The Last Paragon in the Apocalypse

Today was an important day for Fruity and his Uncle Monk. They were on their way to Hammon City for Fruity\'s awakening ceremony. It was a significant event, marking the moment when one would form a connection with their soul and consciousness.

This bond granted powers beyond ordinary understanding, a process known as awakening one\'s Talent and Class.

In Valeria, it was tradition for those who turned 16 to undergo the ceremony. Sixteen was the minimum age, but not everyone succeeded on their first try. Some returned at an older age, either for their second or even third attempt after previous failures. The third time was usually their last chance.

Fruity, however, wasn\'t thinking about the ceremony. His mind wandered as he watched the people on the road. It was only his second time going to Hammon City.

The first time, he was ten years old and had snuck into a caravan the monks were using to transport fruit. Back then, he had been full of excitement and curiosity.

Unfortunately for Fruity, the monks weren\'t exactly fun company. They barely spoke and had no interest in the world around them. For a young boy like Fruity, their silence had been painfully dull.

But even then, Fruity had managed to overhear bits of conversation from the traders and travelers passing by. He\'d learned a little about Hammon City, but one thing in particular had caught his attention: the Ice Princess.

He had heard the name whispered by a few people during his first visit, though he hadn\'t been able to find out much more. He didn\'t know who she was, where she came from, or why people seemed to talk about her with such awe. But ever since that day, Fruity had been fascinated by the mysterious Ice Princess. Meeting her had become a secret dream of his.

"Uncle, do you think the Ice Princess will be coming to the awakening?" Fruity asked, his voice full of hope.

His Uncle Monk glanced at him, shaking his head. "Brat, focus on your own awakening first," he said in a gruff tone.

Fruity pouted. "Tsk, how boring."

The road to Hammon City was long, and Fruity\'s thoughts kept drifting back to the stories he\'d overheard as a child. Who was the Ice Princess? Was she real? Would she be attending the awakening ceremony, just like him? His heart raced at the possibility.

As they approached the city gates, Fruity\'s eyes widened. Hammon City was even more impressive than he remembered. The tall stone walls loomed over them, and the streets were packed with people from all walks of life. Merchants haggled loudly in the marketplace, while travelers hurried to and fro.

The air was filled with the scent of fresh bread, spices, and the faint tinge of sea salt from the distant harbor.

"This place is fire!" Fruity exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement as he looked around with puppy-like enthusiasm.

"Brat, compose yourself. People are watching," Uncle Monk muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed. He wanted to remind Fruity that he was a monk now and should behave with dignity. But Fruity was too swept up by the beauty of the city to care about appearances or composure.

People around them were staring. It wasn\'t every day they saw a monk with such dashing hair. Most monks were known for their calm and reserved demeanor, but Fruity stood out with his lively energy. He didn\'t seem to notice the attention or simply didn\'t care.

Without warning, Fruity dashed toward a nearby fruit candy stand, causing Uncle Monk to sigh and follow him.

"Uncle, take one!" Fruity said cheerfully, handing over a candy straw. In his other hand, he was clutching ten more.

Uncle Monk\'s lips twitch. "You can have them. I don\'t eat like you, glutton," he said, shaking his head.

"Suit yourself, Uncle. For someone so in tune with nature, you sure don\'t enjoy what nature gives," Fruity teased, biting down on another candy. He might be 16, but his behavior resembled that of a carefree 10-year-old. Not that he cared—he was having fun, and that was all that mattered to him.

They continued through the crowded streets toward the awakening hall. It was a large, imposing building at the heart of the city. As they arrived, they were greeted by the sight of other 16-year-olds, all eager to awaken their talents and begin cultivating their powers.

Fruity looked around, taking in the scene. Young men and women were dressed in elegant clothes, stepping down from fancy carriages. He glanced at his uncle, who was deliberately pretending to look in another direction, ignoring the luxurious display.

But Fruity couldn\'t hold back his question. "Uncle, why are we poor?"

Without missing a beat, his uncle gave him a light smack on the back of his head. "Who said we\'re poor?" Uncle Monk replied sternly.

Fruity rubbed the back of his head, confused. "Well... aren\'t we?"

"Have you ever starved?" his uncle asked, his tone sharp but patient.

"No," Fruity admitted.

"Do you lack clothes?"

"Well…" Fruity hesitated, thinking about his simple monk robe.

"Do you not have a place to sleep?" Uncle Monk continued, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, yeah, but..." Fruity began but trailed off. He could see where his uncle was going.

"Then we\'re not poor," Uncle Monk finished firmly. "We have what we need, and that\'s enough."

Fruity wanted to argue further, but he could feel people\'s eyes on them, so he decided to let it slide—for now. He\'d have a more thorough conversation with his uncle once they returned to the monastery.

His uncle led him to a registration stand where Fruity was handed the number 69. After registering, Uncle Monk guided him to the side where the other youngsters were gathered. "I\'ll be over there," his uncle said, pointing to a spot in the distance. "Do your best not to cause any trouble. These young ones are here for something important."

Fruity couldn\'t help but pout at his uncle\'s words. "Hey, Uncle, does that mean I\'m not important enough?" he asked, his voice tinged with mock hurt.

His exaggerated reaction caught the attention of some of the nearby teens. A few smiled, amused by Fruity\'s childish behavior. Despite being there for a serious occasion, Fruity\'s light-heartedness was hard to ignore. It added a little warmth to the otherwise tense atmosphere of the awakening ceremony.

"Little brother, are you a monk?" A young girl, slightly taller than Fruity, asked as soon as his uncle left.

"Indeed, I am a certified monk. Inner peace and all," Fruity responded with a playful grin, puffing out his chest in mock pride.

The girl smiled, amused by his lightheartedness. "You don\'t seem like the quiet, peaceful type," she remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Fruity shrugged, biting down on another candy straw. "What can I say? I\'m a unique monk," he replied with a wink, making the girl chuckle softly.

"I can see that," the young girl said, her eyes drifting to Fruity\'s striking violet hair. "By the way, I\'m Aurelia."

"I\'m Fruity," he replied with a casual grin.

"Fruity? That\'s quite an unusual name," Aurelia remarked, tilting her head slightly as if trying to figure him out.

Fruity shrugged, used to the reaction. "Yeah, I get that a lot. But it suits me, don\'t you think?" He flashed a playful smile, clearly not bothered by how odd his name might sound to others.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, and a figure appeared in the air. His long beard flowed freely in the wind as he descended slowly from the sky. Fruity and Aurelia turned their gazes toward the figure.

"Everyone, welcome to this year\'s awakening ceremony," the figure\'s voice boomed