MANA WORLD Chapter 1: The Dragon’s Wrath

Zaidan rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. The kitchen was bathed in the soft, golden light of the early morning sun, casting a warm glow on the wooden cabinets and the old, weathered table. The aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the faint scent of wildflowers from the open window. His mother, Chumon Green, stood by the stove, her hands deftly flipping pancakes in a well-worn cast iron skillet.

“Morning, Zaidan,” she greeted him with a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Come over here, let me look at you.” Her voice was gentle but carried the authority of a parent who had seen her children grow each day. “You boys grow taller every day.”

Zaidan shuffled closer, his bare feet padding softly on the wooden floor. He was still in his pajamas, his hair a mess of curls from the night’s sleep. Chumon reached out, smoothing his unruly hair and inspecting his face as if she could see the changes of the past night etched into his features.

“Where’s Dad and Kozo?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

Chumon chuckled softly. “Oh, they are out in the yard. I think Kozo is training and Dad is cutting up some wood for us.” She turned back to the stove, expertly flipping another pancake onto the growing stack beside her. “Go ahead and join them, but make sure to tell them breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” Zaidan replied, heading towards the door. He could already hear the rhythmic thud of an ax splitting wood and the faint grunts of his brother’s exertion from the yard.

Chumon watched him go, a fond smile playing on her lips. She took a moment to appreciate the serenity of the morning. The sounds of her family’s activities, the birds chirping outside, and the smell of breakfast cooking – these were the simple joys that made their house a home.

Zaidan stepped outside, greeted by the crisp morning air. The yard was a flurry of activity. His father, Adon Black, stood by a stack of logs, his muscular frame glistening with sweat as he swung the ax with practiced ease. Each strike was precise, the wood splitting cleanly under his powerful blows. Nearby, Kozo, Zaidan’s older brother, was deep in his morning training routine. His movements were fluid and precise, a testament to the hours he spent honing his skills.

“Dad! Kozo!” Zaidan called out, his voice carrying across the yard. “Mom says breakfast is almost ready!”

Kozo looked up from his training, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Look who decided to wake up!” he called out, his voice carrying a playful tone. “As you can see, we, the men of the Black family, are out here doing men’s work while the ladies stay safe indoors.” He flexed his muscles dramatically, teasing Zaidan with a mock-serious expression.

Adon Black, their father, let out a hearty laugh, pausing mid-swing to catch his breath. “Stop teasing your brother, Kozo,” he said, shaking his head with amusement. “Every growing man needs his beauty sleep. Who wants to be strong and ugly?” He chuckled, the sound deep and infectious.

Kozo laughed too, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good one, Dad!” he said, giving his father a thumbs-up.

Zaidan rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, “Weirdos.” He scratched the back of his head, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I was just tired, I guess.” He walked over to the pile of wood and picked up an ax, determined to prove he could keep up with the “men of the Black family.”

The handle felt solid and reassuring in his hands. He positioned himself next to his father and took a deep breath, raising the ax high above his head. With a grunt, he brought it down, the blade sinking into the wood with a satisfying thud.

“That’s the spirit, Zaidan!” Adon encouraged, nodding approvingly. “It’s good to see you pitching in.”

Zaidan found a rhythm, the physical labor waking him up more effectively than any amount of sleep could. As he worked alongside his father and brother, he felt a sense of camaraderie. The early morning sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground and illuminating the thin wisps of steam rising from their breath in the cool air.

Adon Black swung the ax with a steady rhythm, each blow landing with a satisfying thud as the wood split cleanly in two. He glanced over at Zaidan, who was working diligently beside him. The boy’s face was flushed from the exertion, but there was a determined set to his jaw that made Adon smile with pride.

“Don’t worry about it, son,” Adon said, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “You are doing great. Soon you will be thirteen and ready to set out into the world!”

Zaidan scoffed, his expression turning sour. “Yeah, and work for some crap lord,” he muttered, his distaste evident.

