Ouch... it really hurts.
It hurts so much...
Why won't it stop?
Maybe I should go to the sisters so they can bandage my head... that way it won't keep bleeding like this.
Warm blood rushes from the head.
I don't know what they want from me... why do they always pick on me? What did I ever do to deserve this?
Maybe I should stop being such an idiot and quit telling people that my parents will come back for me someday. Maybe then the other kids will stop bullying me so much...
I do have the power to protect myself... but I'm so afraid of hurting others that I can't bring myself to use it.
*He lifted his head a little and stared at the tree.*
Even the thought of attacking someone... hurting someone... makes my whole body shake. I've trained every day for as long as I can remember, just to protect myself... but I've never once had the courage to actually do it.
*There were voices calling out in the distance, but his mind was too occupied to pay attention.*
Then the voice came again, louder:
"Arthur!"
The boy turned his head in shock and fear.
An old man stood before him—tall, with white hair and golden eyes. He wore a long black robe, a white collar, a hanging cross, and a rope belt.
A warm, gentle smile crossed the priest's face:
"Lost in your own world again, aren't you?"
Arthur replied with a hoarse, sorrowful voice:
"Hello, Father Malderius..."
The priest noticed the wound on Arthur's forehead. A frown of concern crossed his face.
"Arthur, did the other kids hurt you again? You need to tell me. How long will you keep getting into fights with them?"
Arthur looked down, whispering in a broken voice:
"Why does it hurt so much...?"
Father Malderius softened his tone:
"What hurts, my son?"
Tears welled up in Arthur's eyes and began to fall. He could no longer hold them back. Crying into his hands, his voice trembled as he sobbed:
"They left me so long ago... but the pain never stopped. It's like... a piece of my heart is still missing. Why does it never go away...?"
The priest understood now. It wasn't just about the wound.
He gently reached out and patted Arthur's head to comfort him.
"Arthur... this isn't your fault. You just need time. I promise... one day, this pain will fade."
Father Malderius suddenly coughed—a few times. He glanced at his hand.
A faint stain of red.
Arthur was still crying, unaware.
The priest knew none of the children should know about his illness. Without a moment's pause, he wiped it away with his sleeve, pretending nothing had happened.
With a tired but gentle smile—a smile that carried the weight of sleepless nights and fading strength—he spoke:
"Arthur... you're a clever child. I'm certain there's a bright future waiting for you. Don't let these dark thoughts hold you back. Maybe someday... I won't be here by your side anymore... but even then, know this: I will still be with you."
He paused, his voice now a soft whisper—like a candle speaking in the dark:
"When you're drowning in the shadows... I'll be the light that flickers quietly, stopping you from falling.
So trust me, my child."
Arthur, sensing the depth of those words, wiped away his tears. The ache in his heart eased. He nodded gently.
The priest smiled.
"Come, let's go inside and take care of that wound. You shouldn't be out this late anyway. Tomorrow is an important day for you and the others."
Arthur blinked, surprised.
"Tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow?"
The priest looked up at the sky, then replied:
"Representatives from the Royal Academy are coming from the capital. Every year, they hold a test and pick a few children to sponsor. It's a rare opportunity for someone like you. If you score high enough... you could enter a prestigious academy for free."
Arthur remained silent.
Father Malderius continued:
"The academy's tuition is so high that most people can't even dream of affording it. But if you perform well tomorrow!... your life could change forever. I know you work hard every day. You may not be the best in every lesson, but you are undoubtedly gifted. I even spoke with Father Arash. He said you show talent in both swordsmanship and magic. With the right training, you could truly shine."
What the priest said was true. Arthur wasn't the best, but he was good—and he did have natural talent. Even Arthur himself had noticed it.
Father Malderius looked at Arthur—a boy with silver hair and golden eyes. Deep inside, he hoped that Arthur would grow into someone who could help others. That's why he always supported him.
He gently patted Arthur's back and smiled warmly:
"Let's go inside and treat your wound. After that, you can rest and get ready for tomorrow."
Arthur entered the orphanage as the priest began calling the other children inside. It was a large wooden house with a red roof. Inside, the home was filled with the warm noise of children playing and chatting. The temperature was cozy and welcoming.
Sister Maria—a young nun in her twenties with black hair and black eyes, dressed in a black robe and wearing a cross necklace—saw Arthur and quickly noticed the wound on his forehead. She gasped in concern and immediately fetched a bandage kit.
She sat Arthur down and began treating him.
"Got into another fight, Arthur? Why do you keep fighting with the others? You're only hurting yourself. How many times do I have to tell you this?"
Arthur looked at her face.
She was beautiful. In fact, when she was angry, she looked even more beautiful.
*He smiled faintly.*
Truthfully, even she had to deal with trouble because of him. Yet she and the priest always supported him—the only two who did.
"I'm sorry, sister. I always make you and Father worry because of me."
She gave him a small flick on the forehead and said:
"Idiot. That's not what I meant. I mean you should take better care of yourself. We worry about you."
Arthur looked down and said:
"Okay, sister. I'll try to become a better person."
After the bandaging was done, the children gathered around a simple dinner table of bread and seasonal soup. Father Malderius sat at the head, raised his hands in prayer, and closed his eyes. The children followed.
"Oh Lord of Heaven and Earth, Creator of good and banisher of evil, please bless your humble servants. May your grace always be with us. Amen."
They began to eat. Arthur noticed that Father Malderius looked pale and sickly, but he chose not to say anything.
After dinner, Arthur went upstairs to his room. It had several beds placed around and a study desk with a half-burnt candle and a few basic literacy books on top—proof that they taught reading, writing, and basic math at the orphanage.
Arthur lay down on his bed. His wound still hurt, but his mind was occupied with thoughts of tomorrow.
Would he pass the test?
If yes, maybe life would finally change for the better.
If not... what was the point?
Staring at the ceiling, he held onto a small hope—that one day, he could truly live a life filled with joy.
---
The next morning, as the sun began to rise, the sounds of birds chirping and a cool breeze rustling the trees filled the air. The children gathered at the village's training grounds for the Academy entrance exam.
There was a strange energy among them—a mix of excitement and nervousness.
The sky was blue, but it felt like a storm was coming.
Arthur was anxious. The fear of failure made his stomach churn. But he tried to steady himself, focusing on the test ahead.
Then, the sound of a door creaking open drew everyone's attention.
One of the large building doors opened.
A tall man in a gray cloak, with a sword strapped to his back, stepped inside.
His movements were slow and steady.
He scanned the crowd of children, then stopped and began to speak...