Little Mark was different from the other children of his time from a very young age. When they played with wooden swords, Mark always outran everyone, as if he had been born with a sword in his hand. When they played hide-and-seek, no one ever found the boy until he revealed his hiding place. When they played catch, Mark was the first to catch everyone or the last to be caught.
That may have been why the children no longer wanted to play with him over time. And Mark was left alone in the small village that was his home. Slowly, they began to refer to him as the shadow of the village, because he always knew about everything and somehow always appeared, even in places where he had nothing to do.
Mark wanted nothing more than to be like the others, to be accepted and not looked at with a sideways glance. He just wanted to belong somewhere, to be accepted too. As he grew up, however, he had to realize that life was not as simple as he imagined it to be.
Then one bright day he finally felt he would have a chance to do something good for the villagers. His home was attacked by strange figures dressed in ragged brown clothes. Little Mark was only seven years old at the time. Yet he calmly picked up an abandoned weapon from the ground and finished off the attackers with such brilliant moves that the villagers had never seen.
However, contrary to Mark's hopes, his little showplay did not have the desired effect. Instead of the village greeting him happily and gratefully, they became even more distant than before. More than once, the little boy heard the elders whispering among themselves, or saw them looking at him with side-eyes.
At some point, the boy began to wonder what if the Onegod was angry with him. After all, whatever he did, he was always rejected, whatever he did, people considered it a sin. They feared him and avoided him. And Mark didn't know what he had done to deserve this fate. Why did the Onegod, whom the old people always spoke of as a benevolent being, who theoretically had only to be asked to be listened, abandon him? But no matter how much Mark asked, no one listened to him. And so he slowly lost the little faith that despair had given him.
From the shadow of the village, he became the village executioner. And if that wasn't enough, barely a week after the attack, the dreams began. Sometimes Mark couldn't decide whether the images his mind painted were nightmares or not. When he woke up, he didn't remember much of them, only the grayness and the glint of swords.
Finally, the day came that could mean redemption for little Mark. The day when, despite how much he had lived as an outcast, he was finally accepted into the community. The day of the blessing. Although Mark had never in his life cared about the Onegod, especially not after the raid, or even with the existence of other beings beyond the human world. The day of the blessing was still important to him.
His childish heart still yearned for acceptance, for him to belong somewhere. After all, those who had received the blessing of the Onegod belonged to each other, they formed a community. Mark, who was ten years old at the time, thought that if he too became one of the blessed, the village would finally have no choice but to accept him.
He was already standing in the church, in front of the altar, ready to kneel and repeat the words that would allow him to be among the blessed. But for Mark, life had never been so simple. Just as the priest was about to give him the blessing, a strange figure with blue and white hair stepped out of the crowd and placed his hand on Mark's head.
"You will not initiate him." He announced in a cold voice, causing Mark's blood to freeze. To his horror, the priest simply bowed to the stranger and moved on to continue the blessing.
If little Mark had been an ordinary child, he would have burst into tears. But he was not an ordinary child, so his reaction was not ordinary either. Instead of tears, his hands clenched into fists and, slamming the hand down from the top of his head, he stood up and stormed out of the church without looking back, thereby breaking every rule that was in the service of religion.
Little Mark didn't really know where he was running, he just ran wherever his feet took him. He knew that if he stopped and someone got in his way, he would kill them. So he didn't stop for a moment. He ran as long as his legs would carry him, until he collapsed on the side of the road. He was panting and his ears were ringing, but even that was better than staying in the village and facing everyone's terrified and disappointed gazes.
"Why did you run away?" Hearing the unexpected question, Mark moved as quickly as he had ever done in his life and without thinking raised his hands in front of him, as if preparing for battle. However, standing in front of him with a calm posture was none other than the stranger from the church
"Who are you? Why did you have to speak up? They would have finally accepted me! Why did you have to be there? Why can't I be like the others?" A multitude of questions come from the desperate child, but the mam who had come so suddenly sighed heavily as he turned his head to the left.
"I always forget how fierce they are for such a small person." The stranger muttered, then turned back to Mark. "My name is Weruh Sesanti." He introduced himself. "And the rest of your questions are easy to answer. Because you souldn't use this cultivation." He announced.
"I could do it!" Young Mark snapped.
"Oh, I have no doubt about that. You could easily do it, but you wouldn't achieve as much success with it as you would with the chán version." Weruh explained, then smiled faintly and looked deeply into the boy's eyes. "If you come with me, I will teach you a cultivation that will allow you to fulfill yourself much better, and if you are good enough, you may even reach the gods." The stranger chuckled and it was his last sentence that made the young boy lower his hands to his side and for the first time in years, the flame of hope flared up in his soul.
"Can I belong somewhere?" The uncertain question came.
"If you accept my offer, you will become a member of my clan." Weruh extended his hand to little Mark. The little boy just looked at the hand held out to him for a long time, then looked up at the man.
"Where are we going?" He asked with a curious look.
"Far beyond the mountains, to my home. To the east, to the land of cherry trees. To the homeland of the twelve clans." The man said.
"All right." Mark took the hand extended to him after a big swallow. Weruh just grinned.
"I knew you would agree." He noted and with his free hand he pulled out a strange object, which Mark later learned was a talisman. "We better not waste a minute." The man chuckled and threw the talisman on the ground, which began to glow with white light, almost blinding Mark, who had to close his eyes. "Welcome to the home of the seer clan." Weruh spoke again and when little Mark opened his eyes a new world appeared before him.