Adon chuckled, understanding his son’s frustration. “Yeah, I know what you mean, but that’s the way of the Mana Guard, and they are the ones keeping the world safe right now.”

Zaidan sighed, his resolve wavering. “Hmmm…yeah, I guess you’re right,” he conceded, though his voice still held a note of reluctance.

Adon stopped chopping and looked at Zaidan, his expression serious. “There’s a lot you boys don’t know yet about our family,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery. “You will find out as you get older…” He hesitated for a moment before adding under his breath, “about our family’s connection to Dragons.”

Zaidan’s eyes widened in surprise. “A connection? Dragons?” he thought to himself, his mind racing with questions. He continued chopping wood, his movements more automatic as his thoughts drifted to what his father had just revealed. Could it be true? Were the stories and legends he had heard about dragons not just tales to scare children but a part of his own family’s history?

The morning sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard. The rhythmic sound of chopping wood continued, but Zaidan’s mind was elsewhere, grappling with the revelation. He wanted to ask more, to probe his father for details, but he knew better than to push. His father had a way of revealing things in his own time, and Zaidan would have to be patient.

As the pile of split wood grew, Zaidan’s thoughts turned to the future. He was only a year and a few months away from turning thirteen, the age when boys in their village were expected to begin their service to the Mana Guard. The thought of leaving home, of stepping into a world where he would have to serve a lord he did not respect, filled him with a mix of dread and excitement. But now, there was something more – a mystery about his family, a legacy connected to dragons. What did it mean? How did it tie into his future?

The kitchen was abuzz with the sounds and smells of breakfast. Chumon Green was at the stove, flipping pancakes with the precision of a master chef. The stack of golden-brown pancakes grew taller by the minute, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of maple syrup.

Kozo burst into the kitchen, his face alight with excitement. “These are the best pancakes ever!” he declared, his mouth full as he shoveled another bite in. “You should hurry, Zaidan. I might finish them all.”

Outside, Zaidan chopped wood, the rhythmic thud of the ax a steady counterpoint to his growling stomach. He paused, wiping sweat from his brow and glancing toward the house. He could hear Kozo’s teasing even from the yard. “Hey! Mom! Is there any left for me?” he called, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. He watched as Kozo dashed back into the house, clearly intent on making good on his playful threat.

Adon Black, still working beside Zaidan, chuckled. “He’s making empty threats, Zaidan. There’s plenty left.” He gave his son a reassuring pat on the back before resuming his work. The pile of split wood was growing steadily, a testament to their morning’s labor.

Kozo’s laughter echoed from the kitchen, a bright, infectious sound that brought a smile to Zaidan’s face despite his hunger. “You better hurry up!” Kozo called out, his voice muffled slightly by another mouthful of pancakes.

Zaidan shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. He hefted the ax one more time, determined to finish the last few logs before heading inside. The work was hard, but it was good work, and he knew it would make breakfast taste all the better.

As he swung the ax, his thoughts drifted back to the conversation with his father earlier that morning. The mention of dragons and family secrets had stirred something within him, a curiosity that was growing stronger by the minute. He resolved to ask his father more about it later. For now, though, his focus was on finishing the task at hand and getting his share of those delicious pancakes.

Finally, the last log split neatly in two, and Zaidan let out a satisfied sigh. He placed the ax down and dusted off his hands, feeling a sense of accomplishment. His stomach growled again, louder this time, urging him to move quickly.

Zaidan hurried toward the house, his pace quickening as the smell of breakfast grew stronger. He burst into the kitchen to find Kozo and Adon already seated at the table, their plates piled high with pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

“About time you joined us,” Kozo teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I was starting to think I’d have to eat your share too.”

Zaidan rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Yeah, right,” he said, grabbing a plate and piling it with food. “I’d like to see you try.”

Chumon turned from the stove, a warm smile on her face. “There’s plenty for everyone,” she said, placing another stack of pancakes on the table. “Eat up, Zaidan. You’ve earned it.”

