, like a hundred radios tuned into different stations.
But gradually, with patience and focus, he learned to lower the volume—controlling what he allowed in.
Noise in, noise out.
That was the key.
Fenwick would stumble out later, rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly.
Every morning, he greeted Seren the same way:
"Why are you up already? Normal people sleep."
"I'm not normal," Seren answered truthfully.
"I noticed," Fenwick muttered, plopping down beside him.
Despite the rivalry, he almost always joined Seren's training.
His motivation was simple:
> If Seren was special, then he would become strong enough to compete with him.
They would spar lightly behind the chapel under the condition that Fenwick didn't use full enhancement magic,otherwise he might accidentally break Seren's ribs.
It wasn't smooth sailing.
Seren lost often.
Sometimes badly.
He was smart and observant, but his body was still that of a four-year-old. Sound magic helped with sensing and small vibrations, but he had no offensive spells yet.
And every defeat stung.
Fenwick would always grin, hands on his hips.
"Heh! Who's the genius now?"
Seren wiped the dirt from his cheek.
"You still tripped over your own foot this morning."
"That was strategy!"
"It was gravity."
"You're so annoying."
Whispers in the Village
Rumors of Seren's Awakening still floated around Redfall Village.
"Did you hear? That boy from the orphanage awakened a rare attribute." "They say the crystal shook!" "Sound magic… is that even real?" "He'll probably be recruited by a noble family."
Sister Helena became more protective.
She watched him whenever she could, trying to balance her worry with encouragement.
"One day," she said gently, brushing his hair, "your magic will help others. But until then… don't push yourself too hard."
Seren nodded, even though he had no intention of slowing down.
Because something was happening.
Every night, when the lights dimmed and the orphanage slept, Seren felt… a pull.
Something in the air hummed faintly around him when he used sound magic. A subtle vibration. A resonance. As if the world responded to him.
Not in a dangerous way.
But as if inviting him deeper.
A Strange Night
Three days after the forest incident, Seren had trouble sleeping.
The moon was high, silver light spilling across the wooden floorboards. Sister Helena's small candle flickered downstairs.
He sat up, pulse steady, senses sharp.
There it was again.
Thump.
Thump.
Slow, heavy steps… not human.
Seren didn't panic—but his brain clicked into analysis mode.
Weight: heavy.
Stride: wide.
Breathing: too deep for a normal villager.
Demon beast? Here?
He slipped quietly off the bed.
Fenwick was asleep and snoring like a farm animal, unaware of anything.
Seren tiptoed to the window and focused.
His sound perception spread outward like ripples in water.
He heard crickets in the grass, the wind brushing roofs, distant barking…
But the heavy footsteps came from the chapel.
Seren's heart tightened.
That place was the center of the upcoming Harvest Ritual—Sister Helena spent hours preparing it. If something damaged it, the whole village would suffer.
He didn't hesitate.
He grabbed his wooden practice stick and slipped outside.
To the Chapel
The night air was cool, almost cold.
Seren moved like a shadow, following the reverberations. His small feet made no noise on the dirt path, and his breathing was shallow.
Thump… thump…
The creature was still inside the chapel.
Strangely, the villagers' guard dogs hadn't reacted. Which meant it wasn't emitting killing intent. At least… not yet.
Seren pressed his hand to the chapel wall.
A faint vibration traveled through the wood into his palm.
He focused.
Inside… something was moving. Thick, lumbering. Not clawing or smashing—more like pacing.
And… sniffing something.
The altar?
Food?
A scent left behind?
Seren's jaw tightened.
He knew he shouldn't open the door.
But if he turned back…
The creature might wander farther into the village.
So he inhaled slowly and whispered the one sound technique he had successfully practiced:
"Resonance Pulse."
A faint wave pushed from his palm into the wall, spreading sound through the chapel's interior. It wasn't an attack—just a probing vibration.
The creature inside immediately stopped moving.
His blood froze.
Then—
RRROOOOAAAR!!!
The door burst outward.
Dust and splinters flew.
