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Born into the humble family of poor farmers, the boy's parents, a hardworking couple, made the best of their meager resources. The father toiled in the fields, cultivating crops in borrowed land, while the mother dedicated herself to managing the household chores. Despite their poverty, their hearts overflowed with love and joy upon the arrival of their newborn child.

Their simple existence revolved around two modest meals a day, which, though frugal, provided them with sustenance and contentment. The couple found solace in each other's company, cherishing the small blessings life had bestowed upon them. Their smiles radiated warmth and happiness, as they reveled in the newfound joy of parenthood.

However, fate has a cruel way of interjecting into even the most blissful of lives. The Chola Kingdom was struck by an unforgiving drought that persisted for three long years. The once-abundant harvests dwindled, pushing the kingdom to the brink of crisis. The foolish king, unsure of how to resolve the predicament, turned to neighboring kingdoms in a desperate plea for assistance.

Though aid was granted, it came at a great cost. The Chola Kingdom found itself buried under an insurmountable mountain of debt, accrued in its name. Cornered and left with no other options, the king resorted to increasing taxes, placing a heavy burden upon the already impoverished populace.

Yet, the increased taxes failed to alleviate the kingdom's mounting financial woes. The interest on the debt continued to accumulate, reaching unprecedented levels within a year. And when the debt burden of the Chola Kingdom reached its peak, a cataclysmic event ensued.

The Mauryan Empire, the very entity that had purportedly extended its helping hand to the Chola Kingdom, declared war, alleging that the debt could no longer be repaid.

The battlefield erupted in chaos, with the Chola forces gradually realizing the Machiavellian schemes of the Mauryan Empire. In a fit of rage, the Chola king unleashed his wrath upon the Mauryan army, inflicting heavy casualties and momentarily shifting the tide of battle in his favor.

That is until one of the two dukes of the Mauryan Empire, Leopold Von Rozental, one among the ten strongest heavens of the eastern continent showed up on the battlefield.

His presence alone turned the tide of the war. The conflict ground to a standstill, with both sides locked in a merciless struggle, their swords clashing and bodies falling.

Remarkably, amid the cacophony of battle, the flames of war failed to reach the peaceful countryside village where the farmer couple and their newborn child resided. Sheltered from the horrors of conflict, they continued their simple existence, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing on the horizon. The verdant fields embraced them, providing a sanctuary amidst the chaos beyond their peaceful borders.

Whether the Chola Kingdom emerged victorious or the Mauryan Empire prevailed, the farmer couple knew that their lives would remain relatively unchanged. Plowing the fields and cultivating crops would continue to be their daily routine, a steadfast anchor in the ever-shifting tides of destiny.  I think you should take a look at

However, their tranquility was abruptly shattered when a colossal fleet, bearing the flag of the Mauryan Empire, anchored at the shores of the Chola Kingdom. The unguarded side of the kingdom, vulnerable and defenseless, was brutally exposed to the merciless onslaught of the invaders. The soldiers on the fleet, devoid of compassion, showed no discrimination between soldiers and peasants, mercilessly slaughtering all in their path, plunging the once-thriving village into an abyss of bloodshed and despair.

Tragically, the farmer couple, along with their fellow villagers, met a gruesome end at the hands of the ruthless soldiers. The newborn child, with a cloth tied tightly around his mouth, miraculously survived, forced to bear witness to the horrifying spectacle of his parents' slaughter. At just four years old, the scene etched itself into the depths of his consciousness, a memory that would forever haunt him.

Silent tears streamed down the child's face, muffled by the cloth that obscured his cries. Amidst the chaos and devastation, his parents' last words echoed in his mind like a bittersweet refrain, promising eternal presence in a world devoid of their physical embrace: "We will always be with you."

The Mauryan fleet, under the command of the Primrose family, left nothing but scorched earth and broken spirits in their wake as they pressed forward. The once-thriving village, lay reduced to ruins, its legacy and memories carried away by the wind.

For two agonizing days, the young boy found refuge within a barrel, his tears flowing incessantly, blending with the rain that bathed the remnants of his shattered world. On the third day, when he emerged from his hiding place, hope proved elusive, as he fell into the clutches of bandits who pillaged the remnants of the village.

Dragged away to their hideout, concealed deep within the far reaches of the mountains, the boy's life descended into a relentless cycle of servitude and hardship. From menial tasks such as cleaning and cooking, to backbreaking labor like washing their soiled garments and gathering firewood, he bore the weight of their demands, silently enduring the burdens placed upon him. Survival necessitated cunning, as he learned to exploit the weaknesses of others, honing his survival instincts in a world that showed him no mercy.

Life in the bandits' lair was an unrelenting struggle, but the young boy's heart burned with an unwavering desire for revenge. His spirit, forged by hardship and nurtured by the flames of vengeance, remained unyielding. Each passing day stoked the fire within him, propelling him forward in his quest for retribution.

Then, one fateful day, an enigmatic figure appeared in the bandits' hideout—an old man radiating an aura of unparalleled strength. With a single stroke of his blade, he cleaved through the bandits' hideout, reducing it to a fractured ruin.

Unlike the soldiers who had laid waste to the village, this old man possessed a discerning eye, sparing those who deserved mercy and directing his wrath solely at the leader of the bandits.

It was unknown what the boy felt from that old man but he rushed toward the old man, prostrating himself before him, and beseeched, "Please, make me strong like you."

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