Spring.

  It is a season that brings joy, a time when, after the long, cold winter, people can finally begin a new year. No longer must they endure the biting cold, food is easier to find, and the variety slowly becomes richer. So, when winter gives way to spring, it is the most important celebration of the year, not just for humans but for dwarves, orcs, elves, and even ogres. Spring is a time for their most significant festivals. Of course, the world is so complex that there are always exceptions. Take the denizens of the underground world, for example; spring holds little meaning for them. Exceptions can go to extremes, such as with the snow spirits, a race that despises spring above all else. No matter what, for most humans, spring is a season of happiness.

  When the warm, humid air struggled over the Coastal Mountain Range and finally reached the village of Rutherlan, the villagers knew that spring had arrived.

  Rutherlan is located at the foot of the Coastal Mountain Range, a small dot in the vast expanse of these towering mountains, and one of the thousands of human settlements. It falls under the jurisdiction of Baron Tak and is part of the Holy Alliance Empire's territory. Yet, even by straight-line distance, the Baron’s castle is nearly 300 kilometers away. The villagers only see the Baron’s tax collectors during the autumn harvest. It is only then that the Baron’s presence is even slightly felt. The Baron’s taxes are light, mostly just taking some of the unique local produce, which doesn’t affect the villagers' daily lives much. However, the village’s output is limited, and if the taxes were any higher, it would soon become a matter of survival.

  Life in the mountains isn’t particularly difficult; as long as one works hard throughout the year, it’s manageable.

  With the arrival of spring, the land outside the village needs to be plowed and sown with crops that can be harvested in the summer. The hunters begin to enter the forest, where the beasts that had been dormant through the long winter start to wake up, hungry and searching for food. These creatures are dangerous and highly aggressive. However, some of the monsters' unique traits—such as glands that can be used for valuable medicinal herbs or spices—are most potent during this season, fetching the highest prices. Every year, hunters are injured or killed, but they always venture into the forest as usual. Therefore, in Rutherlan village, the forest and the hunting goddess receive the most reverence, for aside from the Eternal Dragon, the gods and their respective faiths across the continent of Norland are as numerous as the stars in the sky.

  The continent of Norland is a land rich in resources, where strength is revered, and the social structure is strictly hierarchical.

  Even a remote and tranquil village like Rutherlan carries the marks of its age. The villagers are honest and sincere but equally respect the strong and look down upon the weak. In this small village of only a few dozen households, there is an unspoken hierarchy.

  A small figure appeared outside the village— a boy, carrying a basket nearly as tall as himself, filled with breadfruit. In the spring, the winter’s stockpiled food has been mostly consumed, and the new crops haven’t yet been harvested. These not-so-tasty fruits are important sustenance. They are easy to find, simply needing to be collected from the nearby woods.

  Behind the boy, three older boys, each a head taller than him, appeared. They carried hunting bows and short forks, with knives strapped to their waists and prey like deer and rabbits slung over their backs. Though still under ten years old, they were already hunting in the mountains. Their targets were not the magical beasts but tame animals, caught mostly through traps. Nevertheless, this was no small feat. In the towns, common folk and noble children alike were still learning and training under the protection of their parents.

  The boy leading the group suddenly called out, "Hey, Richard! Where’s your father? Didn’t he teach you how to hunt? When I was your age, I could already go into the mountains to set traps for rabbits!"

  Another boy beside him laughed and added, "A fatherless child only knows how to pick fruit!"

  The three boys laughed heartily and skipped ahead, heading toward the village, their steps light, and it was hard to tell that they were each carrying dozens of kilos of game. The little boy didn’t pay any attention to their teasing and continued walking toward the village, his basket still on his back. A middle-aged man sitting at the village entrance had seen everything and waved the boy over. He handed him a piece of dried magical beast meat and lovingly ruffled his hair, asking, “Little Richard, aren’t you upset that Piru and the others are bullying you? I’ll go teach them a lesson. Even if they’re just kids, they shouldn’t speak like that.”

  To the man’s surprise, the boy shook his head and replied, “It’s fine. I’m not angry.”

  “But...” The man scratched his rough, tanned head in confusion. He thought maybe the boy was simply afraid of the older boys and was about to speak up when he was interrupted.

  Richard smiled and said, “I may not have a dad, but I have the best mom!”

  The man smiled dumbly and nodded, “That’s right, that’s right.”

