ivan
Morning arrived, and with it came the scorching heat of the sun, which offered no refuge in these flatlands. Despite that, the village was bustling with life, and the morning noise outside the house was what woke Ivan from dreams revolving around his mother. He rubbed his puffy eyes and headed to the bathroom to wash his face.
He felt a crushing loneliness he had never experienced before, filling his heart and engulfing the entire house. He couldn't bear to stay inside, so he went out, heading toward the forest to breathe some fresh air away from the stench of animal droppings and human waste. But on the way, five boys confronted him. Two were slightly taller than him, and three were about the same height. They surrounded him in a circle.
The tallest boy stepped forward, holding a stick in his hand, his face covered in scratches, and a wicked smile on his lips. He said, "Hey Ivan, do you remember me?"
Ivan looked at him with cold eyes, as if staring into emptiness, then replied in a calm and confident voice, "Yes, I remember. You're the guy I beat the crap out of last week. What was your name again? I forgot. How's your ass doing? Sorry, but I'm not in a good mood, and I don't want any trouble."
vid's face turned red with rage and he said, "Looks like your tongue is longer than you. I'll have to fix that and make them equal in length."
Ivan responded mockingly, stepping forward: "The only thing equal here is your brain and that pile of shit on the ground."
The four boys tried to hold back their laughter so they wouldn't anger vid, which only fueled his rage. He lunged at Ivan, swinging his stick hard toward his head, yelling, "You damn mutt, I won't forgive you. I'll smash your skull!"
Ivan managed to dodge the stick before it hit him, stepped back, and took a defensive stance. But he noticed one of the boys attacking from behind, so he kicked him backward, sending him crashing into the wall.
The other three boys stepped back a little, filled with fear, but vid's voice snapped them back as he shouted, "Don't be scared of him, you bastards! We outnumber him. he can't beat us all together!"
Ivan replied confidently, "Seems like you didn't learn from last time. Here you are making the same mistake again, except now you brought backup to fight for you. What a coward."
vid didn't bother responding this time. Instead, he grinned, revealing broken teeth, trying to provoke Ivan with his words: "I heard your mother died rotting in the house yesterday. My mom told me she was a witch who seduced men—turned friends into enemies. Even her husband couldn't stand her and ran off, and no one knows where. Who knows, maybe you're just a result of her lively social life."
Ivan couldn't hold himself back. The calm and cold demeanor turned into burning rage, reflected in his blue eyes, boiling like the sea. Before he knew it, he had hurled himself at vid, knocking him onto his back. He started pummeling his face with a barrage of punches until vid's face was swollen and covered in blood.
This was the first time vid had seen Ivan's fury. Ivan usually wore a mask of calm and fake confidence in front of others, always careful not to let their words affect him. But this time, vid was looking at someone else, someone full of emotion, desperate for release. His punches weren't those of a regular person, they were like a raging beast's.
vid lost consciousness after a flurry of punches that crushed his face, but his four friends quickly stepped in, grabbing Ivan by both arms and pinning him to the wall, landing several blows on him, blows that meant nothing to him.
One of the boys pulled a knife from his pocket and approached him with murder in his eyes, saying, "Now that your mom's dead, no one's going to ask about you. We can kill you right here and send you to her."
Ivan felt the seriousness of his words, and an involuntary fear arose within him. He looked at the boy approaching him and asked himself whether this fear was of death. Why was he still clinging to life despite having lost all meaning? His life hadn't been ideal, yet he didn't want to die. An old saying crossed his mind: "People prefer the pain they know over the unknown."
He tried to move his hands, but they were pinned down by three boys.
Before the boy could thrust his knife into Ivan's stomach, the ground beneath them shook violently, and from its depths emerged a massive monster, its height easily twice that of the village houses, maybe more.
It had razor-sharp limbs, so numerous they'd take a day to count, capable of tearing flesh apart in seconds. Its back was covered in a shield as hard as iron, and from the middle of its face protruded huge horns that occupied the space where eyes should've been. The other half of the face was filled with teeth as sharp as knives.
Ivan and the others raised their heads upward, sweat streaming down their stunned faces, to the point that breathing became difficult. They were catching glimpses of the first monster they'd ever seen in their lives, while stones rained down from the beast, crashing in every direction, destroying homes and everything nearby.
