The forest erupted with movement.
Branches shook violently as a small figure shot through the trees.
A blur of motion leapt from one branch to another with impossible speed.
He caught a branch firmly with one hand and used the momentum to swing forward before landing smoothly on the next branch.
The boy barely stayed on each branch for more than a moment before launching himself forward again. His body moved with smooth precision, like a wild animal racing through its territory.
Leaves scattered behind him.
Below the trees, the forest floor rushed past.
If someone from Hage Village had seen it, they would have assumed it was some kind of magical beast moving through the forest.
But it wasn't.
It was Asta.
He landed on a thick branch and crouched low, perfectly balanced.
Now nine years old, he had grown far stronger than any normal child his age.
His body had become tall and powerful from constant training. Lean muscle covered his arms and shoulders, and his movements carried a quiet strength that most adults in the village didn't possess.
Right now his eyes scanned the forest below.
The morning forest was alive.
A rabbit hopped carefully between patches of grass.
Nearby, two wild quail scratched the soil searching for insects.
Asta slowly reached into the pouch tied to his waist.
His fingers closed around a smooth stone.
For the past few years, he had practiced throwing stones every day. At first he could barely hit a tree.
Now it was different.
He watched the rabbit carefully.
He waited for the right moment and steadied his breathing before throwing the stone.
His arm moved forward in a quick motion.
The stone cut through the air with terrifying speed.
CRACK
The rabbit collapsed instantly.
The impact had struck the skull with enough force to kill it on the spot.
The quail scattered in panic.
But Asta had already moved.
He dropped from the branch and landed silently on the forest floor.
Another stone appeared in his hand.
One of the quail tried to escape through the bushes.
THUD
The stone struck it hard and knocked it into the dirt.
The second bird disappeared deeper into the forest.
Asta didn't bother chasing it.
"One rabbit… one quail."
Good enough.
He picked up the animals and tied them to the side of his bag.
The meat would help the church tonight.
And hunting like this had become routine.
Asta slung the bag over his shoulder and began moving again.
Within seconds he was climbing the trees once more, racing through the forest canopy like a shadow moving between the branches.
When Asta finally returned to the village, the familiar sight of the church appeared between the trees.
Over the past few years, the place had slowly changed.
The chicken coop that once held only a few birds had grown much larger. Dozens of chickens now wandered inside the fenced yard, and several younger children were already scattering feed for them.
Eggs were no longer something rare.
Many were eaten at the church, while others were sold in nearby villages. The small income helped repair parts of the building and buy proper clothes for the children.
A few goats now grazed behind the church as well.
Life here had become a little easier than before.
When Asta arrived, Nash was the first to notice him.
"You caught something again?"
Asta lifted the rabbit slightly.
"A rabbit and a quail."
The younger children immediately became excited.
Meat was still something special for them.
Father Orsi stepped outside when he heard the noise.
He gave Asta a short approving nod.
"Good work."
The animals were taken to the kitchen while the children slowly returned to their chores.
Not long after that, Asta left the village again.
His training still waited.
The skull clearing appeared through the trees after a short walk.
The giant skull still stood silently in the center of the field, just as it had for years.
Asta placed his bag against a rock and stretched his shoulders.
When he had first started training, he had been careful.
At the time he worried that pushing his body too hard while growing might slow his height or damage his bones. Because of that, he avoided heavy weight training during the early years.
But time had proven that fear unnecessary.
Now at nine years old, Asta already stood close to 150 centimeters tall, nearly the height many teenagers in the village had. His body had developed strongly and naturally through constant training and proper food.
There was no sign that his growth had been harmed.
If anything, his body had grown faster.
So recently he had started adding heavier exercises to his routine.
Today would be the same.
The training began with running.
Asta sprinted through the forest path leading away from the clearing.
His destination was nearly five kilometers away.
A waterfall hidden deeper in the forest.
The path was rough and uneven, but his feet moved quickly across the ground. Roots, stones, and fallen branches no longer slowed him down.
By the time he reached the waterfall, his breathing had grown heavier.
Water crashed down from the tall cliff and splashed into the river below.
Asta stepped directly beneath the falling water.
The pressure hit his shoulders like a heavy weight.
Standing under the waterfall forced his body to stabilize against the constant impact.
Neck strength.
Spine stability.
Balance.
He remained there for several minutes before stepping away.
After returning to the clearing, the next part of training began.
Strength work.
A thick rope was tied around a heavy log.
Asta grabbed the rope and began dragging the massive trunk across the ground.
The log scraped loudly across the dirt as he pulled it across the clearing.
Legs pushed.
Back tightened.
Step by step he dragged the heavy weight forward.
After several minutes he finally stopped.
Sweat rolled down his face.
But the training was far from finished.
Next came push-ups.
Asta placed a flat stone across his upper back before lowering himself to the ground.
Then he began.
One.
Ten.
Fifty.
One hundred.
His arms moved steadily as he continued.
Two hundred.
His breathing grew heavier.
Two hundred fifty.
Finally—
"Three hundred."
When he pushed himself up again, his arms trembled slightly from the effort.
The extra weight made every repetition harder.
But that was the point.
The next exercise focused on grip strength.
Asta jumped up and grabbed a tree branch.
Instead of using his full hand, he supported most of his weight on only his fingers.
Then he pulled himself upward.
Finger strength and tendon strength were important for controlling weapons.
Stronger tendons allowed the body to transfer force more efficiently through every movement.
He repeated the motion several times before dropping back down.
Finally came the last part of training.
A large tree stood near the edge of the clearing.
Asta picked up the heavy woodcutting axe resting beside it.
The trunk of the tree was thick.
A few years ago it would have taken dozens of swings to cut something like this.
Now he stepped forward calmly.
His feet planted firmly against the ground.
His legs pushed.
His hips rotated.
His shoulders followed the motion.
Then the axe moved.
CRACK
The blade slammed deep into the trunk.
A loud cracking sound echoed across the clearing as the tree slowly tilted.
A moment later it collapsed to the ground with a heavy crash.
Asta rested the axe against his shoulder and looked at the fallen tree.
"…That'll make good firewood."
The sun was already beginning to sink behind the forest.
Another long day of training had come to an end.
And tomorrow…
He would push even further.