I almost died from a boar.
That is not an exaggeration, nor is it something I am particularly proud of.
The forest of the Midgard Empire was quiet that morning, with only the sound of leaves rustling and my own shaky breathing breaking the silence. My sword was trembling in my hands, and in front of me stood a wild boar—its red eyes fixed on me, its body tense, ready to charge.
I was seven years old.
And I had thought I could hunt it alone.
That was my first mistake.
The second mistake was underestimating just how fast and terrifying a cornered beast could be.
My heart was pounding.
But I did not want to run.
If I could defeat it by myself, then maybe… just maybe… I could finally be recognized.
I shouted and rushed forward.
The boar charged.
Everything happened too fast.
My sword struck its thick hide, but instead of cutting deep, it only slid across its flesh. The impact threw me off balance, and before I could recover, the boar's massive body slammed into me. I felt my breath leave my lungs as I was sent flying, crashing hard against a tree.
Pain exploded in my chest.
I tried to stand, but my legs would not listen.
The boar turned, snorting, and began to charge again.
That was when a shadow passed in front of me.
A single flash of steel.
The boar's head flew into the air.
Blood sprayed across the forest floor.
I stared in shock as the huge body collapsed only a few steps away from me.
"…You're still too reckless, Rick."
I looked up and saw my brother.
Frans Avenir.
He was fifteen years old, tall, calm, and already far stronger than anyone in our generation. He stood there with his sword still dripping with blood, his eyes sharp and cold, as if he had not just saved my life.
He turned to me and frowned.
"I told you not to hunt it alone."
"…I almost got it," I muttered weakly.
He snorted. "You almost got yourself killed."
Then, after a short pause, he added, "Still, this was a good lesson."
"A lesson…?"
"I only stepped in when you were about to die," he said flatly. "Remember this feeling. Next time, you either win by yourself… or you don't fight at all."
That was my brother.
Harsh. Unforgiving. And yet—
I admired him.
I really did.
We walked in silence for a while after leaving the forest, the dead boar hanging between us on a wooden pole. The sunlight filtered through the leaves above, and the wind carried the familiar smell of grass and earth, but my thoughts were still stuck on one thing.
My brother's eyes.
The Avenir Eyes.
"Frans," I finally said, breaking the silence, "how can someone awaken the Avenir Eyes?"
Frans did not look at me. He just kept walking.
"It's not something you can force," he said. "Awakening is born from conviction and resolution."
"Conviction… and resolution?"
"When you truly decide something," he continued, "when your will becomes stronger than fear, stronger than pain, stronger than hesitation—that's when it happens."
I swallowed.
"…Then how did you awaken yours?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"I was attacked by a wolf," he said. "It was fast. Strong. I couldn't escape. No one came to save me."
He paused, then added calmly, "So I decided not to die."
That was all.
No heroic story. No dramatic exaggeration.
Just a simple statement.
I felt a chill run down my back.
"…So… I have to almost die too?" I asked half-jokingly.
Frans glanced at me. "No. A boar is good enough for you."
"…That again."
He sighed. "Listen, Rick. I'll be the one who leads the clan. You can stand behind me."
For some reason, those words made my chest feel heavy.
"But," he continued, "you still have to be strong. Strong enough not to slow me down."
"…Why?"
"Because the Empire's movements have been strange."
I frowned. "Weird? Aren't they always like that? They keep coming to our village to recruit people. Father always kicks them out. They're weak, and they think money is everything. They don't have honor."
"You're not wrong," Frans said. "But that's exactly why they're dangerous."
He stopped walking and looked at me seriously.
"There are strong ones among them. Knights of Starheim. Blends mercenaries. They're not only strong—they're cunning. And they like to make trouble, especially for bloodline clans like ours."
"…Why us?"
"Because our eyes are valuable," he said simply.
That word—valuable—made me uncomfortable.
As we walked back toward the village with the boar between us, I thought about our clan.
The Avenir Clan.
Descendants of the God Who Sees Everything.
When an Avenir is extremely focused, or overwhelmed by emotion, or filled with absolute conviction, our pupils change.
Normally, humans only have one color—black, brown, or blue.
But ours are different.
Four layered rings.
A blue center.
Around it, white.
Then yellow.
And the outermost ring, red.
We call it the Blessed Pupil of Avenir.
With it, the world slows down. Everything becomes clear. Every movement, every breath, every opening, even mana can be seen.
And one day—
I swore to myself—
I would awaken it too.
Frans suddenly stopped.
I almost bumped into his back.
"…Do you see that?" he asked quietly.
I opened my mouth to answer—
And then I saw it.
Black smoke.
Rising above the trees.
From the direction of our village.
My heart sank.
"…That's…"
Frans was already running.
"Rick. Don't fall behind."
We dropped the boar.
And ran.