Zaidan didn’t need to be told twice. He dug in, savoring the rich, buttery pancakes and the crisp bacon. The flavors burst in his mouth, a reward for the hard work he had put in that morning. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of clinking forks and happy chatter, the warmth of family and home wrapping around them like a cozy blanket.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the village. The Black family had just finished breakfast, their laughter and conversation still lingering in the air. Zaidan was helping his father and brother stack the last of the chopped wood when a distant shout shattered the tranquility.

A villager, wide-eyed with terror, came running towards them, his voice a frantic plea. “Fire! Dragon! Run!”

Zaidan frowned, confused. “What is he saying…?” he started, but then his eyes widened in horror. “Dad! It’s a dragon!” he screamed, pointing towards the village. Over the rooftops, a massive dragon loomed, its scales glistening like molten metal. It roared, a deafening sound that shook the very ground, and unleashed a torrent of fire, engulfing everything in its path.

Adon Black’s face paled. “Oh no! Not now!” he muttered, turning to Kozo with urgency. “Run, son. Grab your brother and run.”

Kozo’s grip tightened on Zaidan’s arm, trying to pull him away, but Zaidan stood rooted to the spot, his eyes locked on the terrifying sight. The dragon’s fiery breath consumed buildings, reducing them to smoldering ruins. Villagers screamed and ran in every direction, their faces masks of fear.

“Come on, Zaidan!” Kozo shouted, his voice breaking through the paralyzing terror. He tugged harder, finally breaking Zaidan’s trance. The two boys began to run, their feet pounding against the dirt as they headed for the safety of the forest.

Chumon Green burst out of the house, her face a mask of horror as flames licked at the wooden walls. “Adon! The boys!” she screamed, her voice filled with panic.

Adon turned, his heart clenching as he saw his wife running towards him. “Chumon, no! Stay back!” he shouted, but it was too late. The dragon swooped down, its enormous wings casting a shadow over the yard. With a swift, brutal motion, it picked Chumon off the ground, her scream piercing the chaos.

“Chumon!” Adon roared, charging forward. His grip on the ax faltered as the dragon’s tail swept low, the sudden burst of wind forcing him to drop it. The weapon clattered across the dirt.

Adon didn’t hesitate. He slammed his fists together, coating his right hand in a thick layer of iron that shimmered in the firelight. With a thunderous step he launched himself at the dragon.

He punched the beast square in the jaw.

The impact rang out like metal on stone—the dragon’s head snapped to the side, surprised, but only for a moment. It growled, more annoyed than hurt.

Before Adon could pull back for another strike, the dragon lashed out. Its massive tail crashed into him, knocking the air from his lungs and hurling him across the ground. He skid through the dirt, coughing, struggling to rise.

Zaidan and Kozo froze, horror in their eyes.

“Mom! Dad!” Zaidan shouted, his voice cracking.

The dragon turned, its gaze locking onto Adon with cold, hunting focus. It lunged. Adon pushed himself up on trembling arms, but the creature was faster—its claws closed around him, lifting him effortlessly into the air.

“Run, boys!” Adon yelled, fighting against the crushing grip. “Run, and don’t look back!”

Zaidan wanted to fight, to do something, anything, but Kozo grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the trees. “We have to go, Zaidan! Now!” he urged, his own voice shaking with fear.

Tears streamed down Zaidan’s face as he tore his gaze away from the horrific scene. Together, the brothers ran, the roar of the dragon and the screams of their parents echoing in their ears. The village was a hellish landscape of fire and destruction, the dragon’s wrath leaving nothing untouched.

They reached the edge of the forest, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Zaidan looked back one last time, his heart breaking as he saw the dragon carrying his parents away.

The forest was dense, the undergrowth grabbing at their legs as Zaidan and Kozo ran, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Behind them, the village was an inferno, flames licking the sky and casting an eerie glow on the horizon. The crackling of burning wood and the distant screams of villagers filled the air, a terrifying reminder of the chaos they had fled.