Ivan froze in place, like a stalk of wheat awaiting the reaper's sickle, unable to comprehend what his eyes were witnessing. Meanwhile, the other boys fled silently, carrying the unconscious vid with them.
The monster let out a deafening roar, its echo shattering window glass and ringing in Ivan's ears. And by the misfortune of this day, Ivan was the first one the monster sensed.
The beast swung one of its sharp limbs at Ivan, who jumped and rolled to the ground, his eyes fixed on the deep crater left behind by the strike. His heart was pounding fast—he had nearly been crushed.
He summoned what little strength was left in his legs and sprinted through the alleys of the village, his breath growing heavier with each step.
The monster crawled behind him, demolishing everything in its path, and unleashed a fiery projectile from its mouth, causing Ivan to lose balance from the force of the explosion's echo.
Ivan turned his face upward, the fear in his wrinkle-lined eyes reflecting the horror he felt. His throat dried up, and his blood froze in his veins as death appeared before him, manifested in its ugliest form, ready to claim his soul.
Ivan closed his eyes, surrendering to reality, as the monster's mouth flared like a raging volcano and spewed flames toward him. He disappeared inside them, as if reduced to ash.
But out of nowhere, a red-haired man appeared, dressed in black clothes. He sliced off the monster's protruding horns with ease, unfazed by its screams, then finished it by plunging his sword into its forehead, splitting it in half.
The red-haired man stood atop the monster, striking a victorious pose, his green eyes scanning left and right, taking in the destruction left in the monster's wake.
" Another failed mission. So many casualties, homes destroyed. If this keeps up, they might remove me from my position as squads leader." he said
Amid the sound of fires and villagers screaming, his ears picked up the harsh sound of coughing coming from behind him. His curiosity was piqued, someone had survived near the monster? He turned around to find the source of the sound, but the thick smoke made it difficult to see clearly.
Moments later, Ivan emerged from the black smoke, unable to stop coughing, his eyes bloodshot to the point where he couldn't keep them open.
Shock spread across the red-haired man's face when he saw Ivan coming out of the smoke. He muttered to himself: "How is this possible? I literally saw the monster roast him alive. Could it be that he's...?"
He focused his eyes on Ivan's face and gave a faint smile, then leapt toward him, saying:"I didn't expect to meet my successor here."
Ivan was puzzled by the red-haired man's words, he didn't understand what he meant. Nothing made sense. From the moment he closed his eyes to when he reopened them, everything around him had changed.
He found the monster lying on the ground, smoke surrounding him, and a stranger he had never seen before spouting strange words.
The man extended his hand toward Ivan and said: "I see you're alright, little boy. I'm Foden, from the Ritters."
Ivan looked at him in confusion for a moment, then shook his hand and introduced himself:
Foden replied with a sly smile forming on his face, "No need to thank me. I didn't save you . death just didn't find its way to you." He placed his hand on Ivan's shoulder and added, "Anyway, Why don't you join the Ritters?"
Ivan was surprised by the unexpected offer, and said as he brushed the hand off his shoulder, "Seems like you don't know anything about the Initiation."
Then he sighed and added, "I don't know why I keep meeting eccentric people. An old man asks me to live with him, and now a Ritter officer asks me to join. Shouldn't you be prioritizing the injured?"
Foden cut him off with a fake cough, then said, "First, I'm not an officer, I'm a squads commander. Second, the Morning Sisters will handle the injured. Third, I don't usually invite anyone to join, but I see the makings of success in you."
Ivan let out a sarcastic laugh and said, "Makings of success? I couldn't even run , the one thing humans have done since the beginning of time. I failed at that! And you want me to take the Ritters' test? You're trying to get me killed."
Foden felt there was no point in continuing the conversation, so he ended it by saying, "The test is in two months. If you decide to take it, we'll become rivals. Your path to seek power begins there. On that path, you'll find me as an obstacle, let's see if you can remove me."
Then, as if he was never there, he suddenly vanished into the air, leaving Ivan confused, caught between frustration and curiosity.
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Ivan lay on the green grass of the forest, hands behind his head, enjoying the shade of the massive tree whose branches stretched toward the sky as if trying to touch it.
The tree had something special about it beyond just being the oldest in the area. Its thick trunk served as a canvas, carved with the faces of a woman and a man, their features carved so perfectly it was as if the artist had given them a living soul.
