Chapter 3:
A Tale of Heroes
The tavern was warm, the flickering lanterns casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. Kaito sat at a rough-hewn wooden table, his hands wrapped around a mug of ale. It wasn’t much, but the drink helped soothe his nerves. The laughter and chatter of the other patrons filled the air, a stark contrast to the silence he had known on the farm.
As he sat there, nursing the drink, he felt an odd mixture of awe and unease. These people—adventurers, mages, warriors—were nothing like the farmers, merchants, or priests he was used to. Their stories were wild, filled with battle, magic, and mysteries far beyond anything he had ever known.
But despite the excitement of the day, Kaito’s mind wandered back to the story he had shared earlier, the one about his father.
“Goblins attacking the village again, eh?” one of the old warriors sitting nearby asked, raising an eyebrow. He had the look of a seasoned fighter—weathered face, strong arms, and eyes that seemed to see right through Kaito. “Sounds like a good tale, lad, but you’ve got a bit of a twist there, don’t ya? The whole part about your father saving a Heavenly Knight, I mean.”
Kaito leaned back, letting the weight of the story settle. “Yeah, well… that’s the way it went. Ten years ago, when I was just a kid, the goblins came for the village like they always do. And my father… he helped a Heavenly Knight escape. The knight had been injured, but my father managed to get him to safety.”
The warrior chuckled, a rough sound that made Kaito uneasy. “A farmer, eh? Seems a bit much for someone who spends his days in the dirt. Maybe your old man had a few more secrets than you realize.”
Kaito’s chest tightened. His father had never spoken of any great feats or heroic deeds. As far as he knew, his father had been nothing more than a quiet man who worked the land and told stories of his youth—stories that didn’t seem to match the reality of his life.
“More ale for the lad,” the warrior said, noticing Kaito’s troubled expression. “Tell you what, I’d love to hear the rest of the story someday. Maybe we can find some of those goblins and give them a good fight. If your father could save a Heavenly Knight, maybe you’ve got a bit of that fire in you too.”
The words were meant to be comforting, but they only added to Kaito’s uncertainty. He had always thought of himself as a simple farmer—no more, no less. The idea that he might have inherited something more from his father felt both exhilarating and terrifying.
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Just then, a group of adventurers entered the tavern. They were a motley crew—mage with flowing robes, a great warrior with shining swords, and a large beastman with tusks curling from his lower jaw. They spoke in low voices, laughing and recounting stories of their latest adventures.
One of the mages, a woman with fiery red hair, noticed Kaito sitting alone. She waved over to him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Hey, you! The one with the goblin story.”
Kaito blinked, momentarily startled by the attention. He hadn’t expected anyone to remember him, let alone approach him. “Uh, yeah? That’s me.”
She grinned. “What’s a farm boy doing in Totsu? Not usually the type to see adventurers on the road, are you?”
Kaito hesitated, unsure of how much to say. The truth was, he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing in Totsu himself. But something about the mage’s warmth made him feel more comfortable.
“I’m here to join the Guild. Ryouma brought me in.”
“Aha, another recruit!” The woman’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, let me give you some advice, then. If you’re planning to make it here, you’re going to need more than just goblin stories. You’ll need real skill. Real strength.”
Before Kaito could respond, one of the warriors in the group leaned in with a sly grin. “If you’re serious about being an adventurer, kid, you’ve got to start thinking like one. A real adventurer doesn’t just sit around telling stories—he goes out and makes them. But it’s not all glory, mind you.”
The beastman, who had been silently listening, suddenly spoke in a deep, rumbling voice. “Glory is for those who survive. And the ones who do best are the ones who know when to fight and when to run.”
The mage nodded thoughtfully. “True. But no one becomes a legend by playing it safe.”
Kaito couldn’t help but feel the weight of their words. He had always been told that heroism came in the form of grand battles and epic deeds—but here, in this tavern full of seasoned adventurers, it seemed that everyone had their own idea of what it meant to be great.
As the conversation continued, Kaito’s thoughts drifted once more to his father. Was he really just a farmer who happened to be in the right place at the right time, or had he been more? The words of the warrior echoed in his mind: Maybe your old man had a few more secrets than you realize.
Perhaps his father’s past wasn’t just a story—perhaps there was more to it, something Kaito didn’t understand yet.
Just then, a chill swept through the tavern, and a strange voice echoed inside Kaito’s mind. You are not just the son of a farmer. You are the child of something greater.
Kaito froze. The voice was deep and ancient, reverberating in his chest like a distant thunderclap. He glanced around the tavern, but no one else seemed to notice.
The mage who had spoken to him earlier glanced at him curiously. “You okay there, kid?”
Kaito didn’t answer. His mind raced. Who… was that?
Before he could process the thought further, the tavern door slammed open. A tall figure, cloaked in dark red robes, stepped inside, their presence commanding the room’s attention. The mysterious figure’s eyes briefly met Kaito’s before they moved toward the bar.
A cold shiver ran down Kaito’s spine. Something had changed. Something was stirring in the air, and for the first time since he arrived in Totsu, he felt as though the path ahead was far more complicated—and far more dangerous—than he had ever imagined.
Maybe, just maybe, the tales of his father were more than just stories after all.