Night had fallen beyond Eldoria’s city walls. Fires from the distant town glimmered like fading stars.

Ethan lay on the cool earth, a crooked branch clutched in his hands as he practiced imaginary strikes, the tip scraping rocks. “One day,” he whispered to the stars, “I’ll be the world’s greatest knight.”

From the shadows, Aldric listened. Blind, exiled, and stubborn beyond reason. The boy’s presence annoyed him—always eager, always loud, always so certain of himself.

“Keep it down! I’m trying to get some rest!”

Ethan froze, eyes wide. “I-I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t know anyone lived here…”

Aldric stepped into the faint light, his face catching the glow of the distant fires. Ethan stumbled back, startled.

“Sir… are you… alright? Your eyes… they look pale.”

Aldric sneered. “I am blind, you fool—not deaf. And for your own good, you should leave. Now.”

Ethan swallowed hard. He had no desire to stir further trouble. With a quick nod, he backed away and vanished into the darkness, leaving Aldric alone once more.

The next morning, Ethan scavenged for scraps before heading off to train. But everywhere he went, the townsfolk mocked him, sneering and whispering behind his back.

“If only I had a place where no one could see me…”

A memory flashed: the blind man. Aldric’s exiled home—dark, quiet, untouchable. The perfect place to practice without judgment.

Ethan slinked toward the outskirts, moving as silently as he could. Little did he know, he was being followed.

Even without sight, Aldric sensed it. One scrape of Ethan’s branch against the ground, and the old smith knew the boy had entered his territory.

“Who’s there? That you again?” Aldric’s voice cut through the morning air.

Ethan froze, then shuffled forward, scratching the back of his head. “Y-yes… you caught me red-handed. I—I won’t be a bother. I just want to practice my swings for a while…”

Before he could finish, a sharp pebble struck his head. He yelped, rubbing the spot. A group of local kids had found him, laughing as they threw stones.

“Oh look, Branch Boy hanging out with the senile blind fool—how pathetic!” The kids erupted into raucous laughter, hurling pebbles at the pair.

Ethan sprang forward, spinning his crooked branch like a blade, deflecting most of the stones with sharp, controlled swings. A few grazed his arms and shoulders, leaving red marks, but each movement carried the rhythm of someone who dreamed of wielding a real sword.

Frustrated, the kids finally called it quits.

“This isn’t over, Branch Boy! We’ll be back!” they shouted, retreating, still snickering.

Ethan sank to his knees, breathing hard, brushing grit from his clothes. He had taken some damage, but he had protected Aldric. For the first time, he felt a spark of pride—and perhaps the old man had noticed.

“You fool!” Aldric shouted. But before Ethan could respond, the old man began tending his scrapes with careful, practiced hands.

“I told you, kid,” Aldric muttered, “being here will only bring trouble. Now, for your own good, you need to—”

Ethan cut him off, eyes pleading. “This is the only place I can focus. Please, sir… I beg you. Let me practice.”

Aldric paused, thinking. Finally, he spoke, sharp but measured. “If any trouble comes this way, you shall be the one to clean it up. Don’t drag me into it. Are we clear?”

Ethan’s face lit up. “T-thank you, sir! I won’t let you down!”

The old man’s eyes narrowed. “My name is Aldric… those kids called you Ethan?”

“That’s me,” Ethan replied, puffing out his chest. “Ethan Storm. My dream is to become the greatest knight in all of Eldoria!”

For the first time in years, Aldric laughed—a deep, hearty sound that echoed across the quiet outskirts.

Every day, Ethan swung his crooked branch tirelessly.

“Your stance has no balance, no rhythm,” Aldric commented, voice sharp.

“How… do you know? You can’t even see—” Ethan began, but he tripped over his own feet, landing flat on the hard earth.

“The greatest knight, he said,” Aldric chuckled, low but amused.

Ethan’s eyes blazed with a mix of fury and humility. Aldric was right—he had much to learn. Swallowing his pride, he took the old man’s words to heart.

For days, he focused on balance. He trained on narrow beams, fallen logs, and uneven stones, learning to center his weight, control his footing, and move with intention.

