CHAPTER 54: PAIN..

After defeating the beast, Azhriel didn’t waste any time.

He turned and began heading towards where Arianne and Serica were, the air around him still carrying traces of his icy mana. The chill lingered, frosting the grass lightly beneath his feet with every step.

He hadn’t gone too far fighting. In just a few minutes, he reached them.

"Hey," he said, his voice calm as he approached, announcing his presence.

Arianne turned at the sound, her sharp eyes immediately scanning him from head to toe.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her tone was steady, face neutral but her voice held a faint trace of concern.

Blood stained Azhriel’s forehead, a thin line that had dried under the cold air. His clothes were torn in several places, dark with old blood and dust, and his coat hung awkwardly over one shoulder, half-slashed.

Still, Azhriel stood tall.

"I am fine," he replied simply, rolling his shoulder once. "I already took a potion... though, i seriously don’t like the taste of that thing, and it still won’t leave my mouth." He made a face at that, as if the memory alone made it worse.

Listening to his words, Arianne let out a slow breath. A small smile touched her usually calm face as she remembered the Lunarblooms kept safely in her space ring.

"By the way, are the flowers safe? I couldn’t check on them because of those monkeys," Azhriel asked, glancing at her.

"Yes, they’re safe," Arianne replied with a nod. "I had placed them in my space ring right away, so that the demonic energy wouldn’t affect them."

"I guess I owe you, huh" she added after a pause. She had thought he might ask for something in return. But it seemed he was serious about not wanting anything—except a favor. For correct content, please visit

"Well, that’s all good. Let’s head back to the camp," Azhriel said, turning his gaze to the horizon. The sun was rising, casting warm shades of orange and gold across the sky.

A new day had begun.

"Sorry," Arianne spoke up, "but I need to return to the capital as soon as possible."

"Hm, okay then. Goodbye," Azhriel replied—almost too quickly.

Arianne raised an eyebrow at his blunt response.

"Come on, you expect me to get emotional, hug you or something?" he said, rolling his eyes. "I am just a guy, you met hours ago that happen to help you a little bit."

Arianne let out a small snort. "Strange boy."

’But also different.’ She thought silently.

"Besides, it’s not like we won’t meet again or something. You’re going to the academy, right? We’ll see each other there." Azhriel shrugged, a faint smirk on his face.

"I guess," Arianne replied softly, her tone neutral, but her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than usual.

******

A few days passed since Arianne’s departure, and the camp grew quieter in silence again. Azhriel, however, remained focused. With no distractions left, he threw himself into training.

He spent hours adjusting to his newfound strength, pushing his body to move faster, hit harder, and react quicker. The breakthrough had changed him—it made his senses sharper, and his control on magic and bloodline better.

This time, he also didn’t neglect his affinities. He practiced with ice, letting frost dance across his blade, trained in space, warping short distances to strike from odd angles, and summoned flashes of lightning to enhance his speed.

One of those days, Solas finally returned.

"Ho, you ranked up, huh," he said the moment his feet touched the ground. He didn’t even need to check—just one glance, and he already knew. Not even Azhriel’s bloodline passive ability could hide it from him.

"Yeah, things happened. Broke through in the middle of a fight," Azhriel said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Things like?" Solas asked, raising an eyebrow.

Azhriel shrugged and gave him a brief, vague summary of what had gone down. Nothing too detailed—just enough to explain. The guy wasn’t much of a listener.

"So, Fiona’s granddaughter came here. How pitiful," Solas sighed, almost to himself.

"Hm?" Azhriel looked at him, confused by the strange comment. But Solas didn’t explain—he simply waved it off and shifted the topic.

"The academy starts in a few days. But before that, there’s something I need to teach you—now that you’ve ranked up," he said, his voice suddenly serious.

Azhriel instinctively stood straighter, sensing the shift in his tone.

"Listen carefully, Azhriel," Solas said, his voice now carrying the weight of someone who had stood at the peak of countless battlefields.

"What I’m about to teach you... it’s the culmination of my life. It holds my beliefs, my experience, my will—everything that made me who I am today. My sword art."

His words hung heavy in the air, as if the world itself was listening.

"Let’s go toward the open area, a bit," Solas said, his hands casually behind his back as he walked ahead at a calm pace.