Despite the age of the carving, the details were clear, reflecting deep emotion and an old story. Beneath their faces, names were carefully engraved: "Fleiman" for the man, and "Nada" for the woman. But what caught Ivan's attention was a third image that had been deliberately erased, as if someone had tried to remove it, leaving behind an unsolved mystery.
Ivan wondered to himself what story lay behind these names and engravings. Who were Fleiman and Nada? And what happened to the third person?
Ivan lifted his eyes to the sky, partially obscured by the surrounding trees, trying to fill his smoke-tainted lungs with clean air. The sound of the flowing river reached his ears, washing away the negative emotions he'd experienced throughout the day.
He had been through a lot today in this village that used to be so quiet it bordered on dull. but suddenly, it had become so loud it seemed to burn. The village, which usually wore yellow in the summer, had changed this time to red, flowing through its alleys.
On his way, he saw corpses of people whose heads had been crushed under the rubble. Yet, his heart wasn't kind enough to mourn the death of people he did not know.
-----'
Ivan closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind and reflect on what the old man had said the night before about living with him. Should he accept or reject the offer? There was something inside him urging him to say yes, as if whispering that this was a golden opportunity that wouldn't come again , one he'd regret missing.
But his mind was presenting other possibilities: that the man could be a deceiver trying to lure him into a trap.
He remembered his mother's saying , she held onto one philosophy: to reject trust. She considered it the devil from which all calamities stemmed. She used to say, "Trust is a noose a person willingly places around their own neck."
All these thoughts sent him into a whirlwind of inner conflict, until he felt like his brain was about to explode. He grabbed his head with both hands, started scratching his hair, and rolled back and forth on his back and stomach.
This was his own way of calming down and relieving stress. It wasn't a new habit, his mother once told him he was always restless even as a baby.
He left the green forest after hours of wandering, heading toward the cemetery where his mother's grave lay. The flowers he had picked from the wild grasses in the forest shimmered with their bright colors, but they weren't enough to ease the heaviness of sorrow crushing his heart.
He felt this visit would be different , this time he would speak to her grave, and have a one-sided conversation with his mother for the first time.
When he reached the grave, he gently laid the flowers on the stone, then leaned down slightly, as if trying to draw nearer to her spirit. He began to speak, sadness soaking his voice: "Mom, I miss you. I miss your boring stories full of lessons, those moments when you sat beside me, planting hope in my heart and killing my fear. It's only been one day since you left, and yet, so many unusual things have happened."
He paused for a moment, as if the words were stuck in his throat. "I think this village hates me, and wants me gone. It only tolerated me because of you. Isn't everything that happened some kind of sign for me? What should I do? Tell me, I'm lost."
On his way back to the village, Ivan's steps came to a halt when he noticed a strange man who clearly wasn't from around there. The man had messy black hair and reeked of a foul odor, similar to that of livestock. But what caught Ivan's attention the most was his large nose, which dominated a significant portion of his face.
The man was shouting and cursing loudly, directing his rage at someone from the Hybrids. The target was a boy around Ivan's age, with small fox-like ears and a bushy brown tail. His hair was messy, and his face wasn't clearly visible. He looked completely exhausted, unable to stand from the weight of the items he was carrying. His skin was bruised blue from repeated beatings, and his dirty clothes were riddled with holes.
Suddenly, the hybrid boy collapsed to the ground, as if struck by a seizure, while the man screamed furiously, "Damn you, you bastard! Still playing sick? Get up or I'll break this stick over your head!"
Ivan felt a deep sense of disgust at the scene, his expression full of silent outrage. But the strange man, noticing Ivan's look, bellowed in a piggish grunt, "What are you staring at, you little rat? Want to join him?"
Ivan continued walking without replying, determined to avoid any more trouble today. He had already been through enough.
Sunset was near. The sun slowly sank beneath the horizon, bidding farewell to Summer Village on yet another scorching day — maybe even hotter than the ones before. They were lucky the beast's fire hadn't reached the fields; otherwise, there'd have been nowhere left to flee.
Ivan returned home, lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't even notice the old man from the night before standing in front of his house until he heard his voice: "Hey, little boy! Welcome back. What's on your mind?"
Startled, Ivan jumped and stammered nervously, "W-what? It's you? You scared me! Where did you come from?"
The old man, leaning against the wall, replied, "The real question is: where was your mind? Look at your face, it's full of scratches. Were you in a fight? What happened here? I left this village one way and returned to find it in another."
