Chapter 2 - The New Life

Barren Lake. At first hearing the name, one might assume it is a place forbidden due to harsh environmental conditions or some ominous reason. However, the name was given after a catastrophic incident many years ago. Legends tell of a battle between a powerful being and a monstrous beast that once dwelled in the lake. Their clash of titanic forces led to the devastation of the surrounding land, leaving it desolate. Now, the area exudes a sinister aura, with a vast desert spanning hundreds of kilometers around it—an aura of death and abandonment.

An old man, gripping a wooden staff in one hand and carrying a large, tattered bag on his back, trudged past the barren lake. He looked ancient—though in reality, he was only in his fifties. Years of malnourishment, poverty, and hardship had aged him prematurely, making him appear closer to seventy. His face was etched with deep wrinkles, and a small white beard adorned his chin. The staff he leaned on was nothing more than a broken tree branch, picked up without care for its shape. He wore a black, ragged cloak, patched and repaired countless times.

This place was nothing short of a cursed land. Not a single beast dared to roam here, yet the eerie cries of scavenger birds feasting on the remains of the dead echoed in the silence.

As the old man walked, his face remained expressionless, as if this path was familiar to him. Suddenly, a faint cry broke the eerie stillness—a sound unmistakably belonging to a child. He turned his gaze toward the source and approached a large rock beside a withered tree trunk. There, wrapped in a bloodstained cloth, lay a small infant. At first glance, the child appeared no older than a month.

Like a delicate flower blooming in barren land, the child radiated an unexplainable energy. The very essence of the surroundings seemed drawn toward him. Despite being covered in dust, his glow remained undiminished. His deep black eyes, endless like the abyss, peered up as he wailed with all the strength his tiny body could muster. Even with a layer of dirt clinging to his skin, his divine aura remained untouched.

"A child?" the old man muttered in his frail, trembling voice.

Astonishment flickered across his weary face. A child, abandoned in a place where even seasoned travelers hesitated to tread? He scanned the surroundings, searching for any clue as to how the infant ended up here, but he found nothing. After a moment of contemplation, he made a decision—to take the child with him and uncover his origins later.

With surprising gentleness, he lifted the child in one hand and fed him milk from a metal pot he carried for his own sustenance. The child, exhausted and starving, drank eagerly before drifting into a deep slumber. As the old man cradled him, his gaze fell upon a pendant hanging around the infant's neck.

One glance was enough to reveal its immense value. A brilliant, blood-red diamond was embedded in it, and the metal from which it was forged was clearly rare and expensive. The old man quickly realized that this child belonged to a powerful, wealthy family—one far beyond his humble means.

What he didn't know, however, was that the pendant alone was worth a trillion times more than the entire continent. Compared to it, nations were mere specks of dust.

Heaving a sigh, the old man resumed his journey toward Barren City, the settlement named after the wasteland surrounding it. Holding the sleeping child securely in one arm, he walked with his worn-out staff supporting his tired body, the heavy bag still slung over his back.

As he trudged forward, a troubling thought gnawed at him:

"How has this child survived in such a merciless place? Judging by his condition, he must have been here for at least five days."

But another thought followed:

"At least the gods have spared him. Perhaps fate has something planned for him."

Upon reaching Barren City, the sight before him was that of a bustling settlement rather than a grand metropolis. With a population of around six million, it had grown from a mere village into a thriving hub, thanks to its strategic location. Travelers from distant urban centers passed through, fueling trade and prosperity. The city spanned approximately 5,000 square kilometers and was fortified with stone walls to protect against external threats. Despite only being classified as a medium-sized city, it housed renowned institutions—prestigious academies, auction houses, and fine restaurants. At its heart stood a grand mansion, the residence of the city's mayor and a famous tourist attraction.

A rare smile crossed the old man's face as he whispered, "After so many days of travel, it feels good to return."

As he passed through the city gates, the stationed guards immediately recognized him.

"Old Doc!" several called out in unison.

A man in commanding armor, the captain of the gate's security, stepped forward, beaming. "Old Doc, you're back! Did you find the herbs you were looking for?"

The old man, now revealed to be a doctor, nodded. "Yes, it took some effort, but I found them."

The captain's gaze drifted to the sleeping child in his arms. "Old Doc, where did you find this child? He has an unusual presence."

"In the barren lands," the old man answered. "I brought him back in hopes of finding his parents."

The captain's expression turned serious. "I'll report this to the city center. Someone must be looking for him. But... it's unsettling to think of a child being left there."

After expressing his gratitude, Old Doc continued into the city, making his way toward the eastern district, where he lived. Along the way, countless townsfolk greeted him warmly. Though he lived in poverty, his selfless service had earned him widespread respect.

His home stood on the outskirts, far from the bustling marketplace. The small, dilapidated cottage, passed down through generations, lacked luxury. Despite his vast knowledge of medicine, he never sought wealth. Having lost his wife young and been abandoned by his own children—who desired fortune over healing—he had lived alone for over a decade.

Stepping inside, he gently laid the sleeping child on a small bed. His home was a simple wooden structure, unlike the stone and concrete buildings that surrounded it. Some would call it the result of poverty; others might see it as a testament to his humble way of life.

Three days passed.

The old man cared for the child while continuing to treat the sick. Those who visited showed little interest in the infant, their minds occupied by their own ailments.

One morning, as Old Doc gathered herbs in his garden, the city gate captain arrived, his face tense.

"Old Doc, I think I have some news about the child."

The old man straightened, anticipation flickering in his aged eyes. "Tell me. His parents must be worried sick."

The captain hesitated before speaking. "I checked city records. There were missing child reports, but none matched him. Then I heard something else—a woman was being pursued by desert pirates just outside the city's western gate. Witnesses overheard them mentioning a child, though he wasn't with her. It seems she left him behind to save his life. The pirates have vanished since the incident."

A grim silence followed. The old man's gaze drifted toward the sleeping boy. "Then what should we do?"

"We can take him to an orphanage," the captain suggested. "They'll care for him."

Old Doc shook his head. "No. I've lived alone for too long. I will raise him."

"Can you afford to?" the captain asked, surprised.

"I'll find a way," Old Doc replied firmly.

The captain smiled. "Then name him."

The old man looked at the child and whispered, "Luan. A name of Disorder/Chaos , just like his fate."

But names can be deceiving. Sometimes, calmness is merely the prelude to chaos.