  Singing a tune, little Richard skipped merrily to the village. At that moment, any lingering gloom in his heart vanished, replaced by happiness. His mother had told him that no matter what, he should always strive to be happy.

  That year, Richard was six. At the age of six, he learned how to be happy.

  The middle-aged man was named Bobby, the village blacksmith, while Richard’s mother, rumored to be a magic apprentice, had come to Rutherlan alone, with baby Richard still in her arms. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, but she was gentle like water. Her arrival brought a new breeze to the small village. For the first time, Rutherlan had a doctor, and people no longer had to travel dozens of kilometers to the town for a simple illness or, worse yet, endure it until it healed on its own. Her name was Ilene, and she opened a small apothecary shop on the edge of the village. Though she could only make basic potions, in her first year, she had saved more than one villager’s life. So, the village chief and elders decided to grant her a plot of land and formally accept her as part of the village. Rutherlan was a small village, but there were only three professions: the blacksmith, the doctor Ilene, and the retired officer who served as the village chief. These three supported the entire village’s daily life.

  Life in Rutherlan was slow and peaceful. Time passed unnoticed, and before long, another spring arrived.

  Richard had grown by another ten centimeters, now looking more like an eight- or nine-year-old. According to Rutherlan’s traditions, he was now supposed to learn how to make and set traps to catch rabbits and other herbivorous magical beasts. Not far from the village was a forest teeming with small magical beasts, while large ones were rarely seen. It was the area where children learned, and hunters never caught animals there but would regularly patrol it to remove any dangerous large beasts that wandered in. Every few days, Richard would still carry his basket up the mountain. The basket no longer looked too awkward on his back, signaling that he was still picking fruit. Breadfruit wasn’t tasty, and the villagers preferred magical beast meat, which not only tasted better but also made them stronger.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  But Richard still had to pick fruit before the age of hunting—his mother’s rule. Not only that, but he also had to collect medicinal herbs—four kinds for each season—and process them according to a specific, complicated routine. Half of the processing needed to be done when the herbs were picked, and the other half after returning home. What he didn’t understand was why breadfruit had to go through a similar process, which took much more time and effort. In the village, no one else did this; breadfruit was the easiest food to find, and once ripe, it would naturally fall to the ground, ready to eat. But his mother insisted that the fruit should never be picked from the ground, but rather plucked directly from the tree, with specific size, color, and picking techniques required. Richard didn’t understand why, nor did he notice any difference in taste, but every time he picked it wrong, his mother would pick it out and scold him. After several reprimands, Richard stopped trying to play tricks and followed the steps carefully. It wasn’t until winter, when no more breadfruit could be picked, that his mother explained it was to teach him perseverance.

  That year, Richard was seven. At the age of seven, he learned the importance of perseverance. If there was any unpleasant memory from this year, it was that every dinner consisted of breadfruit. This small matter eventually became one of the haunting memories of his childhood.

  With the arrival of the new spring, Rutherlan was the same as always. Bobby, the blacksmith, was still single, Ilene’s apothecary shop had seen little success, and the village chief was still strong, charging to the front whenever a dangerous magical beast appeared.

  Richard finally began to learn how to set traps. Meanwhile, Piru and his group had already begun carrying short bows and joined the village hunters in the mountains. After crossing the threshold of ten years old, they could now be called young boys. With their tall, muscular frames, they would be mistaken for fifteen or sixteen-year-olds in a city.

  Setting traps was an art that required plenty of experience, keen eyes, nimble hands, and a bit of luck. With only basic tools, beginners were at risk of injuring themselves while setting traps unless they had the experience of seasoned hunters. Richard had a natural talent for learning, and he immediately outshone the other boys in the village, setting his first successful trap on the very first day, earning praise from the adults in the village. Bobby, the blacksmith, was so proud he would tell everyone that Richard was like his own son. Everyone in the village knew that Bobby would gladly close his blacksmith shop if Richard called him “father.”

  A few days passed, and Richard had mastered several types of traps. He ventured deeper into the reserve area, setting up a few large composite traps, hoping for his luck. Richard’s luck was good. A Kamchatka wild boar appeared in his sight, and it charged straight into one of his traps. The snare, made from thorns, vines, and iron spikes, securely caught its front leg. Although the wild boar was strong, Richard’s trap had been well crafted, and after a few wild struggles, the boar was still trapped.