When he returned to branch practice, Aldric noticed immediately. Every swing, every swish, resonated with precision, almost music-like.

“This kid… there’s more here than meets the eye,” Aldric muttered under his breath, a rare spark of admiration hiding beneath his gruff tone.

Later that evening, the troublemaking kids returned—this time led by Bram Blackwell. Taller, broader, radiating strength that made even the bravest hesitate.

The kids seized Aldric, dragging him from his resting chair.

“W-what’s the meaning of this? Let me go!”

Bram scraped a wooden stick on the ground, glaring with anger. “Can’t believe the king showed mercy to a plotting murderer.” He spat on the earth.

“Bram… let him go, or else.” Ethan glared with fury.

“Ethan… do you know who this man is and what he’s done?” Bram stepped closer, shadow falling over Ethan.

“The crowned prince,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “was murdered by a blade forged in his fire.”

The boys tightened their grip on Aldric.

“My father served in the castle guard,” Bram continued. “He saw it himself. The prince cut down by a royal sword—Ironhand steel. There’s only one man in Eldoria who could’ve made it.”

Murmurs of agreement rose. Ethan’s grip on his branch faltered.

“That… that doesn’t mean he did it,” he said, uncertainty creeping in.

Bram laughed sharply. “You really are stupid, Storm. Weapons don’t betray kingdoms on their own. You armed a murderer. Maybe you were the murderer.”

Aldric said nothing. His scarred face remained still, pale eyes unfocused, yet his jaw tightened ever so slightly.

“Tell him,” Bram pressed. “Tell your little friend who you are.”

Silence stretched. Ash stirred from the old forge, drifting through the clearing like ghosts.

Finally, Aldric spoke, voice low and heavy.

“I forged the sword… but I did not choose the hand that wielded it.”

The clearing fell quiet.

Bram scoffed. “Convenient excuse.”

“I forged blades for kings,” Aldric continued calmly. “For knights. For wars meant to protect this kingdom. Steel has no loyalty—only purpose.”

Ethan looked between them, uncertainty etched across his face. The man he admired, and the man everyone hated, were one and the same.

Bram raised his stick. “Sounds like guilt to me.”

He swung without restraint, striking Aldric again and again. The blows landed hard, yet the old man made no sound.

Ethan’s voice cut through the chaos. “Enough!”

He stepped forward, pointing his crooked branch at Bram. “Let him go!”

Bram turned slowly, amusement flickering. “Ethan… you really are a fool.”

He struck with overwhelming force, slamming Ethan to the ground. Pain shot through Ethan’s ribs, but he pushed upright and rushed forward.

It wasn’t enough. Bram countered with a brutal kick, and Ethan collapsed, gasping.

Through the chaos, Aldric’s voice rang calm and steady.

“Ethan… forget about me. Remember your practice.”

Ethan drew a deep, steady breath. A subtle shift radiated from him—his aura, once hesitant, now relentless.

“Give it up, Ethan… it’s over!” Bram barked, swinging for a final crushing blow.

Ethan moved with precision, narrowly dodging. His balance, honed through days of grueling practice, let him flow with the motion rather than fight it.

He countered with a flurry of attacks, each strike fast, measured, controlled.

Finally, he summoned all his strength into one decisive blow.

Branch Breaker.

Bram soared through the air before slamming heavily onto the ground, groaning in defeat.

Ethan stood over him, chest heaving, eyes still closed, feeling the rhythm of the fight settle in his bones.

Bram lay groaning, his followers frozen in shock. Ethan lowered his branch, disbelief and pride mixing in his chest.

Aldric’s faint smile broke through his usual stoicism. “Not bad… Branch Boy.”

“I… I actually did it?” Ethan whispered.

“You did,” Aldric said. “But remember—strength without control is nothing. Keep your mind sharp.”

The defeated kids fled, muttering threats. Ethan glanced at Aldric, seeing the scars, the blindness, the mastery. One day… he would walk that path too.

The sun dipped behind the hills. For the first time, Ethan Storm felt like a knight in the making.