CHAPTER 173: THE SOUTHERN VILLAGE AGAIN!

Broken spears and cracked shields lay scattered across the forest floor near the riverbank.

The once-proud banners of the Celestial Guards were torn and dirtied, hanging limply in the mud.

The clash had ended, but the aftermath was a grim reminder of how close Kael had come to being captured.

Groans of pain echoed faintly behind him, some soldiers clutching at broken arms, gasping from bruised ribs, and writhing from deep cuts carved by the storm of his Abyssal Cyclone.

He had held back from killing them, forcing his body and will to restrain the full devastation of the skill.

Death would have been easier, but he couldn’t stain his hands with needless slaughter.

Even so, their lives were shattered. They would not rise to pursue him tonight.

Kael’s steps dragged across the forest path. His body has trembled uncontrollably, drained from summoning the forbidden power of the Abyss Warden.

His vision blurred, and his chest heaved with ragged breaths, but he pressed forward.

Staying was not an option. If more guards arrived, he had nothing left to resist them with. The skill had taken nearly everything out of him.

"Just... a little further..." he muttered to himself, clutching his side as a dull ache burned across his ribs.

His boots crushed the damp leaves, carrying him away from the cries of the injured and deeper into the darkened path of the forest.

A few minutes passed before the trees thinned.

In the distance, faint pinpricks of light flickered against the night. He squinted, realizing what they were—lanterns, swaying gently in the breeze. A village.

He felt relieved, but he did not lower his guard.

He slowed, studying the sight before him. The southern village was small, nothing more than a cluster of wooden houses stitched together by dirt paths.

Smoke from chimneys curled faintly into the night sky, carrying the smell of burnt wood and boiled herbs.

The lanterns at each doorway glowed dimly, not with grandeur but with a tired warmth, as if the people here were clinging stubbornly to light in a world that had little to offer them.

Unlike the soaring marble halls of Arcadia or the bustling streets of the great trade cities, that is Elaris City, this place was simple, quiet, and fragile.

It felt like a forgotten corner of the world, untouched by ambition, war, and politics.

Some houses looked worn and patched, their wooden beams darkened with age and cracks. A faint cough echoed through the window, followed by the hushed voice of a child trying to soothe a parent.

The peaceful image was not free of pain. It was simply hidden under layers of endurance.

Kael stopped at the edge of the dirt path leading into the village.

He was a fugitive, hunted by the Council and the Celestial Guards.

"I have reached back," he whispered.

As Kael entered the southern village, he noticed how quiet it was.

The streets were nearly empty; only the faint glow of lanterns lit the narrow dirt paths between the wooden houses. Most doors were shut, and only the sound of crickets filled the air.

But one small boy stood out, struggling to carry a clay pot filled with water.

His small arms trembled under the weight, and the pot tilted dangerously, about to slip from his grasp.

Kael sighed softly and stepped forward. With a quick motion, he steadied the pot before it could shatter on the ground.

"Careful," he said quietly.

The boy looked up with wide eyes, then suddenly broke into a smile.

"Brother Kael!" His voice was filled with relief.

Kael froze for a moment, caught off guard. But then his expression softened.

The boy’s innocent smile had a strange way of piercing through the heaviness in his heart.

"You shouldn’t be out this late," Kael muttered.

The child lowered his head but replied in a small voice, "Mother got sick again...so I had to bring water for her."

Kael’s chest tightened at those words.

Without thinking further, he placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder.

"Come. I’ll help you."

The boy’s eyes lit up.

"Mother will be happy to see you again!" He hurriedly pulled Kael along, almost dragging him to a small hut at the edge of the village.

He carried the water in a pot and reached his home.

"Mother! Brother Kael is here!"

The woman’s tired eyes fluttered open. When she saw Kael standing in the doorway, her face softened into a faint smile.

She tried to sit up, though her body resisted.

"Kael..." Her voice was weak but warm. "Where have you been? The dinner was ready... we were waiting for you."

Kael’s lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. But then, lowering his eyes, he forced a small smile.

"...I went fishing and I lost track of time."

The woman exhaled softly, as though relieved.

"I see... still the same boy who disappears without warning."

Kael knelt beside her, studying the crude medicines at her bedside—dried leaves, half-boiled roots, herbs that weren’t prepared properly.

He wasn’t a healer, but he had learned enough to recognize mistakes. Quietly, he began to help, crushing the herbs, boiling water, checking her fever.

The little boy curled up near the wall, watching Kael’s every move with admiration. "Brother Kael... you’re so strong. One day, I’ll be like you."

Kael only gave a small smile, though inside, the words left a sting.

He wasn’t strong for himself—only surviving day by day, haunted by burdens no child should look up to.

Two days passed!

He repaired the hut’s broken door, fetched water, even hunted a hare to make soup.

The boy followed him everywhere, asking endless questions—sometimes about swords, sometimes about life at the academy.

as Kael prepared to leave, the mother called him to her side. She pulled something wrapped in cloth from beneath her bed.

"This... belonged to my husband," she said softly. "He fought for the clans once, but never returned. Only his sword came back."

Kael unwrapped the cloth. Inside lay a blade—not polished or refined, but thick, heavy, and worn.

Its hilt was scarred from battles long past. When he lifted it, his arm sank under its weight.

"...It’s too heavy," Kael muttered.

The woman gave a faint smile.

"Yes. It was never meant for a small man. But it carries his spirit. Please, take it. My son is too young to bear it, but you... you may find use for it."

"You have helped us alot"