As he continued.
Movements were fluid and deadly.
Senses heightened as he took in every detail of the battlefield, blade slicing through the air.
A whooshing sound.
Striking true and deadly.
A testament of his gruesome training he endured.
For seconds that turned to minutes, minutes that turned to hours, hours that turned to days, days that turned to months, and months that turned to years.
Monsters attacked him with their relentless fury, he dodged and weaved, his movements a blur as he struck down his enemies, leaving a trail of dead monster corpses in his wake, his total kill count reaching 320, the air thick with the scent of blood and death.
Meanwhile.
Elsewhere.
Same time Cyan Ascension to the upper floors.
Ryan lay in bed.
wrapped in blankets, protected from the cold, the day had passed with him unconscious, after his sudden collapse in the morning.
Randell sat beside him, snoring softly, absorbed in his sleep, since he didn't get a good night's sleep the previous night, his face pale and drawn, like a child who had been pushed too far.
The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft hum of the wind outside, the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the sound of crickets chirping in the distance, a lullaby of sorts, but Randell's sleep was fitful, eyes twitching with unease, as if he was trying to ward off a bad dream.
Ryan opened his eyes.
calmly regaining consciousness, the dim light of the tent enveloping him like a warm hug.
He quickly noticed the wet cloth on his forehead, as he removed it and raised his back, the movement sending a wave of dizziness through his head.
As he sat, his sudden movements woke Randell, who slowly opened his eyes, his gaze foggy with sleep.
Noticing Ryan trying to stand up, Randell forced him down, pinning him back on his back in the cozy blankets.
"You might want to Stay down, buddy," he said, his voice low and collected. He rushed to his side, placing his palm on his chest and pushing him back to the ground.
The sound of night crickets and a distant owl's hoot providing a soothing background melody.
"What about... our trip back to Ranon?" Ryan spoke, his voice low and broken, as he looked into Randell's eyes.
Eyes blurry and clouded with concern.
Randell sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. He sat back down, his voice calm and low.
"I postponed it just for today. How can I go when you'd just collapsed on me?" he spoke.
Expression etched with worry, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on his face.
Ryan's eyes searched Randell's face, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"I feel hot and cold at the same time, my throat is dry and sour, the headache... is making me lose my sanity... My vision is so blurry, and the room is spinning, Randell, what's wrong with me?" he spoke.
Voice calm.
Low.
Brocken—
But still collected, as he asked Randell about his sickness, the sweat on his forehead palpable.
Randell gave his answer as he lifted his sleeves and washed the wet cloth in a small wooden bucket to the left, the sound of water rippling against the bucket's edge, before placing it back on Ryan's forehead.
"Just a fever, you must have gotten it from Mira," he spoke. his voice collected.
He drew up the blanket all the way to Ryan's neck, the fabric soft and comforting.
Ryan's eyes fluttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "How... is she?" he inquired.
Eyes barely open, the weight of his eyelids almost too much to bear.
Randell noticed the concern etched on Ryan's face, his expression softening.
"A full recovery for her and a nasty fever for you. Just try to get some rest, I will go fetch some more water and some to drink as well. " he spoke.
Then stood.
Lifted the bucket and turned around, exiting the tent, the night air rushing in, like a cool breeze.
"Grandma?" Ryan muttered to himself.
Sealing his eyes shut.
Randell walked outside, the full moon shining bright, casting a magnificent glow over the Ranon camp, people walked by, and they all seemed busy, their footsteps quiet on the grass.
As he walked towards the river, he noticed the wood being dragged by the few horses they had, they'd already begun gathering wood from the forest to serve for house construction, the sound of wood creaking and groaning, the scent of fresh wood and earth filled the air.
Ryker's voice boomed across the camp,
"Good work, comrades, we should call it a night," the fire from the fire lanterns casting a warm glow on his face, as he was busy giving orders.
As Randell passed by, he gave him a good wave of his hand, and Ryker responded with a thumbs up, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air.
Randell continued towards the river, the night wind brushing his hair and clothes, as they gently danced in the wind.
The night sky shone with stars, and a few visible clouds, the sound of crickets and owls adding a solid layer to the harmony of nature, the world peaceful, and serene.
A good walk.
Randell reached the lake.
The moonlight casting a silver glow on the water's surface. He threw out the old water from the wooden bucket into the bushes, the sound of the liquid splashing onto the leaves echoing through the night air.
Then, he walked closer to the flowing river, the gentle lapping of the water against the shore creating a soothing melody.
He knelt down, his movements fluid, as he drew fresh, clean water with a quick movement of his hands, the sound of the water rippling through his fingers.
Turned.
And headed back.
Meanwhile, as Ryker finished giving orders, he gazed at the huge layers of trees they had cut for wood in the name of construction.
The scent of freshly cut wood filling the air. Even though they had lost their old home, he probably felt a sense of accomplishment at the work he and the others had done for the day, his face clearly a mask of excitement, the thought of building a new village seemed fun.
As he clapped his hand in a swift motion, removing the dust from his palms, Lyriel, walked closer to Ryker, her expression calm and collected, her footsteps quiet on the grass.
"Looks like your part of the job is going on nicely,"
she spoke, her voice enthusiastic as she approached, her eyes fixed on the orderly placed wooden logs.
Ryker's gaze switched to Lyriel, who'd finally stopped, his expression calm.
"Well, it's at least the last thing I can do to rebuild before I retire," he spoke, his voice calm and collected.
Lyriel's expression changed, a hint of surprise etched on her face. "You are retiring?" she asked, her voice a bit provoked, as she stared at Ryker.
Ryker's eyes gazed into the sky, the stars shining and the shooting stars moving.
"Well, yeah. After this new village starts taking shape, I am going to retire. A new village needs new leaders, don't you think? I think I am getting too old to handle the stress," he spoke, his voice calm and low.
Lyriel's gaze dropped to the ground, her voice low, calm, and collected.
"I guess you are right, I heard Marilyn saying the same thing as well. Maybe it's about time I step down as well?" she replied, her expression one of thinking.
Ryker's expression softened, a hint of a smile on his face. "You don't have to rush it, the new leaders are going to need guardians to teach them, and I think that line should belong to you, but if you don't think you're up to it, then please be my guest... I am sure you too have witnessed a share of your own grief and have something to deal with," he spoke.
Voice calm and low.
Lyriel's face broke into a smile, her eyes sparkling.
"Nah, I am sure they will do just fine, if they ever need some advice, we'll be there. Right?" she spoke, her voice filled with confidence.
Ryker's eyes fixed on her, his voice low and collected. "Right?" he spoke, his gaze locked onto hers.
At that same time, Marilyn was inside Mira's tent, she had made a full recovery but hadn't regained her strength, still in the blankets with Marilyn attending to her, the air thick with the scent of medicine and warmth.
END OF CHAPTER 28