  Hidden nearby, Richard watched nervously, sweating in his palms. The hunting knife in his hand felt less reliable than before. An injured wild boar was dangerous, though the Kamchatka wild boar was small and timid. Still, he was just a child.

  Just as Richard prepared to rush out, a sudden force from behind shoved him hard, sending him sprawling. He crashed to the ground, feeling dizzy, with the stench of blood in his nose. He heard the twang of a bowstring and then the wild boar’s agonized screams. Cheers rang out nearby, and the voices were familiar.

  Richard slowly got up, seeing Piru and three other boys, who had somehow appeared. One of them had shoved him out of the way. Piru, holding a hunting bow, stood proudly over the wild boar, a single arrow embedded in its neck. To hit the vital spot with one shot was no easy feat, even if the boar had been trapped. The boar had been thrashing wildly.

  “You stole my prey!” Richard shouted in anger as he finally realized their intentions.

  "Everyone here can vouch that I killed this boar. How is it stealing? Just because you set a trap? Any good hunter knows that traps like this are only for catching rabbits," Piru said slowly, his eyes full of disdain as he looked at Richard.

  He was nearly a head taller than Richard and much stronger. His strength was greater than his peers, almost on par with an adult. This was because Piru was the village chief’s son, and the chief often brought back powerful magical beasts from the mountains. The meat of these beasts was beneficial for building a strong body.

  “Then why did you come here to shoot a wild boar?” Richard’s retort left Piru speechless. They looked down on Richard for being thin, but they had to admit that Richard was quite clever—he could even write many words. But Piru and his gang didn’t respect him for that. Knowing how to write didn’t help with hunting, so what use were those words?

  Richard’s question made Piru angry, and he slapped his hand angrily. One of the boys circled around behind Richard and shoved him forcefully to the ground.

  Richard got up, his face flushed red. He gripped his hunting knife tightly, and the sudden surge of energy in his body made the other boys feel an inexplicable chill! But the knife stayed sheathed. In the time it took for hesitation to pass, Piru kicked him in the stomach, and the boys swarmed on him, taking his knife and beating him with punches and kicks. Piru even stamped his foot on Richard’s head, pressing his face deep into the dirt!

  The boys from the mountains were strong, and the beating was heavy. Richard didn’t struggle or cry out. He simply endured it in silence. The more Piru beat him, the angrier he became, feeling only disdain from Richard’s silent response.

  “Still not willing to admit defeat?” The boys hit him harder and harder, and Richard lay there as if his body no longer belonged to him, simply taking the beating. It didn’t take long before Piru started to worry. He feared he might have injured Richard too severely, and when he returned home, he’d be in for a severe punishment. The village chief’s temper was as fiery as his strength, and Ilene had a good reputation in the village.

  The boys slowly stopped, and Richard lay motionless for a while before finally struggling to get up. Piru threw a few harsh words at him before grabbing the wild boar and leaving. Once they were out of sight, Richard sat down under a tree, resting for a long time before standing up and walking home.

  That night, Ilene looked at the bruised Richard, tears streaming down her face, but the boy comforted her, saying it wasn’t much, just a little pain. After applying the medicine, the boy looked up at his mother and asked, “Can’t I fight back yet?”

  “Hmm!” Ilene nodded firmly, biting her teeth.

  “Okay, I won’t fight back, but I won’t submit.”

  In the days that followed, Piru found trouble with Richard a few more times, and it always ended with a harsh beating. But the worst one came when, after all the boys had tired themselves out, Richard still hadn’t given in. He didn’t cry out or beg for mercy, just silently enduring it. Every time they grew tired and prepared to leave, Richard would slowly rise, watching Piru in silence. That quiet, composed gaze seemed to send a chill deep into Piru’s heart, like he was staring at a dead man.

  From that year on, Piru began having nightmares. Every time he beat Richard, he would dream for days. Richard had never resisted, and Piru had grown stronger. The difference in their sizes continued to widen. But every time Piru looked at Richard, he saw that quiet, calm gaze, and then came the nightmares.

  Piru couldn’t understand one thing: why hadn’t Richard gone to his father to report the bullying? If Richard had done that, Piru would have surely gotten a few lashes. But Richard never told anyone in the village about the beatings.

  The number of times Piru and his gang bothered Richard gradually decreased. Then, one day, when Richard had blood on his lips but was smiling at them, the boys quickly scattered. That was the last time they troubled Richard.

  At eight years old, Richard learned resilience.