A black-haired child stood motionless among the corpses scattered across the blood-soaked ground. The thick stench of iron clung to the air, and crimson streams pooled sluggishly around him, soaking into the earth and his tattered clothes. He hunched forward, gasping for air.

  “Huff,” he exhaled, his voice barely audible, his hollow eyes devoid of humanity. His expression was eerie—neither fear nor sorrow crossed his face—just a haunting, unreadable calm.

  Then, a voice broke the dreadful silence.

  “W-Why?”

  The sound came from a corpse, its trembling lips forming the words in a sickening parody of life. The child didn’t flinch. He didn’t answer. His gaze remained fixed ahead, even as more voices rose around him, bitter and accusing.

  “You won’t live happily either.”

  “You won’t find peace after killing us.”

  “Y-Your life... will be...”

  The voices unraveled into a low, guttural wail, their words clinging to him like shadows. His steps, sluggish and deliberate, left dark footprints in the blood.

  As his eyes opened, the dream dissolved into darkness, but the weight of those voices lingered, pressing heavily into the corners of his mind.

  ****

  On the outskirts of a humble village, an old man stood outside the orphanage, captivating a group of children with his tales. The young ones were wide-eyed, their faces alight with curiosity... except for one. Ric, a 15-year-old with sharp eyes and a quiet demeanor, leaned against a tree at the edge of the group. His mind wandered.

  "Dang, what a nightmare. Whatever, it’s been a while since we’ve all gathered like this. Let’s see what this old man has in store," he thought, brushing off the unease lingering from his dream.

  The old man’s voice carried a warm authority as he addressed the children with a smile. “My young ones, let this old man tell you a captivating story about the history of our world. Do you wish to hear it?”

  The children, brimming with excitement, nodded eagerly. Ric, recognizing the tale even before it began, let out a small sigh. "Oh, the hero and the demon king again. I've read about it before, but..." His thoughts faltered as a sudden, sharp pain shot through his head. "Ugh!" he groaned silently, clutching his temple. He masked his discomfort, unwilling to disturb the others.

  The old man began, his voice a blend of nostalgia and gravitas. "When I was young, the land was vast, and peace reigned among humans and the other races. Imagine playing ball with an elf or brawling with a dwarf—those were good days. But as all good things do, they came to an end."

  His tone darkened as he continued. “The demons arrived through portals, bloodthirsty and relentless. They slaughtered humans and devoured them to sate their desires. The dragons and other races, swayed by the demon king’s influence, could not intervene. The realm plunged into chaos—a decade-long war that left despair in its wake. Yet, in the darkest hour, a figure emerged.”

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  He paused, his eyes gleaming with emotion. “A hero, driven by an unyielding resolve, rose to challenge the demon king. With a heart of steel and unmatched courage, he embarked on a perilous journey, rallying hope where there was none.”

  An eight-year-old boy raised his hand. "Sir, did you meet the hero?"

  The old man’s eyes softened, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “Yes, my child. I saw him with my own eyes. Even in the chaos of battle, when despair gripped our hearts, he stood tall, shining like the sun. He was... extraordinary.”

  As the teacher was reminiscing the past, a 10-year-old child named Gray became curious and decided to confide in another child named Alden, she was 13 and sitting beside him. Gray leaned in closer and whispered in Alden's ear, "Hey, am I the only one who isn't curious about the hero's name?"

  Alden was taken aback by Gray's question and hesitantly replied, "I-it seems you were also sleeping that day, right?"

  Gray tilted his head in confusion, unable to comprehend Alden's response. Alden leaned in even closer and whispered quietly in Gray's ear, "You see, Big Brother Ric, right? Never mention the hero's name in front of him, okay? If you're that curious, you can ask the teacher when Big Brother Ric isn't around. It's a rule, remember it."

  A hush fell over the group, broken only by the crackle of the fire. The old man sighed deeply before continuing. “The hero’s journey ended in a climactic battle against the demon king. Their clash shook the very fabric of our world. In the end, the hero struck a decisive blow, defeating the demon king and saving us all. But peace came at a cost—the hero sacrificed his life for our salvation.”

  With the defeat of their dark oppressor, a profound stillness descended upon the world. The demons hid in the shadows and stopped their attacks. The hero's sacrifice had brought about the long-awaited peace that humanity yearned for."

  A child eagerly raised their hand. “Sir! What class did the hero belong to?”

  The old man chuckled. “Ah, a good question. The hero belonged to a class known as the 'Barriard.'"

  The children exchanged puzzled glances, the name unfamiliar. All but one—Ric, who leaned forward, his thoughts racing. “Barriard? I’ve scoured the library, but I’ve never found anything about this class. Why?”

  A bolder child asked, “Sir, what does a Barriard do?”

  The old man smiled faintly. “Barriards can create barriers of any shape. However, mages can perform similar feats, so they’re often dismissed as... useless.”

  Ric’s hand shot up. “If it’s so useless, how did the hero defeat the demon king?”

  The old man chuckled softly. “Ah, Ric, that’s the mystery, isn’t it? Sometimes, the answer lies not in the skill itself but in the wielder’s will. Perhaps the hero knew something we don’t.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, letting his words hang in the air.

  As the group dispersed for dinner, the old man added, “Children, tomorrow a mage from the Magic Tower will visit to assess you all. You’ll learn your classes—so be prepared.”

  The room buzzed with excitement. Yota, Ric’s excitable friend, nudged him. “What do you think you’ll get, Ric? I’m aiming to be a fire mage! Imagine me, burning up demons like the hero!”

  Ric smirked. “You? A hero? You’d set yourself on fire first.”

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Yota pouted, chasing after Ric as their laughter echoed down the hall.

  But Ric’s thoughts lingered. “Barriard... useless? I don’t buy it. The hero didn’t just win by luck. There’s something more to it, but it does not concern me.”