The 15th day of Spring, 256 (Soralday) 

"Forty-eight... forty-nine... fifty," Arilia counted out loud, as her son was doing push-ups.

However, after hearing the number fifty, the strength in the boy's arms disappeared, and soon he found himself lying on the ground. He put his reddish face on the wet grass, and a drop of sweat slowly flowed down on his forehead. His grey shirt was drenched in sweat, and stuck to his body in a much darker shade.

'It's finally over.' That was the only thought that circled in Zan's head. His sufferings had finally ended, and now he could rest. He turned to his back and looked up at the peach tree's small flowers, which were dancing in the spring breeze. But as the sun was high up in the sky, it shone through the pink petals and forced him to close his eyes. At that moment, he felt so comfortable lying on the grass that he could hardly stay awake.

"Do not sleep, Zan! Your training has not ended yet! You only did five sets. You still need to do five more," Arilia said in a harsh tone.

Zan looked at his mother, who was sitting in her chair in their yard. She had a delicate face with a narrow straight nose, and thin lips, which gave her a beauty that defied her age. Though she never undid her bun and let her glossy chestnut hair down, to let others admire it, yet her bright brown eyes could warm anyone's heart. Unlike the other village women, she didn't wear a skirt; instead, tight black cotton trousers covered her legs. A plain light green long robe was wrapped around her body, which not only highlighted her hourglass figure but her slender waist as well.

Seven years ago, when the pair arrived in Lemor, the villagers thought Arilia was Zan's elder sister, rather than his mother. The women were sometimes jealous of her because their husbands frequently visited her for healing. Often even showing up with feigned injuries. Although these fellows liked to be treated by Arilia, they were usually nice and restrained. Yet there were times when men appeared in the healer's home with rotten intentions. These so-called warriors tried to use their strength to take advantage of the mother, but after her first slap, they immediately realized how weak they were. Although at first glance, Arilia seemed frail with her slim arms and narrow shoulders, yet she was exceptionally powerful. Therefore it wasn't uncommon to see these kinds of people being thrown out of the little house. Sometimes they even flew out through the hut's closed window.

"But I have always done this much. Why do I need to do more today?" Zan asked, who, except for his eyes, didn't resemble his mother at all. His black wavy hair had reached his shoulders, but since he didn't like it when it hung into his eyes, he always slicked it backward. His broad face, which was currently covered by a few purple spots, was accompanied by a strong jawline as well as wide cheekbones. For a 13-year-old boy, his body was strong and muscular, but because he was the shortest among the children his age, he was usually mocked by the villagers. He wore ordinary clothes: a light gray canvas shirt, brown fabric pants, and a simple pair of boots, just like the rest of the village kids.

"You have to do more because you fought with the Smith boys. You know it well, that the older one can already control his mana, and that you do not stand a chance against him. Yet you still fought him, and because of that, he has painted your face quite well," Arilia said a bit furiously. "I always tell you that when you do not have any chance for victory, you should run."

"But they tried to hurt Liria, I had to protect her. What else was I supposed to do?" Zan frowned.

"Oh! So you are supposed to be the knight in shining armor who saves the princess?" she asked, and although her voice was strong, she remained calm. "Well, life is not a fairy tale. Victory does not belong to the good, but to the strong. The strong is the one who rules, who commands and who will always be right. If you are weak, the only thing you can do is to accept the will of the stronger one... It is nice to be a hero, but many brave knights have died before the age of twenty, yet the coward, who ran away, still lives."

"I rather choose death than to live as a coward!" Zan said while he hit his chest.

"Then you are walking on the right path. But before you run into your death, think a little about who is going to miss you if you leave this world..." Arilia lectured her son with a little anger in her voice. "Also, what do you think would happen after you die? Your problems would not be solved, and the Smith boys would still harras Liria." However, after saying these words, she stopped, because she heard their bell rang. Since the small clang meant that a guest arrived in their home, she got up from her chair and went into the small house to welcome the visitor.