Ivan opened the door and muttered, "I don't want to think about it." Then, after a moment's silence, he asked a strange question: "Old man… do you think life is fair?"
The old man was caught off guard by the odd, out-of-place question. He answered, "What makes you ask such a random thing?"
He replied in a sad tone, "I don't know. Consider it a question from someone searching for truth and fond of knowledge."
The old man stepped past Ivan into the house, sat down on an old wooden chair whose legs were on the verge of breaking. He crossed one leg over the other, lit a cigarette, then looked at Ivan with eyes full of experience. "The only fair things in this life are death and illness," he said, exhaling smoke into the air. "They know nothing of favoritism, and they don't distinguish between old and young, human or aquatic, or hybrids."
He paused briefly to savor the cigarette smoke and exhale it again before adding: "You know what else brings justice among people, besides morals?... Fear. Fear is an instinct that's sensitive to danger. You'll find people following the law not because they're moral, but because they're afraid of punishment. These are the same people who turn savage in hard times."
The old man paused for a moment, thinking whether what he said made sense, then continued: "To them, the law is a threat they must fear. It restrains them and draws boundaries they cannot cross. So, to become a just person, you need both morals and fear. These two things, when combined, form a restraint that keeps a person true to their principles, and that's what prevents them from wronging others."
Ivan was moved by the old man's words; they instantly reminded him of his mother's advice, which always had that strange yet wonderful tone. He closed the door behind him and walked toward the old man, taking a chair to sit in front of him. Then he said with a smile, "Nice words. Seems like you've got a lot to share, old man."
The old man laughed, his artificial white teeth nearly falling out. "That comes with age… or maybe because I'm wise," he answered proudly. Then he added more seriously, "But hold on a second... we don't even know each other's names yet. I'm Van. You can call me Uncle Van instead of 'old man."
Uncle Van extended his hand toward Ivan, who quickly responded, shaking it warmly. "I'm Ivan," he said, feeling a bit of comfort.
Van smiled at him as he ruffled his hair, saying, "Pleasure to meet you, little Ivan."
But Ivan pushed Uncle Van's hand off his head, his face turning red with embarrassment as he said, "I'm not a child!"
Van replied with a smile, "And I'm not an old man either!"
Ivan laughed involuntarily at the remark, then added playfully, "Even though you know a lot, you still don't know that you can't enter people's homes without permission."
Van's expression shifted slightly, and he felt a bit uneasy as he stammered, "Well… I suppose you're right. You got me this time."
But the lighthearted atmosphere quickly faded as Van dropped the mask of the funny old man. He furrowed his brows, and his brown eyes sharpened like a hawk's. Then he said seriously, "Now, let's get back to the important matter I came here for. What have you decided?"
Ivan felt intense anxiety. He stood up, unable to face Van's eyes. He turned toward the door, giving him his back, and said in a shaky voice, "I don't know. I'm still confused. The only thing I realized today is that I'm clinging to life."
These were the words coming out of his mouth, but deep down, he felt the exact opposite. He was certain of his desire to escape this place, but his mother's will hovered in his mind like a ghost that wouldn't leave.
He remembered the monster's attack, and that man from the Ritters who asked him to take the test. Those events were all tangled in his mind and impossible to ignore.
They weren't just coincidences, they were signs calling him to choose, as if fate was pointing at him with invisible fingers.
van stood up from his seat and walked towards the exit, his hands behind his back, leaving Ivan behind. Then he said, as smoke wafted from his mouth, "Letting the fear of the unknown dominate a person makes them lose many opportunities. They think they are protecting themselves, but the truth is that they are just cowards who cannot face reality and resort to fleeing from it. All your convictions and thoughts are nothing but borrowed knowledge from the experiences of others. I told you to stop borrowing others' eyes; you have your own."
van left the house, leaving Ivan behind until he reaches certainty, and he didn't delay; he dashed after Uncle fan, who was halted by a voice calling him, saying, "Okay, I agree, but I have one request: I want you to pay for the medicine I stole last night. I don't know if that old man is still alive or not." To which Uncle Fan replied, "How do I know you won't steal from me as well?" Ivan felt he had said something he shouldn't have disclosed in front of him, so he tried to defend himself, saying, "It was something necessary; I didn't do it gladly; I…"
van laughed at Ivan's spontaneous replies, saying, "I'm just joking; so, shall we go?"