Seren leaped back just in time, rolling across the dirt as a huge shadow lunged out.
A Forest Boar, twice the size of an adult man, thick hide, jagged tusks—one of the lower-rank demon beasts in the Elderwood.
"What—how did you get all the way here?!"
The Forest Boar snorted, stomping its hooves.
Its breath was hot, steaming in the cold air.
Seren raised his stick, but he knew it was useless.
A beast like this…
> Even trained hunters avoided them without a full party.
He needed to stall it.
Or confuse it.
Not fight directly.
The boar pawed the ground. Seren felt the earth tremble beneath his feet.
It charged.
A Four-Year-Old's Battle
Seren dropped low the instant the beast moved.
Sound magic flared into his senses—vibrations predicting the trajectory of the attack.
He rolled left, the boar's tusks grazing his arm. Pain stabbed him, but he didn't stop.
Think. Think!
He couldn't use large spells.
He had one tool:
vibration.
He struck the wooden stick on the ground, imbuing it with a sharp pulse—then swung it into the boar's front leg.
Not hard enough to hurt it.
But loud enough to disrupt it.
CRACK—THWUUM!
The vibration traveled through its nerves.
The boar roared and staggered sideways, confused by the sudden noise echoing inside its own bones.
Seren didn't waste the moment.
He scrambled toward the side of the chapel, keeping distance.
The beast shook its head wildly, searching for him.
He focused—
Its breathing was erratic.
Its right leg favored.
Its senses overwhelmed by unexpected internal noise.
A small advantage.
Barely.
But he needed more.
He slammed his palm into the dirt again.
Resonance Pulse.
This time, he targeted its hooves.
The vibration rippled under the ground, rising into the beast's legs. Startled, the boar bucked and twisted.
Seren ducked under its swing, rolled, and positioned himself behind the old well.
The boar roared madly and charged blindly—
Straight into the well's stone base.
THUD!
Dust burst up.
Seren coughed, chest heaving.
He didn't harm it seriously—his magic wasn't strong enough—but he had disoriented it for a crucial moment.
And that moment saved him.
Because light suddenly filled the village square.
"WHAT IS THAT BEAST DOING HERE?!"
Villagers poured out of their homes—pitchforks, spears, tools in hand.
The guards rushed forward. The boar, panicked and partially stunned, tried to flee.
A volley of spears struck it.
It collapsed with a heavy thump.
Aftermath
Seren leaned against the well, catching his breath.
He was covered in dust and small cuts.
His arm throbbed from where the tusk grazed him.
Sister Helena ran over and grabbed his cheeks.
"SEREN VALE! What in the heavens were you doing OUT HERE?! AT NIGHT?!"
Her voice shook—more with worry than anger.
He didn't know how to explain. If he said he sensed the beast, she would only worry more.
Fenwick stumbled out behind her, hair a mess.
"What's going on—Seren?! Did you fight something without me?!"
Seren sighed.
"Please don't shout… my ears are sensitive."
"We're shouting because YOU almost died!" Sister Helena yelled louder.
He winced.
But deep down…
He felt something else.
Pride?
Satisfaction?
The thrill of survival?
No.
It was a solemn realization.
If I were just a little weaker…
He would have died.
His past life had been wasted through overwork and negligence.
He wouldn't let this one end in carelessness.
Not again.
---
A Quiet Moment
Later that night, when everyone returned to bed, Sister Helena sat beside Seren, placing a cool cloth on his arm.
"…Seren. You have a good heart. But even a good heart can get you killed."
He nodded silently.
"Promise me you won't go running off alone again."
Seren lowered his eyes.
"I'll be more careful."
That was the best he could promise.
She sighed and patted his head gently.
"You're special, Seren. In more ways than one. Just… don't disappear before the world realizes it."
She left quietly.
Seren sat alone, staring at his small hands.
Tonight proved something:
His magic was useful.
Even weak, at Rank 1, he could change the outcome of a life-or-death situation.
But he also saw his limits clearly.
And limits were meant to be surpassed.