I still remember, as a very young child, asking my mentor this question. At that time, the mentor smiled and stroked the head of her apprentice.
Fate is a loom, and this world is a gigantic factory.
This explanation left me, then a child, quite perplexed—what a factory was and how vast it could be.
The mentor was never angry, even if her apprentice seemed quite slow-witted.
A factory means a place where everyone works together, and gigantic... it’s an adjective because the factory I speak of, encompasses all life under the heavens—everyone’s fate is the loom before them. Every choice made in life leaves a mark on the loom, and all lives are weaving their destinies on this silk loom.
As a child, I somewhat understood, but still looked at my mentor with hopeful eyes, wishing she would say more.
Each person’s fate can only be seen by themselves—not because you are too far from them, but because fate lies beneath each person’s feet. You cannot walk in their place, nor can you light their path, for those lights can only be kindled by oneself. Everybody’s fate depends on their own choices, and everyone will pay the price for those choices.
There were times I couldn’t understand a word the mentor said, but I came to believe that she was always right because she was the last Great Divine Master in The Great Forest Land of our times. The sacrifices made by the Divine Masters in the last Chaos invasion were far greater than what mere mortals knew.
So I too must become a Divine Master, leading everyone forward just like those venerable figures who illuminated the path for the Orcs.
Ollie, never forget your mission. You, the Divine Masters of this generation, may be the last in The Great Forest Land. The waves of Chaos will sweep over the world in your time. Protect The Great Forest Land, protect all the lives in this world that are worth saving.
Mentor, what lives are worth saving?
I still remember the smile on my mentor’s face when she heard this question.
Ollie, the lives worth saving possess dignity. They will not become minions of Chaos for the benefits it offers; they will not give up when faced with imminent doom; they will not let others pay with their lives for their own survival... These people, whether they’re Orcs, Elves, Dwarves, Humans, or even the little Dwarfs, they are the lives that are worth saving.
Then, will we become heroes, like the sages in the stories, the brightest stars in the sky?
I, still a naive child, truly believed that the tales were real—that every sage lived in the heavens, alongside the Goddess of the Moon, illuminating the long dark night.
Yes, my child, heroes.
Ollie opened her eyes; in those memories that had just passed, she thought of her mentor, a tale from nearly a century ago now.
The mentor didn’t see the predicament as the end of civilization in this world. The Chaos invaded but was repelled once again. The world is full of heroes who are willing to give everything so others can live, just like the young one standing on the periphery, watching his sister initiate her Spiritual Energy.
What Ollie saw in his eyes was perseverance and belief. Maybe he did have a bad temper, a monkey, but Ollie recognized in him, just like in those monkeys... Amongst these monkeys, some fought to the death at the Posthouse Barrier, allowing their fellows to retreat; some died on the front lines so women and children could seek survival; and some... simply jumped from the retreating ships at the harbor, traded places with three Orc cubs, and then, alongside those who disregarded their own lives, bravely confronted the impending Chaos Army.
Ollie had always been accurate in judging people; she had never misjudged anyone. In this child’s eyes, she saw no meanness, only a sincere readiness to fight the whole world for his sister.
Monkeys... no, such beings are becoming increasingly rare among humans.
Maybe those heroes simply couldn’t discern because they couldn’t face the turbulent fate, but none of it could mask the flame of the soul burning in the child’s eyes—not the extremely pure white soul of a child, but Ollie could see that the fire of this soul never showed a flickering posture.
His father said he was a child who had been abandoned—perhaps that’s why there was a non-pure light in his soul, but when he spoke those words, that light had a dazzling, soul-capturing shine.
Thinking this, Ollie opened her bag.
She took out a potion and handed it to the girl in front of her.
"Drink this, and then experience your fate firsthand, my child. Fate is a loom, and you are its Weaver Girl. Let me see what patterns you will weave on it."
"Is ’monkey’ an insult in Orcish language?" Malin asked Colin by her side.
Colin grinned, "No, quite the opposite. When Orcs call a human a ’monkey,’ it’s actually a compliment, because, in the eyes of Orcs, monkeys are one of them. Being called a monkey means they acknowledge that a human can be superior to Orcs. If they address a human as ’human,’ it is an equal and formal statement. We can also call an Orc by their species name, like Maya, only if you are very close to them, can you call her ’little leopard,’ because it’s a term used only in the presence of those who are very intimate. I have to refer to it in the third person because my relationship with Maya isn’t close enough. It’s not that I can’t say it, but rather I’m not worthy to do so."