Zaidan glanced over his shoulder, his heart pounding. The sight of the village engulfed in flames sent a shiver down his spine. “We have to keep moving,” he panted, his voice strained with fear and exertion.

Suddenly, a low growl echoed through the trees. Zaidan’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wolves!” he shouted, his voice breaking.

The underbrush rustled, and several wolves emerged, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. The desperate screams of villagers caught in their path added to the cacophony of terror. The wolves pounced on the fleeing villagers, their powerful jaws and sharp claws leaving no escape.

Zaidan and Kozo pressed on, their feet pounding the forest floor. A lone wolf broke from the pack, its eyes fixed on Zaidan. The beast’s snarling maw and loping stride were the stuff of nightmares, but Zaidan couldn’t afford to stop running.

“Zaidan, here!” Kozo yelled, tossing a long stick towards his brother.

Zaidan caught it in mid-stride, his fingers closing around the rough wood. The wolf lunged, and in one fluid motion, Zaidan sidestepped, swinging the stick with all his might. The makeshift weapon connected with the wolf’s side, the impact sending the animal sprawling to the ground.

The wolf let out a pained yelp, its body crumpling for a moment before it struggled to its feet. It looked at Zaidan with wary eyes, deciding the boy was not worth the fight. With a final, disdainful growl, the wolf turned and bolted back into the undergrowth.

“Come on, Zaidan!” Kozo urged, his voice tight with urgency. “We have to keep moving!”

The brothers pushed on, their legs burning with fatigue. The sounds of pursuit faded behind them, replaced by the whispering of leaves and the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush. The forest was dark, the thick canopy blocking out much of the light, but they pressed on, driven by fear and the desperate need to survive.

They reached a small clearing, the moonlight casting a pale glow on the ground. Zaidan doubled over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Kozo placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his own chest heaving.

“We can’t stop,” Zaidan said between gasps. “We have to keep going.”

Kozo nodded, his face grim. “I know, but we need a plan. We can’t just run blindly.”

Zaidan looked around, his mind racing. The forest was vast and unforgiving, but it offered them a chance to hide, to regroup. “We need to find a safe place to rest, even if it’s just for a little while,” he said. “Then we can figure out our next move.”

They continued on, their pace slower but no less determined. The sounds of the forest enveloped them, a strange mix of comforting and menacing. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves set their nerves on edge, but they pressed on, driven by the need to survive and the hope that they could somehow find a way to save their parents.

After what felt like hours, they stumbled upon a small cave nestled at the base of a rocky hill. It was shallow, but it offered some protection from the elements and any predators that might be lurking in the forest.

“This will do for now,” Kozo said, his voice weary. “We can rest here.”

They settled in, using their remaining energy to gather a few branches and leaves for a makeshift bed. The cave was cool and dark, the air damp with the scent of earth and moss. Zaidan lay down, his body aching from the exertion and stress of the day.

As he stared up at the ceiling of the cave, his mind replayed the events of the day. The dragon, the fire, the wolves – it all felt like a terrible dream. But the pain in his muscles and the raw fear in his heart told him it was all too real.

“We’ll find a way, Zaidan,” Kozo said softly, sensing his brother’s turmoil. “We’ll save Mom and Dad. We’ll figure this out.”

Zaidan nodded, grateful for his brother’s presence. “I know,” he whispered. “We’ll do it together.”

They lay there in silence, the weight of their situation pressing down on them. The forest outside was alive with the sounds of night, but inside the cave, they found a moment of peace. They knew the road ahead would be difficult, but they also knew they had each other.

The night in the cave was long and restless. Kozo sat with his back against the cool, damp wall, his eyes scanning the faces of the few villagers who had managed to escape the dragon’s wrath. They were huddled together, their expressions a mix of shock and sorrow. Zaidan sat beside him, silent and staring at the thin tendrils of smoke still rising from the direction of the village.

