## Story 1 ![30-1.png](/uploads/30_1_06121b11d4.png) A bell tolls.
Fireworks bloom across a cold sky.
They illuminate a village nestled deep in a snow-laden land.
On this festive evening, the air brims with holy power.
The people are light and uninhibited in the cheerful atmosphere.
As such, there are more fights and quarrels than usual.
This is why the village militia has been called out on patrol.
Near the center of town, a young villager stands watch with the rest of his unit.
Suddenly, one of his fellows rushes to his side.
"Found a man who looks mighty suspicious, sir," he says breathlessly. "We need you to come at once."
When the young villager arrives, he finds militia members surrounding a giant man clad in tattered clothing.
Mighty suspicious indeed.
Though they outnumber him, the massive man has an imposing air,
and the young villager finds himself briefly at a loss.
Clearly, this is no ordinary person.
Mayhap he's a wandering criminal.
Or a villainous bounty hunter in pursuit of his prey.
Regardless, the young man readies himself for battle and takes a step toward the stranger.
But the giant merely raises his hands in the air and surrenders.
Strangely, the villager feels disappointed.
Going through the giant's things, they find mountaineering ice axes, carefully cared for.
In that moment, the young man realizes who the stranger is.
There is a sacred peak in the mountains beyond town, one that has yet to be conquered by man.
This adventurer is attempting to be the first.
It is not the young man's first time meeting such adventurers.
Their town, you see, is the nearest one to the mountain,
and therefore known as a base of operations for would-be climbers.
But that is not all.
The deep wrinkles carved into the giant's face. The stately, austere expression he wears.
The unsociable, taciturn air that makes him so out of place on this most festive of nights.
Oh yes. The villager has seen him somewhere before. ## Story 2 ![30-2.png](/uploads/30_2_9d30514364.png) As the rest of the militia filters away to their respective patrols,
the young man turns to the adventurer.
"Apologies, but everyone's rather excitable tonight.
I'll be keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't get up to trouble."
Though his words could be interpreted as disrespect, the giant gives no reply.
He simply stares at the crowds enjoying the festivities.
Suddenly, fireworks burst ever more forcefully across the frozen sky.
As the man looks into their brilliance, he takes on an air of sadness,
almost as though he has been transported to a simpler time.
Yet upon closer inspection, nothing about his expression has changed.
Perhaps the sparks painted across the sky only made him seem different.
The young man decides to assume that is the case.
But then...
He is struck by a heavy impact.
"Watch where you're goin'!" growls a voice.
It comes from across the road.
A moment later, rough men surround the villager and his adventurer captive.
The aggressor is a powerful mercenary who came to town with his companions.
He has bumped into the young man and spilled his drink.
The villager quickly apologizes. Offering to pay for the drink,
he begins fumbling around his pockets for what meager change he has.
But the mercenary's mood has taken a spectacular turn for the worse.
Inebriated beyond all reason, he draws a blade and points it at the young man's throat.
His companions attempt to calm him down, but the mercenary will have none of it.
He slices the blade through the air. Again. Again. Each time getting closer to the quaking young man.
On the last swing, the sound of metal on metal rings out.
The villager has drawn his blade to block the attack.
Yet the young man's militia experience is no match for the mercenary's battle-worn swordsmanship.
The swords press against each other. Closer. Beads of sweat emerge on the villager's forehead.
Closer. His arm shudders against the weight.
Closer.
As the blood-seasoned blade inches toward his throat,
the young man closes his eyes and prepares to accept his end.
But it does not come.
Instead, something from behind seizes control of him.
And as he is tossed aside, the adventurer steps forth.
## Story 3 ![30-3.png](/uploads/30_3_0ae990b862.png) The adventurer glowers at the unruly mercenary
before rearing back and unleashing a single, massive fist.
The mercenary crumples lifelessly to the ground.
As the villager stares on in wonder, the adventurer places a gentle hand on his shoulder.
All tension flees at the touch.
He looks up to find a kindly smile.
In that moment, he remembers his own father's face.
Adventurers beyond counting have attempted to conquer the sacred peak and never returned.
The young man's father was among their number.
Though he typically keeps his emotions in check, this time they spur him to action before he realizes it.
"Do you have children?" he asks.
The young man's casual question causes the hue of the adventurer's face to change.
It is more saturated by emotion than even the unruly mercenary's had been.
Does he have children?
If so, that leads to another question:
Why did he leave them behind?
Why did he abandon them for a mountain?
The adventurer stares at the young man. He clearly thinks the question is one of accusation.
Finally, he speaks:
"None of your business."
His voice is ice itself.
In the stillness, another firework bursts into life above.
Under its light, the adventurer's face returns to normal.
His eyes are warm, the intensity of his previous emotions forgotten.
Yet there is another strange glint in his eye—one that does not betray fierce feelings.
The color of his eyes reminds the young man so much of his father.
And then, a thought:
Those enthralled by the sacred peak found pain in the temptations of an irresistible nirvana.
Yet they surrendered to it in the end, indulging in its delight.
Explosions in the sky.
Under their light, the adventurer melts into the shadow of a nearby structure.
He does not look at the fireworks. Nor does he look at the younger man.
Rather, he looks beyond to the sacred peak of legend. ## Story 4 ![30-4.png](/uploads/30_4_e09c4537e0.png) The young man has no intention of stopping the adventurer.
Nor does the rest of the militia.
Rash adventurers eager to try the sacred peak often stop in their village, after all.
All the denizens can do is pray their ends are swift.
And that they might have some brief moment of peace in the end.
Part of the militia's job, in fact,
is working to ensure travelers maintain peace of mind and heart before setting out.
Knowing this, the young man speaks to the adventurer:
"A benevolent god is enshrined atop the sacred peak.
Tonight's festival was originally meant to bless pilgrims with the god's protection."
Though the adventurer does not turn back, the young man continues.
"That's why I know.
It's why I know you'll be fine.
And why I know you'll come home."
The man still does not look back.
At last, he begins to walk.
He pays no mind to the festival or fireworks. He is focused only on the sacred peak.
The wind from the mountain blows with greater intensity, as though trying to push him back.
But as he moves ever farther into the distance, the young man says one final thing:
"Come see me on your way back, all right?
This festival is always merry, but the one held for the new year is just as fun."
Despite the powerful gale, the boy's words reach the adventurer.
His head turns ever so slightly.
It is indeed.
Though the young man cannot hear the adventurer speak, he is convinced those are his words.
A blizzard settles in over the mountain.
With a sigh, the young man removes a small handmade doll from his pocket.
He remembers the day he quarreled with his father, the man who continually ignored his family.
He left the house afterward only to be swallowed whole by the sacred peak.
The young man had been planning to give him the doll.
Though a dingy thing with fraying threads and loose stuffing,
it was a perfect representation of how he felt about his father.
My father was the same. He also had feelings he could never set free.
The villager knows the adventurer will not return alive.
And yet...
Perhaps there is the slightest smidgen of a chance.
Perhaps he will find a way to strive through the hardships and return home to his family.
With that thought in his mind, the young man begins to pray.
He does not know what the adventurer's children are like, or even if he has any.
But he does not want them to end up like him.
...Even though he has been left behind.
The young villager continues to pray to this very day.
For in his heart, he is still a child who yearns to see his father once more.

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