Azhriel silently followed him, his curiosity growing.

"Do you know about the Sword Saint?" Solas asked, his voice light, yet carrying weight.

"A bit," Azhriel replied, his mind conjuring an image of a man whose name echoed through distant lands—one who was also said to be Solas’s rival.

It was rumored that the Sword Saint could cut through anything—even reality itself.

They reached a wide clearing—open skies above, surrounded by distant trees swaying gently in the wind.

The earth was still marked with the remnants of Azhriel’s training: sword marks, scorched grass, and patches of frozen ground.

Solas stopped in the center of the field. He turned, his expression turning solemn as he faced Azhriel.

"Watch carefully," he said, his voice steady. "I’ll show you the First Form of the art. That’s the limit of what you can handle right now."

His hand reached toward the hilt at his side, and the atmosphere shifted—quiet, still, as if even the wind paused to witness.

"The Lords Requiem Art- First Form."

"The Fools Redemption."

Slash.

A single green arc descended from his blade and the forest severed. BabsnshsbThe knight remained still, its blade buried deep in the earth, head lowered in silence.

Azhriel stepped forward, eyes softening as he looked down at the figure that had guarded this place for whole sixteen years.

He raised a hand and gently patted the knight’s shoulder. The surface of the armor shimmered—its body flickering like a dying constellation, its presence unstable.

"Thanks, for protecting her grave," Azhriel said, voice low, reverent. "You did well. Now... rest, please."

There was no need for more. No flourish. No command.

The knight’s form pulsed once, as if hearing the permission it had waited an eternity for.

The stars within its body shimmered—and then began to scatter, drifting upward like glimmering ashes into the sky.

The knight bowed even deeper, his ethereal form bending low in a gesture of final loyalty.

Then, a voice—fragile, like it had crossed centuries to reach him—echoed from the fading remnants.

"This is left by my lady for you. I apologise... for not being able to protect her, my lord."

And with that, he was gone.

Like dust on the wind, the guardian faded. Its sword crumbled into motes of starlight. No sound, no cry. Just stillness.

And at last, peace.

Azhriel stood still, his gaze locked on the spot the knight once knelt.

His heart felt heavier.

He looked at his hand or at the box in his hand.

The white box in his hands pulsed faintly, golden engravings glowing softly as his mana flowed into it.

Click.

The lock opened with a gentle sound, but Azhriel didn’t look inside.

His steps were slow, steady—like he feared disturbing the silence. He moved closer to the grave and knelt down, folding his legs beneath him.

The grave was simple. Clean. A small white stone, untouched by time.

He stared at it.

At the name etched upon it.

His mother’s name.

His gaze dulled, distant. His breath quiet. He just sat there, as if the world beyond this moment had ceased to matter.

For who knew how long, he simply sat there, quiet, unmoving.

Then finally, he spoke.

"Hey, mom... look who’s here," he said with a broken chuckle. "Your foolish son."

His voice cracked faintly, barely holding itself together.

"Heh... it’s amazing, right? How I didn’t even know you were here all this time."

His eyes shimmered, catching the sunlight—but it wasn’t the light making them glisten.

"Do you know...?" he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I got my memories back. My soul too. All of it."

He looked at the grave again, eyes soft with something fragile.

"All the memories—yours, dad’s... even if it was just for two hours, I remember every little thing."

He let out a soft breath.

"Pretty cool, right? Your Azhriel remembered stuff from when he was just born."

His voice trembled—but it carried warmth. The kind you used when speaking to someone still there... not a name carved in stone.

The wind passed by, gentle and cool, brushing his cheek like a mother’s fingers once did.

Drop

And then—at last—the tear fell.

He didn’t want it to.

But it came anyway.

Drip Drop.

And with it, came more.

One after another, they dropped—raw and unrelenting. Regret, sorrow, longing—all bursting from the dam that had been kept sealed for years.

The earth beneath him drank the tears like it had waited, like even it understood, what he was going through.

Because that pain...

It wasn’t just grief.

It was the cry of a son who had finally found where his heart had been buried.

He cried until his eyes ran dry, until the grief settled like dust over old memories. His face was streaked with tear marks, red and silent.

Only after a long breath did he shift, his gaze falling to the sleek white box glowing faintly in his lap.