“We just have to make it to morning,” Kozo said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Zaidan didn’t respond, his mind still reeling from the horrors they had witnessed. The image of the dragon and the devastation it had wrought was seared into his memory. He kept replaying the sight of his parents being taken, the fear and helplessness he felt, the overwhelming need to do something, anything to make it right.

As the first light of dawn crept into the cave, the villagers began to stir. They emerged into the cool morning air, their movements slow and hesitant. Together, they climbed a nearby hill to survey what remained of their home.

Zaidan and Kozo stood side by side, their hearts heavy with grief. Below them, the village lay in ruins, the once vibrant community reduced to charred rubble and ashes. Smoke still rose from the smoldering remains, a stark reminder of the dragon’s fury.

“It can’t be…” Zaidan began, his voice trailing off as a new horror unfolded before their eyes. Soldiers, clad in the distinctive armor of the Mana Guard, marched into the village, rounding up the dazed and frightened survivors.

“Hey! What the hell are you guys doing? Can’t you see what happened here?” Kozo shouted, his anger and confusion boiling over.

One of the soldiers, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, turned and punched Kozo, sending him sprawling to the ground. Zaidan felt a surge of anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

“You’re coming with us,” the soldier growled, grabbing Zaidan by the shirt and yanking him forward.

“Get your filthy hands off him!” Kozo spat, struggling to his feet and wiping blood from his mouth. “Another punch maybe. This time I can put your mouth to sleep for good,” the soldier threatened, raising his fist.

Kozo tensed, ready to fight, but Zaidan held out his arm, stopping him. He met his brother’s eyes, a silent plea for restraint. Then he looked around at the other villagers, their faces pale and fearful.

“It’s probably best if we don’t try and fight these guys,” Zaidan said, his voice calm but firm. 

“They’re soldiers of the Mana Guard. They won’t enslave us or anything crazy like that.”

The soldier laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. “I see you’re the smart one,” he sneered.

Kozo scowled, spitting to the side. “Tsk, yeah, whatever.”

The soldiers rounded up everyone, including Zaidan and Kozo. The group was herded away from the hill, their steps heavy with uncertainty and fear. Zaidan kept glancing back at the ruins of their village, his heart aching with every step. The once-familiar landscape was now a haunting reminder of what they had lost.

As they moved, Zaidan tried to make sense of their situation. The Mana Guard’s presence was unexpected. He had always thought of them as protectors, not aggressors. What were they doing here, and what did they want with the survivors?

“Where are they taking us?” one of the villagers whispered, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know,” Zaidan replied, his own uncertainty weighing heavily on him. “But we have to stay strong. We’ll figure this out.”

Kozo walked beside him, his fists still clenched in anger. “This isn’t right,” he muttered. “They should be helping us rebuild, not taking us away like criminals.”

Zaidan nodded, his own frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I know. But we have to stay together. There has to be a deeper reason to this”

The soldiers led them through the forest, their destination unknown. The villagers walked in silence, each lost in their thoughts and fears. Zaidan’s mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of information he had. His father’s cryptic words about their family’s connection to dragons now seemed more urgent and confusing than ever.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, they finally reached a clearing where several makeshift tents were set up. The soldiers ordered them to sit and wait, promising that their questions would be answered soon.

Zaidan and Kozo sat close together, their eyes scanning the camp. It was clear that this was a temporary holding area, but for what purpose? Zaidan couldn’t shake the feeling that they were on the brink of something much larger than they could understand.

“We’ll get through this,” Kozo said quietly to Zaidan. “We have to.”

Zaidan nodded, his jaw set in determination. “Yeah. And when we do, we’ll find Mom and Dad.”

As they sat in the makeshift camp, surrounded by other scared and confused villagers, Zaidan felt a flicker of hope. They had survived the dragon’s attack. Now, they had to survive this new ordeal. Together, they would find the strength to face whatever came next.