Chap 33: The real me

What happe...ughh?

Where am I? Why everything so dark?

Who am I?

The darkness was overwhelming. Silvan couldn't move, couldn't see. His mind was trapped in a haze, every thought muddled as he struggled to remember who he was, where he was. His small hands clenched in the air, reaching out for something familiar, but there was nothing.

"Silvan... Silvan!" a voice rang through the blackness, sharp and insistent.

The voice was familiar,His caretaker? He couldn't place it.

His eyes slowly opened, blinking against the dimness. A face loomed above him, large and round, with soft features and kind eyes. The figure spoke again, this time more clearly.

"Sir Kalvis is here for your lesson."

A lesson? Silvan's mind raced, trying to catch up. His body felt small, fragile. His hands, too tiny to be his own, gripped the covers. He stared at them for a moment, trying to make sense of everything. Then, as if everything had clicked into place, he whispered to himself.

"Yeah, that was all a dream. I'm Silvan. Youngest son of the Owsris Duke family."

The words felt strange on his tongue, but they made sense. He was Silvan, and this was home.

Silvan got up, his body aching slightly. He was still young, but he had grown accustomed to this world. It was time for his everyday lessons.

The days passed in a blur of lessons. Silvan had always been sharp, his intellect growing faster than any of his peers. Sir Kalvis, his tutor, praised him constantly for his exceptional abilities.

"Young master, you are brighter than all the other children your age," Sir Kalvis would say.

This flattery pleased Silvan. His study hours were reduced, and he could play more now.

One day, while walking through the grand hall, Silvan's curiosity led him to the door of his father's office. The door was afar, and he could hear muffled voices within.

"Your son, Silvan, is unlike any other child," one voice said, a deep tone Silvan recognized as his father's. "His intellect is beyond measure. And his swordsmanship? It's almost... unnatural"

And now, at the age of 10, Silvan was one of the finest in both studies and swordsmanship.

The day of Awakening, Silvan was nervous. But he was also looking forward to it and stepped onto the altar.

The alter glowed brightly then ever words appeared on the screen beside.

Silvan looked at it. He was happy, he had done it. He had awakened his class! The guardian class just like his father!

"You've done well, Silvan. I'm so proud of you," his father would say, voice booming with pride.

"His abilities... they are stronger than even we anticipated."

The years passed, and Silvan grew, both in stature and in power. The world around him grew darker, Appearance of Kymers appeared . The Kymers were coming from a ruthless army that threatened the very fabric of peace the Owsris Duke family had helped preserve in the land.

It was during this time that Silvan first met Nahlia. He had been sent on an undercover mission, deep within the war-torn city. There, in the middle of chaos, he saw her. She was just a girl about 7 years older than him but she stood tall, handing out food to soldiers with a sense of calm purpose.

"Who's that?" Silvan asked, his eyes fixed on her.

"Her name's Nahlia," a fellow soldier answered. "She's an orphan, but she's doing what she can to help. Her shop's down the road."

Silvan couldn't shake the feeling that he had to know more about her. There was something about the way she moved, the way she spoke to people, that made him feel like she was the one.

Her friend, a young woman who was about the same age as Silvan, stood beside Nahlia. They ran a small shop , a place where they offered help to those in need. Silvan didn't quite grasp the full meaning of the name at first, but there was something about it that made him feel like it was more than just a simple shop.

Then, just as quickly as he met them, the attack came. Monsters, nightmarish creatures of darkness, flooded the streets, tearing through everything in their path. Buildings crumbled, people screamed, and chaos erupted. Silvan, without thinking, stepped forward. His sword flashed through the air, cutting down the monsters with deadly precision.

Nahlia watched him, her wide eyes filled with a mix of awe and something else. Her friend, Lyra, stood close by, her own eyes sharp and calculating, ready for anything.

After the battle they meet again.

"You're strong," Nahlia said softly, her voice laced with admiration. Moments passed by, as they talk. And from onward Silvan would visit them everyday hiding his identity helping them also clean the shop.

And so, their fates were sealed. Silvan, Nahlia, and Lyra were all recruited into the Star Crest Alliance, a group of warriors dedicated to saving the world from the Kymers. Nahlia awakened her Saint class, her divine powers shining brightly, a beacon of hope at the era of Darkness.

Lyra, on the other hand, revealed her Berserker class.

Together, they fought. Together, they defeated the Kymers and their dark leader, Z@lther. The world, scarred but not broken, began to heal, and Silvan stood at the heart of it all, and he become the 5th guardian of Humanity.

But as the years passed and the war came to an end, Silvan found himself standing alone, watching the sunset. He had grown older, wiser, and wearier, but Nahlia, somehow, remained unchanged.

"We did it, Silvan," she said softly, her voice carrying a sense of calm. "Aren't you happy?"

Silvan turned to her, his eyes filled with the weight of time. He was no longer the young boy who dreamed of adventure; he was a man, scarred by the battles he'd fought. Nahlia, however, still looked as young as ever.

"Yes, I'm happy," he replied, but his voice carried a heaviness, a depth of emotion that only years of fighting could bring. "But I wish it was all true."

Nahlia frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Before she could react, Silvan swung his sword, and in one swift motion, Nahlia's head fell to the ground. Silence hung in the air for a long moment. Then, her severed head twisted, her eyes gleaming with a twisted grin.

"Kekekeke... Your willpower is far stronger than I anticipated, other worlder"

The world twisted around silvan, and the scenary the time started to flow backwards before at the time when he peaked at his father's office..

But this time the scenario was different. Silvan become silent not caring about the black smoke that appeared before him. He watched it all as the scenes unfolded.

"Speak freely Kalvis "

"Young master is dull, His intelligence is far lower then his peers"

"I,see. He isn't allowed to play outside anymore!. Double his study hours! No son of mine will be a retard"

There was also the young Silvan who watched it all. He made a mistake and the door wide opened.

Both the father and the master looked at him. The little silvan trimbled in fear as he looked at his father and master. The warmth they had disappeared replaced with coldness.

"F-Father?"

But his father didn't say anything turning around. "Take him,"

Silvan's master nodded before dragging him away. Little silvan watched it all, he didn't even blink, he watched the cold eyes, of his father unable to comprehend what really happened.

"Kekekeke, Poor, soul" the voice echoed from the side. Silvan ignored and watched the scenes unfolding before him. This are the real truth, and the fate he was bestowed by the world..