He opened it slowly, reverently. Inside it lay three items. Simple, yet weighted with meaning.

A letter—folded with care, sealed with a golden emblem he faintly remembered from childhood.

A ring-black as night, with azure hexagonic patterns flowing on its surface.

And a pair of black gloves—neatly folded, lined with dark silver and gold trim and design. They were light, and... enchanted; he could feel it.

He held them for a moment, just staring.

Then slowly, with the gentleness of someone unwrapping a memory, he set the box down beside the grave and picked up the letter.

The golden seal peeled away with a soft crackle, like old sunlight breaking through fog.

He unfolded it.

---

Hey there, sunshine.

If you’re reading this letter... then I guess you’ve turned sixteen. It also means that you’ve awakened—your memories, your power, all of it.

I wonder, how are you doing?.

We are really sorry, to leave you in this wretched world alone. Please forgive us.

Ah, there are so many things that I want to tell you like- don’t be like your mother in behaviour, or don’t forget to eat. But i don’t have much time so we will be leaving you some things that will help you, and remember this.

Be kind but not stupid.

Be cold but not heartless.

Be strong but not overconfident.

So, my dear Azhriel, don’t be harsh on yourself and please happy.

Also, your father had also left a letter for you. I think you already know where it is right?. So, go there when the time is right.

Father and Mother loves you the most.

So Goodbye, for...now, my child.

Azhriel’s hand trembled, the parchment fluttering in his grip like a dying breath caught in time.

He didn’t blink. He couldn’t.

Each word carved into his heart, every sentence like a gentle hand reaching out from the past—so warm, so painfully kind. His breath shuddered as he clutched the letter closer, pressing it to his chest.

"...So stupid," he whispered, voice cracking. "Why’d you write this like we’ll talk again tomorrow..."

The breeze shifted, soft and warm, brushing past his face as if in answer.

Azhriel stared at the sky, where no stars shone, yet somehow the light still reached him.

"I won’t let you down,mom." he whispered. "I’ll live... I’ll try to be happy. Just watch me."

He gently folded the letter and placed it back into the box with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things. Then he looked at the ring and gloves.

Azhriel’s hand trembled, the parchment fluttering in his grip like a dying breath caught in time.

He didn’t blink. He couldn’t.

Each word carved into his heart, every sentence like a gentle hand reaching out from the past—so warm, so painfully kind. His breath shuddered as he clutched the letter closer, pressing it to his chest.

"...So stupid," he whispered, voice cracking. "Why’d you write this like we’ll talk again tomorrow..."

The breeze shifted, soft and warm, brushing past his face as if in answer.

Azhriel stared at the sky, where no stars shone, yet somehow the light still reached him.

"I won’t let you down," he whispered. "I’ll live... I’ll be happy. Just watch me."

He gently folded the letter and placed it back into the box with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things. Then he looked at the ring and gloves.

But for now, he didn’t reach for them.

He simply sat there a while longer, beside the grave, beneath the fading light—his heart heavy, but no longer alone.

Azhriel’s hand trembled, the parchment fluttering in his grip like a dying breath caught in time.

He didn’t blink. He couldn’t.

Each word carved into his heart, every sentence like a gentle hand reaching out from the past—so warm, so painfully kind. His breath shuddered as he clutched the letter closer, pressing it to his chest.

"...So stupid," he whispered, voice cracking. "Why’d you write this like we’ll talk again tomorrow..."

The breeze shifted, soft and warm, brushing past his face as if in answer.

Azhriel stared at the sky, where no stars shone, yet somehow the light still reached him.

"I won’t let you down," he whispered. "I’ll live... I’ll be happy. Just watch me."

He gently folded the letter and placed it back into the box with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things. Then he looked at the ring and gloves.

But for now, he didn’t reach for them.

He simply sat there a while longer, beside the grave, beneath the fading light—his heart heavy, but no longer alone.

But for now, he didn’t reach for them.

He simply sat there a while longer, beside the grave, beneath the fading light—his heart heavy, but no longer alone.

But for now, he didn’t reach for them.

He simply sat there a while longer, beside the grave, beneath the fading light—his heart heavy, but no longer alone.

But for now, he didn’t reach for them.

He simply sat there a while longer, beside the grave, beneath the fading light—his heart heavy, but no longer alone.