Chapter 8: The Story of Two Adventurers.
The village of Saikono lay under the soft embrace of twilight. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a sky painted in deep purples and velvety blues, where the first stars timidly began to appear. A cool breeze drifted through the emptying streets, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and smoldering wood, mingling with the distant crackle of fires being lit in homes.
Where the village had once hummed with life, an eerie stillness had now settled. The once-bustling marketplace had emptied, leaving only the occasional clatter of shutters being drawn shut and the hurried footsteps of merchants securing their shops before the darkness fully claimed the streets. The impending duel had cast a shadow over Saikono, and even those with no part in it could feel the weight of the coming battle.
At the heart of the village, where the duel was set to take place, the silence was almost oppressive.
The only remnants of the earlier confrontation were Fulan, the blond swordsman, and the silver axe still embedded in the cracked earth, its blade faintly catching the last traces of light.
A simple wooden bench stood a few meters away, weathered by time yet sturdy. It was here that Fulan and the swordsman now sat, side by side, their figures outlined against the darkening sky.
The swordsman was a striking presence, his blond hair catching the dim glow of the village lanterns, his green eyes reflecting a quiet, almost melancholic resolve. A faint scar ran along the side of his face, an old wound that added to the ruggedness of his otherwise sharp features.
He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his posture relaxed yet heavy with contemplation, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.
Fulan, in contrast, leaned back slightly, his dark eyes sweeping over the deserted streets. The occasional click of a door being locked echoed through the silence—a quiet reminder that, despite the weight of this night, the world around them continued moving.
The swordsman broke the silence, his voice steady yet carrying the weight of experience.
"You don't have to look at them like that."
Fulan turned his gaze slightly toward him, his brow barely raising in question.
The swordsman continued, his voice calm but firm.
"Duels between adventurers rarely end well. Even low-ranking knights stand by and watch in silence because they know adventurers are beyond their strength. They can't stop what's coming."
For a moment, Fulan said nothing. The night breeze whispered between them, rustling the edges of their coats.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"Are you really going to fight?" His tone was neutral, yet probing, as if testing the man’s conviction.
The swordsman chuckled softly, but the sound lacked any true amusement.
"Well, let's hope a high-ranking knight passes by and arrests me before the fight starts. Ha!"
His brief smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a faraway look—one burdened with quiet sorrow.
"It's a duel now. If I don't fight, it'll only add to Rakan's anger and grief."
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His gaze dropped to the ground, his fingers tightening slightly against his knees.
"I planned to take the blow and die, hoping it might ease his pain a little. But you two intervened and made things more complicated."
Fulan’s eyes lifted toward the sky, where the stars had begun to spread across the vast canvas of night.
His voice was steady, but edged with something unreadable.
"So you're saying your death is the solution?"
The swordsman tilted his head back, his green eyes tracing the constellations above. The night sky stretched vast and endless, each twinkling star a silent witness to his thoughts.
"It’s been the solution from the beginning," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of years unspoken. "For nine long years. If I hadn’t existed, this story might have had a happy ending."
Fulan didn’t respond immediately. He could tell—the man beside him wouldn’t share the full truth, no matter how much he pried.
Instead, silence settled between them, stretching like a thread pulled taut. Then, finally, Fulan spoke, his voice calm, yet resolute.
"There’s one way this can end tonight without anyone dying."
The swordsman reached for the cup of tea he had bought earlier for Fulan, taking a slow sip. His expression remained unreadable.
"And what’s that?"
Fulan tightened his grip on his own plastic cup, the flimsy material distorting slightly under the pressure. A faint smirk played on his lips.
"If I explain my plan, you’ll probably ruin it. So… I just need you to do one thing: trust me."
For a moment, the swordsman simply stared at the liquid inside his cup, watching as the surface rippled slightly in the cold night air.
Then, with a slow nod, he answered.
"Alright. I don’t have a reason to refuse help at a time like this..."
Meanwhile, beyond the village walls, the dense forest stretched into the night, its towering trees casting shifting shadows under the pale moonlight. Roughly 250 meters from the gates, a small campfire flickered, its warm glow pushing back the encroaching cold.
The bearded adventurer sat on a fallen tree trunk, tearing into a roasted deer leg, the aroma of charred meat thick in the crisp night air. The fire crackled softly, embers drifting upward like tiny fireflies before vanishing into the dark.
A few steps away, Fayrouz leaned against a tree, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. The orange glow of the flames flickered across her face, casting sharp contrasts between light and shadow.
The bearded man took another satisfying bite, chewing before gesturing lazily toward the meal.
"It’s really good," he said around a mouthful of meat. "Why don’t you give it a try?"
Fayrouz’s tone was steady, firm.
"Don’t talk with your mouth full. And adventurers aren’t allowed to hunt in areas near the kingdom." Her gaze didn’t waver. "You studied at Ragandarok Academy for three years. Why are you ignoring all the laws they taught you now?"
The man chuckled, swallowing before replying.
"Speaking of that, the academy’s entrance exam is coming up soon." He wiped a stray drop of grease from his chin. "You two have some talent. Good luck."
Then, in a quieter voice, he added, "As for me… this might be my last meal, so don’t be so strict."
Fayrouz’s brows furrowed slightly.
"What do you mean?"
The man exhaled slowly, his eyes lifting toward the sky, where the stars shimmered like fragments of frozen light.
"Because I’ve never beaten him. Not even once." His voice was distant now, as if the words belonged to another time. "I wanted to join the knights, even as a low-ranking one, because I knew I was weak."
His fingers tightened slightly around the remains of his meal.
"But when I saw the girl I loved risking her life just to stay by his side, I decided to follow them… to protect her. And that’s how I threw myself into the life of an adventurer instead of the knights."
Fayrouz didn’t answer right away.
Instead, her gaze followed his upward, toward the stars.
She had always thought those who sacrificed everything for love were fools.
And yet… she also knew they weren’t just fools.
They were people whose hearts were free of deceit.
The bearded man finished his meal, wiping his hands on a cloth before stretching slightly. His movement was unhurried, yet there was a quiet finality to it.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "By the way, how’s your weapon? You looked really worried when my axe’s heat touched it."
Fayrouz reached into her pocket, pulling out a small blue ring.
Before the man’s eyes, it shifted—unraveling like liquid silk—until it transformed into a glowing blue bracelet around her wrist.
Her voice was simple, direct.
"It’s fine."
The man’s lips curled into a faint smile.
"How wonderful..." He rolled his shoulders, shaking off the stiffness.
Then, with a final glance at the fire, he turned to her and said,
"Alright, shall we go?"
